Happy Easter, everyone. To tell you the truth, I haven't felt much like celebrating. These feelings have gone on for many months. It was the worst day of my life. Seven months ago. Never mind the details. I reached out for help, and I heard in effect, "You're not good enough. You're not being your true self. Many people are disappointed in you." I have been frozen in that day since it happened.
But you see, no one is actually harder on me than myself. The outward confidence, the outgoing gregarious nature, all that is the fruit of overcoming the internal struggle, the negative self talk that by definition must be false. I give all of you the good stuff, and I keep the bad stuff between God and me.
It had brought me so much joy to see the good work that God was doing in so many other people. I was once called "The Encourager" in college, and it sort of internally stuck. This is who I am; this is what I do. And it's not happy-clappy or fake. If you have something great about you, I'll find it, and I will tell you what it is.
All of a sudden, I felt as if I didn't belong. After the shock wore off, I was really hurt and angry. I felt like I was someone's discipleship project, or an accessory to some image that someone wanted to project. To be told that I didn't care, or that I didn't care enough, or in the right way, well, you can kill a man like me with something like that.
That night was a little scary. Okay, it was a lot scary. I took the grace that was available to me and I just sat there. I don't think I moved for three hours. I said the words out loud, "Go to the bathroom. Wash your hands. Brush your teeth. Drive your chair." I definitely had The Bad Thought. For the second time in my life. But the gift of sorrow is a true gift. The deepest grief nevertheless tells us that we are alive. I don't mean just our bodies; I mean our spirits. I am alive and I am feeling something. The tears would not stop. I was thankful for the tears.
I had to go to Kentucky the next day. I ate meat on a Friday, because Bryan Cross said so. He's used his unique authority in this way a couple of other times, and I've been grateful each time. I met my friend Matthew in person for the first time when we got to Kentucky. The Internet is a wonderful thing; I know and love people that I have never actually looked in the eye. Matthew's face was the most welcome sight. He didn't know why; he couldn't have known why.
The resurrection of Jesus means to me today that the flashes of anger, of grief and loss, the feeling of being set aside, of not being enough, are not true. They are the manifestation of death. But death and hell have been defeated. Even if I can't seem to keep myself on the right side of that ledger, it remains true. That's my Easter hope.
But you see, no one is actually harder on me than myself. The outward confidence, the outgoing gregarious nature, all that is the fruit of overcoming the internal struggle, the negative self talk that by definition must be false. I give all of you the good stuff, and I keep the bad stuff between God and me.
It had brought me so much joy to see the good work that God was doing in so many other people. I was once called "The Encourager" in college, and it sort of internally stuck. This is who I am; this is what I do. And it's not happy-clappy or fake. If you have something great about you, I'll find it, and I will tell you what it is.
All of a sudden, I felt as if I didn't belong. After the shock wore off, I was really hurt and angry. I felt like I was someone's discipleship project, or an accessory to some image that someone wanted to project. To be told that I didn't care, or that I didn't care enough, or in the right way, well, you can kill a man like me with something like that.
That night was a little scary. Okay, it was a lot scary. I took the grace that was available to me and I just sat there. I don't think I moved for three hours. I said the words out loud, "Go to the bathroom. Wash your hands. Brush your teeth. Drive your chair." I definitely had The Bad Thought. For the second time in my life. But the gift of sorrow is a true gift. The deepest grief nevertheless tells us that we are alive. I don't mean just our bodies; I mean our spirits. I am alive and I am feeling something. The tears would not stop. I was thankful for the tears.
I had to go to Kentucky the next day. I ate meat on a Friday, because Bryan Cross said so. He's used his unique authority in this way a couple of other times, and I've been grateful each time. I met my friend Matthew in person for the first time when we got to Kentucky. The Internet is a wonderful thing; I know and love people that I have never actually looked in the eye. Matthew's face was the most welcome sight. He didn't know why; he couldn't have known why.
The resurrection of Jesus means to me today that the flashes of anger, of grief and loss, the feeling of being set aside, of not being enough, are not true. They are the manifestation of death. But death and hell have been defeated. Even if I can't seem to keep myself on the right side of that ledger, it remains true. That's my Easter hope.
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