Stood Up

Have you ever been stood up? You’re waiting and your friend doesn’t show. “Did I get the wrong day, time, or location?” I check our correspondence and it’s all clear. When I try to reach her, there’s no answer. I begin to worry. “Why aren’t I hearing from her? Is she okay? What if something happened?” Then comes insecurity. “Did she really not want to see me? Am I not important enough for her to remember our date?” Then I get mad, because “I know I’m worthy of love, friendship and belonging, and how dare she do this?!!!”

Finally, sanity prevails. I go back to something I learned in Marriage 101 (which applies to any relationship): “Assume Good Will.” Assume there is a valid reason why my friend was unable to meet me. Assume something prevented her from letting me know. She’s doing her best but couldn’t make it. Check with her later. Extend grace, and make the best of some unexpected free time.

But yesterday, I was the one who erred. I was the one who stood up a long-time friend. She’s a kind, intelligent, interesting person and I cherish our visits but I missed our date completely. We hadn’t seen each other in months and I was really looking forward to it. But I didn’t show.

I felt like a total schmuck. I needed my friend to assume good will. If she could understand, would she still love me? I wasn’t in a position to give her a full explanation. Text messages are not the place for that. Most “reasons” simply end up sounding like excuses.

But even without knowing why, my friend decided to give me another chance and we rebooked. For this I am so grateful. Every relationship requires give-and-take. Assuming good will. Forgiveness. Second chances.

And for me? I apologize. Explain if possible. Then let it go. Don’t beat myself up. Shame cripples. Don’t beat others up, either, when they do it to me (not even silently in my own head). Resentment kills.

Here's something to chew on: Must you understand before you can love? Does understanding always result in love?

What I have come to know is this: Love is a choice. Love precedes understanding. Sometimes, love shines brightest after a misunderstanding. Love does not depend on fully understanding but love will always seek to understand. 

Photo 1: Photo by Olga Popovych on Unsplash
Photo 2: Mine, text design on WordSwag

The Grudge Has Met Its Match

Confession: I was about 30 years old when a friend did something that hurt me very deeply. She was one of those really nice people that everyone liked, always well-behaved and never stepped out of line.  It was a conversation she had with my husband when the three of us were together. I had no evidence that she intended to be rude or insensitive. There is no way she could have known that ignoring me during her brief banter with my husband had touched a very tender part of my heart and created a deep wound in an already vulnerable place.

I was generally confident in most things, talented, outspoken, opinionated. But our marriage was troubled. I was insecure about my relationship and this short conversation triggered fear. My husband admired her. A little too much, I thought. My imagination was a bit too vivid: I could be abandoned, rejected completely, as I had been completely ignored while the two of them chatted. A small wound began to bleed and I didn't address it, so it began a slow downward spiral towards a root of bitterness in my heart.

What she said was frivolous, a thoughtless, throwaway conversation. But it stuck like a fish hook in my mind, and I gave it meaning and import that it did not merit. The talons of suspicion and jealousy clawed deeply into the raw layer of "I am not enough." I nursed that wound. Dark thoughts began to creep in. From then on, I viewed every interaction with deep distrust. I saw twisted motives in everything she did. And the grudge grew.

Because you're not what I would have you be, 

I blind myself to who, in truth, you are.

~Madeleine L'Engle

I never talked to her about the perceived offence. There was a part of me that knew, deep inside, it really was my issue, my response, my pain, my fear but I didn't seriously sort through the emotions until years later. We were working on our marriage, but every interaction and observation with this person from then on was clouded by the firm (but flawed) conviction that she had the world handed to her on a silver platter and my husband was the next thing on her wish list. I believed this lie. I would ensure she never enjoyed our friendship again. If I could have, I would have tried to stop her getting anything good. It was a horrible place to be.

Holding a grudge against someone means 

you think you know what they deserve 

and you take it upon yourself to give it to them. 

