storiesofvalue

In a season of heightened social dialogue and activism, as followers of Christ we are challenged to ask, “What would the Lord have us do?”  This includes moments when we encounter those who are frightened or hurting as well as how we respond to pivotal events in the news.  We cannot pick and choose when to engage.  This world is not our final home, but it is where we live and the people living in it need the hope we possess.   

For this cause, it is crucial that we understand our calling.  In times of cultural change, we must contemplate what it means to wear the name of Christ. Otherwise, we may be carried away in the torrent for lack of an anchor.  I recently made a mental checklist of personal anchors I cling to in the midst of, as an old gospel song says, “times like these”.  I share them with you now for your own consideration:

Anchor #1: My faith is secured by three biblical commands known as the “two greatest commandments” and the “great commission”.  Responding to an expert in Old Testament Law, Jesus said, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments” (Matthew 22:37-40).  Later, as Jesus was preparing to return to the Father, He left His disciples with these instructions: “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you” (Matthew 28:19-20). 

The possible ways we can live out these directives are immense.  For the sake of brevity, I will simply say they all require daily surrender.  First, I devote my entire being to the God who loves me and gave His Son up for me.  Secondly, His love compels me to love my neighbor.  Though I am an imperfect reflection of His glory, my world should be able to detect His love in my words and actions.   Finally, because God’s love is in me, I weep for those who are estranged from Him, and as the Apostle Paul wrote, “become all things to all men, that I might win some” (1 Corinthians 9:22).

Anchor #2: The first and second greatest commandments were fleshed out by the prophet Micah when he wrote, “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.  And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humblywith your God.” (Micah 6:8) These words were shared with God’s people at a time when their worship was more about ritual than sincerity, and as a result, sinful and selfish behaviors crept into their community.  They were giving God “lip service”, but their actions exposed the hardness of their hearts and their dismissal of God’s nature which they should have emulated.

When I read the prophet’s words, I am challenged to remember I am God’s vessel as opposed to making Him a means to my ends.  Evoking the name of God or my Savior Jesus does not excuse my self-absorbed approach to life.  Instead, He has asked me to seek His kingdom first and to pray for the wisdom to distinguish my human ambition from eternal aspirations.  I remember the words of James: “Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up” (James 4:7-10).  Justice, mercy and humility cannot be contrived.  They flow from a pure heart that seeks to please God in everything. 

Anchor #3: Godly compassion was illustrated by Jesus in His famous teaching on “the least of these” found in Matthew 25:31-46.  Here Jesus, the King, embodies those who were hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, sick and imprisoned.  He praises those who cared for Him, but condemns those who ignored His circumstances.  I feel a need to share that while this passage is most often used to describe our benevolent acts toward all who are in need, it is possible Jesus was referring to His disciples.  In their ministry, they faced all of the perils He outlined.  Since they went out in His name, and were His “hands and feet”, it makes sense Jesus speaks as if He was one with them.  Centuries later, others would suffer, such as Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Ridley who were burned at the stake in 1555 for standing up against misguided church leaders.   

There are other passages that speak specifically to showing mercy to all, such as Jesus’ Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37), and the story of Lazarus and the Rich Man from beyond the grave (Luke 16:19-31).  Jesus’ emphasis on compassion causes me to pause before I dismiss the needs of those around me, or find joy in the suffering of those with whom I disagree.  It is possible God has allowed our paths to cross to teach me a deeper truth; one I will never learn as long as I hold others in contempt. 

Anchor #4:  In every season, I must demonstrate Christian character.  As I act and speak in the name of Jesus, my goal should not be to have others say, “Oh, what a wonderful Christian Larry is!”, but rather, “I see Jesus in him.”  Being a Christian is nothing more than this; to live out the character of Jesus in everything.  In Colossians 3:17, the Apostle Paul wrote, “And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”  The New Testament speaks extensively of Christian character, including the list of spiritual fruit found in Galatians 5:22-23, minds “transformed” by Christ as opposed to those “conformed” to the world (Romans 12:2), strength obtained through suffering (Romans 5:3-5), purity (Galatians 5:16), truth-seeking through the study of scripture (2 Timothy 3:16), and a work ethic grounded in a desire to please the Lord (Colossians 3:23).

