Thursday, November 19, 2009
I haven't posted for a few days because I've been working mainly on this post...and this is likely to be one of the most vulnerable, personal posts I've ever put on this blog. So be nice. :)
A couple of weeks ago, The Wild One and I started having a conversation about this transitional place we are in, trying to get settled in Denver, and the challenges we're dealing with. And she made the observation that I had grown increasingly negative in my outlook over time, tending only to see the glass half-empty. It wasn't a mean-spirited conversation at all; but she said it partly because she wanted to understand what was behind it, and partly because in our situation, we really need a positive, can-do attitude, and my pessimism was making it difficult for her to keep her own spirits up. A fair assessment.
I grappled with this for days afterward, not because I was defensive over it--in fact, I saw right away that she was telling the truth--but because I myself didn't fully understand why I had become so negative. That just really isn't me; I'm the encourager in our family, the guy who always says, "Everything's going to be alright" even when I haven't got the slightest idea how things are going to work out. And I've been right. :) Got has been faithful to us through every trial.
But somewhere through the trials of the past ten years, something got broken inside. I knew it was so, but I couldn't quite pinpoint just when it happened, or why. I just knew that even after things improved for us and we were given rest from our struggles, I still kept one eye open, looking for the other shoe to drop. Even through this transition to Denver, while I had enough understanding to try to have hope for the future, I still have had this I'll-believe-it-when-I-see-it attidude. And that just isn't the me I've grown up with. That's the broken me.
The Wild One was right; until I found a way to reconcile this, I wasn't going to fully embrace this new season we're in. So I soul-searched.
I don't want to spend a lot of time diving back into the past here, and a lot of my readers already know my story; but the past ten years in Tulsa were very difficult for us. God had His own purposes in sending us there, and we did our best to obey to the last. But there was such a resistance in that place that almost nothing we tried worked. The only place where we felt any kind of success was in the house church we led, and eventually that just ran its course. Over that time, we dealt with complacency from people in general; resistance and even hostility from other church leadership; and occasionally betrayal and sabotage from within our own community. (The pastors and former pastors reading this are nodding their heads right now--that part's not really anything new.) But on a deep emotional level, it did something to me.
As the conversation continued over the next couple of days, I talked a lot about the doubts I had, how so many things we had believed God for had failed, how many things didn't work out the way we'd thought, all the disappointments. I explained that I was negative because I just didn't want to get disappointed again. But all that talk seemed shallow, like I wasn't really getting to the root cause. And at some point in the conversation--I don't remember how, exactly--one of us said something that opened the floodgates for me. And I knew in that moment what it was.
The root of my negativity wasn't failure. Everyone fails. The root was...rejection.
I don't intend this to sound narcissistic, only serving as an explanation...but at every other place in my life, I'd had the experience of my gifts making room for me, bringing me favor, and opening doors. In the previous season in Texas, before we came to Tulsa, we'd seen six years of favor and growth, and were gaining recognition even on a state level with worship music. I've surmised that had I stayed on that path, I would probably have landed a record deal as a worship leader. When we came to Tulsa...that all fell flat, almost inexplicably. The only time anyone showed interest in my gifts were when they wanted to exploit them to serve their own agendas. Everything was political, and for conscience' sake I just couldn't play ball. I already knew too much. And so...instead of my gifts being seen as an asset to kingdom purposes among the spiritual leadership in Tulsa, they were viewed--and I was treated--as a threat. And that spoke a message deep into my soul. And eventually I believed it.
The message went something like this: You are worthless. You are unwanted. Nobody wants whatever it is you think you have to offer. You are nothing, and you have nothing. You have no value, and neither do your gifts.
It wasn't the resistance itself, or the message that was sent; it was that somewhere along the way, I began to believe the message. I believed I had no worth, that my talents and skills had no worth. I believed that whatever happened, or didn't happen, must somehow be my fault. And so I believed that no one else would appreciate whatever I had to offer--and if they showed any appreciation, it was likely because they had some hidden angle.
Yeah. Talk about negative.
And so even in recent days, in a different place, when someone would speak encouragement to me, or show appreciation--even if I thought they were genuine--I would smile and thank them for their kindness. But I wouldn't believe them. I was worthless. My gifts were worthless. That was my truth.
All the reality of this came pouring out of my soul in that moment of grief a couple of weeks ago, when the floodgates opened. I realized I had never even allowed myself to grieve the loss of the past season. And so I mourned. I mourned over feeling utterly unwanted. I mourned over what could have been, that would never be, in Tulsa. I mourned over the sense of abandonment and neglect, the fact that I had come to Tulsa with such hope and love in my heart for the church, only to be scorned--to be all but told that no one wanted what I had to offer. I let myself grieve the loss. And I also recognized truth in that moment:
It was true that I had been rejected; it was not true that I was unacceptable, or worthless.
It was true that my gifts had been despised; it was not true that my gifts were worthless.
It was true that I had made mistakes; it was not true that the failures were all my fault.
It was true that I was mistreated; it was not true that I deserved it.
And as I acknowleged truth in my soul, in that moment of grief, something changed again, deep within.
And now I'm all better! Praise God!
Sorry...couldn't resist putting my tongue in my cheek for a moment. :) But something really did change inside. It was a seed of something good, something healing, a root that is spreading within me, and giving me fresh hope. It's making me believe something different about myself, and it's making me actually believe that things can be different here. That it can be better. That we really can do what we love, and that it's okay. All the things we came here to do...we can do them. And we can do something that makes a difference.
Hope.
The Wild One tells me my outlook has significantly improved since that moment. I just couldn't dive into this next chapter of life with both feet...until I had closed the last chapter.
I know it will take time. But I am a step or two closer to recovering the person I used to know.
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