~Dr. Timothy Keller

Instead of sitting with the pain and discovering what it triggered in me, I blindly blamed her. Blame allows me to deny my own responsibility for forgiveness, reconciliation and restoration. For years I distanced myself. For years I viewed everything she did with distain and contempt, not even giving her credit for genuine successes she attained in her life. When we had to be in the same room at the same time, I kept up the pretence of amiable acquaintance, but it was stiff and disingenuous. Bitterness ate me up inside.

Author, Serena Woods, writes about this kind of bitterness: "If everyone did everything right concerning you, you would have never learned what the pain taught you. Lessons are valuable and no price can be put on them. Bitterness shows that hanging on to the failures of others is more important than the lesson.

Bitterness shows that hanging on to the failures of others
is more important than the lesson. ~Serena Woods

This went on for many years. It's amazing the staying power of a grudge. I could still tell you the exact words of that conversation, but now, I've begun to let it go. In 2010, I started attending Freedom Session, knowing I needed Jesus' healing for this and many other issues. I learned my bitterness and pain were rooted in fear of abandonment, insignificance, displacement. I learned to stop blaming and to get out of denial. To stop believing the lies that I was "less than." I learned to take responsibility for my own attitudes, actions and behaviours. I learned to make amends. But even after taking the course twice, I still hadn't completely accomplished the "forgiveness" step.

Not for lack of trying! I confessed and wept before the Lord on multiple occasions over the last 30 years since The Incident. But it had a deep root I regularly tended, watered and fertilized before I began listening in obedience to the convicting power of the Holy Spirit.

"Forgive as I have forgiven you." (Matthew 6:12-15)

I thought I'd forgiven it, then from time to time it raised it's ugly head again. I'd have genuine, loving interactions with this person and then go home and the enemy would come in like a flood, suggesting nefarious intent of her part. It came like a roaring lion trying to devour me. I needed the armour of God!

But our gracious, good Father continues to wait, patiently, for the prodigal daughter to return. Over the past six years since I was widowed, by God's grace, I've begun to walk the path back to genuine, lasting forgiveness. I've sat with the pain, facing the stark reality of what unforgiveness has done to damage my relationships and my spirit.

The Holy Spirit gently points to what God has done in dealing with my sin. Can I do any less?

• I will forgive their wickedness, and I will never again remember their sins. (Hebrews 8:12)
• I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more. (Isaiah 43:25)
• As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. (Psalm 103:12)
• Once again you will have compassion on us. You will trample our sins under your feet and throw them into the depths of the ocean! (Micah 7:19)

There are those who may be given an extraordinary grace to forgive instantaneously. But in my case,  forgiveness has not been a "once and done" action. Over and over and over, every time those old feelings of bitterness begin to creep back in about that ancient offence, I must choose to say (sometimes out loud so my heart hears it twice), "I distinctly remember forgiving that." 

Now I need to release it.

Clara Barton, founder of the American Red Cross, was reminded one day of a vicious deed that someone had done to her years before. But she acted as if she had never even heard of the incident. “Don’t you remember it?” her friend asked. “No,” came Barton’s reply, “I distinctly remember forgetting it.”

I love what Joanie Yoder writes in Our Daily Bread: “God doesn’t say He’ll forget our sins—He says He’ll remember them no more! His promise not to remember them ever again is stronger than saying He’ll forget them.” She goes on, "Because Christ died for all our sins (1 Cor. 15:3), God promises to forgive us and never bring up our sin again (Ps. 103:12)."

This is my prayer. To continuously forgive and to stop remembering. The grudge has met its match. I choose to let God throw it all into the un-remembered depths; into the sea of his forgiveness.

You too?

God, whose every way is perfect,

Said in justice and in grace

That our sins He’ll not remember,

And our fears He will erase.  

~Hess

Photo 1 by Lina Trochez 

Photo 2 by Michael Olsen

Dealing with Verbal Abuse

When someone close to you wounds you with their words, it can be painful, especially when it’s clear they meant to hurt and the cuts go deep. Most of us have been there and some must deal with this on a continuing basis.

Elizabeth Gilbert says, “When someone asks, ‘Can I be brutally honest?’, say ‘No!’, because what they are really asking is if they can brutalize you.”