Satan has set snares to undermine our character.  He exploits our emotions and leads us to speak and act in inappropriate and ungodly ways.  I must make every effort to express my feelings in ways that honor the Lord.  If I believe I have knowledge that needs to be shared with my world, then it behooves me to find a way to make my thoughts known without bringing harm to others or the reputation of my Savior.  If I am failing in this area, I believe God wants me to seek His help in finding a better way.  Perhaps you have heard it said, “People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.”  I agree with this saying, but I would add that the same principle applies to character.  It is hard to win an argument for the sake of Christ when we behave in an unchristian way. 

Anchor #5. In every season, I am called to nurture the moral fiber of my home, church, community and world.  Of course, this is where most of us struggle as we attempt to balance justice, mercy, humility and love with the Bible’s teaching on morality.  Although this tension exists, we should never see these as opposites. I propose, as others have, that it is impossible to practice pure justice, mercy, humility, love or a number of other godly acts if we are not under the influence of an omnipotent, omniscient and holy God.  For this reason, it is inconsistent to say, “we need to follow the heart of God in the way we treat others” and in the same discussion embrace sinful practices.  In the same way, it is misguided to say, “we need to call out sin” and in the process misrepresent the heart of God with demeaning statements about others.  My morality must include both truth and love if I wish to be an ambassador of hope.   

Anchor #6.  I have received grace through Jesus’ sacrifice and have been called to share it with the “saved” and “unsaved.”  The Apostle Paul wrote, “Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.”  (Colossians 4:6) “Full of grace” is the product of a spirit-filled life where my mind and heart are being transformed through the influence of the Holy Spirit who inhabits me.  Grace reminds me to guard my tongue.  It reminds me everyone is at a different place on their spiritual journey and makes me conscious of the positive or negative impact I can have through my words and actions.  Grace guards my heart against arrogance.  It gives me the ability to say, “I was wrong”, and the security to admit I am not always right.  Grace gives me the courage to examine my heart and apologize for poor conduct.  When I am confused, discouraged, disheartened or frightened, I remember the phrase in the song “Amazing Grace” which tells me “grace will lead me home.”  Regardless of my circumstances, grace will find me. 

Anchor #7. Finally, and perhaps oddly to some, I am called to be a steward of the financial resources God has given me.  Monetary issues dominate our current conversations as we debate how our country’s tax dollars should be spent.  While there are varying opinions on this topic, my first obligation is always to the Giver of Life.  In our society, we have the freedom to criticize how our nation’s budget is managed, but as believers we stand on common ground in regards to God’s expectations.  At the risk of oversimplifying things, I believe God has asked us to use our financial recourses to 1) care for our household, 2) support kingdom work, 3) share with brothers and sisters in Christ and 4) show charity to the less fortunate.  And yes, we are to give Caesar what is Caesar’s. 

There will be times when I am in opposition to my government’s priorities, especially when funds are used in ways that violate my moral convictions.  And as I have stated, I am allowed by law to dispute these practices.  But as I fulfill this obligation as an American citizen, it is my duty as a kingdom citizen to make certain I am faithful in the stewardship of my other resources.  I am pleased when my government supports the things I care about, but whether this occurs or not does not change my role.  It is my job to care for my household, provide the financial resources my church needs to function, support my church family and give to my neighbor in need.  If my government takes its job seriously, and manages its funds well, I should theoretically have more money to meet my spiritual priorities.  But regardless, I cannot expect anyone else to do what I have been called to do.  Therefore, in every season, I must do what God calls me to do with the resources He has given me, and not become overwhelmed by those who choose another way.       

