Leading Our Hearts Home

There’s a saying, “Home is where the heart is.”

And that’s certainly true of our relationship with God.   But our hearts keep wanting to leave home and go to a far country–usually because life has hurt us and God didn’t “do anything” to prevent it.

We often find ourselves in spiritual exile with hearts full of pain.    Running away from the sorrow not only didn’t help us emotionally, but it actually bound our hearts to the negative feeling.

Or we find ourselves in a boxing ring, slugging it out with God and fighting with other sufferers.    And, even if we feel like we’ve won the fight, our hearts are still full of unresolved, sleeping, negative emotions and the fight’s damage ever lingers.

The key is to lead our hearts home, leading them back into the land of affection and intimacy with our suffering Savior who understands all and loves us in spite of ourselves.

We begin by acknowledging our pain.

This is where we embrace, at an emotional level, that we are powerless to resolve our negative feelings.     Others won’t do what we want them to do.   Losses have occurred that cannot be undone.    Our old normal will never return and there’s really nothing we can do about it.

All these are painful admissions.   And all these are statements of brokenness–where we not only have a broken heart but are broken of our proud attempts to manage life on our own apart from God.     We cannot fix our broken heart.  We cannot heal our wounded soul.   We cannot undo painful circumstances.

We bring all our unresolved pain to Christ, and wait on Him.

So we bring our heavy sack of emotional burdens to Him who alone can bear all burdens, and wait in His presence as powerless ones in sheer vulnerability.    We resist every temptation to assert our wills, tell Him what to do, give Him orders, and take control.

Then We Receive Grace in Our Powerlessness and Brokenness

Eventually, as David puts it, He turns and is gracious to us.    He binds up our wounds, and comforts us in Himself and we realize, once more, we are the beloved of the father.    We go through rather than around the pain, and find deepest grace on the other side.

There’s a bit of a mystery here of how long we wait and what, exactly, this grace will look like for each of us.

One person’s grace is never quite the same as another’s, and all comparisons about who gets what and when at God’s bounteous table need to also be surrendered.   There’s more than enough for all, and yet everyone receives personalized grace.

The key point is Christ is waiting with outstretched arms, gazing into the distance, eager for our return.    Shall we deny Him the joy of our homecoming?  Or shall we remain forever on strike and on the picket line of unresolved pain demanding justice on our own terms?

He’s whispering this song to all our hearts:

Come home, come home.

The fire is dancing, the kettle is whistlin’

Come home, come on home.

We’ll make merry your return, and your tears will be dried by our love.

How Not to Lead Our Emotions

Our emotions want to lead us.   But we need to lead them if we’re going to be responsible and live wisely and lovingly.  But how does that happen?

First,  let’s clear away two extremes:    emotionlessness, and emotionalism.

At one end of the spectrum is emotionlessness.

In this world-view, Mr. Spock is the ideal.    All emotions are filtered out and denied.   Only pure logic, pure principles devote of heart, can be used.   All expressions of emotion are suspect, and all feelings are deemed bad and are to be repressed.

In some circles, it is positively spiritual to be emotionless and emptied of all desire and passion, and then to look down with disdain on those who still have feelings.     God is the giver of fail-safe formulas and is the ultimate logician.    He is useful as a preserver of orderliness, and our plan is to use Him to tidy up our messy lives and keep things safe, predictable, and logical.

But He won’t be used, and allows disorder and pain to happen we can’t remove.    And then we lose all control.

We do a Popeye.

Popeye the Sailor man always finds himself in a situation where he’s getting pummeled but is meekly taking it, reaches his breaking point, and finally says, “I has all I can stands, and I can’t stands no more!”    Out comes the spinach and his arms increase in size and he goes nuts and fists go flying and his nemesis, Brutus, is defeated.

The cartoon pokes fun at us all  by showing how easy it is to go from emotional repression to being unable to retrain our long pent-up emotions.