My friend, Jane (not her real name), has an extended family member (we’ll call her Cruella), who regularly attacks Jane, casts dispersions on her morals and values, her relationship with her spouse and even attacks the core of Jane’s identity with ugly, baseless verbal attacks.

“For a long while,” Jane says, “I just silently took it, trying desperately to win her over. I became a door mat.” She believed that being sweet and kind, in spite of what Cruella said, could win her over.

“That did not happen,” she says “and it continued to get worse. Cruella had no respect for me, and why should she? I was the door mat, where she’d wipe her dirty, muddy feet, walk away and continue with her life.” 

Sometimes, in these cases, the healthiest boundary we can set is to love someone from a distance. We can forgive but we do not have to continue putting ourselves in harm's way. Avoiding situations where we have to be around them helps protect us from unnecessary hurt. Even if we forgive them, forgiveness does not automatically require reconciliation.  Only a positive change in behavior (repentance) can pave the way for a restored relationship.

However, we can’t always avoid the bully. Due to other ongoing relationships within the family, Jane is obliged to stay in relationship with her abusive family member. She explains, “I know it would be unhealthy for my children if I told them anything (about the verbal abuse) - this is between me and her – it has nothing to do with them.” She knows just one conversation about it with her adult children could totally kill their relationship with Cruella, but she chooses not to tell them. “That would be pure hatred on my part and that is not what God would have me do.” 

Jane continues, “Because of my children and their relationship to Cruella, I have to constantly get back into the ‘ring’.” In order to do this without being crushed, she made three rules for herself regarding the ongoing attacks from Cruella, and when she shared them with me, I felt it was something that would helps us all.

So from the personal experience of Jane, here is her loving, wise advice on how you can navigate the territory if you must stay in relationship with an unkind person:

Set safe boundaries, never go into that ring alone and don't go into it very often.

1.  Set Safe Personal Boundaries

This may include speaking gently but firmly to the other party, like you would to any bully: “I am not willing to hear you speak in this way. If you cannot be kind, I will have to leave.”  However, boundaries don’t always have to be shared with the other person. Jane’s boundaries are set in her heart and head when it comes to Cruella – placed there by lots of talking with her supportive spouse.

Consider reading: Boundaries: When to Say Yes, How to Say No, to Take Control of Your Life by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend

2.  Never Go Into That Ring Alone

Jane explains that Cruella’s “attacks” always came when they were alone, one-on-one.  There are no witnesses, and that seems to give the other person more liberty to make the attacks deeper and more personal because you have no one in your corner. Never meet your abuser one-on-one. Go with a trusted family member, a loving friend, or meet in a group. At family dinners or social functions, make sure you have a safe, loyal person looking out for you, standing with you always, so that your Cruella cannot corner you.

3.  Don’t Enter That Ring Often 

Make your meetings and get-togethers fewer and farther apart.  You don’t have to attend everything where she’ll be present. Say “No” to certain functions and invitations if you might be forced to be alone with your Cruella.  Delay answering texts, emails and voice messages. Don’t respond immediately. Jane says she’ll sometimes let a few days pass before she answers.  “Depending on the content,” she adds, “if no questions are asked, or if it is just information, I don’t respond to them at all.” Instead of returning a phone call, send an email.

If the abusive person demands immediate replies and you are not yet prepared to reply, defer with a response worded something like, “I can’t answer at this moment, I will take a day (or whatever period of time you need) and get back to you.” Or “I will run this by (my spouse, partner, family) and let you know later today/this week/by X date.”

Jane recommends that you always be kind and gracious but keep an “emotional and mental distance” with your own Cruella. 

“You owe her nothing, except to be polite and respectful,” Jane says, “the way we would be with any person who comes into our life.” You don’t need to apologize or feel obliged to give explanations, as these sometimes provide further fuel for your abuser to twist, take out of context or throw back at you. 

While these guidelines help Jane cope with the unavoidable situations where she must be around Cruella, she says it has not healed the relationship.

“It probably never will,” she says, recognizing that Cruella “has been wounded herself and hurt people hurt people.”

