Over the past two weeks, we've been inundated with opinions on how our president has cared for Gold Star families. Rarely have we had a word spoken concerning how these sorts of conversations are supposed to go. Why? Because no one really knows. That's what makes these conversations so hard. We're great at critiquing those who try to care but so rarely offer care ourselves, and when we do, it often sucks.
I know.
In the past week, I inadvertently found myself caring for a Gold Star wife. Her husband died years ago, yet the pain still felt fresh. It always feels fresh. Most Gold Star families lose loved ones in the blink of an eye. It's hard to believe that someone can be here one moment and gone the next. No gradual surrender to a terminal illness. No heartfelt goodbyes.
What did I say to this Gold Star wife? Well, I cried with her a bit. I asked her about her husband. I spent most of my time asking her about the present--the good, the bad, the ugly. We talked about hope and love. And while I think it went well, I really don't know. Is there such a thing as a good conversation in these moments?
Here are some of the typical responses I see to suffering:
1) Avoid it at all costs. We don't visit the dying friend or comfort the persistently ill loved one. We avoid hospitals, funeral parlors, cemeteries, and disturbing thoughts that remind us of suffering. Alcohol and television both become wonderful aids in this quest to construct a wall between us and the real world. We just hope there's enough in the bottle and the Netflix queue for the next night.
2) Don't talk about it. If we're suffering, we cloak ourselves in privacy and forced cheer. We don't want to impose on others, after all. If others are suffering, we politely respect their privacy and only speak of their ordeals in hushed tones and vague terms. We don't want to pry, after all. Everyone can suffer on their own terms without feeling exposed...or loved.
3) Slap a happy face on it. We see this a lot in contemporary evangelicalism. Romans 8:28 and hollow cliches about "victory in Jesus" stand ready like an enclosed fire extinguisher. When the suffering comes, all we need to do is break the glass. God will make it better. God has a purpose. You believe these things, right? Then you shouldn't suffer. If you're suffering, then we should call your faith into question.
4) We morbidly dwell upon it. It's as if we go the graveside and never leave. Sometimes trauma locks into a semi-permanent state of grief that will likely require counseling. At some point, we treat others' suffering as our own opportunity for cathartic release. We squeeze the sponge of their grief a bit tighter, hoping for bit more of a release. Often, they don't have any tears left to expend.
Now you expect me to give you the list of four things you can do for sufferers, right?
Wrong. Again, it's a messy process and those who critique others for their responses have often never seriously reflected on their own responses.
Yet, here are a few of my comforts.
1) Suffering is not contrary to God's plan. God still rules over our suffering. That means that it is not accidental or unforeseen. He intends for us to walk that valley, but not alone. He draws near to us and accompanies us.
2) Suffering drives the greatest truths deeper into our hearts. Our confessions are mere abstractions without the refining fire of suffering. It is one thing to say "Jesus cares for the needy." It is quite another to say "I am needy, and Jesus is caring for me." In my experiences, our tears reflect the brokenness of this world--and the truths that will bind it back together.
3) God did not spare His own Son. Jesus suffered. In fact, Jesus suffered worse than any of us will ever know or experience. He was betrayed, abandoned, condemned, and tortured. He bore the hellish wrath and judgment of God. He drank from a cup that we will never have to taste. And He did it willingly. He bore the worst suffering imaginable, not to spare us of our own suffering, but to atone for our sin. In so doing, He gave meaning to our suffering and hope to our grief.
These comforts inform my constant care for sufferers. I grieve with them as they grieve and hope with them as they hope. When their suffering comes out in scream of silence, I grieve and hope for them and stay silent with them. And in all these things, I lift them before the God of grace, who alone has the power and love to care for the broken and bind their wounds.
22.10.17
30.9.17
Reflections at Oh Dark Thirty
"I'm getting too old for this," I thought as if I was Danny Glover rather than a man simply in his mid-thirties. Around me, dozens of kids in their twenties galloped through the dark as if such a routine was normal and natural. I felt my creaking joints slowly hum to life like an old computer.
The past month was not kind to me. Between moving my family cross-country, selling a house, buying a house, and a thousand goodbyes, I was left with no time for exercise or adequate sleep. Just lots of fast food and mentally-demanding, physically-debilitating planning.
I woke up at 0400 to make the drive from my in-laws to join in mandatory PT with other newcomers to JBLM at 0515. No shower. No coffee. Only podcasts and hymns on Pandora to fuel my early morning foray into the active duty side of the Army.
As I ran in that mass formation of young soldiers through the dark, I began to hear a cadence being called by the NCO running to our left. No soldier fell behind. We sped up at times and almost fell on each other at other points, but we ran together. Amidst the flurry of limbs and the sound of my creaking joints, I remember that I love this world.
This is a world where sinners and sufferers gather together to be sinners and sufferers together. Some are penitent. Some are healing from past wounds. Most are willing to talk.
My family took a winding path to reach this point. We traveled through prairies and over mountains, alongside friends and revisiting the wounds of war.
