Friday, May 24, 2013

Gifts of the Uncomfortable Feelings


For the longest time, I have done my darnedest to avoid uncomfortable feelings—hurts like sadness, anger, loneliness, fear, shame, guilt and hurt itself.  People-pleasing became my mantra.  I was oblivious to the gifts of those feelings, but I am learning to embrace them instead of shunning them.  Compassion for others, and self-compassion, call for listening to the messages within the pain, addressing them, and continuing the journey.
 
I’m grateful, for instance, that I can feel pain, so that when I accidentally touch my hand to a hot burner, I will quickly remedy the situation to keep from doing major harm.  The same goes with these painful feelings—they tell us there’s something wrong that needs attention.

I don’t like the pain I am feeling when I think of the friends I am leaving behind here in Nashville.  But thank God for the pain!  It tells me that I am leaving people who are valuable to me, whom I love dearly, who have made an important impact on my life.  And the flip side of that coin says, like Chip Dodd proclaims, I hope at my funeral, people come in throngs to wail, beat their chest from grief and cry aloud because they will miss me!  It will mean my life has had meaning and purpose, that I mattered to folks!

Chip, who wrote The Voice of the Heart, and my precious friend and professional helper Janina Tiner, introduced me to this understanding.  Here’s a small bit of his wisdom:

Hurt is the emotional and spiritual experience that tells us we are feeling emotional and spiritual pain.  In healthy relationships there is a willingness to allow someone to feel their own pain, because we have genuine regard, concern and love for that person.
 
Harm, which we often confuse with Hurt, occurs when we emotionally and spiritually wound another in order to prevent feeling the pain in our own hearts.  It is most often exhibited when we cross the boundaries of another without genuine regard, concern or love for that person.

Sadness speaks directly to our need to grieve when someone or something is lost.  Through grief, we find comfort and deeper wisdom, and in the acceptance of the loss, we find healing.

Self-pity, on the other hand, which feels similar to Sadness, is a way to escape the pain of sadness by trying to make others feel sadness for us.

Anger is possibly the most important feeling we experience as emotional and spiritual beings, because it’s the first step to authentic living.  It helps us pursue full life by exposing the substance, desires and commitments of our hearts with passion for justice.  Authentic anger means you really care.

Rage, however, is a toxic acting out with an intent to harm, lashing out at others, based in fear, by the perpetrator, who wants to avoid taking responsibility for their feelings by blaming others.  Anger is based in concern and caring, believe it or not!

And so it goes.  These are the eight feelings in a nutshell: Hurt, Loneliness, Sadness, Anger, Fear, Shame, Guilt and Gladness.  Yep, only one obviously positive feeling.  I also bet you’re asking “Where’s Love on this list?”  Love is an entity unto itself, as it is both feeling and action.  Love = Gladness + Compassion.  You can’t have Love without the mixture combining awareness/acceptance and action, and yes, it’s the solution to every hurt, every disagreement, every estrangement.  It’s simply too big to fit on a simple feelings list!

I’m extremely enamored with this paradigm, and I plan to write a lot about how this psychological understanding, which has evolved from a long line of great teachers, blends so beautifully with Christian spirituality.  I would cherish your prayers in this endeavor, and expect to put pencil to paper soon from a mountaintop near Charleston, the new view from my desk to come!

Grace and joy,
Julie

PS—West End’s copies of the July-August edition of The Upper Room arrived today.  Check out the devotion for July 16.  You might recognize the author!

Friday, May 17, 2013

Those Awkward Tweens



 You know that time.  That in-between time.  That awkward in-between time.

Sue Monk Kidd says it this way:
It was the in-between time, before day leaves and night comes, a time I’ve never been partial to because of the sadness that lingers in the space between going and coming.

That’s where I am, and will be lingering, for the next month and a half, until I leave for Charleston, West Virginia, where I’ve been appointed as Associate Pastor to Christ Church United Methodist, a few blocks from the State Capitol.  It reminds me a lot of West End, and they’ve welcomed me with open arms and a warm, hospitable spirit.  I’ll be responsible for Parish Life.  How’s THAT for an all-inclusive job description!  I’m extremely blessed.

But you know the space—the almosts and the not yets.  Sad and grieving to be leaving friends here.  Excited and challenged to consider new adventures yet to be.  I’m grateful to have time to say goodbye (the root of which is ‘Go on your way with God’ which doesn’t ring with finality).

I will not be one of your pastors anymore, but I will always remain a friend.  My home is already assigned to me (four bedrooms, fenced backyard for Bella, on a mountaintop).  I’ll share my address if you email me for it.

Some of you have asked what you can do to help.  Here’s my short list:

1)       Pray for me, Christ Church, and my ministry there for God’s pleasure.
2)       Pray for Nancy Hawthorne as she assumes her appointment here at West End.
3)       Pray that my house sells quickly (and to all our realtor members, I had to pick a name out of a hat    because I simply couldn’t decide among you).
4)      Share any moving boxes with me that you may need to get rid of. I promise I will pay it forward!

Not so inspirational this week, I fear, but occasionally we have to cover nuts and bolts.  My favorite quote is one by Dag Hammerskjold, which I have probably shared with you before (and I always do when I marry a couple), but it rings true again and again for the gifts and lessons I’ve gained from my time at West End:

For all that has been, we say Thanks.  For all that will be, we say Yes.

Thanks be to God for our time together, and for our remaining days of preparation.

Grace and joy,
Julie


Friday, May 3, 2013

Gearing Up for Mother's Day

For the first time in years, I'm going to spend Mother's Day with my mom.  We'll get dressed and head to her church, where I assume there will be some mention of the special day, like handing out flowers, or cards or somesuch. 

Mother's Day Sunday can be a tricky wicket for pastors, however.  We want to honor the mothers in our midst, but we don't want to offend women who aren't.  Whether by choice or circumstance, the second Sunday in May can be painful for non-moms.

I stumbled upon a delightful blog by Amy, messymiddle.com which addresses the conundrum.  Her words are prayer-ful, and worthy of a pastor's time.  And to Amy, who describes herself as in that messy middle, caught between Already and Not Yet, I give my thanks and solidarity!

To those who gave birth this year to their first child—we celebrate with you
To those who lost a child this year – we mourn with you
To those who are in the trenches with little ones every day and wear the badge of food stains – we appreciate you
To those who experienced loss this year through miscarriage, failed adoptions, or running away—we mourn with you
To those who walk the hard path of infertility, fraught with pokes, prods, tears, and disappointment – we walk with you. Forgive us when we say foolish things. We don’t mean to make this harder than it is.
To those who are foster moms, mentor moms, and spiritual moms – we need you
To those who have warm and close relationships with your children – we celebrate with you
To those who have disappointment, heart ache, and distance with your children – we sit with you
To those who lost their mothers this year – we grieve with you
To those who experienced abuse at the hands of your own mother – we acknowledge your experience
To those who lived through driving tests, medical tests, and the overall testing of motherhood – we are better for having you in our midst
To those who have aborted children, we remember them and you on this day
To those who are single and long to be married and mothering your own children, we mourn that life has not turned out the way you longed for it to be
To those who step-parent, we walk with you on these complex paths
To those who envisioned lavishing love on grandchildren, yet that dream is not to be, we grieve with you
To those who will have emptier nests in the upcoming year – we grieve and rejoice with you
And to those who are pregnant with new life, both expected and surprising –we anticipate with you

This Mother’s Day, we walk with you. Mothering is not for the faint of heart and we have real warriors in our midst. We remember you.

To women everywhere, I pray for grace and much joy,
Julie