Both Jane and I hope and pray that you find these guidelines helpful. These can be a launching pad for your own healing and self-care when dealing with difficult people.

Wisdom from one wounded warrior to another.

Please note: This blog entry is intended to address your relationships with extended family members, work colleagues or social peer relationships. If your Cruella is a spouse, a boss, or your child, these guidelines may not be possible to enforce. Please seek professional help if you are in a situation where you feel powerless or unsafe.

Apples of Gold

“It really makes me sad to see you speak so harshly to yourself.”

I looked at his face, tender with concern. Harshly to myself? What had I said?

“I pray I will know when to speak and when to shut my mouth.”

It was, on the surface, a genuine concern to only say what is helpful. To not speak in unhelpful or hurtful ways. To carefully choose my battles and determine which hills to die on, then speak with the right attitude and in the right tone of voice. Because we know that it’s not so much what you say but how you say it that leaves the listener remembering how you made them feel. For goodness sake, I even pray about this sort of thing. And I sometimes decide not to speak when I listen to the still, small voice which cautions me to be still.

I had said the first part in a normal voice: “I pray I will know when to speak.” Speak up for those who have no voice. Speak peace into a troubled heart. Speak encouragement for the weak one. Speak up when I have been wronged. I’m still learning how to do that last one without being a prickly pear.

But when to shut my mouth? Ah, that I said with a snarl and a curled lip. A self-flagellation for every time I spoke out of turn, spoke too loud, spoke unkindly, hurt someone, accused someone, berated someone.

It takes me right back to Grade Eight science class when Bruce and Gerry gave me an unflattering nickname: Meramac Cavern Mouth. They were my friends, we sang together. I liked them. We teased each other. But I was loud and they poked me for it, choosing the largest cave in the state as my namesake.

Yes, I was loud in Junior High. I was obnoxious. I was funny. I was busy. I was a singer. I was confident. I was sometimes insecure and I was trying to find my place in the world, just having experienced my first kiss.

That was awkward and gross. I didn’t know what to do with that icky feeling. So I redirected it in anger against the boy who tried it and to my best friend and her boyfriend who goaded us into it. Sitting on the cold floor of her parents’ garage, we two couples, all the early side of 14 years old, decided to explore kissing. And it was a bomb. I was embarrassed. Was something wrong with me? Was it him? Neither one of us knew how. I was disappointed that I’d chosen poorly and I could never get “my first kiss” back. It was gone and now it would forever be engraved in history as a bad mistake I made with a pudgy Grade Seven boy.

What followed was my first experience with really hurting someone with my words. I broke up with the boy and decided I didn’t want to be friends with my best friend any more. I made unkind remarks about her to others at school. The vitriol went on until one of the teachers called me aside to say, “I know your brother (a teacher in Grade Six) and I know your family and I know they didn’t raise you to act like this. You are being a bully and it needs to stop.”

I did stop. I was embarrassed that someone had to take me aside like that, yet I was grateful because I knew he was right.

“The right word at the right time is like a custom-made piece of jewelry, and a wise friend’s timely reprimand is like a gold ring slipped on your finger. Patient persistence pierces through indifference; gentle speech breaks down rigid defenses.” Proverbs 25:11-12,15 (MSG)

My friend and I made up but it was always different after that. We had both been wounded and my words had left scars on us both.

The awkward, gross, icky feeling of Grade Eight surfaces every time I see that look in another person’s eyes: I’ve hurt them. I kick myself over and over for speaking at the wrong time or in the wrong way, even if what I said was valid. They couldn’t receive it because my timing or tone of voice was offensive.

As time passes, as I mature, I have earned a measure of success and respect for how I speak and what I write. But as many writers do, I write very carefully, wrestling long and hard over anything I put in print: to say it right, to say it well, to say it clearly. It can take an entire morning to write and publish one blog post. And I anguish over emails, writing and re-writing paragraphs to minimize any possibility of misinterpretation and still, it is sometimes misunderstood, the reader misses the point or fixates on one ill-chosen phrase.

I have no one to blame but myself.

Or so I thought.

