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I love the picture of our interdependence expressed in this poem, though our need for others can also be a frightening thought.
Each lifetime is the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
For some there are more pieces.
For others the puzzle is more difficult to assemble.
Some seem to be born with a nearly complete puzzle.
And so it goes.
Souls going this way and that
Trying to assemble the myriad parts.
But know this. No one has within themselves
All the pieces to their puzzle . . .
Everyone carries with them at least one and probably
Many pieces to someone else’s puzzle.
Sometimes they know it.
Sometimes they don’t.
And when you present your piece…
To another, whether you know it or not,
Whether they know it or not,
You are a messenger from the Most High.
–Lawrence Kushner, Honey from the Rock
July 4th Kimberly and I visited her Aunt Pam on the lake. It had been a nice day, but started to rain an hour before we left. As we drove home on a two lane road, I came around a curve and spotted a car stopped in front of me with a car passing it in the oncoming lane. Because of the rain, I knew I could never brake in time, but there was no shoulder. I swerved onto the sloped wet grass and the tires slid uncontrollably down the embankment into a row of spaced wooden pylons at the bottom. Bump! …Bump! …Bump! …Bump!
Thankfully, the window-high logs were not buried or cemented in the ground, so each one went down successively and did what my brakes could not. We ended up just short of a side street, gently enough that the airbags did not deploy. It was a close call. The plastic front bumper was torn badly and we had a big dent in the fender, but after I strapped up the broken bumper with 3 bungee cords, we managed to drive home okay, though we were both shaken up.
When anything bad happens, especially with a potential repeat, the “if” question starts flashing like a warning light. If I had been more alert, I may have been able to stop in time… if my tire treads were better… if I had been driving slower… if Kimberly had been driving. Identifying the crucial “if” and finding its answer seems to be our voucher to a safe future, especially for us fix-it types.
For those of us who are also shame sponges, our very worth seems to ride on these answers. The “if” must not point to me. I must prove that I could not have foreseen or planned or reacted any better than I did, even when it means, sadly, that I find someone else to blame. When I’m unarguably at fault, then a second defense to my worth is to fix the results, make sure there is no cost to anyone but myself. When this also is beyond my reach, then a weak third defense is to settle on a solution that will prevent this incident ever recurring.
Unfortunately, these three steps of unhealthy self-protection can look very spiritually mature, even to myself. I can pass it off as self-examination, restitution, and repentance. I think I am fleeing from shame into rectitude, but I am actually running from true forgiveness and grace into the apparent safety of legalism. I cannot believe that there is complete forgiveness and reconciliation without some payment from my side… a payment of promises, of sorrow and groveling, or of corrective action. The smaller my failure footprint, the easier it is to forgive me… at least that is what I picked up from interacting with fellow humans.
Once thoroughly trained in this relational dynamic, it is very hard for me to change the way I see God. Unlike us, he never finds it hard to forgive me and isn’t suspicious that my confession is contrived. He never lets the injury I have done him constrict his compassion for me or his desire to relate to me. I should not have said “never lets” as though his forgiveness was an act of his will to override his natural inclinations to retaliate. His love for me is always on full, regardless of what I have done.
In a message to a friend I wrote the following some time back. I would love to get everyone’s thoughts, to get a dialogue going. Are you game?
When I said that different folks are helped in different ways (and by different kinds of people), I meant that even the downcast are each sad in his or her own way, with unique history, issues, perspectives, coping strategies, resources and the like. When I was struggling in Calcutta with deep depression, a well-wisher sent me a copy of “Spiritual Depression” by a noted evangelical writer. The author’s premise was that depression always arises from a lack of faith. I have discovered in my own life that depression and sadness may be a demonstration of a much deeper faith. Many people are too afraid (i.e. lack the faith) to allow themselves any unpleasant feelings. They constantly keep such feelings at bay by various means of escape (entertainment, overwork, even reading the Bible). It often takes a great deal of courage (i.e. faith) to acknowledge one’s unpleasant feelings, and if we push those feelings away, we will never discover what they are trying to tell us about ourselves.