While this is a rather long devotional thought, I feel certain I have only scratched the surface of the topic of Christian responsibility.  I would characterize the items I have chosen as the personal priorities I try to keep front and center as a means of moving through choppy societal waters.  The issues facing my world are real, and I cannot close my eyes and ears to events playing out before me.  Yet, I dare not forget whose kingdom I serve as well as the responsibilities that are mine because of the grace I live in.  I invite you to join me in holding fast to this same grace and everything it entails and not to forget who we are and Who we serve.  After all, we are just passing through.

Much of my adult theology was formed before I entered kindergarten.  Long before I sat in a reading circle in Mrs. Ping’s class, I came to know the Creator of the universe, discovered the origin of the stars, sun and moon, and was introduced to the amazing privilege of prayer through which I had access to the God of unlimited supernatural power.  In addition, I learned that God made me, and loved me enough to save me from my sins.  That’s right.  At the ripe old age of four, I already knew about sin, and Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross. 

Yet, I was not a spiritual prodigy.  Many children raised in Christian environments are equally informed.  And while this is a very good thing, I have been thinking lately about the more practical aspects of theology as we grow into adults. 

What happens when the spiritual lessons we are taught as children do not align with adult realities?  When I share this challenge, your mind may move to weighty questions such as, “Why doesn’t God answer my prayers for physical healing?” Or, “If God is good, why does he allow bad things to happen?”  While these questions deserve our attention, they are not the kind of realities I have in mind.

I am more presently concerned about ways in which some adult Christians behave as it stands in contrast to what children have historically learned in an atmosphere of faith, and more specifically, the spiritual trauma occurring in the hearts and minds of adolescents and young adults. 

In my preschool Sunday Class I learned this simple song: “Be careful little hands what you do.  Be careful little hands what you do.  For the Father up above is looking down in love.  So be careful little hands what you do.” 

The song had many verses, as it addressed various aspects of human behavior, including, what we say, what we see, where we go, what we hear and what we think.  The rationale for guarding these areas of our lives was simple: “For the Father up above is looking down in love.” 

I likely don’t need to spend much time describing how these lessons look in practical terms.  And this is not the focus of my thoughts here.  I am more concerned about what happens in the minds and hearts of those coming behind us when we disregard the sentiments of this song (or any lessons children are taught in a Christian setting) as grown-ups. 

I still remember the day I found a can in my family refrigerator with the label “Apple Beer”.  Please know, I do not believe drinking in moderation is a sin, but for a number of reasons, no one in our family consumed alcohol, and I still do not to this day.  Maybe this was because, as a minister, my father’s heart had been broken by the devastating effects of alcohol on those whose occasional drink grew into a tragic addiction.  When my parents saw my countenance fall, it didn’t take long for them to realize what was going on.  They explained to me their “Apple Beer” was just apple cider, and they had not changed the rules.  They also tossed the cans in the trash. 

Again, drinking in moderation is not a sin.  But I use this memory to describe the disillusionment that occurs when those who have gone before us appear to violate the lessons they have taught.  Obviously, we cannot hold anyone to a perfect standard, and as we mature, we must accept the fact people will not always be consistent in their Christian walk.  We never want to become judgmental since continuously pointing out hypocrisy in others’ lives can blind us to our own sins. 

But I come back to my concern.  I believe, when we abandon the general characteristics of a spirit-filled mind and heart, we run the risk of damaging the faith of the young.  Not only do we forget “the Father up above is looking down in love”, we also discount the respect children have for older Christians. 

Over the past several years, I have been troubled by the words and actions of adults in the presence of, and directed toward young believers.  Perhaps we think, when our own children are grown, what we do and say isn’t as important as it once was.  After all, we might reason, the ones we used to teach in Sunday School are older now, and they experience much worse among their peers.  They might even do and say things that make us blush! So, why does it matter how we behave?