In sober second thought, my rational mind can logically deduce that others are also responsible for their reactions. They hear what I have to say through their own background experience and emotional filters. They give different value, meaning and weight to my words than what I intended.

When another is offended, I can sometimes understand in retrospect how it hurt them, if they let me know. More often they don’t say anything. They just fade away. Not many people confront me about my words. Not many people confront anyone. It seems confrontation is avoided at all costs by a majority of us.

When that unsettled feeling rises, that subtle alienation after I say something intense, passionate or strong, I go away and analyze it. Replay the full conversation, maybe the entire event in my head more than once, guess at how it might have been interpreted (how impossible is that, since I’m trying to understand someone else’s filters through my own).

I know I am not alone in this practice. You do it too, perhaps?

So back to the original remark that started this all off. When I pray I want to know when to keep my mouth shut, I’m thinking of all that has come before. All the ways I’ve caused pain to the heart of another. That overbearing burden of being a person who so often wounds another, that somehow I should be able to not do that.

I should be perfect.

Or at least, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”

So I turn on myself. “Keep your mouth shut!” my inner critic snarls.

And the one who loves me best, who sees me at my worst, who has promised to love and cherish me until death parts us, tells me how sad he is to see that venom turned inward.

This is a shining moment in love, in marriage: the mirror held up by a loving hand to help me see clearly where I am self-cutting. The one who sees my heart, knows my life and moves to restrain my hand from the mea culpa.

“It is not only what you say but, more importantly, how you say it.”

Especially when you are saying it to yourself. Self-compassion is not selfishness. It is what makes it possible for us to live whole and compassionate in all our other relationships.

He goes on, “Ask yourself how you would speak to another person, and speak to yourself in that same courteous way.”

Words can heal and words can kill. Words wound and words give life. So, I will continue to pray about when to speak and when to be silent. Because silence is not always golden. Sometimes silence means consent or cowardice. In that case, speaking graciously is the most loving way to live in community with one another.

I’m so glad for the way another spoke healing words to me.

Watch the way you talk. Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth. Say only what helps, each word a gift. Don’t grieve God. Don’t break his heart. His Holy Spirit, moving and breathing in you, is the most intimate part of your life, making you fit for himself. Don’t take such a gift for granted. Make a clean break with all cutting, backbiting, profane talk. Be gentle with one another, sensitive. Forgive one another as quickly and thoroughly as God in Christ forgave you. Ephesians 4:29-32 MSG

Tragedy, Surprise and Hope

“Everything is interim. Everything is a path or a preparation for the next thing, and we never know what the next thing is. Life is like that, of course, twisty and surprising. But life with God is like that exponentially. We can dig in, make plans, write in stone, pretend we're not listening, but the voice of God has a way of being heard. It seeps in like smoke or vapor even when we've barred the door against any last-minute changes, and it moves us to different countries and different emotional territories and different ways of living. It keeps us moving and dancing and watching, and never lets us drop down into a life set on cruise control or a life ruled by remote control. Life with God is a dancing dream, full of flashes and last-minute exits and generally all the things we've said we'll never do. And with the surprises comes great hope.”  ~ Shauna Niequist, author of Cold Tangerines: Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday 

The past year was more than twisty and surprising. Seven months out, I go to bed thinking about the shift that has come in many relationships since my husband's death. I sense it, even though it is so subtle it's barely perceptible, and I wonder again, “Is it my imagination?”

I look again at reality, and I pick up the book on grieving and read how relationships change after a loss. So it isn’t just me.

Many can't think about what happened without thinking, "What if that happened to me?" This is such a large question; most don't want to think about it. Or about how the bereaved spouse must be feeling. Seven months have passed, shouldn’t he/she be over it already?

We just don't know what to do with tragedy.

The Lord knows those who are his. Knows the end from the beginning. There are no surprises to Him. But this is a pretty epic move for me into different emotional territories and different ways of living. The grief book says, “Let yourself feel the emotion.”

Must I?