So many folks are also afraid that not challenging their friend’s moodiness will encourage him either to mope and cling to his depression (a “pity party”) or to use his depression to manipulate others. These two unhealthy responses do occur. On the one hand, no one is completely honest, even with themselves, about their feelings. So some folks use depression to avoid their true feelings because of fear of acknowledging their anger or sadness or pain (just as other folks use cheerfulness to avoid their genuine emotions). On the other hand, they may use their depression to try to control others. The solution for both types of folks is not to push them out of feeling sad, however, but to help them discover their true feelings beneath their depression while maintaining good boundaries relationally and emotionally (i.e. not yielding to manipulation).
Some folks want you to cheer them up from their sadness, either because they are not ready to face their deep unpleasant feelings or because their sadness is superficial and probably only circumstantial. (After all, no one likes to feel depressed—everyone would rather always be genuinely cheerful if it came with no negative side effects.) They may in fact need “cheering up,” though in my perspective even these folks are usually more benefited by an expression of sympathy for their sadness, at least initially and tentatively: an offer to be with them in their pain, if they wish, instead of helping them to avoid it.
After writing about my “Aha” moment, I found it was not such a new discovery after all, because I journaled about it months ago. It was something I had started to learn and then forgot. In the past I would have judged myself for this “neglect of the truth,” but I’ve discovered that this is how I learn… with fits and starts, do-overs and false leads. Here is my entry, a more insightful “Aha” about forced compliance (slightly edited to make sense to others):
I realize why I have been feeling increasingly depressed, and it is a long term, pervasive problem. Although it involves performance, it is not tied to “should” or “well done” (big issues for me). It is rather anchored by a sheer “must,” tasks about which I feel I have no choice. Although obligation may also be part of the driving force, it is not uppermost—failure to do what should be done results in guilt and shame, but failure to do what must be done results in anxiety. It is a direct appeal to the will rather than the conscience.
In childhood when my parents told me to do something “Now!” in sharp anger, I reacted out of sheer compulsion. I responded quickly in fear—well, not in conscious fear, since the idea of disobedience was too remote to have the consequences of that even occur to me. It was a stronger and quicker motivator to compliance than an appeal to obligation or shame. It completely bypassed my ability to think regarding the matter and was reflexive, like jerking the steering wheel to avoid a collision. There is no consciousness of fear in such a situation—it is first react, and then feel—and if the danger and escape are both over in a flash, there may not even be an aftershock of fear, perhaps not even of relief.
Whenever authority figures take charge with an obvious and absolute expectation of compliance, I feel I have no choice. The thing must be done without a single additional consideration. Only in the case where the demand was to break a clear moral standard did I stop to consider and refuse, but this was simply because there was a higher authority still, namely God, the one of whom I was most afraid. “Because I said so” was a common enough reason offered by mom to insist on obedience regardless of how we felt, what we wanted, or what opposing reasons we offered.
When an absolute is imposed on the will, the damage to self worth does not come through a sense of shame, but through a sense that someone else’s will and wish has priority over mine, that I am more or less a cog in the wheel of the accomplishment of their objectives. It is the worth-denying position of a slave. It is very depersonalizing to know that one’s feelings do not matter, and that is the real crux of the situation. If something really must be done and I must do it out of personal necessity (in other words, I don’t want to suffer the consequences of it not being done) and I am acting out of that motivation, it does not feel as though my feelings are being scorned.
But naturally the same action can spring from different motivations, so I can perform the act out of a sense of powerlessness and disrespect leveraged against me, or out of my sense of what is best for my own needs. Even if the pressure is there from an authority figure, or from someone whose opinion or valuation of me I feel a need, I can still learn to respond out of a different motivation, a motivation that validates my own feelings and chooses based on what is best for myself. Of course, keeping that person’s good will or affection may seem paramount to me, but then the two different motivations appear to coalesce, and I am not free. In such a situation I need to ponder the next lower level in my psyche—the co-dependence I am feeling—and work through that issue until I am free enough to respond without undermining my self worth.
