Hopeless Ramblings

Do you have the time
To listen to me whine
About nothing and everything
All at once
I am one of those
Melodramatic fools
Neurotic to the bone
No doubt about it
-"Basket Case" by Green Day

Hope deferred makes the heart sick,
but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.
--Proverbs 13:12

I am not Job.

I was not a man worthy of praise for my uprightness. I certainly wouldn't draw the attention of Satan for my ability to avoid sin. I've not lost everything and everyone I love in a flash. I'm not covered in sores. My wife is not telling me to curse God and die- actually, she is a glimmer of hope in my life.

But those glimmers of hope are few and far between lately. I don't face Job-like catastrophes just yet. My job is on the line, my kids got sick and the medicine is ridiculously expensive, my computer crashed and we lost all important documents and pictures of the last two years, and the tendinitis in my elbow is getting pretty painful.

These things seem small to you, no doubt. But they don't to me. They are piling up, and despite my hopes and prayers- there is no light at the end of the tunnel.

I guess I should also point out that in the midst of all this, I've been looking for God. I've been asking Him for help, for direction, for light- but all that happens is one more thing to weigh me down.

I don't want you to quote me scripture, or give me some platitude about how "things will turn out." I don't know that I can believe that. Things have always turned out before- but that is no guarantee now. Things didn't turn out for John the Baptist when he was arrested and put before Herod. Why do we assume that "things will turn out" when many of the people of the Bible ended up on the total opposite of "OK?"

So, what if I lose my job and there isn't another one to fill its place? What if, on the limited budget that creates, we can't pay bills, or the car breaks down or some major illness hits? What if the way out I've been praying for never comes?

How can I have faith when it seems God is silent?

I remember once in college, shortly after my Dad passed away, I was at a small group leaders meeting with twenty or so other college students. Something was said and I responded to it. One of the other leaders, Michael- who I had always seen as a great example of faith and conviction and desire for God- looked at me and said, "You have such faith."

What happened?

I served in churches where "Christians" ate each other alive at the drop of the hat. I've seen fervent prayer for healing or rescue go seemingly unanswered. I've watched as truly faithful people struggle while others seem to have it easy with seemingly little dependence on faith. I've seen hollow believers ascend to leadership because of who they knew, while those whose hearts are true wallow in the depths of anonymity.

Through all of that, I've had faith. It has been tested, it has been tried, it has ebbed and flowed- as it is even now.

And I recognize that faith is not a constant- sometimes we have it and sometimes we don't. Right now, my faith is low. Perhaps next week it will rise, perhaps after lunch, perhaps not for a long while. My faith is low, because my hope it exhausted.

Just last week, I came across a quote from Hurley on the show Lost:

Look, I don't know about you, but things have really sucked for me lately, and I could really use a victory. So let's get one, dude! Let's get this car started. Let's look death in the face and say: 'Whatever, man!'"

I'm between the first and second sentences there right now. I need a victory. I need God to show up. I need my faith and what little hope I have to be validated.

See, it would be easy for me to take what I'm feeling and say, "Forget you, God- you've left me and don't seem to care. Your expectations and rules are too much for me, so I'm gone." Believe me, this is tempting.

But I can't.

And I can't really explain why I can't. Perhaps it's in the fact that I know God is real. And if I know and believe that God is real, then I must recognize what He said and has done in the past for me and all people is real.

Perhaps it's the fact that I don't know how to not trust in God, that's all I've ever known.

Or maybe, it's the fact that if I let go of the hope I have in God, then I really have nothing left to hope in.

And if that's the case, then the hope I now have is that I am right where God wants me: lowly and contrite, broken and malleable. Available to Him. Useful to Him.

Wholly His.

And it is there that I will get to the second sentence in Hurley's quote- that I will look death, or failure, or unemployment, or stagnation in the face and say "Whatever, man!"

And He will be the only victory I want or need.

The Storm of Being Known

As I write this, a cold front is blowing in. By 5, the temp will have dropped by 20 degrees, by 7 the wind chill will be in the twenties and the wind itself will be gusty. Not to mention that it's kinda drizzly and damp. For those of us in Texas, this is about as close as we get to "the weather outside is frightful."

Needless to say, the weather has me wanting to lock the door to the house, light a fire, crawl up in a blanket and hide from the world. I love the colder weather because it lets me just relax, in my safe, warm den.

It's why I like storms in general, actually. For me, there is nothing better than cozying up in a 'safe place,' and not being bothered by people. Yes, I am not a people person, despite being a pastor. I don't mind being around people, but it drains me. I've come to think that part of the reason it drains me is most interactions with people is about both of us trying to find a 'safe place.' You know, talking about what's comfortable, easy and not at all painful or personal. I also grow weary in large groups of people because I get real tired of holding up my mask- aka my defensive false self- so I can be like everyone else, who incidently, are also often holding their masks up as well.

There is no more draining exercise for me than hanging out with people who don't want to reveal what's really going on with them, despite claiming to be open and transparent. They hide behind sarcasm, arrogance, religion, or knowledge. They don't admit when they make mistakes, or they try to redesign what they did so that it's not really a mistake. And they never, ever admit their weakness. When they do, they admit it in a safe way. They never come out and say, "I struggle with an addiction to pornography, " or "I have a tendency to be an arrogant jerk," or "I'm worried about what's going on." No, they make vague, spiritual sounding admissions like, "I'm having a tough time, but trusting God." It sounds good, but it's missing something:

An actual request for help, from God or His church.

We don't want to ask for help- maybe a vague, "I need prayer for some stuff,"- because it makes us look weak, unspiritual. When in actuality, admitting our failures and fears is key to ACTUALLY trusting God. Matthew 11:28-30 has Jesus asking us to give these fears to Him: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”. And most of us do give it Him.

But there is more: we need to give it to each other.

Brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently. But watch yourselves, or you also may be tempted. Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. If anyone thinks they are something when they are not, they deceive themselves.--Galatians 6:1-3

Our attempts to mask our failures and fears are actually a deception perpetrated unto ourselves, by ourselves. I think we fail to do this because it would be like going out of our safe, warm den on a blustery, damp winter night. We've made a fire that gives us comfort while we sip our coffee/hot cocoa in our pj's, and we quite like just sitting here, not bothered by anyone. But this metaphorical storm doesn't let up like the one coming tonight for me will. This storm will grow, and we will hide, deeper and deeper until we are trapped in a prison that we call our 'safe place.' We will be disconnected from the ones who want to help us and, ultimately, we will begin to be disconnected from Jesus. Because the more deception that "I'm OK!" we pour on, the more we believe the lie that we don't need help.

As much as we would love to stay safe, we need to take our problems to those who love us: family, close friends, and especially fellow Christ Followers. Now, I don't think we need to share EVERY LITTLE PROBLEM- that would be rather High-School-Drama-ish, don't you think? But we do need to take the things we can't handle, the things we are tempted to hide from others, to the people who not only can help, but want to.

So, sometimes we need to put down the mug of warm beverage, put on a coat and douse the fire, then open the door and walk into the storm. We've got to face the raging problems- not alone, but with those who love us. If you're dealing with something you try so hard to hide behind some sort of mask- share the burden with someone who will pray for you, someone who will check up on you. Someone who will love you unconditionally.

It's one of the big reasons Jesus came to us.


PS: I don't get to relax by the fire tonight, I too have to go into the literal storm of cold and put up posters for our church around town and campus. And you know what, I'm doing with some fellow Christ followers- giving up comfort for a night to go shed a little hope (hopefully) into the lives of those who need it.

But after that- the fireplace and hot cocoa are on!