I've been experiencing a lot of anger toward my father lately for leaving me. It seems to be the default emotion when I think about him, at least it has been for a while now. I was talking with a friend online the other day and she suggested that maybe the anger was easier than feeling the pain. I've been reflecting on that profound statement ever since. And I agree.
It's easier for me to be angry at my father than to feel the wealth of painful emotions that have come since losing him to suicide. The thing is that I hate feeling weak. Don't we all? (It's probably a control issue.) Opening myself up to feel the pain of his abandonment makes me feel weak. I think it also scares me, even 13 months after the fact.
I was talking to my wife about this and she pointed out that anger tends to be an acceptable emotion for men in our society. Other negative emotional states are generally frowned upon. Crying is sometimes viewed as a sign of weakness. Men don't usually say "my feelings are hurt." We mostly grow up learning to be angry partly because we're not judged in our masculinity for that. The problem, of course, is that the other emotions are still there. Our ability to deal with them as men has a lot to do with being willing to feel them.
Honestly, I'm struggling right now. I don't want to feel what's really there. It hurts too badly sometimes. I want to move forward with my life and I'm angry at dad for slowing it all down. But the reality is he did what he did. He left. I have to accept that. And believe me, I have, many times. Some things we just have to work to accept everyday.
So what do you think? Have you found anger to be a cover-up for pain? Is it easier to hold on to anger than release pain? Do you find a sense of control in being angry sometimes that wouldn't be present if you let it go? Really, comment below. I'd like to hear your thoughts.
Till next time,
Jeremy
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Loneliness & Grief
Loneliness can be one of the most difficult parts of grief. Loneliness is typically related to feeling that others in our life are not present in some way to understand or care for us. It often indicates that we are not practicing awareness of the presence of God. But even when we do know He's there, it can still be difficult.
During times of extreme loneliness, I have sometimes been aware that God was present with me, but it didn't immediately change my feelings. The purpose of recognizing God's presence in our loneliness is to choose faith over fear. We fear that we are truly alone. We fear that no one will understand us or our situation. We fear that we will not see the end of our loneliness. But ultimately, fear is not from God, faith is. Faith is the certainty that the truth we know is the truth we will feel. It may not be here yet, but joy comes in the morning (Psalm 30). I heard a worship leader say once "morning isn't what has an AM next to it, it's what happens when you wake up!" I could go with that. We must hold on to God's promise that something better will come because hopelessness is a formidable enemy.
This past Sunday's sermon was based on Romans 5 where Paul explains that our endurance in life eventually leads to hope and that hope does not disappoint. However, hopelessness will disappoint. The hope Paul is talking about is a specific hope, a hope in "the glory of God," through Jesus Christ. And it is God who provides the hope by the pouring out of His love through the Holy Spirit (verse 5). It is the gospel. That's why the antidote for our loneliness isn't in other people but rather in our God.
Sometimes people are going to leave us hanging and they won't understand. But our trust is not ultimately in them. Our trust is in the Lord. He is the reason for our hope and the reason we can rise above the desperate loneliness of our grief. In fact, Paul says in verse 3 that we should "rejoice in our sufferings." That makes me think "Really, God? Are you serious?!" God never promised an easy road, nor did he call us to one. But He has provided His presence and His hope through the Holy Spirit. Seek that in the midst of loneliness, and you will find that hopelessness has no place.
Till next time,
Jeremy
During times of extreme loneliness, I have sometimes been aware that God was present with me, but it didn't immediately change my feelings. The purpose of recognizing God's presence in our loneliness is to choose faith over fear. We fear that we are truly alone. We fear that no one will understand us or our situation. We fear that we will not see the end of our loneliness. But ultimately, fear is not from God, faith is. Faith is the certainty that the truth we know is the truth we will feel. It may not be here yet, but joy comes in the morning (Psalm 30). I heard a worship leader say once "morning isn't what has an AM next to it, it's what happens when you wake up!" I could go with that. We must hold on to God's promise that something better will come because hopelessness is a formidable enemy.
This past Sunday's sermon was based on Romans 5 where Paul explains that our endurance in life eventually leads to hope and that hope does not disappoint. However, hopelessness will disappoint. The hope Paul is talking about is a specific hope, a hope in "the glory of God," through Jesus Christ. And it is God who provides the hope by the pouring out of His love through the Holy Spirit (verse 5). It is the gospel. That's why the antidote for our loneliness isn't in other people but rather in our God.
Sometimes people are going to leave us hanging and they won't understand. But our trust is not ultimately in them. Our trust is in the Lord. He is the reason for our hope and the reason we can rise above the desperate loneliness of our grief. In fact, Paul says in verse 3 that we should "rejoice in our sufferings." That makes me think "Really, God? Are you serious?!" God never promised an easy road, nor did he call us to one. But He has provided His presence and His hope through the Holy Spirit. Seek that in the midst of loneliness, and you will find that hopelessness has no place.
Till next time,
Jeremy
Friday, March 4, 2011
Where You Go I Go: Part 2
John 5:30 (KJV)
“30I can of mine own self do nothing: as I hear, I judge: and my judgment is just; because I seek not mine own will, but the will of the Father which hath sent me.”
The whole of Jesus’ ministry was relational. He only did that which he saw the Father doing and only through the power of the Holy Spirit did he achieve the work the Father sent him to do.
God has, from the beginning, established relationship with His people. Satan and his kingdom are constantly seeking to divide those relationships that God has ordained. If, in ministry, we believe that we alone are responsible for accomplishing the work of the Father, we err. We not only have relationship with the Father and the Holy Spirit, as Jesus did, but we have relationship with one another. Fear and doubt are tools of the enemy to break down the trust of those relationships. We have been given great authority to minister in the name of Jesus, but we must follow his example in understanding that we can do nothing of ourselves.