The key for me is to bring these dynamics to consciousness and then try to support and affirm my desires and fears. I think there are many ways I can do this. I can adjust the time frame, the means to the goal, the goal itself, and in other ways try to accommodate my distresses and desires, but I especially need to work on understanding and redirecting the motivation out of which I choose and act. I must always stop to understand what I am feeling and why, to validate and affirm those feelings, to allow myself the human right of choice, and to choose and act from this affirmation of myself. It does not mean I will refuse to act in the best interest of others. My soul needs its true feelings affirmed, not necessarily fulfilled in that moment. I believe affirming my own longings is a cornerstone of self-care, not selfishness.
In case you haven’t figured this out yet, I’m a very screwed up person. More screwed up than most others? I honestly don’t know the answer to that question. More aware of my own issues than most others are of theirs?… I’d be willing to bet on that. It makes for a sense of isolation and loneliness. I am eternally grateful for my wife. The two of us make a great community.
For I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able
to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day. –2 Tim.1:12
Against what day?
The day of great temptation
When powers of ill,
Subtle and strong, would overwhelm the fortress
Of mind and will.
Against what day?
The day when sudden anguish
Crushes the soul;
When ruthless pain and cold, relentless sorrow
Take bitter toll.
Against what day?
The day of swift destruction,
When in a day
The slowly-garnered treasures of a lifetime
Are swept away.
Against what day?
The day when Death’s grey angel
Crosses my door,
Blotting out life’s sweet song and golden sunshine
Forevermore;
Against that day,
That day of dread,
When strong heart faileth
And hope is fled,
Day of life’s direst need
Or Death’s dark sleep,
I am persuaded that my God is able
My soul to keep!
–Margaret Clarkson–
Sara Layman’s “Alleluia” posts were part of the inspiration for my new blog.
“Alleluia Day 106: Once, for a few weeks, my eldest daughter went to sleep-away camp. When I picked her up we went to the craft cabin to pick up her artwork. She couldn’t find her work. I found what looked like her initials on the back of one plaster of paris Jesus but she said it wasn’t hers. “No, Mom! When I painted my Jesus’ eyes, the paint ran down his cheeks.” The craft counselors spoke up, “Oh no, don’t worry about that. We spent all day touching up the paintings and fixing them!” I couldn’t believe my ears. Seriously, I did not want someone else’s painted Jesus in my house (at all!) the only value that piece had was that my child worked on it, was proud of it, and wanted me to see it and have it. They removed the value (for me). My child didn’t want the edited piece either. Why is it that I want to edit my efforts to try to make them appear perfect to others? Did Jesus reject those who washed his feet with water because it wasn’t expensive perfume? Of course I’d like my work and art and efforts to be perfect but if they aren’t – after all I’m not perfect – isn’t it better to have the honest, heartfelt efforts rather than the manipulated and contrived results? Will I, in response, accept all gifts without strings or criticisms? Alleluia!”
I love this post of Sara’s, which she gave me permission to use. How rich to think of two kinds of worth for any creation, the inherent worth and the worth derived from the heart of the creator, and the second has no real relationship to the first. If it is a genuine expression of the individual’s heart, and I see it as such, then it cannot be poorly done, then it is more precious to me than all other creations, no matter how grand and glorious they are. Whatever we offer to God hangs now on his refrigerator door.
I am often amazed at how long it takes me to come to a realization or understanding. If someone offers me an idea that does not fit into my present worldview, I cannot use it, and often do not understand it. When we started dating, Kimberly shared concepts that sounded like Chinese to me. They just made no sense to me at all.
