Second Chances

No later than 20 minutes after posting my last blog entry did I meet with a new client who recently had a below the knee amputation. About 10 minutes into our discussion she explained that she had been battling with pretty severe depression, and before I had time to take notes in her file, her life unraveled in front of me like a big ball of yarn: two abusive husbands, both deceased; significant strains in her relationships with her children; medical issues that have confined her to her home; and to top it all off, the responsibility of adjusting to her new body. As with all of my clients, I offered her a Kleenex – all of my clients say they don’t want one by the way, only to grab one a few minutes later. It’s amazing how quickly the human psyche will stop holding itself up once someone starts listening to your problems.

The underlying issue was guilt – guilt over her past marriages, guilt over her ex husbands’ deaths, guilt over her children, guilt over not being good enough for abusive husband #1 to treat her with respect, guilt over not being good enough for abusive husband #2 to stop drinking. Coupled with the overwhelming sense of guilt was her massive sense of personal responsibility for everyone but herself – here she was, alone, wondering what she could have done better to keep her husband from abusing her – if only she had “been better” or could have “changed him.” She described her life as being at the bottom of a pit, with nowhere to go, constantly feeling like waves were knocking her underwater.

“Do you believe in God?” I asked. (I'm pretty sure my heart skipped a beat.)

“Absolutely – I pray to God all the time for him to take me home.”

I just finished reading The Christian Atheist: Believing in God but Living As If He Doesn’t Exist by Craig Groeschel. The book is an amazing read and I highly recommend it, but one quote in particular reached out and smacked me on the face:

“If you’re not dead, you’re not done. God still has something important for you to do.”

That quote alone was worth the cost of the book. I have been known from time to time to wonder what one earth I’m here for – my musings usually come in the form of me whining in prayer, “What about me, God?!” The message is simple: hope. There is hope for our lives even when things don’t make sense, and especially when we’re stuck in a pit that continues to drag us down.

Then I did the unthinkable:  I shared the quote with her. I actually did more than that – I gave her two other gems to hold onto until we meet again. The first was that we are made in God’s image – and the second, stolen from a friend’s blog, is that God’s opinion is the only one that matters. So no, she was never “good enough” for her first husband, and his family constantly judged her for leaving him – but despite all of that there is someone who created her, who loves her and has a purpose for her, who wants only the best for her: God.

This is just one piece of the puzzle, and we have a lot of work to do together to get her back to where she wants to be, but I’m hopeful that she can rely on those truths as we piece her life back together. As for me, I’ll be calling on God more often to supply me the strength and courage to help those I serve and thank him for the gift of the work I do.

The Business of Helping Others

In the spirit of vamping up my office and the adjoining computer lab, my manager approved the purchase of some motivational posters – of course I kept the best one for my own office. It is a picture of two hands cupping the planet Earth with the following words below it:

“Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, to all the people you can, as long as you ever can”

- John Wesley

Every morning when I step into my office at 7:00, and every time I swivel my chair, I see this phrase. It’s like a foghorn to start my day.

For those of you who don’t know, I work for the state of Tennessee as an employment counselor. In lay speak that means that I help people with disabilities find and keep employment. I work with people from all different backgrounds, with all kinds of disabilities, with all kinds of real-world problems. Of course finding work for each of them doesn’t exist in a vacuum but instead lies in knowing them very well – understanding their home life, their relationships, their support network – or lack thereof. On occasion, I am the first person my clients have ever told about sexual or physical abuse as a child, suicide attempts, or other countless pains they have endured or are currently enduring. I am glad that they tell me these things – it’s usually these pains that impact them the most on their quest to achieve their goals.

A few years into working in human services, I came to the point where I acknowledged that I needed to “shut off” work when I left the building – no work email, no work calls and no thinking about work. Essentially, from 7:00 until 3:30 I am “counselor” Burke who helps others with their needs. The rest of the time I am “Burke” Burke. This has worked until recently, but now my Bible reading and my motivational poster have begun challenging me.

I attended a Bible study this past Sunday afternoon and in addition to lowering the average age by 20 years, I also made the mistake of saying that I worked as a counselor. After the discussion on 1 John the woman next to me turned and asked, “So you’re a counselor?” This isn’t the first time this has happened – it’s as if I have some sort of fountain of human knowledge and can solve all problems if explained properly. After replying to the affirmative, she launched into concerns about her grandson who has an Autism spectrum disorder. After hearing her story, I told her that I would gather some information that I thought would be helpful – I’m pretty sure I had to repeat the last part several times because she continued with more and more information. Chris joked that I should explain what I do in such a convoluted way as to not beg questions. But on Monday, I printed off and stapled a packet of information for her, placed it in a big manila envelope with her name on it to give to her next Sunday – after all, we met at church and it’s the right thing to do.