The Lord has brought us here--to the majestic mountains and soaring seas of the Northwest, to the morning formations and earnest cadences of young soldiers ready to face war. As my wife soaks our two pint-size sponges in the culture of the Northwest and the gravity of a life lived before God, I will work with those who face conflicts much deeper than those fought by armies.
Please pray for me, that the Lord would open doors and that words may be given me to proclaim the mystery of the Gospel (Eph. 6:19; Col. 4:3).
The past month was not kind to me. Between moving my family cross-country, selling a house, buying a house, and a thousand goodbyes, I was left with no time for exercise or adequate sleep. Just lots of fast food and mentally-demanding, physically-debilitating planning.
I woke up at 0400 to make the drive from my in-laws to join in mandatory PT with other newcomers to JBLM at 0515. No shower. No coffee. Only podcasts and hymns on Pandora to fuel my early morning foray into the active duty side of the Army.
As I ran in that mass formation of young soldiers through the dark, I began to hear a cadence being called by the NCO running to our left. No soldier fell behind. We sped up at times and almost fell on each other at other points, but we ran together. Amidst the flurry of limbs and the sound of my creaking joints, I remember that I love this world.
This is a world where sinners and sufferers gather together to be sinners and sufferers together. Some are penitent. Some are healing from past wounds. Most are willing to talk.
My family took a winding path to reach this point. We traveled through prairies and over mountains, alongside friends and revisiting the wounds of war.
The Lord has brought us here--to the majestic mountains and soaring seas of the Northwest, to the morning formations and earnest cadences of young soldiers ready to face war. As my wife soaks our two pint-size sponges in the culture of the Northwest and the gravity of a life lived before God, I will work with those who face conflicts much deeper than those fought by armies.
Please pray for me, that the Lord would open doors and that words may be given me to proclaim the mystery of the Gospel (Eph. 6:19; Col. 4:3).
13.1.17
How Much Should Christians Love the Church?
Before I became a Christian, I thought of the church as a haven for hypocrites.
I remember going to church as a little punk kid with baggy clothes, and having a finely-attired kid attack me for being there. Apparently, church was no place for someone as messy as me.
Then I became a Christian, and I would like to tell you that my thinking changed about the church. It only changed a bit--I critiqued it from the inside rather than the outside. I still complained about the people who dressed themselves up, and when unbelievers talked about hypocrisy in the church, I sadly nodded along and talked about what a shame it was that some people didn't live up to the profession in Christ.
Later into my Christian journey, I learned that pithy phrase "The church is an ugly bride." Even as I heard that phrase and nodded along enthusiastically, I was stung. "Whose bride?" "Who belongs to the church?"
I am part of the church--the bride of Christ--and do not have the luxury of being an armchair critic. Every critique I make about church rebounds on me. Complaining about the hypocrites makes me a hypocrite. As the Apostle Paul said, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners...of whom I am the foremost."
Now, when I hear people talk about the hypocrisy of the church, I tell them that I am the worst of hypocrites, and that I am sorry.
Yet, she is still the bride of Christ.
Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. (Eph. 5:25-27)
If Christ loves his bride, then I should as well (both my wife and the church!). How much does He love her? He gave himself up for her. Think about that. No one stood by Jesus on the day of his death. The church would be gathered from those who denied him, abandoned him, and cried out for his crucifixion.
How much, then, should Christians love the church? Obviously, we aren't Jesus nor can we fill ourselves to follow His example, but we can live in view of His mercy by grace He gives us. Here are a few ways in which we can love the church:
1) We can speak well of her and seek to build her up. When the people cried for Christ's crucifixion, they also cried for his blood to be on their hands (Matt. 27:15-26). Instead, of calling down wrath upon them, Christ cried "Father, forgive them..."
2) We can bear wounds without growing bitter. I know, easier said than done, but love covers over a multitude of sins. Obviously, Christ knows what it is bear wounds at the hands of the church. Yet, for the joy set before Him, He endured the cross. The truth is, Christ draws people from every walk of life and calls them to bind their hearts to Christ and to one another. It's not just that he bore wounds, but in a sense, he bore them at my hand! He bore the wounds from me and for me. So I can bear wounds and give glory to God.
3) We can value every member of the church, even when we disagree. Again, there are vastly different personalities in the church. Christ bore His wounds for people from every tribe, tongue, people, and language. This diversity in every sense is no accident. We don't want an echo chamber of our own enlightened thoughts, but a people who sharpen and encourage one another as long as it is called "today."
4) We bring our messes to the church in plain view, rather than our Sunday School facades. The church--this ugly bride of which we're a part--is also a hospital for souls. It is there that Christ tends to the mess and binds our wounds. It is not a sanctuary for self-righteous saints. We do not dress ourselves--we are dressed in and by Christ. We stand as naked as Christ upon that cross with the knowledge that His forsakeness meant our forgiveness. By His wounds we are healed. He rose from the dead so we can rise from our bed and each week worship God the Father through God the Son by the power of God the Holy Spirit.
