I would certainly never be mistaken for a perfectionist, but a lazy slug I am not. I’m just me. My mom and dad never felt I was a good enough son, both for different reasons…never as smart as the Anderson girls….not an athlete like my younger brother. Just not good enough. I remember walking around Five Points trying to sell magazines to people who could barely afford to exist. I didn't do well. My boss criticized my work ethic (kind of funny since later he got sent to prison on fraud charges). Still, the message I heard was not good enough. Never dated until after college. Why risk it? I'm not good enough. So the cycle continued. I’m almost thirty and I finally find a naïve 19 year old beauty that wants to be out of the house. She doesn't know, yet, that I'm not good enough. I chase her down and capture her, marry her, then live 23 years trying to hide the real me so she won't find out I'm not good enough and leave me. It’s a relationship of smoke and mirrors and masks, on my side. Ironicly, looking back, I think she would have loved the real me, but I couldn't take that chance.
Fast forward to 8 years ago. My wife Debbie’s dead. I'm alone, again, and I'm still not good enough. My work ethic, though, is very good. Have been successful in my chosen field. (chosen because I never pursued the career I had a degree in, didn't even try, because I knew I'd fail. I was not good enough). Have 2 teenage kids that love me, but am certainly not good enough to be their only parent. After a few years decide I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life. Join a singles group. According to my counselor, singles groups, arguably, are the biggest collection of dysfunctional people ever assembled in one place. Still not good enough. Find a lady as needy as I am and start the smoke and mirrors thing. Starts to crumble in a year and blows to hell in 18 months. She calls me on my stuff. I'm still not good enough. I should have known it. Maybe counseling could help? My counselor sides with her, says I'm all messed up, but he doesn't say I'm not good enough, only broken. Says there is hope for me, if I want to work my butt off. Why not? What do I have to lose? So I jump in with both feet.
Four years of recovery and now I am part of an amazing church, The Refuge. Over the last few years, some incredible people have been telling me I am good enough. I am starting to believe it, some. Am reaching out to people. Being real. being honest. Trying so hard to be safe. Could it be that me, messed up Mike, could actually be good enough?
Ah, but here he comes roaring in like a lion. To steal, kill and destroy. The condemner of my soul. You are not only not good enough, but you are actually no good at all. And I start to believe his voice, it is so strong. So clear. And if that is not enough I feel others are thinking the same thing when I can't be there for them the way they think I should be. Maybe my folks, my boss, the girls, the voices were right, are right. I'm not good enough.
But then a light goes on as I see some friends, wonderful friends, gifted friends, loving friends, compassionate friends (friends that the hurting would mistake for Jesus in the flesh) feeling the same way about themselves. That they are not good enough, either. It's always easier to see the lie in the lives of others than it is in our own lives.
Then, I get a revelation from God. He is talking to my heart. Your best will never be good enough for everyone. Jesus came to this earth. Poured out His love. Sweat. Drops of blood. Cried over mankind. Gave up His life. AND IT WAS STILL NOT GOOD ENOUGH, FOR SOME AND THEY KILLED HIM. And it is still that way today. So if Jesus' best wasn't good enough for some people, what makes you think your best could be? Just be who I made you to be. Keep trying to improve. Keep loving. Caring. Giving. Keep pouring your heart out. Keep getting messy. Being raw. Being honest and real. Being safe. Just keep showing up in the lives of others. That is the best you can do. That is all I expect. I will be there to lead you and guide you. Your best is good enough for ME.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
KATHY - My Love-Hate Thing with Community
We’ve been spending the past few weeks talking about community at The Refuge. Everyone who knows me knows I love community. I love relationships. I love people connecting with God and each other. I love to see someone who thinks they are unlovable start to feel loved because I remember how much that meant to me a long time ago. But it’s not just a love thing. Please do not think I have some crazy idealistic view of community, thinking it’s a piece of cake to pull off. Real community is brutally hard, maybe one of the hardest things we can do as human beings.