The answer to this question is two-fold.  First, because “the Father up above is looking down in love.”  It doesn’t matter who we are or how long we have lived.  God doesn’t care any less about the way we conduct ourselves now than he did when we were being taught not to spit at others, say bad words or hurt others with our words as children.  In fact, He likely cares more, since we are now old enough to, as they say, “know better.”  Secondly, it really doesn’t matter how far the children who grew up in a Christian atmosphere have drifted from God.  They might be involved in ongoing sinful practices and speak profanity like a second language.  This doesn’t change our need to speak and act in a way that honors Jesus. 

One day, Jesus put a child in front of a crowd and said, “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea. Woe to the world because of the things that cause people to stumble! Such things must come, but woe to the person through whom they come!” (Matthew 18:6-7) Ponder this verse.  Is death better than being held accountable for causing a child to stumble?  Evidently.

There are many ways we can cause those who come behind us to stumble, and sometimes we do so innocently, as in the case of my parent’s “Apple Beer.”  But my point is that I believe we have, on many occasions, forgotten the profound impact the things young believers see in and hear from us can have on their faith.  While it is true we are not their saviors, and they need to know we are flawed human beings, it is also true we should not behave carelessly or be surprised when those we taught about Jesus accuse us of being unchristian.  And we should also not chalk their words up to the perception they have been corrupted by the world and don’t know what they are talking about.  Perhaps they have been corrupted by the world (which I should remind us, is the world they have inherited from adults).  But their reaction to our words and actions might still be coming from a sincere disappointment in who they thought we were; who we taught them to be.

I can’t tell you what to do and say in every situation.  And I certainly am not the perfect example of someone who always honors the Lord with my behavior.  But I still appeal to all of us who are older to consider the fact we are not only in a battle for the minds of young people, but also the heart.  And one way we win their hearts is to reflect the person of Jesus in everything, and especially in the way we speak and act toward them. We can also cover a multitude of sins if we take more time to listen.  After all, “the Father up above is looking down in love.”  So be careful!  It doesn’t take long for a millstone to sink to the bottom. 

During the second half of my year-long Chaplain Residency at the Hampton Veterans Administration Medical Center, I served in a hospice care unit.  Three months into my assignment, the air-conditioner in the Hospice facility broke down, and residents (patients) were relocated to a long-term care unit.  This transition came with challenges, while highlighting some of the extraordinary qualities I witnessed in interdisciplinary team members as they offered the best possible care.

For informational purposes, allow me to define hospice care.  Generally speaking, hospice is a course of care for those nearing the end of life.  Instead of focusing on life-saving measures, it seeks to provide comfort and quality-of-life.   Hospice care might involve, 1) Routine home care, where loved ones care for the patient at home and hospice providers visit on a regular basis, 2) General inpatient care in a facility for those whose symptoms cannot be managed at home, 3) Continuous home care, which includes a more intense and short-term engagement of the team in the home of the patient and 4) Respite care in a facility for the purpose of providing caregivers at home a rest. 

The hospice residents I cared for had been admitted to the VA facility after a terminal diagnosis, or when their loved ones were no longer able to care for them at home.  A few survived in excess of a year, but many lived only days, and in some instances hours before their deaths.  I also met a couple of residents who were reevaluated after much improvement and removed from hospice care.

I learned many valuable lessons during this season of ministry.  I hope to share the most meaningful of these in the reflections that follow.

My most profound discoveries came in the form of personal gifts from the residents themselves.  These were not material gifts, but rather perspectives and truths they embraced in their circumstances.  I am forever changed by the courage I witnessed in those who were forced to come to terms with their diagnosis and accept the realities of the days ahead.  I do not mean to suggest this was an easy process.  The pathway to acceptance often passed through anger, resentment, regret and denial.  Even after acceptance, these feelings occasionally resurfaced along with discouragement and depression in light of emerging realities.  Yet, I can confirm the human spirit is amazingly resilient among the dying.  In the past I have wondered what it is like to face death, and now I am comforted in knowing God has designed us with abilities which, along with our faith and community, give us the strength to persevere.