This is on my heart and I am preaching these words to myself as I write. Do you despise the church for your wounds? Consider the wounds of Christ and love the ugly bride for whom He died!
I remember going to church as a little punk kid with baggy clothes, and having a finely-attired kid attack me for being there. Apparently, church was no place for someone as messy as me.
Then I became a Christian, and I would like to tell you that my thinking changed about the church. It only changed a bit--I critiqued it from the inside rather than the outside. I still complained about the people who dressed themselves up, and when unbelievers talked about hypocrisy in the church, I sadly nodded along and talked about what a shame it was that some people didn't live up to the profession in Christ.
Later into my Christian journey, I learned that pithy phrase "The church is an ugly bride." Even as I heard that phrase and nodded along enthusiastically, I was stung. "Whose bride?" "Who belongs to the church?"
I am part of the church--the bride of Christ--and do not have the luxury of being an armchair critic. Every critique I make about church rebounds on me. Complaining about the hypocrites makes me a hypocrite. As the Apostle Paul said, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners...of whom I am the foremost."
Now, when I hear people talk about the hypocrisy of the church, I tell them that I am the worst of hypocrites, and that I am sorry.
Yet, she is still the bride of Christ.
Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. (Eph. 5:25-27)
If Christ loves his bride, then I should as well (both my wife and the church!). How much does He love her? He gave himself up for her. Think about that. No one stood by Jesus on the day of his death. The church would be gathered from those who denied him, abandoned him, and cried out for his crucifixion.
How much, then, should Christians love the church? Obviously, we aren't Jesus nor can we fill ourselves to follow His example, but we can live in view of His mercy by grace He gives us. Here are a few ways in which we can love the church:
1) We can speak well of her and seek to build her up. When the people cried for Christ's crucifixion, they also cried for his blood to be on their hands (Matt. 27:15-26). Instead, of calling down wrath upon them, Christ cried "Father, forgive them..."
2) We can bear wounds without growing bitter. I know, easier said than done, but love covers over a multitude of sins. Obviously, Christ knows what it is bear wounds at the hands of the church. Yet, for the joy set before Him, He endured the cross. The truth is, Christ draws people from every walk of life and calls them to bind their hearts to Christ and to one another. It's not just that he bore wounds, but in a sense, he bore them at my hand! He bore the wounds from me and for me. So I can bear wounds and give glory to God.
3) We can value every member of the church, even when we disagree. Again, there are vastly different personalities in the church. Christ bore His wounds for people from every tribe, tongue, people, and language. This diversity in every sense is no accident. We don't want an echo chamber of our own enlightened thoughts, but a people who sharpen and encourage one another as long as it is called "today."
4) We bring our messes to the church in plain view, rather than our Sunday School facades. The church--this ugly bride of which we're a part--is also a hospital for souls. It is there that Christ tends to the mess and binds our wounds. It is not a sanctuary for self-righteous saints. We do not dress ourselves--we are dressed in and by Christ. We stand as naked as Christ upon that cross with the knowledge that His forsakeness meant our forgiveness. By His wounds we are healed. He rose from the dead so we can rise from our bed and each week worship God the Father through God the Son by the power of God the Holy Spirit.
This is on my heart and I am preaching these words to myself as I write. Do you despise the church for your wounds? Consider the wounds of Christ and love the ugly bride for whom He died!
30.5.16
Filled With Grief and Gratitude
I was up late on Friday night. I'm not sure why, considering the incredible workload that this weekend entailed. My wife and I had our weekly date night, and she made me a Gin and tonic. She had gone to sleep, and I was still sipping at the G&T. I stared at the ceiling, and the lights became blurry. Something broke.
I began to speak with those phantom faces that have never
left me.
“Dave, I am so sorry that I couldn’t save you. You were so
excited for your life with Dana, starting a family, and growing in your faith.
I wish I had followed up with you while I still had the chance.”
“Serpa, why didn’t you tell me you needed help? I would’ve
traveled all night to see you, care for you, and talk you to about the past and
future. Didn’t you realize how much your battle buddies would’ve done for you?
How much they all miss you now?”
The faces faded, but in their wake, I was left with my tears and lonely thoughts.
I have friends--brothers and sisters in the Lord who have our back. On Saturday, one group of these friends manned a table at our Memorial Day Market, giving out free books and invitations to our Nature Camp to passersby. Another group, compiled in the nick of time, poured their time and sweat into building us a float for the Memorial Day parade. One couple spent 10 hours working on it on Saturday. Their diligence--without complaint--humbled me.
I traveled back and forth between the two groups. While at the market, I ran into a former marine. I asked him how he was doing. He was on 70% disability for injuries he sustained in the line of duty (hoping for 100%) and was grieving the loss of brothers in arms who had taken their own lives. Yet he was holding fast, getting the help he needed and growing with his wife, rather than turning on her. I let him know that I would be there for him day or night.
Toward the end of the day, I went back to our pastor's house to continue to work on the float alongside that tireless couple. As I primed a giant wooden frame, a neighbor saw my army shirt and continually thanked me for my service. At times, I find such comments embarrassing. But as I kept priming that wood, I thought "This man hasn't forgotten me, or the people we have lost."