Repressing our emotions and denying our emotions isn’t leading our emotions, but only delaying and even building their level of control over us.   Which is why God so frequently refuses to cooperate with our plans to bring order to the galaxy.

At the other end of the spectrum is emotionalism.  

This is where we not only express our emotions, but seek to increase the amount of feelings and increase the level of expressing them by stimulating them more.    Emotions, in the approach, are like a drug.     We need increasing amounts of stimulation to feel what we want to feel, and work harder and harder to gain an emotional state–usually of bliss.

Being ruled and led by emotions is this kind of spirituality’s trademark.    But they mistake emotions for the voice of God and fail to understand that our emotions will often lead us to destruction if allowed to rule us.

Blissing out for the sake of blissing out is the ultimate goal.    Instead of emptying ourselves of all desire as the path of nirvana, this is where gratifying all our desires is the path.      But since it takes more and more to repeat the feeling, and we have less and less feelings each time we repeat the cycle, we end up robotic on this path as well.    God, in other words, is a means to an end:    feeling great all the time right now.

What does one do when you have felt all you can feel at the highest levels, and no amount of stimulation can evoke any feeling anymore?    This is the question every kind of addict will face at the very end of their addictive, downward spiral.    At first they used to gain euphoria, then they used to feel normal, then they used just to feel bad.

Using emotions like a drug won’t help us either.

The alternative to these two false paths is found in the book of Psalms, and seen in the life of Christ.     It is to feel the full force of our feelings, and express them in the presence of God and offer them back to God as powerless, needy people.

I’ll take up this theme in the next entry….

Repeating vs. Breaking the Cycle

It’s the easiest thing in the world to do to others what was done to us.

We get deeply hurt at our most vulnerable, and then hurt the vulnerable because we’re consumed with trying to protect ourselves.    We are wronged, and then, in the name of righting wrongs, do wrong to others.    It’s the human condition.

In other words, it’s extremely easy to repeat family patterns handed down to us by our parents.   It’s difficult indeed to not over-react, go to the opposite extreme in our parenting, and produce the very same results in our kids.

The sins of the fathers are indeed visited on the children to the third and fourth generation.     Unless…

We break the cycle of being injured and injuring others.

Breaking any cycle is painful.

1) Losing Our Self-Righteousness.

We begin by admitting we are no better than our parents, no better than those who have wronged us, and no better than the people we’re condemning.     To quote the book of Romans, “there is none righteous, not even one.”     “Are we better than they?   Not at all.”

The prophet Elijah, on the heels of a great spiritual victory, acted cowardly and ran away.    When he came to his senses, he asked God to take his life because, “I am no better than my fathers.”

Any sense of betterness, superiority, and entitlement is spawned by our wounded pride and simply needs to die if we’re going to make progress.

2) Admitting We Have an Unmanageable Problem

Breaking the cycle also involves admitting we have a problem we can’t fix.  Trying to manage it, trying to be better than our parents and do the opposite, is tantamount to saying “I don’t have a problem” and “I can manage it if I do.”

The truth is we are handed problems bigger than we are and which scare the daylights out of us.   These issues defy easy fixes, and all our attempts to manage them only make them worse.

3) Turning Our Life and Our Will Over to God

It comes down to admitting “there is a God and it’s not me”.   And asking Him for help from a place of powerlessness and no control.

We stop giving God orders.   We stop telling Him how to help us.   We stop trying to use God or enlist God in our agendas.    We are willing to be helped–without pre-conditions or limitations, taking down all “do not disturb” signs and all “no trespassing” signs.

4) Submitting to the Pain and Allowing Time for Grace

Surgery hurts.

It exposes the diseased tissues to the air and removes them without hesitation.     If the reason why we haven’t surrendered before is because of pain, it is reasonable to expect that our cure will involve the very pain we’ve sought to avoid all along.

God puts us back into the same kind of situation, surfacing all of our old emotions.   We get triggered, feel out of control, and are strongly tempted to re-assert our own control.