Photo: Cory Huchowski

A flood of unparalleled and catastrophic proportions has decimated my beautiful city, the surrounding towns and the glorious Foothills containing some of my favorite hiking trails and campsites. Several dear friends are directly affected; thousands more cannot yet return home, some will have their homes declared uninhabitable; thousands more have begun helping those affected, shoveling tons of sludge and tearing out what has been destroyed.

Photo: First Alliance Church Calgary #FACHELPS

I wake, lie still in my still house, on a record-hot day, still thinking about the growing distance in my personal relationships, the challenge of my work commitments, the needs of aging family members, and all the other emotional, physical and logistical limitations that prevent me from helping my friends as a flood clean-up volunteer. Will this only create more distance between us?

I crawl up in a ball, tight in the fetal position and begin to wail. So many people are grieving; my hurt in my loss - and this twisting spin into a solitary life - seems to pale in comparison. I cry more for my inability to help them.

I feel like those who need to clean their homes after the flood, gutting them right down to the foundation, and piling it high on the sidewalk outside, looking like a war zone.

Photo: Peggy Abbott

Photo: First Alliance Church Calgary #FACHELPS

My life needs a gutting.

But how? I imagine changing my work, but that’s not the answer - at least not right now. I de-clutter, give away ill-fitting clothes, sort through old family slides to try to find me. I hire a Personal Organizer. She gets a day job, gets sick and abandons our partnership. I consider moving, I look at show homes and talk to builders and visualize moving into a fresh clean bright new place to live, free of the memories of the past: A Fresh Start.

And I wake, in the stillness of my still house, lying still, reading about grief and how I need to let myself feel instead of ignoring it or numbing it by avoidance or busyness or fantasy or (fill in the blank).

Let yourself feel.

And so I wail. Not for long. But long enough. I'm not losing it. I'm gutting my emotions.

This is normal. It will subside. No need to pity me or fear me or avoid me. The chance of me bursting into tears in the middle of our conversation is minimal at best. You don't need to do anything. No need to arrange an intervention. No need to be embarrassed. Or feel awkward. Or cross the street to avoid me because you don’t know what to say or you’re just too spent with your own grief to hear someone else’s. I get that. Totally. I promise not to dump my emotional sludge on you.

This is grief. It is tragedy. It is life. It’s not “good.” But it IS normal. It is the human condition in a broken world. Why should I (or you) be exempt from trouble? We groan. We grow. We laugh. We fail. We hope.

I know you pray for me. I know you hurt for me. But there's no need to worry. The Lord knows those that are his. And he knows me. And he holds me. Each of us must bear our own burdens, at times. And we must bear one another's burdens, at times. But ultimately, God is the one who helps me shoulder my emotional backpack and when I can’t go on, he carries me.

Here’s what you can do:

Walk beside me and be my friend. That's gutting life to the true foundation. Hold my heart as we move and dance and watch, and let’s never drop down into a life set on cruise control or a life ruled by remote control. Sometimes I need to talk, but most times I just need to git 'er done. If you really want to do something practical, I have a list. Just ask.

That takes guts. And God. And each other: Open. Vulnerable. Trusting.

The guttural groans subside, I wipe my eyes, comb my hair and step back out into the messy "one beautiful life" I've been given. I can’t do it all, but I can do the next thing. It's gonna be a good day to work and give and rest and cry and laugh and love.

He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it. – Philippians 1:6

Now that is surprise and hope.

.

Psychology 101: Dealing with Difficult People

Each of us has probably done something that hurt or disappointed someone else. The chances are remote that anyone intentionally says or does hurtful things. 

But what about careless words? thoughtless? impulsive? angry words?

Or no words at all?

Dead silence.

.

.

.

.

.

Or worse, ambivalent words. Non-committal. Disengaged. Feigned apathy.

“What would you like to do?”

“I don’t care.”

“Where would you like to eat?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Do you want A or B?”

“Whatever. You pick.”

And then when you pick, they aren't happy. But then, would they be happy in any case?

In my view, this is dysfunctional, juvenile and temperamental. It expresses a dog-in-the-manger attitude that says, “If I can’t be happy with my current circumstances, then no one else is going to enjoy themselves either”. The dis-engaged person isn't expressing his/her true needs, he/she is just expecting others to be a mind-reader and fulfill every desire. This is the worst kind of  prima donna attitude: “The world should just make me happy without me having to speak a word or lift a finger.” 