On Sunday morning, we heard a wonderful sermon on Moses as he was told that he would never enter the Promise Land (Deut. 3). Instead, he would train up Joshua for the task. I cannot comprehend the grief of Moses in that moment, but was reminded of the surpassing greatness of the glory that awaited Moses. He labored for the earthly Promise Land, but he lived for the heavenly one. Oh, that God would grant me a similar heart!
This morning, I hosted a 5k run through my running club. I reminded all of the participants about those who no longer run, and the gratitude we should feel to have the freedom to run. I prayed for them, and I thanked the Lord in my heart.
I then joined our valiant volunteers in advertising our Nature Camp at the Memorial Day parade. I used my (declining, but still existent) energy to run from veteran to veteran in the crowd, offering them whatever I could in the way of love and support.
This afternoon, several of these tireless workers had my family over for a cookout (after all they had done for us!). We enjoyed conversations as my boy found his match in a (literally) punchy girl and my baby girl wailed over shoes that were too tight (that won't happen again).
Tonight, the old thought deluged my mind again. I watched the heartrending and encouraging video featuring Dana Lyon, widow of Dave (below). And I grieved...for Dave, for Serpa, and for every family that has an empty place at the table tonight. There are no "Thank you for your service" lines that will fill those seats.
I mentioned to my wife that I have felt the weight of this Memorial Day more than other since my deployment. She asked, matter-of-factly, "Isn't that because this town does more for it than you are used to?" She was right. I am reliving these memories because this town is honoring those memories.
I hold this community in my heat because they remember our soldiers. Now, I pray that they would remember our God who grants hope to us all through the live, death, and resurrection of His only beloved Son.
I feel grief and gratitude--in equal measure. I yearn for the day when the scales are tilted, the grief is gone, and the gratitude persists.
https://www.facebook.com/stephen.roberts.967
17.5.16
Thoughts from the Counselor's Chair
I should have anticipated the drama of this past drill weekend, as something both brutal and beautiful in equal measure. I had lined up visits to three separate units throughout the state in order to provide chapel services and conduct suicide prevention training. Thankfully, the Lord prepared and sustained me even if I hadn't adequately prepared myself!
The weekend began with a proper note of humility. I didn't get perfect scores on my PT (physical training test). I crushed the push-ups and sit-ups, but windy Wisconsin had 13-14mph winds in store for me at the track. I watched my pace dip from 6:30 on one side of the track to 7:15 on the other side of the track--the wind made my clothes feel like a parachute. I missed my perfect running score by a good 20 seconds. I was still the third runner across the line and I was able to keep from beating myself up by going back and retrieving the suffering runners behind me. On the way back to the unit, I consoled myself by blaming the wind. I then got on the scale and realized that my Wisconsin weight was to blame as much as the Wisconsin wind. I either need to lose 10 pounds or start wearing new clothes so that my faux baby weight doesn't show.
Here are some of the interactions I had this weekend:
Keeping the demons--not the Lord--at bay. On a weekend dealing with suicide prevention, it was appropriate that a soldier would approach me about suicidal "ideations" (thoughts). Ever since he deployed years ago, he has felt that the presence of God that he used to feel has departed from him. This feeling has grown as a number of his battle buddies have subsequently taken their own lives. Each time one of them goes down, he finds it harder and harder to come back up. He is seeing a secular counselor, but recognizes that a lot these issues are moral and existential. He needed soul care.
This appointment was long, difficult, and extensive. Yet there were a few recurring themes:
1) Neither the United States or the Middle East constitute the "real world"--they together give us a picture of that world. The truth is that this world is both broken and beautiful. We shouldn't ever truly feel like we belong to a given time and place because there are jarring realities with which we shouldn't be at peace. At the same time, we can't dismiss the beauty because of the brokenness. They must be held together, in tension. We must grieve as those with hope!
2) When we can't see our own intrinsic and value and worth, we must go to those who can see it. This soldier has a little boy not much older than my own. He loves the way his boy looks at him when he comes home. His boy adores him. I asked him to think about his boy looking upon his daddy's casket instead. That sickening thought underscores how much he is loved. I also told him to think about his mother's love for him. She birthed him, watched him grow, and would've done anything to protect her boy. He must understand her mommy-heart. Sometimes, our greatest understanding of our value comes through the love of others.
3) In order to understand these things, we must share our brokenness with those who love us. I suffered several bitter disappointments that made me feel like a failure. I don't like burdening my wife with my feelings, but she said "I do" for a reason. I need her to tend to my heart (as she needs me to do the same). In fact, she deserves all of me--not the superficial, smiley part. Absolutely privacy is a symptom of absolute pride. We are not meant to walk the valley of the shadow of death alone. God gives us family and friends exactly for this reason.