Every church values community, this is nothing new. Look on every church website and you will see a list of small groups and ways for community to “happen” at a church. Why are so many strategies necessary to pull off “community”? Why is it not just our natural bent to want to be together, love each other, share our lives with each other, and reach out to others and love them, too?
Because we are all messed up. Most of us have a love-hate thing with community. I know I do. I want it. I want people in my life, to know how I’m really doing, to care about me, to pray for me, to carry my burdens when they are too heavy for me. And I also don’t want it. Why? Because it’s hard. It’s easier to go solo. Having people in my life exposes me. They see things I don’t really want them to see. They force me to think about things I don’t want to. It means I will have to sacrifice time, myself. It means I will have to trust, risk, and I’m a scaredy-cat at heart.
Like most of us, I’m sort of in this double bind. I love community. I want it. And at the same time, I hate community.
Here’s why I hate community:
1. It’s time consuming. I’ll have to be inconvenienced.
2. I am sure to get hurt.
3. It forces me to think about things differently. Everyone won’t agree with me (what’s wrong with them?) and that stinks.
4. It messes with my self-centeredness.
5. I’m asking to be annoyed, irritated, frustrated, angered, disappointed.
6. I’ll let others down, fail them, disappoint them; I’m a tried and true people-pleaser, so this is asking for trouble.
7. I’ll actually have to ask for help.
8. I won’t be able to fake it.
9. It won’t be neat and tidy (what I’m always longing for). In fact, it’ll be messy, crazy, hard and unpredictable.
Okay, so with all of these negatives, is it really worth it? I think so. For me, the loves are definitely starting to outweigh the hates.
Why I love community:
1. It’s worth the time. Jesus was about people, bottom line. Relationships are what matter. At the end of the day I won’t remember my job, my house, my stuff. I’ll remember the people I loved and that loved me.
2. It’s a place to practice becoming a better lover—of God, of people. I definitely need a place to practice. How can we live out the 2 greatest commandments Jesus gave us…“love Him, love others” without at least trying for close, intimate relationship with each other?
3. It inspires me to keep going. The courage you have—to keep fighting, living, trying—makes me want to, too.
4. The laughter. Without it, I don’t know where I’d be. It is sustaining. Life is too hard without it.
5. I can talk grace and forgiveness until I’m blue in the face, but unless I have to give it, receive it, it means nothing. I want it to mean something.
6. It keeps pointing me toward God. The more I hang around other people and listen, I am forced to think more, ask more questions, seek, wonder, question, wrestle.
7. It is glorious to be up close and personal with Jesus moving in a life, changing a person, healing, bringing hope. Nothing is more beautiful.
8. You seem to keep loving me no matter what, and for that I am very grateful.
So what do you hate about it? Love about it?
Every church values community, this is nothing new. Look on every church website and you will see a list of small groups and ways for community to “happen” at a church. Why are so many strategies necessary to pull off “community”? Why is it not just our natural bent to want to be together, love each other, share our lives with each other, and reach out to others and love them, too?
Because we are all messed up. Most of us have a love-hate thing with community. I know I do. I want it. I want people in my life, to know how I’m really doing, to care about me, to pray for me, to carry my burdens when they are too heavy for me. And I also don’t want it. Why? Because it’s hard. It’s easier to go solo. Having people in my life exposes me. They see things I don’t really want them to see. They force me to think about things I don’t want to. It means I will have to sacrifice time, myself. It means I will have to trust, risk, and I’m a scaredy-cat at heart.
Like most of us, I’m sort of in this double bind. I love community. I want it. And at the same time, I hate community.
Here’s why I hate community:
1. It’s time consuming. I’ll have to be inconvenienced.
2. I am sure to get hurt.
3. It forces me to think about things differently. Everyone won’t agree with me (what’s wrong with them?) and that stinks.