But if we keep surrendering and not allow these feelings to drive us, they grow less powerful.     And then God graces us in this broken area, pouring healing balm on the wound even if He doesn’t change the circumstances.

The wounds that drive us lose some of their power, the button others can push shrinks in size and becomes harder to push as well.    We are “de-feared” and experience love in that most broken area of our lives.  That’s why the Bible says, “mature love casts out fear.”

Then we do it all over again in another area and/or at an even deeper level.    And slowly the cycles of pain-fueled evils are broken.     We begin to come alive.

5) Practice the New Life in the New Energy of the Spirit

Every space left by pain and evil now needs to be filled with new life and purpose–with active caring and blessing of others.    In this place we are grateful for our deliverance, and want others to be freed.   We are over-loved by God and now have an excess to spend on passing along this grace to others.

We begin a new, upward cycle in our marriages, families, churches, and workplaces.   Grace opens the door to more grace in more areas.

It’s not surprising why there are so many who relapse, and so few who truly recover.   Nor is it a shock that so many repeat their parents’ cycle, and so few allow God to break it.    There is nothing more painful.

But nothing more worth it!   Be one of the few!

“And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.”

The Grace of Feeling Out of Control

The difference between actual control, and the illusion of control, is all the difference in the world.

We can hardly control our own emotions, find it difficult to stick with diets, and were born small little mortals.    We can’t control other people, but insist on making plans that require their cooperation.    We make plans for life, but everything from the weather to random events can upend our plans.    So we try harder or give up entirely.

The truth is we never had control.   But that leaves us profoundly vulnerable, and it’s emotionally impossible for us to live that way.   So we pretend we have more control than we actually have to comfort ourselves.    It’s a form of denial.    It’s how we keep the “chaos monster” at bay.

Most people see two alternatives in life:     I am in control, or nobody is in control and everything is out of control.   So they try to control everything and everyone rather than living in sheer terror of absolute chaos.     Their options are limited to playing god, or freaking out.    These options are destructive,  and God doesn’t appreciate either of them.

So He punctures our umbrella of control.    He causes our efforts to control to backfire and spin even more out of control.   He makes us worse, so He can free us from the bondage of our own control and make us better.    Ask yourself, “When was the last time I “lost control”?   What emotions did I feel in that moment?    Did I hide and run away?    Or did I lash out and blame and pressure others to obey my will for them?”

These moments of losing control of ourselves are telling.     They show us our hidden agendas of control.    They also show us where we most need someone to occupy the Throne of the Universe, to be in charge of everything, to keep chaos at bay.    They can also show us where we have buttons others can push and chains other people can pull.

So here’s what I do:

1) Ask God in Prayer to Reveal Roots:    I ask the Lord to show me why and how the current life event is so provoking.    I ask Him to show me why I’m reacting and over-reacting, and to reveal what’s behind the reaction.    Instead of reacting over and over and over again in the same way, I step back and allow the Spirit to do exploratory surgery on my soul.     This is what David did in the Psalms.

Why do I have a button to push in the first place?   Where did that button come from?    What is the gaping need behind this reaction?    In other words, where in life did I feel out of control and got deeply hurt?   These questions are pure gold for my soul.    And they have never failed to be answered.

2) Bring “The Need Behind the Need” to God:      If we feel out of control, it’s where we’ll most feel our need Someone to be sovereign over the Universe and manage everything.     So I ask the Lord to minister that aspect of Himself to my damaged, frightened soul.    Then I park there and resist all agitations and distractions–until He ministers this grace to my heart.     In other words, my need always boils down to needing Christ.

It’s a decision to trust God.

What I don’t need is for life to follow my plan, or for other people to obey my will, but for a rock solid sense of God being in control and satisfying my deeper need in Himself.     He’s my control, in other words.    His sovereignty is what keeps chaos within limits, and bends it to good ends.