4) And walk through this valley we must. It's chill winds will send shivers down our spines. Our tears and fears are appropriate echoes to the brokenness of this world. Even Jesus--the Son of God--wept at the sin and death that had invaded the world created through Him! Yet, for those who belong to Jesus, His presence does not depart. God never turns a blind eye or deaf ear to our suffering. The blindness belongs to us whose eyes are clouded by tears! That is why He gives us His life-giving Word, which reminds us that He is with us--His rod and His staff, they comfort us. And nothing--even our own rebellious natures--can snatch us from His hand. The Bible preached and read, the sacraments, and prayer are all called means of grace for a reason. God communicates His grace to us through these means and breaks the stranglehold of Satan, sin, and suffering.
My baby is dead! The next morning, I drove through the beautiful hillscape of western Wisconsin to our unit in Onalaska (near LaCrosse). I started a suicide prevention briefing as I normally do, by telling the soldiers about myself, my upbringing, my deployment, and my struggles. I use my own painful vulnerability to encourage them to do the same with me and with others.
Partway through, a soldier raised his hand and as he tried to speak, his whole body convulsed with heartrending sobs. Just weeks before, his girlfriend gave birth to a dead baby. She is grieving bitterly, and he can't share his own grief with her because it feels overwhelming. As he spoke, several soldiers put their arms and hands on him. They already knew this information. His point in talking about it was to show how important it is to share these heartaches, and to express his gratitude to the unit, which sent his girlfriend flowers and a condolence note, and collected money to help them get by financially in the their time of grief. What a powerful example of how we are to care for one another in the context of community! That said, the loss of their baby is so hard. Please pray for them.
"Being Jesus" vs. Trusting Jesus. I had four counseling sessions recently dealing with sexual infidelities and their effects. One issue that often surfaces is pornographic addiction. For those who scoff or belittle this issue--note that even sexually permissive publications are ringing the alarm bell that this addiction is ruining lives and crippling society. Instead of checking this moral and psychological cancer at the door, we have allowed it to metastasize. I heard recently that some 70% of men struggle with porn. A few quick points of advice for those suffering from this addiction:
1) Employ the "cut off your hand" principle. This is a powerful addiction (more so than many drugs) and requires a powerful response. Put filters on all of your electronics. If you don't need them for something, leave them at home (or if you're at home, leave them at work).
2) Sexuality is not identity. Don't buy into the lie that you are what you do. If you are a follower of Jesus Christ, you belong to Him. He has the final word over you.
3) Jesus gives you wisdom through His Spirit as well as strength. Don't simply test your strength (and test the Lord) with each successive encounter. There is arrogance in that approach. The Lord gives us wisdom to stay out of such encounters in the first place. Avoid the battle in the first place!
4) Since Jesus has final word over you, don't let moral failure have the final word over your night. The Devil is great at condemning you after your sin and telling you that reading Scripture or praying would make you a hypocrite. Yet hypocrites may still approach the throne of grace with boldness and confidence, crying "Have mercy on me, the sinner!"
Several soldiers are also struggling with their own parent's infidelities and are often being asked to counsel and/or mediate between their parents! This is not only grossly inappropriate, but incredibly unfair and confusing for those caught in the middle. Such people stuck in those situations need to know that they can simultaneously be mad at a parent and still love them. Love doesn't mean pretending not to be hurt.
Also, the confusion resulting from these situations is only compounded by the confusion found throughout society regarding relationships nowadays. Parents give up their authority to be their kids' BFFs. They treat their spouses as partners rather than lovers. Emotional dependency and enmeshment seems to be everywhere. A husband and wife must be best friends with one another, not their kids. If a parent is single/divorce, he/she must find another emotional support other than a child. I met one soldier whose unfaithful dad confides in him about current relationships; his devastated mom relies upon him as her emotional support; his unstable sister had made him her lifeline.
I had to remind him--he isn't Jesus. Not only will he fail in his role of savior, but he will be crushed in the process. He must trust in his Savior, and trust his family to Him as well. He should draw boundaries with each of them, help them see their need for other human supports, and more importantly, the love, grace and conviction that only God can give.
When I led chapel services at the different locations, I drew upon a familiar and beloved passage of Scripture: The parable of the Prodigal Son. In that parable, we are powerfully reminded that our hearts drove us away from God. But in the same breath, we are poignantly shown that it is God's heart--and His heart alone--which can draw us back home.
For each of us--sinners, sufferers, some saved by grace and others in need of being saved by grace--may we find our home in Him.
The weekend began with a proper note of humility. I didn't get perfect scores on my PT (physical training test). I crushed the push-ups and sit-ups, but windy Wisconsin had 13-14mph winds in store for me at the track. I watched my pace dip from 6:30 on one side of the track to 7:15 on the other side of the track--the wind made my clothes feel like a parachute. I missed my perfect running score by a good 20 seconds. I was still the third runner across the line and I was able to keep from beating myself up by going back and retrieving the suffering runners behind me. On the way back to the unit, I consoled myself by blaming the wind. I then got on the scale and realized that my Wisconsin weight was to blame as much as the Wisconsin wind. I either need to lose 10 pounds or start wearing new clothes so that my faux baby weight doesn't show.
