Enter the Shadowlands

Here I am, at the gates to the shadowland, and it's my time to step in. I'm sick of covering up the pain with impulses, the busyness, a reaching for dreams, and the noise. It's time to heal and to heal I must rip off the band-aid and let the air meet the wound. Wounds can only heal with oxygen and now is the time to let the throbbing pain breathe a little.

Noise in the name of God is the headache of my soul. There are so many of us that are treading the trail away from church- church services in particular- because we are tired of the ordained noise...

The ruckus in the production, the immortal theology seductive to the mind of the weak, the worshipping of the gifted by the self deprecating, the manipulation brought on with charm and brilliant metaphors through podcast worthy sermons, the meaningless music with preconceived emotion, and the routine of doing over and over again every week. Much of it is authentic in intention, yet much of it is just more band-aids over the wound. Why is there so much fear of silence? Could silence in fact be the reflection of our shadowlands that we are scared to glimpse at?

And so I turn to the cosmic God as a mystic trying to find answers instead of giving them, trying to ask questions instead of answering them, and finally admitting that I may not know as much as I thought I knew. My skin is afflicted and I have afflicted many others. My sins are of many and many have sinned against me. And the shadowlands are somehow dimly lit- enough to find my way in.

I have twelve steps ahead to find whatever may meet me at my arrival.

The Acceptance of Reality

I put pressure on myself to say something new, fresh, and original when writing a blog. Though at times, it is best just to say what is needed. I read this today and couldn't help but post it...

"How do we find what is supposedly already there? How do we awaken our deepest and most profound selves? By praying and meditating? By more silence, solitude, and sacraments? Yes to all of the above, but the most important way is to live and fully accept our reality. This solution sounds so simple and innocuous that most of us fabricate all kinds of religious trappings to avoid taking up our own inglorious, mundane, and ever-present cross.

Living and accepting our own reality will not feel very spiritual. It will feel like we are on the edges rather than dealing with the essence. Thus most run toward more esoteric and dramatic postures instead of bearing the mystery of God’s suffering and joy inside themselves. But the edges of our lives—fully experienced, suffered, and enjoyed—lead us back to the center and the essence.

We do not find our own center; it finds us. Our own mind will not be able to figure it out. Our journeys around and through our realities, or “circumferences,” lead us to the core reality, where we meet both our truest self and our truest God. We do not really know what it means to be human unless we know God. And, in turn, we do not really know God except through our broken and rejoicing humanity." - Fr. Richard Rohr

The Big Black Forest

I've heard it said by people older than me that we spend our young adult lives tirelessly trying to survive. We, the young ones, are people of little peace, unreachable expectations, and habitually full of fear. We have been dropped into the big black forest (separation from our parents), attempting to hold onto anything that gives us some sense of security (relationships, education, a career, knowledge, theories), and running as fast as we can towards some open field of flowers and sunshine that we believe will greet us if we will ourselves out (success and for some, heaven).

The reality of the big black forest is inevitable. There are some that thrive there. They love the unknown, the spontaneous surprises that greet them at every turn, and the opportunity to dangerously swing on the vines between the trees. They are what we would call Adventurists.

Others are, well, uneasy at best living in the big black forest. They will try their hardest to grow up fast, find the most accessible way out, and if need be, figure out a way to become King of the Jungle so as not to be harmed (control). Of course, there are many folks who live in both worlds... the world of adventure and the world of uneasiness. I most likely fall into that category.

The reality of the big black forest is just that... it's big and black (yes, I know the jokes that come with those two words, too. Moving on!). But the reality is surely inevitable... it's bigger than us and more complex than we can comprehend.

The concept of the big black forest can be whatever you make it, but for the context of the rest of this blog, let's refer to it as the Higher Being or what some may call, God.

As I continue to journey into the deeper levels of healing within my present journey, I'm perplexed by the fact that almost everything I thought I had figured out about God was and is just a bunch of assumptions laced with ego and survival (or fear). This is what I refer to as my theology. Basically, I summed up a mystical presence with words and theories and created an easy explanation of something that cannot easily be explained.

At a deeper level, most of our theological declarations that we refuse to let go of are just ways to protect ourselves from exploring the big black forest. We are uncomfortable with the unknown and will feel a vulnerability that could leave us open to transformation if we let our stubborn theories go. This is the very reason why I get scared by churches that will cling lifelessly to their bylaws, theological stances and denominations instead while resisting the question marks in the grey.

Now hear me out when I say this... there is nothing wrong with having theology, bylaws, denominations, and knowledge and understanding. They are good. Belief is necessary and you cannot deny what you have come to understand. Let me give you an example of this...