If we can learn to do this, if we can resist the urge to bear our own chaos or manage our own loss of control, we will begin to feel rested and freed at a deepest level.    We will be far less terrified by far fewer things, and enjoy far more serenity, far more often, in far more areas of life.

Of course there are other helpful disciplines in such moments, but these are two that Christ has used to minister His grace where I most need it.

Three Responses to Losing Control

Danger is everywhere!

All of us like to feel safe and secure.    All of us live in a world of threats–real or imagined.    Therefore, all of us are tempted to eliminate all threats and surround our self with a vast array of protections.

All of us are therefore tempted to assert control when we feel out of control.   But none of us actually has any control–none of us are God.

So one of the key questions of our lives is this, “What do I do when I feel like I’ve lost control?”

What techniques do we use to hold onto control?    What strategies do we use to regain control when we’ve lost it?

I see three possible options:

1) Fight to Regain Control.    Instead of being powerless, we try to be more powerful and overcome whatever or whoever is a threat.    Making threats, accusations, blaming, gossip, arguments and even violence are employed.

We vilify our enemy and we give ourselves permission to ignore the rules governing our own conduct until that threat is neutralized.     This is why the Pharisees were willing broke every legal rule to get rid of Jesus.  And this is why, so often in war, even the good guys commit atrocities.

2) Run from a Loss of Control.     When our fighting doesn’t work, we run away and escape the threat.     We leave that dangerous or bad place for another place where we can feel safe and in control again.

That’s why, when a married couple begins to battle for control, divorce is almost inevitable when they realize they’re in a battle they can’t win.    And that’s why many families members move away or won’t speak to other family members who’ve hurt them.

In the natural world, it’s fight or flight.    Attack or retreat.     Hunt down or run away.    Predator or prey.

But in God’s kingdom, there’s a still more excellent way.   It’s asking another question, “What is God doing by allowing events to happen in such a way to strip me of all control?   What’s He up to?”   Its where we:

3) Embrace Powerlessness and Turn All Control Over to Christ.

This is where we admit we only had the illusion of control.   God has held all control all along and we are in the palm of His hands.

He’s not wanting us to run away or fight other people for control.     He’s wanting us to surrender to His good control and allow Him to be our Savior–even in the midst of threatening circumstances.

The reason for leaving us in a threatened, vulnerable position is this:   that’s the very place where we need to experience His gracious control the most.   Wherever we are most tempted to fight or flight, that’s where we need to stay and grow through our fears.   It’s where “perfect love casts out fear”.

So we voluntarily assume the position of powerlessness under Him–in hopes of deliverance from the fears which rule our lives (including the fear of ourselves and our losing control of us).    We submit to Him in the midst of the chaos and abandon all attempts to fix it or manage it on our own.

We face our terrors, and bring our fears to Him for resolution by a choice to trust Him without any controls on our part.    He takes us through our fears to freedom on the other side of them.    We learn, at a deep emotional level, that He’s in control and we’re safe in Him no matter what others might say or do to us.

“The Lord is my helper, I will not be afraid.  What can man do to me?!”

Even if we don’t survive, we are resurrected and triumph in faith over all threats and dangers.

The world only gives us two dead-end options that keep us trapped:  fight or flight.

Christ offers us the way out–which is to surrender ourselves to Him and embrace our powerlessness.   And then watch what He can do!

The Freedom of Powerlessness

Powerlessness is not helplessness.

In powerlessness, we recognize God has all the power and we have very little or no control.    So we embrace this reality and allow God to be God and voluntarily assume the position of a small, vulnerable, sin-bound creature before Him.    We admit our utter need and humbly appeal to Him for help, instead of trying to assert control and make life work out our way.

Then God helps.

He moves in and does what only He can do and we are energized to live responsible, good, and fruitful lives in His power.    Admitting we are powerless is coupled with turning our lives and our will over to God and experiencing a spiritual awakening by His grace.   Such an awakening ripples outward from our lives and blesses others–who we want to receive the holy awakening we ourselves have received from God.