Here are some of the interactions I had this weekend:
Keeping the demons--not the Lord--at bay. On a weekend dealing with suicide prevention, it was appropriate that a soldier would approach me about suicidal "ideations" (thoughts). Ever since he deployed years ago, he has felt that the presence of God that he used to feel has departed from him. This feeling has grown as a number of his battle buddies have subsequently taken their own lives. Each time one of them goes down, he finds it harder and harder to come back up. He is seeing a secular counselor, but recognizes that a lot these issues are moral and existential. He needed soul care.
This appointment was long, difficult, and extensive. Yet there were a few recurring themes:
1) Neither the United States or the Middle East constitute the "real world"--they together give us a picture of that world. The truth is that this world is both broken and beautiful. We shouldn't ever truly feel like we belong to a given time and place because there are jarring realities with which we shouldn't be at peace. At the same time, we can't dismiss the beauty because of the brokenness. They must be held together, in tension. We must grieve as those with hope!
2) When we can't see our own intrinsic and value and worth, we must go to those who can see it. This soldier has a little boy not much older than my own. He loves the way his boy looks at him when he comes home. His boy adores him. I asked him to think about his boy looking upon his daddy's casket instead. That sickening thought underscores how much he is loved. I also told him to think about his mother's love for him. She birthed him, watched him grow, and would've done anything to protect her boy. He must understand her mommy-heart. Sometimes, our greatest understanding of our value comes through the love of others.
3) In order to understand these things, we must share our brokenness with those who love us. I suffered several bitter disappointments that made me feel like a failure. I don't like burdening my wife with my feelings, but she said "I do" for a reason. I need her to tend to my heart (as she needs me to do the same). In fact, she deserves all of me--not the superficial, smiley part. Absolutely privacy is a symptom of absolute pride. We are not meant to walk the valley of the shadow of death alone. God gives us family and friends exactly for this reason.
4) And walk through this valley we must. It's chill winds will send shivers down our spines. Our tears and fears are appropriate echoes to the brokenness of this world. Even Jesus--the Son of God--wept at the sin and death that had invaded the world created through Him! Yet, for those who belong to Jesus, His presence does not depart. God never turns a blind eye or deaf ear to our suffering. The blindness belongs to us whose eyes are clouded by tears! That is why He gives us His life-giving Word, which reminds us that He is with us--His rod and His staff, they comfort us. And nothing--even our own rebellious natures--can snatch us from His hand. The Bible preached and read, the sacraments, and prayer are all called means of grace for a reason. God communicates His grace to us through these means and breaks the stranglehold of Satan, sin, and suffering.
My baby is dead! The next morning, I drove through the beautiful hillscape of western Wisconsin to our unit in Onalaska (near LaCrosse). I started a suicide prevention briefing as I normally do, by telling the soldiers about myself, my upbringing, my deployment, and my struggles. I use my own painful vulnerability to encourage them to do the same with me and with others.
Partway through, a soldier raised his hand and as he tried to speak, his whole body convulsed with heartrending sobs. Just weeks before, his girlfriend gave birth to a dead baby. She is grieving bitterly, and he can't share his own grief with her because it feels overwhelming. As he spoke, several soldiers put their arms and hands on him. They already knew this information. His point in talking about it was to show how important it is to share these heartaches, and to express his gratitude to the unit, which sent his girlfriend flowers and a condolence note, and collected money to help them get by financially in the their time of grief. What a powerful example of how we are to care for one another in the context of community! That said, the loss of their baby is so hard. Please pray for them.
"Being Jesus" vs. Trusting Jesus. I had four counseling sessions recently dealing with sexual infidelities and their effects. One issue that often surfaces is pornographic addiction. For those who scoff or belittle this issue--note that even sexually permissive publications are ringing the alarm bell that this addiction is ruining lives and crippling society. Instead of checking this moral and psychological cancer at the door, we have allowed it to metastasize. I heard recently that some 70% of men struggle with porn. A few quick points of advice for those suffering from this addiction:
1) Employ the "cut off your hand" principle. This is a powerful addiction (more so than many drugs) and requires a powerful response. Put filters on all of your electronics. If you don't need them for something, leave them at home (or if you're at home, leave them at work).
2) Sexuality is not identity. Don't buy into the lie that you are what you do. If you are a follower of Jesus Christ, you belong to Him. He has the final word over you.
3) Jesus gives you wisdom through His Spirit as well as strength. Don't simply test your strength (and test the Lord) with each successive encounter. There is arrogance in that approach. The Lord gives us wisdom to stay out of such encounters in the first place. Avoid the battle in the first place!
4) Since Jesus has final word over you, don't let moral failure have the final word over your night. The Devil is great at condemning you after your sin and telling you that reading Scripture or praying would make you a hypocrite. Yet hypocrites may still approach the throne of grace with boldness and confidence, crying "Have mercy on me, the sinner!"