Over the past two years, I have come to understand who my wife is more and more by being in a marriage with her; by struggling together, by how we have impacted each other, and by hope in all things- especially the unknown (i.e. will we have kids?). But if I was to box her in with my assumptions based on the limited knowledge and experience I have had with her- essentially, making her predictable- I will never see the full glory of who she is and I will habitually defend myself on being impacted and inspired by her essence. Thus, the same can be true about our journey with God.

See, we must realize that the things we believe in are unfinished paintings and paintings are expressions of interpretations and experience. Paintings should always be accessible to change, adjustment, movement, and even whiteouts. This is the very definition of transformation and healing. We are not designed to rely on our beliefs, but rather on the Spirit inside of us and around us. If beliefs are not being formed out of a communion with the Spirit, then we truly have no real beliefs at all.

My incomplete painting shows me that the big black forest is never ending. We have been equipped with a head lamp for light and though its beam is limited, that's a good thing. Why? Because with limited vision, we get to experience the present moment with the loving spirit in us and with others around us. As this love transforms us, we realize that all we really need is the next step.

Exposed

A couple of week ago, while attending my weekly recovery group, I heard this said... "We are only as sick as our secrets."

As I've said before, I've been a pastor or a leader in the church for many years, ever since high school. I learned along the way- set by example- to try and have the answers to all of the questions, try to have my ducks in a row, and try to always be the safe person people will come to no matter what. Most pastors know exactly what I'm talking about. There's this pressure to be flawless because it's only in flawlessness that one can be trusted. Of course, flawlessness is an illusion.

The issue is that when we try to present ourselves in the illusion of flawlessness, the dark secrets inside of us get darker and jam themselves deeper into our hidden wounds. The holier we look on the outside, the more infested with secrets we become on the inside. Shadows only exist with the presence of light.

This is the reason that Ted Haggard stories play themselves out. People like Ted are not bad people. They are just people who do not feel safe or secure enough to share their secrets with others. So the secrets manifest themselves into harmful behaviors, eventually ruining relationships and harming others, as well as themselves.

For years, I have quietly hauled around an addiction to sexual thoughts and pornography. It's been a war inside of me that has been laced in guilt, shame, confusion, and anger. It's manifested itself out in destructive dating relationships in the past as well as my marriage in the presence. It's encouraged me to fixate on beauty that is artificial and ignore beauty that is authentic. The voice of the addiction has haunted my thoughts, yelling at me even when I'm trying to put on the happy face. And more than anything, the addiction has been a lonely and isolated place to be.

After hearing that we are only as sick as our secrets, I decided that I needed to bring my secrets out into the light and expose them to my recovery group. So I mustered up enough courage to do so and I did it. I told them that I'm a hurting man who is living in a painful life in regards to sexuality. After telling them this, I immediately felt a weight lifted off of me because my inside was finally being illuminated. In doing so, I opened myself up to being loved and for the first time, I felt deep love. And that's just it... our hidden secrets take up our capacity to love and be loved.

I have a tough time hearing certain pastors give sermons these days because most of the time I feel like I'm hearing really good theology and interpretation and seeing very little transparency of their stories and struggles. It's not that sermons are bad, but they can be a great escape to hide our secrets behind. I have a hard time seeing so many people get addicted to their religion, so much so that they are under the belief that their religion is their surrender. They forget that theology cannot bring secrets into the light. Studying the Bible cannot bring secrets into the light. Attending church cannot bring secrets into the light. It's only a willingness to step into the light that can expose their secrets to the light.

Whether you are a pastor or not, I encourage you to come out into the light. Lay down the bible, cancel your activities for the night, and expose yourself to someone. Leave the lonely world behind and breathe. God's love is as real as your breath when you give yourself the capacity to breathe.

You are deeply loved.

The Beauty in Agnosticism

As I left the church a year and a half ago, I decided to learn how to become an agnostic. I wanted to know how agnostics may see the world and the unknown. I wanted to know their language. And overall, I just wanted to learn from them.

See, between the ages of 15 and my mid-twenties, I only knew how to think like a Christian and the problem with that without any other view, it inevitably leads to being a closet segregationist. When I operated only from the perspective of a Christian view point, I lost touch with understanding the world. I assumed a lot of things about those who wanted nothing to do with Christianity and I made judgements based on those assumptions. I learned to put simple labels upon that which is complex because against the Scriptures, they were all vain. Or so I thought.