Today I met with a client who through tears explained the personal hell she’s been living for the past week – my first inclination was to ask her if she wanted to pray. Now, I am personally just now getting used to the idea of constant conversation with God, and still find it awkward to pray aloud in front of people, but as she was disclosing her story, it occurred to me that while I had a few pearls of wisdom to share, I had no guarantee that they would benefit her. (I’m secretly hoping that my inclination to ask her to pray with me is a sign that I’m becoming less skeptical of prayer in general.) Instead of asking her if she’d like to pray, I handed her the pearls of wisdom and mentioned personal prayer as an option – besides, I had no way of knowing if she has the same beliefs as I do. She said that she had been praying a lot and I told her that I would pray for her. The relief on her face was so instant that I felt ashamed for not going with my gut and asking her to pray together.

These two experiences in particular have led me to question my “office hours” – why does it feel okay to bring counseling into church, but it feels weird to bring Christ into my counseling? After too much analyzing I think it boils down to this: as a Christian, there are no “office hours,” meaning that our duty as Christians and our call to love one another, pray for our enemies and help the needy isn’t reserved to Sunday mornings – it’s an every minute of everyday duty. I can ignore my work email when I leave my office, but that doesn’t shut off my responsibility to help those in need. Likewise, just because I’m on the clock doesn’t mean I shouldn’t use my faith in Christ to help my clients. After all, putting your faith in Christ to heal your wounds and navigate your trials is far greater than any psychobabble I can muster.

So in the future, I will continue to offer assistance to those who seek it outside the comfort of my office, and I will no longer insist that Christ wait outside in my car until 3:30. And while I’m adjusting to the removal of “office hours” I will continue to thank God that I am in the business of helping others and I will continue to recite my favorite phrase:

“Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, to all the people you can, as long as you ever can.”

- John Wesley

Countering My Own Critiques

When I first embarked on this journey, I had several looming questions that had seriously kept me away from Christ in the past – I feel obligated to honesty at this point and to disclose that I had been “lukewarm.” I was raised to believe in God, but the idea really stopped there – we didn’t attend church (for very long) although I remember saying evening prayers with my father until I was eighteen. I didn’t really consider what it meant to claim to be a follower of Christ. It’s occurred to me after months of reading, and realizing the sheer discipline it takes to follow Christ, that many of my skeptical questions I once held onto have slyly been answered through my reading of the Bible, my journaling and study, and my experiences in church.

Barrier #1: If God is love, why is there so much death/pain/sickness/etc.?

Now that I’m a “believer” this question seems silly to me – the short answer is that we caused it. Yes, we humans, who like to take matters into our own hands, who like to disobey and control our lives, cause the things we blame on God. It seems incredibly easy to blame our wrongdoings on God – “People are starving and God won’t help!” Actually, we won’t help. We won’t solve the problem of inadequate food distribution. “I know someone who suffered and God didn’t help them!” I have yet to stumble upon the verse that reassures us that our Christian walk will be like a stroll in a flower-filled meadow. In fact, Jesus teaches us the opposite – we are to give up everything and endure everything in our pursuit of Him. And besides, Jesus, the one who was handed over for the forgiveness of our sins, suffered greatly. He was mocked, beaten, spit on, and finally died – all for us. I really long for the faith enough to say that I would gladly suffer in my pursuit of Christ.

Barrier #2: Science, science, science!

Frankly I’m tired of hearing this shallow argument against God – we forget that if we believe in God, then we believe that he created everything in this world, including the marvelous scientific breakthroughs that have advanced our world and civilization. So, for those of us who believe he created everything, he also created Science. This really makes perfectly logical sense to me now – granted I’m not a scientist, but if you look around for 5 minutes, if you bask in the sun’s warmth, smell the spring flowers, or take in just how blessed we all are, you realize that science and God can walk hand in hand. You see that despite scientific conjecture, life is too miraculous and amazing to be a simple accident.

Barrier #3: I have no proof!

I am as type-A, controlling and logical as they come so I admittedly struggled (and still do) with this one. Correct: we have no proof that God exists. We also have no proof that God does not exist. If we had proof of God’s existence, there’d be no reason for faith. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but the word faith is mentioned many times in the New Testament – I’m guessing it’s because faith is so paramount to our relationship with Christ. “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” (Hebrews 11:1) If you keep reading in Hebrews you get a nice digestible set of examples of faith. Having solid proof would make the journey null – faith is hard. It’s difficult to hand ourselves over to a God we cannot prove exists – our hopes, our fears, our every thought. And that’s the point! I’ve come to really appreciate this concept lately: the idea that we must rewire our worldly thoughts and inclinations to follow Christ, the path less chosen, and it is by faith that I feel up to the task.