Several soldiers are also struggling with their own parent's infidelities and are often being asked to counsel and/or mediate between their parents! This is not only grossly inappropriate, but incredibly unfair and confusing for those caught in the middle. Such people stuck in those situations need to know that they can simultaneously be mad at a parent and still love them. Love doesn't mean pretending not to be hurt.
Also, the confusion resulting from these situations is only compounded by the confusion found throughout society regarding relationships nowadays. Parents give up their authority to be their kids' BFFs. They treat their spouses as partners rather than lovers. Emotional dependency and enmeshment seems to be everywhere. A husband and wife must be best friends with one another, not their kids. If a parent is single/divorce, he/she must find another emotional support other than a child. I met one soldier whose unfaithful dad confides in him about current relationships; his devastated mom relies upon him as her emotional support; his unstable sister had made him her lifeline.
I had to remind him--he isn't Jesus. Not only will he fail in his role of savior, but he will be crushed in the process. He must trust in his Savior, and trust his family to Him as well. He should draw boundaries with each of them, help them see their need for other human supports, and more importantly, the love, grace and conviction that only God can give.
When I led chapel services at the different locations, I drew upon a familiar and beloved passage of Scripture: The parable of the Prodigal Son. In that parable, we are powerfully reminded that our hearts drove us away from God. But in the same breath, we are poignantly shown that it is God's heart--and His heart alone--which can draw us back home.
For each of us--sinners, sufferers, some saved by grace and others in need of being saved by grace--may we find our home in Him.
23.4.16
Son, You Are Safe
The night before last, I heard my little boy scampering around his room long after we put him to bed. I walked across the hall, opened his door and light flooded into the hallway. He is not supposed to turn on the lights at night, but something seemed different at this late hour. Usually, when he is being naughty after going to bed, he races back to his bed and hides under the covers as soon as he hears us coming.
Not this time. He was lying on top of his covers, staring blankly across the room, almost shivering. Considering the late hour, I told my wife that I thought he had a bad dream. I turned out the lights, curled up with him, and whispered "Buddy, God loves you. Do you know what that means? It means you are safe."
We prayed "God keep [my boy] safe in the love of Jesus so that he won't be scared and help him to get a good night's sleep." I heard him whisper "Amen" after me. I kissed his head, got up, and went to bed.
The next morning, my wife found him sleeping with the lights on.
Disobedience? I don't think so. It takes an entire lifetime of being scared to learn about what it means to be safe in the love of God. That powerful lesson is just starting for him.
After my wife found our boy asleep with the lights on, I left for a conference and sat under two convicting seminars on remembering the past and repentance. In remembering the past, I am to reflect upon God's sovereign work in biblical history, church history, my denomination, my church, and my own life. In the process, I will naturally celebrate His goodness. Then comes repentance, and the need to honestly assess the health of my church and my own heart.
I was convicted that most every flaw I saw in the church is also in my own heart. I cannot ask those I help shepherd to grow and move forward if I am not willing to do so as well. For the first time in a long time, I felt the sting and sorrow of my own sin--that I have been demanding health from others when I have not been healthy. I equate busyness with holiness and have neglected the Great Physician and self-medicated with invigorating conversations. Lord, test my thoughts, see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the everlasting way!
My wife and I enjoyed a good conversation with a female friend last night while her husband labored in the NICU as a nurse. She told us about a baby girl who was born with a genetic defect and would die within the week. The baby's mother couldn't bear the pain, so left the baby under the care of the nurses in the NICU. Our male friend held this precious baby an entire night, feeding her when she cried, and holding her while she slept. That precious baby died days later, but she had someone to hold her in the name of Jesus.
There is a difference between physical and spiritual safety. God does not promise His people the former, though Christ promises that not a hair will fall from our heads apart from His appointment. He also promises that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Nothing can snatch us from the Good Shepherd's hand--on a deployment, in the NICU, under the weight of sin, or shuddering in the night from a nightmare.
This morning, as I was preparing to leave for the last part of the conference, my wife heard my boy in his room crying "My daddy, my daddy, my daddy." She grabbed him and brought him downstairs and I held him for a few minutes before I left, his head resting on my shoulder. He was safe. May I follow my son's example and heart-cry as I bring my sin and weakness to the safety of our true Daddy.
There is no unsafe place within the fold of God's grace.
19.4.16
What is your hope?
I saw an old, familiar friend at Sal's Pub last night.
Unlike our last encounter, my highly-medicated friend was not tight lipped about his life or his lifestyle. He was relaxed and willing to talk. In hindsight, I'm really glad the Lord guided me back to the bar late in the night to counsel him on that prior occasion. A rapport was established.
As we were initially joined randomly from an old friend at the Legion Bar, I opened with a fun question--"Are you what you do?" Neither of them really had an answer. The other guy stumbled around with our identities being the product of our choices, then concluded "You are whatever you want yourself to be." I tried to convey to them that we all have an intrinsic worth that transcends our circumstances. I even used raw, painful examples--when we saw footage of the bodies of Rwandan men, women, and children choking rivers, we weren't grieving because of what they did, but because of who they are. Both friends caught on...a bit.