A rewarding aspect of providing hospice care, which I had not expected, was the way residents used humor to cope with their frustrations.  One high-spirited 79-year-old woman with pancreatic cancer told me, “They say they can’t give me what I want because I am under treatment.  How can they say I am under treatment when I’m not being treated?”  Another man in his late 60s who was dying of cancer always started my visits with a joke.  I believe God gave us humor to help us cope with pain and disappointment when we have nothing else to say.

As you might expect, I had numerous conversations with residents about faith and eternity.  According to my directives from the VA, I was not to proselyte or convert those I cared for.  However, I could answer questions, and if I listened carefully and responded to the material presented, it usually wasn’t long before I had an opportunity to share what my faith tells me.  One memorable encounter involved a believer in Christ who repeatedly asked me, “Am I saved?”  Straining to speak, he had concerns about eternity because of imperfections in his life.  Together, we recalled scriptures which remind us we are saved by faith, not works, and the resident was finally able to come to a place of comfort and resolution that God’s grace was sufficient. 

I would be remiss if I didn’t praise other members of the interdisciplinary team for their loving spirit and countless acts of mercy.  These aspects of their work were most evident when residents transitioned to the long-term care facility because of the air conditioning malfunction.  This situation continued for three months, leaving residents with less privacy in their last days, considerably more noise and distractions from long-term residents.  This caused no small unrest among family members who were disappointed in their loved ones’ circumstances.  If I might borrow from a basketball phrase, in response to this trial, members of the care team went “man-to-man”.  In other words, they stayed with their residents constantly, traveling with them everywhere they went in the facility, and congregating them in a common area during daytime hours to give them a sense of normalcy and community.  My admiration for the hospice care team grew immensely when I saw how willing they were to make personal sacrifices for the sake of those in need.

There are many aspects of hospice care I am not addressing here, as my service was confined to a facility.  My mother was in home hospice care, and I am aware there is much to be said for family members who put their lives on hold to care for their loved ones.  Still, many lessons are transferable.

On a personal level, caring for those in hospice care led me to reflect deeply on the subjects of life, faith, love and eternity.  I came away with a greater desire to use the time I have left on earth in meaningful pursuits, and to spend as much time as possible with the people I love.  I believe I have always tried to be productive, but now I reflect more on “why” I do what I do.  As my life gets shorter, I have less time to waste doing things that don’t matter.  Please understand, I don’t mean everything I do has to be serious or laborious.  In my book, a day of fishing without a single catch is meaningful; perhaps not desired, but meaningful.  But if I do spend a day this way, I need to make certain it is something that brings me joy. 

In regards to my faith and eternity, while I have thought about going to heaven and seeing Jesus face-to-face throughout my life, I haven’t always involved the Lord in these reflections.  Hospice patients taught me to be more intentional in having these talks with God, as I ask Him to help me age gracefully, and when the day comes, to die with hope in my heart.  There are also many practical points I want to address to prepare my family for this eventuality.  I will add, as my mother always did, “unless Jesus comes back first.” 

This is my last devotion as I look back on my Chaplain Residency experience.  I am now serving in my first job as a trained chaplain, and I know there is still much to learn.  I hope the things I have shared in these reflections have provided some food for thought as you journey through seasons in your own life.       

During my Chaplain Residency, I served for 6 months in a psychiatric ward.  My work involved ongoing spiritual assessments of new patients (referred to as “residents” in the VA Medical Center), providing appropriate resources such as Bibles, and engaging people in countless conversations.  Depending on the situation, those who were admitted to the ward progressed through a variety of care processes with the ultimate goal of a discharge to their next phase of recovery. 

People sometimes ask me, “What was it like serving in a psychiatric ward?”  My response is, “Incredibly rich and fulfilling”.  I am going to spend a few paragraphs here fleshing out why.