In helplessness, we don’t take responsibility or do what can be done under God, yet insist on holding onto all control.

We are passive and expect life to magically work out.   We look to other fallen people to save us and do things for us and take over our responsibilities.    And when they fail, we blame them and look for someone else to take over.    Many people look to the government this way, or to an abusive spouse, or to an enabling parent, in this way.

Clutching control at all costs leads to handing all control over to a substance, experience, institution, or relationship.   Control is the master addiction behind all other addictions–the chief idolatry.

About a month ago, one of my friends in our small group mentioned how admitting powerlessness had blessed him and sustained him.    His life was difficult, but there was a smile on his face and a serenity about his countenance.    And it got me thinking.    Powerlessness–where do I need to admit I’m powerless and embrace this reality.    And the Lord soon answered, “powerlessness over money and powerlessness over conflicts.”

So I admitted–at a deep and very personal level–that I was utterly powerless in these two crucial areas of life.    And I admitted that I had been spending a lot of time and energy trying to fix these two areas in my own life and in a group of people I lead.    This impossible assignment had led to feeling exhausted, utterly thwarted, and very stressed out.

So I abandoned all efforts to manage these two areas, turned them over to Christ, and humbly asked Him for help.

One month later, not all is “fairy tale” in these two areas of life.     I can’t stop anyone else from withholding money or causing further conflicts.    But I don’t need to stop it.    It’s God’s job, and my life is in His hands in these two areas.   And this commitment has been repeatedly tested–but at least I’m spotting the temptations as temptations and resisting these invitations to re-assume and re-assert my own control.

What I am seeing is a remarkable demonstration of God’s faithfulness–released while I’m in a state of yielded trust and embraced powerlessness before Him.    He has come through for my family financially in unexpected, perfectly timed ways.    He has given a level of serenity and joy in the midst of ongoing threats to the peace of our group, and the freedom to speak encouragement to others.  I’m having fun again.

It’s not magic.    But it’s a far superior way to live life.     As Jesus said, “He who keeps his life will lose it.   But he who loses his life for My sake will find it.”     That’s what I’m seeing.   There’s a new level of inner freedom, personal joy, and lots more energy to do a lot more positive good.    Powerlessness as a way of life has been a refreshing, liberating thing for me–just like Christ promised it would.

Rather than experiencing this reality once, at the beginning of our relationship with God, Christ invites us to experience this exchange of our personal control for His life every day, at deeper levels, in more areas of our lives.

I may end up “not surviving” in one or more situations.    But at least I’m free!

The Joy of Powerlessness

Most of us have an unspoken goal of handling everything, all by ourselves.

We want to be that competent, get-it-done, go-to kind of person who is looked up to.    We want to be an asset to our organization, a source of pride to our parents, and respected in our own eyes.     “Successful,” in other words.

If there are problems, we want to solve them.  If something is broke, we want to fix it.   If there is pain, we want to end it.  If there is injustice, we want to eliminate it.   If there are barriers, we want to overcome them.

Many of these qualities are good.    The problem is these goals can feed something ugly and destructive that will claim our life in the end.   And that something is control.   These goals require heaps and heaps of control over other people and life’s circumstance.

We put pressure on ourselves to solve the problems and fix the broken things of life.    We put pressure on ourselves to be competent and capable.    And we feel like terrible failures when we are thwarted.

So we try harder.  And we failure more.   And are ashamed more.

We prop ourselves up with relationships, experiences and substances–and lose control to these addictions and see ourselves perform even worse.     The more powerful we try to be, the more enslaved we are.   The harder we try, the worse we fail.

In the end, we are out of control and our lives have become unmanageable.   We can’t fix us.   And we never will.

So what is one to do?

The answer, to quote a famous book, is to admit to God, ourselves, and one other person that we are powerless.

We are licked.    We give up on trying to control our problem.    We quit.  We resign from godhood and vacate the throne of the universe.