Barrier #4: I’m not really a “church” person.

The first answer to this is simple: there are so many “flavors” of church, chances are you can find one that suits you. But beware, church is a far greater social experiment that you can imagine. In fact, I would venture to say that there’s no greater place to be tested in your Christian faith than at church. Between committees, disagreements, opinions, personal conflicts, budget issues (the list goes on…) we are tested to stay true to the second most important command: love your neighbor as yourself (Matthew 22:39). Church can be difficult enough when you simply attend, but when you work in church (as my husband does) you begin to see the “back door” of church. It’s not always a pretty sight. But really none of this matters – the difference of opinion, the discussions about budgets – what really matters is that we’re called to be in community with one another and we’re called to praise God. That’s really what church is all about – it’s the perfect setting for us to love one another, to praise and worship God, and to have accountability and fellows in Christ who can support and encourage us.

Barrier #5: It’s hard!

Agreed – it is extremely hard. I asked my husband the other day why people wouldn’t want to be Christian, and he replied that it requires accountability. He’s right – Jesus didn’t tell us to read the Bible after our to-do list is done, or to help those in need only when it’s convenient, or to be a good person only on Sundays. He requires obedience all the time. He requires it when you’re brushing your teeth, when you’re stuck in traffic, when you’re sitting in church. I’m not sure, though, why people shirk from this – don’t we want to be better than ourselves? Isn’t life meaningless if there’s no greater purpose guiding us, God’s purpose? Aren’t we just robots if we aren’t expected to grow out of ourselves? The answer is yes – following Christ is hard for a reason. It’s hard because we’re human. Luckily for us we can lean on God when the path is difficult – we have reassurance that we’ll have support during the journey.

Barrier #6: I don’t see God in my life.

My father used to tell me that sometimes the best reaction is no reaction, that when you’re unsure what to do that you should be still and wait. I hated hearing that. I like to act, I like to move forward, I like to progress. But I’ve learned that God doesn’t adhere to my timeline. In fact, I’m almost convinced that he could care less about it. It doesn’t matter how badly I want something, if it’s not in God’s timing, I can scream and wail all I want, and it won’t make a difference. This is another beauty of a relationship with God: he slows us down and makes us wait for Him. I’ve observed a few Christians that I admire and I think, “Wow – God is really working in their life.” And then I look at mine – and because things aren’t going how I want them to go or how I think they should, I assume that God is absent. This is such a short-sighted way to live – not only expecting God to always come to me, but also in not trusting His timing, His purpose, His will. And so, while I’m waiting patiently for His will to be revealed, I am comforted again by Hebrews: “Come near to God and He will come near to you.”

Barrier #7: My prayers aren’t always answered!

Yes, another test in patience. You pray once, you expect a response. You pray ten times, you definitely expect a response. But sometimes God’s answer is no or no answer at all, and often times, we don’t like it. I have personal experience with praying continuously for something, and then having no resolution. I’ve gotten angry, sad, bitter – and then I remember that faith is about trusting God. Faith is about remembering that God is looking out for me and has my best interest at heart. God’s resolution and plan for me is far greater than anything I can imagine. And so, putting my faith into God and trusting Him, I will try my hardest to be patient.

Barrier #8: I believe in God, but I don’t want to annoy someone by sharing my faith.

As someone who has been ransacked with “witnessing” in the past, this is the barrier with which I am most struggling. I really don’t want to come across as being intolerant, or judging others, or least of all, be unprepared when asked difficult questions.  I have trouble enough explaining why I believe in God, let alone why someone else should believe in God. So while I don’t have an answer for this one yet, I continue to pray for the courage to share my faith with others and the grace to have the right words when the time comes. And once I’ve shared that moment with someone, I pray that I’ll have the discipline to be an example of a follower of Christ, for actions speak greater than words.

I admit that I’ve spent a bit of time worrying about these, simply because they creep into my mind every day. I know that they are all part of the journey I’ve chosen to be on, and for that I thank God for wanting to have a relationship with me, for wanting to hear my rants and raves, for caring enough to send his Son so that we may all be on this journey together.

A Lesson from Westboro Baptist Church

As I was waiting for Chris to arrive home from a conference in Chicago, I was looking through the headlines on my Blackberry and somehow ended up reading about a mine disaster that occurred several years ago. As I scrolled through the story I noticed a section about the funerals of the mine victims – Westboro Baptist Church was planning to picket the funeral. Some states are now passing bills to prohibit picketing from funeral services – this group has picketed thousands of funerals and events, notably the funeral of Matthew Shephard, a young man beaten to death due to his sexual preference. They protest military funerals, music venues and even sporting events. Their signs read “Thank God for 9/11” and “God Hates Jews” – even “God Hates America.” They are constantly in court – luckily for the founder Fred Phelps, eleven of his thirteen children are lawyers.