God is always present with us. Ignoring, or not recognizing this is often a result of our own pride, which is also a tool of our enemy Satan, who desired to exalt himself above the stars of God and be like the Most High (Isaiah 14). Pride will be opposed by God (James 4). Ungodly pride has no place in ministry. We must follow Jesus’ example in ministry if we are to see the work of the Father accomplished through us.
Joshua 1:9 (KJV)
“9Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.”
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Where You Go I Go: Part 1
John 5:30 (KJV)
“30I can of mine own self do nothing: as I hear, I judge: and my judgment is just; because I seek not mine own will, but the will of the Father which hath sent me.”
We all, as believers, have a ministry. Knowing exactly what that ministry is and what it should look like is the challenge, but we have a model in Jesus Christ. It's interesting to note that Jesus continually gives credit to the Father for his words and actions. The above scripture is just one example. He went where the Father led him. He said what he heard the Father say. He did what he saw the Father do. And he did it all in the power of the Holy Spirit.
A song I recently heard by Jesus Culture uses these thoughts for the lyrics:
Where You Go I Go
Where you go I go
What you say I say
What you pray I pray
Jesus only did, What he saw you do
He would only say, What he heard you speak
He would only move, When he felt you lead
Following your heart, Following your spirit
How could I expect to walk without you
When every move that Jesus made was in surrender
I would not begin to live without you
For you alone are worthy you are always good
YouTube Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c2U3PU-E32E&feature=related
I believe these lyrics are incredibly relevant for us today. We are only going to be effective for God's kingdom when we are following the King's leading. Jesus could not be everywhere and do everything, but His ministry on this earth was 100% complete. It was exactly what the Father sent him to do, without mistake. That is remarkable commitment and extraordinary sensitivity to the Spirit. We must follow this example.
Till next time,
Jeremy
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Stop Striving!
Are we striving to be somebody we're not so that others will approve?
Are we seeking to look better on the outside than we truly are on the inside?
That's an exhausting process. Our culture often tells us that we can't really be ourselves. We must be "friendly" and "professional" and "reasonable." But truth is, sometimes we're not. For some of us, we're okay with that, we just express it. For others, we can't stand the thought that someone would disapprove, so we try even harder to cover up what's really there. Is that always a bad thing? Certainly not. Common sense would dictate that there's a time and a place for everything. But when we spend years trying to shove everything that we are, that we think, that we feel, inside without expressing it, it becomes a prison.
During the grieving process in the past year, I've come to understand that a lot of my personality has been tucked away inside where nobody can really find it, not even myself at times. Growing up, I often felt trapped and alone. The abandonment of my father's suicide brought up a lot of that stuff again. Part of my defense was to hide within myself, so that no one could really see the authentic me. I'd just be whoever you wanted me to be, say whatever you wanted me to say. Maybe I figured people couldn't really reject me if I wasn't there to begin with. But the other side to that coin was that I was rejecting myself by not allowing authentic expression. It was a lose-lose situation.
When I began writing about my grief, I discovered that it wouldn't kill me to be completely open with God and myself. I wasn't so put together as I thought, and that was really okay. The more I accepted the depth of my own feelings and brokenness, the more I found release in admitting them to God and myself (and sometimes others). I also learned (again) that God accepts us right where we're at. If we are in denial about our own sin, His hands are tied. We must first recognize and take responsibility if God is going to move us toward healing. You know, He really is big enough to handle ALL of our mess!
I believe my self-expression is becoming more and more authentic. It's still not all that easy, but then there's a lifetime of habit to overcome, so I accept that it'll take time. The truth that is making me free in this area is that God will always accept me, even when others reject me. And between He and I, we're doing just fine. :)
Till next time,
Jeremy
Are we seeking to look better on the outside than we truly are on the inside?
That's an exhausting process. Our culture often tells us that we can't really be ourselves. We must be "friendly" and "professional" and "reasonable." But truth is, sometimes we're not. For some of us, we're okay with that, we just express it. For others, we can't stand the thought that someone would disapprove, so we try even harder to cover up what's really there. Is that always a bad thing? Certainly not. Common sense would dictate that there's a time and a place for everything. But when we spend years trying to shove everything that we are, that we think, that we feel, inside without expressing it, it becomes a prison.
During the grieving process in the past year, I've come to understand that a lot of my personality has been tucked away inside where nobody can really find it, not even myself at times. Growing up, I often felt trapped and alone. The abandonment of my father's suicide brought up a lot of that stuff again. Part of my defense was to hide within myself, so that no one could really see the authentic me. I'd just be whoever you wanted me to be, say whatever you wanted me to say. Maybe I figured people couldn't really reject me if I wasn't there to begin with. But the other side to that coin was that I was rejecting myself by not allowing authentic expression. It was a lose-lose situation.
When I began writing about my grief, I discovered that it wouldn't kill me to be completely open with God and myself. I wasn't so put together as I thought, and that was really okay. The more I accepted the depth of my own feelings and brokenness, the more I found release in admitting them to God and myself (and sometimes others). I also learned (again) that God accepts us right where we're at. If we are in denial about our own sin, His hands are tied. We must first recognize and take responsibility if God is going to move us toward healing. You know, He really is big enough to handle ALL of our mess!
I believe my self-expression is becoming more and more authentic. It's still not all that easy, but then there's a lifetime of habit to overcome, so I accept that it'll take time. The truth that is making me free in this area is that God will always accept me, even when others reject me. And between He and I, we're doing just fine. :)
Till next time,
Jeremy
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