In that time of my life, I took the depth and brilliancy of those who didn't think like me and perceived it through my eyes that only saw shallow puddles. Everything was black or white. Nothing was gray. You either fully believed that Jesus is God or you didn't. You either crossed the bridge of salvation or you wandered in the desert of unbelief. It was this or that. Everything was about the "or" and the "then" and no belief ended in a question mark.

I didn't see it at the time, but my relationship with others that didn't go to church had a habit of fading. If they were not willing to budge in order to follow the Jesus I knew, I didn't really see a point in investing time with them. I mean, my life was about getting people to accept Jesus and what other mission could there have been? That's what Jesus wanted me to do, I was sure of it. I was a door-to-door religion salesman and if the door shut on my face, I was on to the next house. I knew the ultimate truth and the ultimate truth had no patience. Soon, I began to realize that the ultimate truth had no understanding either.

I wasn't willing to try and understand a belief that wasn't mine because I was afraid that someone may convince me that the very thing that I would die for had grave errors in it. I didn't want to be embarrassed by my follies and I certainly didn't want to risk the chance of not believing in God (mainly because I was terrified of hell- the place where unbelievers are supposed to end up at). Besides, I felt an invigorating rush in knowing that I had the most important decision on earth (following God) figured out and others did not. I knew this to be true because at parties, I was the only person who didn't drink.

My evangelism madness finally hit rock bottom when I forcefully used it against my own flesh and blood. Several years back, my sister- the most genuine and honest person I know- was openly venturing through some questioning about her faith and about the church. I was absolutely devastated when I found out. I couldn't accept the fact that the person that held me when on the day I was born could actually be having doubts about the most important decision on earth. How could this be?! In my mind, she was a rock that had turned to sand and I needed to figure out how to save her from being swept into the ocean forever.

It was one afternoon and her and I went to a sandwich shop near where she was living. She had recently started dating a guy who I wasn't sure about and I had just about had it. Her crisis of faith had now moved her into making poor decisions and it was time that I confronted her on it. So I did so without reserve. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I was aggressive and unwilling to hear her out. Tears rolled down her face and I knew it was because I had hurt her with my stubbornness. For the first time, I finally saw the damage done by my evangelism.

How many others did I hurt like this but never realized it because I never took the time to see their point-of-view? Who did I steam roll over with my Jesus fury because they didn't believe like I did? And how many moments to share life and learn from others had I missed because I was trying to push people into the same dysfunctional journey that I was on? And all of this to save them.

One of the many things that people like my sister have taught me about is that there is so much beauty in the gray. The freedom of life is in the ability to say, "I don't have the answer" and furthermore, "I don't need the answer today." In the questioning of the most important things to us in life is where the purest oxygen to breathe is abundantly available. When you are running around trying to force people into seeing something one way or your way, you are constantly running out of breath. At least I was.

Though it is a slow process, I have learned how to love the unknown, sort of like an agnostic. I'm breathing deeper than I ever have before. It's weird because at the age of 31, I'm ok with saying that I'm not sure of something- even if it has to do with God- because if it is truth, it will let me know someway and somehow. I can't deny that which has shown itself to me and the God of love has changed my life enough... enough that I have the freedom to not fully understand why, how, or if it will sustain. But the greatest devastation to a human life is when we close our eyes to the world and refuse to receive or at least observe what is there.

By all means, ask questions.

The Thing That Was There All Along

Have you ever noticed that as we grow older we are always trying to become something?

I want to become a musician. I want to become a lover. I want to become brilliant. I want to become.

But there is something so uncomfortable in saying that I already am, isn't there? It's as though the "I am" is not enough in life, especially in a life that is compulsively reaching for the stars. To say "I am" is like saying I have arrived... and there is something defeating about that. "I am" is a broken gas pedal while driving on the Audubon. "I am" is the refusal to grow. Or so we believe.

We are fueled by not being enough. Many times it's because we were affirmed this by our parents or by other authority figures in our life. Maybe it wasn't even through words... maybe it was their example. School, for most of us, taught us that we are not enough and most importantly, to STRIVE HARDER! Study more, pay attention more, listen more, learn more. More, more, more. The grading system wouldn't be functional if it was anything other than a factory of achievement. In high school, as my grades gradually got worse going towards graduation, I realized that I wasn't very intelligent because I compared myself with others. I wasn't able to score well on tests, like all of the "honor's society" classmates of mine. Coming into my senior year, I just hoped that there was going to be a class that graded solely on your personality alone. I figured that I was locked for a "B minus" if so.