Their actions are all in the name of God – not so crazy to think about considering how many other historical events have been “in the name of God.” Believing that something is the will of God could theoretically give someone a free pass to do whatever they wanted – and there are certainly those who use this regularly.

My Lenten Bible study is taking me through Matthew, with a few chapters assigned each day – we’re also working our way through Matthew in church so I’m getting a double dose of Jesus’ teaching. The story of Westboro really reminds me why on a fundamental level I really don’t like religion – the word of God, the meaning of God’s word, and human actions can all be twisted to provide justification. What begins as an honest attempt to live based on God’s word can quickly become a way of life that is irresponsible and dangerous.

I understand that the Bible condemns homosexuality – I get it. But the Bible also condemns judging others: “Do not judge others, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you” (Matthew 7:1-2). We are not only supposed to suspend judgment of others, but we’re also called to love others, and even pray for our enemies (Matthew 5:43-48).

I know that the story of Westboro is a very extreme example of religious fanaticism, but the truth remains that others are watching us Christians – for those of you who went to Resurrection you most likely heard about the chair metaphor – and it’s so true. Sure, we’re not picketing funerals, but are we truly loving one another in Christ? Are we suspending our own human judgment of someone’s lifestyle and choices and praying for them? We can’t claim to be Christians if we aren’t prepared to live and act as Christ did and as he commands us to live.

Yes, this is difficult. Suspending judgment is one of the hardest things that I have to remind myself to do daily as I’m listening to my clients and watching their behavior. It’s hard when someone cuts me off in traffic. It’s hard when I’m asked for change on the street. Here’s something I’ve learned: Being a Christian is hard work. Jesus knew it, the apostles knew it – it requires us to stretch ourselves far past our own inclinations and desires, it requires us to be better than we conceive ourselves to be. There is great accountability in the claim to be a Christian: “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked” (Luke 12:48).

The Challenge of Lent

Last night was the first time I had ever been to an Ash Wednesday service. This is actually the first year, despite my husband’s constant planning of Lenten anthems, that I’ve actually considered the meaning of this season. As the ashes were applied to my forehead, I felt a sense of excitement about this year’s forty days of Lent. Being married to the church music director, I am usually the first to know about the music for this season, which is second only to Advent in the church year. The choir prepares and practices for the climax of the season - Easter, after all, is a huge deal – and we celebrate it in a huge way with exuberant music, brass instrumentalists and lilies. It is one of the major peaks of the liturgical year.

It seems like the past few years all I can remember is Easter Sunday – the hours of preparation for the day’s anthems, the plans to be made with family (usually an Easter lunch at someone’s house), and generally the marking of Spring. It is a day to watch the young children hunt for hidden eggs in freshly green grass, and the day to break out your new Easter clothes.

I must admit, though, that until this year Lent has just been another church event. I’ve never “given up” something for Lent, although I can recall friends abandoning sweets, types of music, meat…the list goes on. Giving up one of my vices, however, feels trivial. I firmly believe that I could muster the willpower and self-discipline to give up ice cream, sweet tea or Friends for 40 days. It might not be pleasant at first, but it wouldn’t be a true sacrifice. Instead, I’m going to give up my most valued commodity: my time. For the next 40 days, I’m going to immerse myself in God’s word, be prayerful for guidance and let the wonder of this season sink into my heart. I am going to keep God first every day. Some of you are probably thinking that you already do this, and I applaud you – but for me, it’s a struggle to keep God first, and “finding the time” is the issue.

Being a Christian, to me, is no different than being married: you have to work hard and choose daily to be in the relationship. You don’t sit passively – you are active, motivated and passionate.   It takes dedication, patience and love. Some days you’d rather abandon your commitment than work to keep it alive. Likewise some days it’s easier to let the flow of the day capture your time with God – it’s easy to justify a day without reflection, study and prayer because of the events at work or a lack of sleep. But a relationship with Christ takes time – not only in the sense that it is a life-long journey, but also that you must dedicate yourself daily to maintaining the journey.

So for Lent this year, I’m going to revive my relationship with God by giving Him time. Luckily it only takes 21 days to form a habit, so I’m hoping that the 40 days turn into 365, and that 365 turn into a lifetime of daily time with God. It will be difficult: I like my afternoon naps and the constant playing of every episode of Friends no matter how many times I’ve seen them, but perhaps giving this time to Christ is the single most important thing I can do every day. I guess I’ll find out.