Last night she suggested something that I have heard from others, “If there are tasks that need to be done, and you don’t want to do them, you can push yourself in a way that validates and supports your needs and feelings—do the task for yourself instead of against yourself. Do it for the benefit it will bring you.”
Yes, I have heard this before, I agree, but I have a problem. If it is only me affected by my decision, that is easy enough to do, but if others and their feelings and needs are also involved, I feel obligated to push myself regardless of what I want. That is, I can’t both listen to their needs and my needs when there is competition (and I downgrade most of my ‘needs’ to simply ‘desires,’ so their needs outrank mine).
But just this morning I started to reconsider Kimberly’s words. The problem is not pushing myself to do something I don’t want to do, but the thoughts that support that choice. To motivate myself, I resort to willpower based on obligation. This has always “worked” for me, that is, I complete the task. But I can only do so by disregarding my own feelings. Might there be a way to support my feelings and motivate myself apart from obligation?
It is very hard for me to practice this because my sense of duty trumps every other motivation by sheer weight of ingrained thought patterns. I do onerous things always and only because I “have” to do them. I have no choice. I thought the problem was in the choosing, but perhaps the problem is in the approach to choosing, the why and how of the decision rather than the what.
I realize now that this is the first glimmer of insight in a very long process, years of remaking my outlook, hundreds of attempts at applying it. I used to think that God’s grace should be gotten fully in one go and applied everywhere, like paint to a door. I slowly came to realize that I can only apply the grace of God to those wounds that I first identify. I can’t coat the door with WD40 and expect the unidentified squeak to stop. I have to locate the rusty hinge and spray a concentrated stream.
Of course, grace is at work helping me to identify my issues, but it works on its own schedule, not mine. I would like to know all my misguided beliefs now and focus all my time and energy into “fixing” them as quickly as I can. This would work no better than a first-grader studying night and day so he can graduate from college in two years. God is far more understanding and patient with my shortcomings than I am. I imagine he would like to tell me, “Slow down. Go easy on yourself. Even 50 years is not enough time to make all the positive changes I plan for you.” Oddly enough, for me to be more godly, I need to be more understanding and patient with myself; I need to receive this grace he offers me. Who would have guessed?
Kimberly and I talked last night, trying to sort through my feelings. As I discussed my sense of failure in India, I realized that wasn’t really the major issue. I have focused for ten years to overcome the lie that my worth depends on what I do or don’t do, and I’ve found a large degree of freedom. But if it was not about failure, what was troubling me so deeply?
New thoughts began swirling around in my brain. Like a child trying to work out a puzzle, I kept shuffling the pieces to make sense of these vague notions. At last I told Kimberly that I would have to let it marinate for now.
This morning I started stacking and restacking my blocks of feelings and speculations in conversation with Kimberly, trying to find the pattern that fit. A center of concern began to take shape, an issue I have not focused on, but one that has deep roots from early childhood—the idea that my needs don’t matter. Only one thing matters—doing more for God at whatever cost to myself. And if my needs don’t matter, then I don’t matter.
This priority on service meant that everyone else’s needs were more important than my own, and therefore my needs must always be sacrificed. In essence, self-care was selfishness unless it was clearly required to keep the machine functioning to do its job. Caring for myself physically and spiritually was only legitimate as an intermediate goal, a means to the end of serving others (and emotional needs were merely desires, not true needs).
This became an inescapable trap. When I met my own need, I felt ashamed for my selfishness. When I rejected my own need to help others, I strengthened my belief that my need (and therefore I myself) was of little worth. Either way, shame won. I could not find a way to break free. After India, I kept trying different ministries to see if I could find one in which I found fulfillment and peace, where there was less competition between my own needs and the needs of others. But I crated the real issue around with me from place to place. I now realize I have a lot of work ahead to unravel the emotional knots.
This Catch-22 has played out, not only in my occupation, but in all my relationships. When Kimberly and I moved into our new home, the “master bedroom” was a loft open to the living room below. I promised Kimberly I would build a bedroom there, a foolish start to a marriage! Unfortunately, I have very poor skills in estimating the time a job will take to complete.