On occasion this behavior is revenge-based. "You didn't do what I wanted, (or you hurt me) so now you're going to pay the price." 

What’s sad is this behavior produces no change in either party.

In my experience, people who act this way usually fall into two camps. They either 1) really do have an over-inflated sense of their own self-importance and feel others should cater to their every whim, "Because I'm right!" or 2) they hate themselves and are behaving in a way that guarantees others will dislike them, thus confirming their bias against themselves. 

There are other possibilities, but these are the more common and both border on an irrational view of relationships. This type of person frequently creates drama and/or division in a family or friend group (“I’m not happy until you’re not happy”). They subconsciously want attention (and bad attention is better than no attention). They get their way through emotional blackmail but even when they get what they want, they are discontent because they had to ask for it. Then when you try to get them to see how they are acting, they withdraw, pout, make excuses: "I'm just tired", or turn the tables: "Who are you to talk? You were mean to me last week."

How do you deal with this kind of person if you’re stuck with them? 

1. Do you let them off the hook by finding excuses? “Oh, she’s in menopause” or “Oh, he’s under a lot of stress at work”. Or do you take the blame? "I must have done something wrong."
2. Do you care enough to confront? If you name their behavior for what it is, would they believe you? Are they capable of seeing the futility of their behavior? Do they even want to be different or are they genuinely mean-spirited? 
3. Or do you cut them off? Where does love, grace and forgiveness come in if they are unwilling to repent of this habitual conduct?

Worship Philosophy

Someone recently asked whether I liked worship music led with a band or single singer or what?

Haha. That’s like asking which of my children I love most. As a music grad and former choir conductor, I like it all. While I am not fond of the amount of time and work it takes to put the bigger groups together, the end result creates lifelong memories for those who are involved.

With music, as with any ministry, relationship with the Lord and with the people is of greater importance than musical style. I must hold loosely my desire for a specific outcome and work fervently to cultivate healthy relationships.

Church-goers sometimes place too high a value on their preferred genre to the point of causing division by erroneously equating certain styles with holiness. That said, there is a time and place for everything, depending on the service theme and intended effect, from acapella soloist (poignancy and intimacy) to choir and orchestra (ethereal and dynamic transcendence) and everything in between.

I find the 5-piece band “Contemporary Christian” sound is wearing a little thin, but once in a while some exceptional songs are still surfacing from that genre from those who are true worshippers and not just performers.

I value the density, harmonies and solid theology of hymns, but if we seek to only placate the hymn-loving seniors through a mish-mash of music compromise, we will lose the future of the church. We need to be looking at what our 13-21 year olds are listening to and consider how the church needs to adjust to keep them connected to corporate faith gatherings. I don’t advocate bringing secular lyrics and style into the church but superb music has God’s glory written all through it.

It is part of our God-created image to also seek connection through all forms of creative expression: visual art, dance, drama, poetry, monologues, dramatic scripture readings, comedy, decorations, video, lighting and so on. These should not be excluded from our corporate worship, as they can inspire a greater, more comprehensive understanding of our great God.

I think part of a Worship Director’s role is to create opportunities for artists within the church to develop and be involved as often and as much as possible (ie. equipping the saints for the work of the ministry) and to build personal relationships with the members of the congregation so there is an eagerness and willingness to work together in helping one another encounter God through all genres in corporate gatherings.

How’s that for a boatload of thoughts to a simple question? Disclaimer: God has given me opportunities to minister through music for many years and I have seen what ministers and what divides. At this moment in my life, God has not called me into leading corporate worship, though he is teaching much about personal worship in my own devotional life.

To an Unknown Destination

the inbox echoes hollow
like an empty house
we’ve moved out
and moved on

gone our separate ways
a road diverged
in a yellow wood
a stream forced

to route itself
either side of the
great divide
and we are farther

apart than when
first we met
boxes of memories
lost enroute