When you begin a job after college, say like in a corporation, it doesn't get any easier. The more achievements you make in your duties, the more rewards you get. You get to become the boss of the people who you once shared a cubicle with. And then if you do that well, you become a bigger boss and so on and so on. If you are one to just be content with the job that you have and you never get promoted, you may just get lucky enough to receive a yearly membership to the jelly-of-the-month club come Christmas time. It's about climbing the latter, reaching for the top, and leaving behind the scales that you shed off from your old self.

Climbing to the top is not the problem. Some people are able to climb the ladders because they know their strengths (and weaknesses) and they thrive in them. But more times than not, people are trying to become something better because they do not feel like who they are is good enough. They are running from the person they learned to hate in hopes to become something they will love. It's like the person who is never satisfied with the partner they are in a relationship with at the time, so they continue to break hearts in hoping to find the next best thing. Much could be said about Apple products along those lines.

Youth group leaders- the most dominant authority figures in my life during high school- constantly reminded me and others to love my neighbor as myself. But now what I realize that they were actually saying was to figure out how to like my neighbor while degrading myself. There was no nurturing of my self-worth; as that would have come across like self-gratification. I was never really involved in any fights in high school, but I learned rather instinctually how to give myself bruises, all because I hated who I was. I meditated on being a sinner and in turn, I obsessed at seeing the sins of others. Later, I learned that we can only love others to the capacity of how much we allow ourselves to be loved.

I'm exhausted in living the cycle of not being enough. I want to look into a mirror that is not shattered and see a living plant that is not a weed. I want to put down the tight clenched fists aimed at my face and gently hold my aching soul like a baby in a mother's arms. To make the change is a radical step, almost one that seems devastating. It's in the realm of spinning the vehicle around at 70 mph and going head on into oncoming traffic. It's stepping off the cliff hoping that some invisible arms will grab me. It's counter culture and yet the brilliant people we admire were brave enough to do so.

I'll end like this.

Whether it's a fairy tale or not, my favorite story in the entire world is the story of Adam and Eve (my second favorite being Forrest Gump). I love it because if looked at in the appropriate light, the narrative can shake off the noise from the chaos given in the rest of the Bible that haunts our thoughts and messes us up. At the core or the story... I appreciate the fact that these two characters live in a time where they have no one to compare themselves with. They seem happy to be with each other and comfortable with being themselves. Before their curiosity gets the best of them and they get doomed at the tree, they really enjoy the life that they have- taking care of the animals, picking fruit, eating plenty, and probably picking more fruit (I've come to realize that they must have been fantastic gardeners). It's the story of the original self.

I think the thing that I love most about that story is that it gives me a glimpse at what "essence" means. I've learned that there is a difference between our character and our essence. To me, essence is our original self... the fingerprint of who we are, the "I am." It's that core of us that cannot be touched or manipulated. The only thing that we can do is either ignore it or marvel at it. I'm convinced that the reason we are obsessed with become something more is because we are strangers to our essence. We haven't taken the time to discover it and we've become blinded to the fact that it's the treasure that sits right in front of us. On the contrary, when we explore it, we find the thing that we search for most in this world... contentment.

I think about the musician who doesn't feel like they are good enough, yet they have all of the ability in the world in this very moment to make beautiful music because beautiful music is in the core of their essence.

I think about the mother or the father who sees themselves through the mistakes of their own parent's failures and in turn, ignore the fact that they are already extraordinary parents in the core of their essence.

And I think about the addict who refuses to believe that they can be free from the bonds of their addiction because they are strangers to the immense strength and victory that is in the core of their essence.

Give yourself permission to love yourself. It's ok to do so. I will join you.

Many Hear It and Many Don't

There's a melody that dances through the silence of life. Many hear it and many don't.

It's like a river with rapids, shifting and changing, waltzing past rocks and high-fiving the shores. Many hear it and many don't.

People hear it in different tones and keys, different tempos and pitches. It seems to be a symphony at times and at other times, it's a slight hum. Many hear it and many don't.

It has a divinity to it that seems to be composed by something or someone larger than man or woman. Many hear it and many don't.

It's too brilliant and too perfect to come from nothing and too endless to trace its steps. Many hear it and many don't.

It seems to have a purpose, yet it is only by speculation from humankind as to what the purpose is. Maybe it is just supposed to be. Many hear it and many don't.

The world is moved by this melody when one brave soul listens to it and translates it to those around them through their instrument of choice. Many hear it and many don't.

If we sit down for one moment in the open grassy field, let the internal and external noise pass by, that brilliant melody will grab you and change you forever.

Many hear it and many don't.