As the work dragged on, keeping the house a mess, I began to lose enthusiasm and Kimberly began to lose heart. I didn’t want her to suffer, so I prevailed on myself to keep working hour after hour. Since I was now working out of obligation (the obligation of love, as I saw it) and not a creative pleasure, the job became more and more loathsome, and I had to whip myself harder. I felt shame when I didn’t work on it, but my own needs were rejected when I did work on it, and that sharpened my sense of worthlessness at a deeper level. I have always struggled with this belief that the task, especially the God-given task, is more important than I am.
We tried to talk it through many times. Kimberly suggested that we pay someone to finish it, but I couldn’t bring myself to pay out that kind of money, especially for something I could do myself (another issue of mine). We finally decided how much of the bedroom she needed complete before we could move in, and this gave us a foreseeable end. But the work had long since broken down my sense of worth. I couldn’t bring myself to do any wood work, which I love, for the next two years. And the closet still does not have doors.
This same scenario has played out often in many situations, and I could find no way to resolve the problem—should I push through or not push through? Neither worked. Calcutta was the point when my determined willpower finally crushed my spirit. I kept driving myself throughout four years of deep depression until it started to hurt others, and then I benched myself. I did not resolve the dilemma, I just took myself out of the game. And now it seems I am pulling my uniform back on and the feelings are all too familiar.
More personal reflections to follow.
It does not cost me much to report on my experiences and feelings after the fact. It is more difficult for me to share in the moment, to invite others into my journey when I am still in the quagmire. I am more vulnerable in such times, so I ask those who leave comments to this post to be especially gracious in what they say.
I have been in a great deal of turmoil the last few days over my expected visit to Calcutta. India was my emotional Waterloo, an inescapable, pervasive black hole. I’m pretty sure these current feelings stem from very deep, unresolved issues while I was a missionary that tapped into an ocean of inadequacy. I did not learn Bengali well… I was so ethnocentric, seeing their culture as inadequate… I failed to make any significant impact even though I nearly died trying… I was arrogant… I was stupid… I was closed to input…. “I’m a failure, a failure, a failure” was the heavy drumbeat that struck against my soul throughout each day.
I had no weapon with which to challenge these beliefs, no argument great enough to disprove my self-condemnation. I thought my self accusations were a mark of true and deep repentance. Here is an example from the journal I kept in India, castigating myself for sleeping till 5 a.m. instead of rising at 4 o’clock to pray:
Oh, Lord, break me. Break this wicked pride so steeped in deceit. Break the great evil of my indiscipline – great because it keeps me from knowing you and seeking you and loving you with my whole heart. Lord, how can you possibly use me in this city, or in the lowest ministry, if I am not wholly given over to the infilling, anointing and outpouring of your Spirit? Oh, Lord have mercy on this foolish and hopeless child of yours. I have no strength of my own, Lord. I know I am completely bankrupt. I know how many times over and over I have failed you in the same things. It is a wonder that you still love me Lord. What an amazing love is yours! How much you deserve a better child than I. Make me fit to bear your name in this world or take me out of it, Lord.
When I returned from Asia, I was so broken that my only hope of functioning was to push all thoughts of that time aside, not deal with them, ignore them as best I could. I quarantined that huge section of my heart because I was too soul sick to deal with it in any kind of healthy way. Of course those self-condemning thoughts did not simply disappear, but festered in the dark, chewing like termites on my spirit. The less aware I was of them, the more easily they could undermine my sense of worth.
And as I open that Pandora’s box again, I find my life energy draining away and a settled anguish taking it’s place. I feel I am picking up a burden too great to bear. I thought I was emotionally ready (barely) to visit Calcutta again. I wonder. Perhaps this is God’s divine timing to draw me into facing this great vortex of shame. I would ask for your prayers as I wade into the river Styx
Janathan Grace Reflections 