Darkness creeps in at weird moments.
A comment. A ungaurded remark by the wrong person. A glance or a stare that you can’t get an explanation for. All of those are things that can set me off inexplicably.
Normally, I’m pretty happy-go-lucky. Why do those tiny things trigger the my mind so wildly? I wonder those things as I lay in bed with my mind literally swirling in the darkness.
At times when darkness creeps in I’m left asking myself questions like this:
- Are these people playing me?
- Am I just being set up to be the fall guy?
- How do I get out of the way of this situation I’m imagining?
- Am I prepared to go another direction, right now?
- What would happen if….
If what? That’s when I snap out of my anxiety-filled, irrational Risk game and wake up to reality. No one is out to get me.
Disappointed with myself, I am left self-reflecting: How did I get to that place… AGAIN?!?
Snakes in a church?
You see, like a lot of people who are involved in Christian leadership, I’ve been bitten by a snake before. And once you’ve been bitten you don’t ever want it to happen again. As a result, people who work in churches tend to have a healthy fear of snakes.
In 2002, Kristen and I left an over-resourced church we loved to accept a call to full-time ministry. It was the culmination of years of hard work, prayerful steps of obedience & preparation, and a lot of sound advice. We left Chicago and headed west for an under-resourced church in an area which described itself as the armpit of California. A huge unchurched population. Rampant adolescent problems. And no viable, functional Christian ministry to those kids.
Our hearts were way ahead of our skill level. The church wasn’t nearly as willing to reach “the wrong kids” as they originally said. The meth epidemic was exploding all around them and they didn’t know how to respond. So instead of reaching out the leaders decided to close the shutters and try to ride out the storm.
Within a few months every friend and mentor I’d ever had was telling me the same thing: Bad fit, get out.
So we did. I began a quiet process of finding another place to do ministry while at the same time respecting my obligation to the church I was serving at, holding out some hope that things might turn around as I was looking and we’d be able to stay.
A few months later, Kristen and I found a much better fit, well-suited for my skill level, and closer to our family. We accept that churches call, signed a contract, and were eager to close things up at one church to move on to another, better fit. We had kept everything on the up-and-up. I’d asked the advice of people far more seasoned than I and followed their advice closely.
All that was left was to tell the elders.
The meeting didn’t go well. They turned on me. These men slobbered angry tears at me about how they wished I was going to be the son they wished their sons had been to them. And they told me I was a horrible husband to Kristen. And a horrible father to my daughter. And that I was unfit for any kind of ministry. And that the devil must have confused me into thinking I was called to ministry when I was clearly not.
I took it all in. I apologized for disappointing them. If the room full of men turned into bitter boys, I’d be the one in the room to stand up and take it like a man.
Then they explained to me that they couldn’t allow me to quit because that would be an embarrassment to them. I couldn’t quit because they were firing me! Later, they produced a letter and “a review” of my performance based purely on things they had heard, filled with quotes from my volunteers, things they later told me they never said, and the viscous letter even went so far to say that Kristen was an unfit mother.
And I was told to read a different letter to the church the next Sunday. (I read parts of it, ad libbing the rest. Oops.) And they were to pay me off to get me out of their sight. Then, when that was all over- phone calls came because they said things about me in private to other people. Letters arrived at our house. People drove by our house slowly to stare. My neighbors wouldn’t talk to me.
The next 30 days before our moving van left were the worst 30 days of my life. It made no sense whatsoever. I hadn’t done anything wrong. All I had done was quit one job to take a job that better suited me. But, the men I had trusted suddenly turned into snakes, biting me repeatedly.
I’ll never forget my last conversation with one of the elders. The one whom I’d been closest too. As he walked me to our car on the last Sunday, he handed me an envelope full of money and pretended to say nice things. He tried to apologize for how the elders had acted, but since he was also delivering their hush money, it was all kind of a lie and he knew it. He said, “You know, I’ve wanted to know this whole time something, maybe you can help me? From the first day you’ve loved kids here that none of us would love. You’ve reached out to people we don’t want to even look at but probably should. What book did you read that taught you how to love those kids?” I looked at Kristen. Her jaw dropped. She shook her head. One statement summed up the entire disconnect that haunted the last year of our lives. I help back a smile. I said, “Mark, I learned those things from the life of Jesus. That’s the entire point of the New Testament. The Gospel isn’t just for people born into the church, it’s for everyone.”
Snakes. I never felt so sick to my stomach in all of my life. As Indiana Jones so famously said, “Why did it have to be snakes?”
Darkness creeps in
The last 24 hours, memories of the snakes have crept back in. I wish I could explain it. I guess old fears lurk just under the surface. But these fears paralyze me. I wish it weren’t true. But it is. It’s a weakness I wish I could grow out of but I fear it’s become part of my DNA.
It’s not a fear like the fear of the boogie man. Instead, it’s a fear of knowing that one day in the future you might have to face that same situation… and how will you respond differently?
“Am I more prepared today to deal with that situation? Am I more mature? Am I more self-confident?”
Questions that wake you from a deep sleep. Or prevent you from sleeping to begin with.
Fear is irrational. It comes from an emotional place. When darkness like that swarms in I’ve learned to rebuke it. That sort of fear isn’t from God.
That’s where truth always wins.
The Groom would never treat His Bride that way. Though Jesus had the power, he chose to win our hearts instead of capturing our hearts. He’s doesn’t demand our trust, He asks us to freely give it to him.
Whom do I trust?
If I learned anything from being bit by a snake it’s that I need to be secure in whom I put my trust.
Let love and faithfulness never leave you;
bind them around your neck,
write them on the tablet of your heart.
Then you will win favor and a good name
in the sight of God and man.Trust in the LORD with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to him,
and he will make your paths straight.Do not be wise in your own eyes;
fear the LORD and shun evil.
This will bring health to your body
and nourishment to your bones.
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