Then something wonderful happens.    Relieved of this impossible goal and this crushing pressure to manage everything and control everything, we find ourselves at rest.    The torment is over.

We are small.    We hear a gentle Voice beckoning to us, calling us home.  We discover we are still loved.    Now we are ready for God to assume all control and therefore we turn our life and our will over to Him.

Then He manages the unmanageable things of our lives.   Our ego has collapsed and we find joy in being His and in allowing Him to care for us.     We have nothing to prove anymore, no status of success to earn or to lose, either.   The pressure is off.

I am rediscovering the joy of powerlessness.     It’s like a fresh breeze that’s blowing through my soul.     And it’s wonderful to watch God do what I cannot over and over and over again.

Do you know that joy?   Does it sound intriguing, even inviting?

I’ll speak in my next entry about the two particular areas where I’m learning to admit powerlessness and finding great joy on the other side of this admission.

Stay tuned…..

The Way Out of Apathy

Apathy isn’t where people begin in life.   It’s where they tragically end up.

So what happens to us?   How does our joy end up in numbness and our passion turn into calloused disinterest?

Some years back, I heard a message from an English Bible teacher who gave us this insight:   apathy is the outcome of unresolved anger.     We get hurt and feel it’s unfair.     God didn’t stop it or prevent it.    God isn’t removing it or resolving it.    So we’re angry at Him.

We think we’re angry at a human being or a group of people.    We think we’re angry at events and unjust structures.    But who is behind all of this?   Whoever sits on the throne of the Universe, that’s who.   God is always the Person we’re angry with when we’re angry.

Pain from God naturally leads to anger at God.

So we bargain with God.   We accuse God of injustice.   We plead with Him.  We promise Him things.  We threaten Him.  And still He doesn’t bow to our wishes or give us the relief we desire.

So we walk away from Him.    And we give up on Him.    In retaliation for His not caring for us, we stop caring for Him.     We stop listening, stop seeking, stop reading, stop praying, stop going, and withdraw our affections and our service from Him.    We want Him to hurt as much as we hurt.

“There!  That will show You, God!   That will teach You to mess with me!”

But since we can’t remain numb and disconnected and empty for long, our apathy drives us to experiment and delve into the cheap pleasures of the world system.     We bury our pain and our anger in activities and enjoyments.

But underneath the glitter and the glaze of smug self-sufficiency, we are miserable and poor and blind and naked in spirit.     The pain is merely covered, not resolved.   It still holds us in its sway.    Our life is a house of cards.

And all this distancing from God and self-indulgent abuse of ourselves carries higher and higher price tags.    Instead of feeling more alive, we become more and more unresponsive and self-deadened.   We are trapped.

Is there a way out of apathy?   Is there a way home for us?

The way back involves going back to the original pain–the original offense we have against God.    But instead of repeating our accusations, our pride is broken and ask for undeserved grace.

We admit we are utterly powerless and out of control–enslaved to the people, experiences and substances we’ve repeatedly used to prop ourselves up.   All we can do is admit, “I need help, Lord!  I give up!”

Then something unexpected happens.     The very sorrows that tempted us to rage at God become hallowed ground, places where we encounter His love in the desert of our brokenness.

Pain from God leads to a fresh experience of the grace of God.    And such grace causes us to experience an immense gratitude towards God.    We want to know Him and be close to Him.   We move in His direction.   We even begin to pursue Him and want intimacy with Him more than we want pain relief from Him.

He becomes our treasure of treasures once more, and knowing Him is its own highest reward.    Then He takes us on holy adventures and sends us on impossible missions.     We’re alive again.

Unworthy substitutes for Him drop away like leaves off a late fall tree during a windstorm.     We’re too busy enjoying the real thing to care.

There is no reason for anyone to die in apathy, in the frigid wasteland of frozen anger at God.     A spring thaw is at hand if we only had the courage to clasp it.