4. It messes with my self-centeredness.
5. I’m asking to be annoyed, irritated, frustrated, angered, disappointed.
6. I’ll let others down, fail them, disappoint them; I’m a tried and true people-pleaser, so this is asking for trouble.
7. I’ll actually have to ask for help.
8. I won’t be able to fake it.
9. It won’t be neat and tidy (what I’m always longing for). In fact, it’ll be messy, crazy, hard and unpredictable.
Okay, so with all of these negatives, is it really worth it? I think so. For me, the loves are definitely starting to outweigh the hates.
Why I love community:
1. It’s worth the time. Jesus was about people, bottom line. Relationships are what matter. At the end of the day I won’t remember my job, my house, my stuff. I’ll remember the people I loved and that loved me.
2. It’s a place to practice becoming a better lover—of God, of people. I definitely need a place to practice. How can we live out the 2 greatest commandments Jesus gave us…“love Him, love others” without at least trying for close, intimate relationship with each other?
3. It inspires me to keep going. The courage you have—to keep fighting, living, trying—makes me want to, too.
4. The laughter. Without it, I don’t know where I’d be. It is sustaining. Life is too hard without it.
5. I can talk grace and forgiveness until I’m blue in the face, but unless I have to give it, receive it, it means nothing. I want it to mean something.
6. It keeps pointing me toward God. The more I hang around other people and listen, I am forced to think more, ask more questions, seek, wonder, question, wrestle.
7. It is glorious to be up close and personal with Jesus moving in a life, changing a person, healing, bringing hope. Nothing is more beautiful.
8. You seem to keep loving me no matter what, and for that I am very grateful.
So what do you hate about it? Love about it?
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
KARL - Audible Follicle
I seem to be having quite a few humiliating experiences these days. I have reached the age where remembering to zip my pants is a challenge. But this past week, I was humiliated and it wasn’t even my fault. The barber was putting the finishing touches on my new coif and he mumbles “yea, hang on a sec, let me get those ear hairs for you.”
I have ear hair. I won’t drag this out like some lame open mike comedian; suffice to say I am damaged goods. This means my life is almost over. I already consider staying up until 9:30 pm an accomplishment and 4:30 a perfectly reasonable time for supper. I have only a few life stages left: I will soon believe that my bowel activity is of interest to everyone, followed by slow walking, driving by Braille and finally “APRIL, what did you do with my teeth!”
I have often said that there are only a couple of verses of scriptures that I can prove and one is “life is a vapor, it appears only for a moment.” It makes sad to think that I am getting old. I wish it made me glad, to think that I will soon live in eternity, and not even have to worry about zippers. But I can not shake the feeling that I missed too much, messed up too much. The feeling that life is too fast is a constant shadow. The brakes have gone out, the hill is steep and I sense myself uncontrollably accelerating towards eternity.
The Bible is filled with folks like me. I think an entire book, called Ecclesiastes, was written by a guy whose barber clipped his ear hair. And it made him think. Only a couple of options are available to me: freeze in fear, or make each moment count. I bet God is wanting the latter, to help me overcome fear and immobility. Besides, aren’t the best rides at the park always the fastest?
I have ear hair. I won’t drag this out like some lame open mike comedian; suffice to say I am damaged goods. This means my life is almost over. I already consider staying up until 9:30 pm an accomplishment and 4:30 a perfectly reasonable time for supper. I have only a few life stages left: I will soon believe that my bowel activity is of interest to everyone, followed by slow walking, driving by Braille and finally “APRIL, what did you do with my teeth!”
I have often said that there are only a couple of verses of scriptures that I can prove and one is “life is a vapor, it appears only for a moment.” It makes sad to think that I am getting old. I wish it made me glad, to think that I will soon live in eternity, and not even have to worry about zippers. But I can not shake the feeling that I missed too much, messed up too much. The feeling that life is too fast is a constant shadow. The brakes have gone out, the hill is steep and I sense myself uncontrollably accelerating towards eternity.
The Bible is filled with folks like me. I think an entire book, called Ecclesiastes, was written by a guy whose barber clipped his ear hair. And it made him think. Only a couple of options are available to me: freeze in fear, or make each moment count. I bet God is wanting the latter, to help me overcome fear and immobility. Besides, aren’t the best rides at the park always the fastest?
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