The other guy left and I was left with my initial friend. We chatted casually for a few--he mentioned that he missed not having "official" gatherings of our group the past couple of months--and then he summed up his life since I last saw him in four words: My mom has cancer.
After expressing my initial grief at what he just told me, I started asking the "What?" questions: What type of cancer does she have? What comes next? Basic info. Next, the "Who?" questions: Who is still living with her? Who is going with her to her appointments? (I offered.) Who is supporting her? Who is supporting you? Finally, the "How?" questions: How is she doing? How are you doing?
Throughout this, I am trying to focus on listening to his answers and allowing to express himself fully. When I contribute, I try to do so by asking questions and affirming his grief. I use my prior knowledge of him--medications, disorders, etc.--to convey additional sympathy--"I know your life already seemed a bit out of control. I bet it feels like chaos to see one of your few pillars in life shaken like this..."
At times like this, one has to choose what it is really important to say. The person next to you likely has very little bandwidth to comprehend anything you say, especially if it sounds trite. "So what is your hope in all of this?" I ask. "That the prognosis would be good and my mother would recover," he responded, matter-of-fact.
I realize my question is too vague and that assumes a religious conception of hope, which is increasingly rare to come by. "I hope she does as well, but with all due respect (and I switch to generalizations to keep from getting to personal), we all will die someday. In a since, we are each dying a bit every day. With your struggles, you know this as well as anybody. You know that I am a Christian and what my hope is when dealing with death. What is your hope is dealing with death?"
"My hope is that I will have friends to support me." At that point, I didn't press any further. These conversations are like relationships leading toward marriage--you don't push to quickly nor drag your feet. By God's grace, you try to use wisdom to discern the person and the situation.
I did find his response depressing. He as few loving relationships in his life, and love has been a pretty brutal concept for him over the course of his life. To invest his hopes concerning death in temporal friendships speaks more to his loneliness than his hope. My hope is that this unsettling topic drives to despair--not of life, but of himself. The questions now lay before him as a testimony: Will he take death seriously and seek out genuine hope where it may be found?
This question should never be treated lightly, for your life hinges upon it: What is your hope?
"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." (Romans 5:1-5)
Unlike our last encounter, my highly-medicated friend was not tight lipped about his life or his lifestyle. He was relaxed and willing to talk. In hindsight, I'm really glad the Lord guided me back to the bar late in the night to counsel him on that prior occasion. A rapport was established.
As we were initially joined randomly from an old friend at the Legion Bar, I opened with a fun question--"Are you what you do?" Neither of them really had an answer. The other guy stumbled around with our identities being the product of our choices, then concluded "You are whatever you want yourself to be." I tried to convey to them that we all have an intrinsic worth that transcends our circumstances. I even used raw, painful examples--when we saw footage of the bodies of Rwandan men, women, and children choking rivers, we weren't grieving because of what they did, but because of who they are. Both friends caught on...a bit.
The other guy left and I was left with my initial friend. We chatted casually for a few--he mentioned that he missed not having "official" gatherings of our group the past couple of months--and then he summed up his life since I last saw him in four words: My mom has cancer.
After expressing my initial grief at what he just told me, I started asking the "What?" questions: What type of cancer does she have? What comes next? Basic info. Next, the "Who?" questions: Who is still living with her? Who is going with her to her appointments? (I offered.) Who is supporting her? Who is supporting you? Finally, the "How?" questions: How is she doing? How are you doing?
Throughout this, I am trying to focus on listening to his answers and allowing to express himself fully. When I contribute, I try to do so by asking questions and affirming his grief. I use my prior knowledge of him--medications, disorders, etc.--to convey additional sympathy--"I know your life already seemed a bit out of control. I bet it feels like chaos to see one of your few pillars in life shaken like this..."
At times like this, one has to choose what it is really important to say. The person next to you likely has very little bandwidth to comprehend anything you say, especially if it sounds trite. "So what is your hope in all of this?" I ask. "That the prognosis would be good and my mother would recover," he responded, matter-of-fact.
I realize my question is too vague and that assumes a religious conception of hope, which is increasingly rare to come by. "I hope she does as well, but with all due respect (and I switch to generalizations to keep from getting to personal), we all will die someday. In a since, we are each dying a bit every day. With your struggles, you know this as well as anybody. You know that I am a Christian and what my hope is when dealing with death. What is your hope is dealing with death?"
"My hope is that I will have friends to support me." At that point, I didn't press any further. These conversations are like relationships leading toward marriage--you don't push to quickly nor drag your feet. By God's grace, you try to use wisdom to discern the person and the situation.
I did find his response depressing. He as few loving relationships in his life, and love has been a pretty brutal concept for him over the course of his life. To invest his hopes concerning death in temporal friendships speaks more to his loneliness than his hope. My hope is that this unsettling topic drives to despair--not of life, but of himself. The questions now lay before him as a testimony: Will he take death seriously and seek out genuine hope where it may be found?
This question should never be treated lightly, for your life hinges upon it: What is your hope?
"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." (Romans 5:1-5)
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