However, before I continue, I feel a need to clarify the nature of psychiatric care in most hospital settings.  Years ago, psychiatric patients were admitted for an extended period of time, with the goal of not only stabilizing their condition, but also delving deeper into the underlying causes of their struggles and providing the counsel they needed to return to their daily lives.  This still happens, but to a lesser extent.  The primary objective in modern psychiatric care in a hospital is stabilization.  There are many reasons for this shift in emphasis, not the least of which are advancements in medications, the availability of outpatient treatments, inpatient treatment programs and cost considerations.  This reality places more responsibility on the patient, families and numerous entities outside of the hospital environment.  This presents pros and cons, but the bottom line is that chaplains and other care professionals have less time to engage patients in the healing process during their hospital stay.  

My first contact with patients was often in their rooms where they were under close supervision or in a common area where they were waiting for the care team to complete initial evaluations and admission paperwork.  Most came with some level of depression and suicidal ideation which some had attempted to carry to completion.  On several occasions my ability to communicate with patients was limited for a few hours as they moved through a process of detoxification.    

I introduced myself to patients with a brief statement expressing my desire to care for them.  It was not uncommon for patients to tell me they weren’t interested, but a high percentage welcomed me into conversation, if not at the moment, at a later time after they had adjusted to their surroundings.    

Following these initial exchanges, I recorded notes in the hospital charting system and rehearsed my experiences in the form of “verbatims” (a word-for-word account of the encounter with a thorough evaluation of my work) with my chaplain peer group.  In the latter case, I used fictitious names for the sake of confidentiality. 

Additional visits usually lasted longer.  As a chaplain I was taught to live “in the moment” of every encounter, which means I did not lead with information from a former visit.  Nevertheless, patients usually remembered me, and our relationship developed as time progressed. 

Not all encounters were individual.  Some of my best conversations occurred as groups gathered to watch TV, eat meals, participate in spirituality groups or play cards.  I once asked a patient if he thought it was healthy for people in acute psychiatric care to watch westerns where gunslingers and lawmen were constantly killing each other.  He said, “Chap, we know it isn’t real”.  Don’t ever think psychiatric patients lack a sense of humor.    

As I look back on this season in my ministry, I have embraced some wonderful lessons I will take with me for the rest of my life.  I offer them in tribute to the patients I met, and to encourage you to draw close to those under psychiatric care. 

First, acute mental distress usually involves a break in a relationship, through estrangement, death (even pets), relocation or other events resulting in significant change.  Relationships hold our hopes and dreams, and provide stability in the face of difficult circumstances.  Perhaps this is why it is so important to provide a listening ear to those who are hurting.  Care is communicated through our willingness to give others our time.  Our goal is not to replace lost relationships, but to do what we can to remind others they are not alone.  This is also one reason a loving and accepting church is so valuable for those who are suffering.  Community can bring hope in the midst of pain and comfort those who inaccurately perceive God has abandoned them. 

Secondly, during my time in the psychiatric care unit, I had to overcome the fear I would say or do something that would make matters worse for the patient.  It is true we must be careful in our interactions with people who are receiving acute care, remembering that others don’t need us to fix or judge them.  People also need to reclaim personal agency, which means we should respect their space.  But it is hard to hurt people by listening and being present.  We should not let the fear of making a mistake keep us from reaching out to people in mental distress.

Third, there was a time in my life when I hesitated to discuss psychiatric issues with those receiving care, regardless of where I encountered them.  I thought I should pretend everything was “fine” unless I was invited to say more.  I still respect confidentiality, and proceed with great care when I encounter someone outside of a clinical setting who has been struggling with mental issues.  However, I am much more aggressive in pursuing a conversation.  While providing a safe environment, I will delicately inquire about their circumstances.  I am prepared to step back and disengage if I sense any anxiety, but I remain present and alert to the possibility others might wish to share their burdens. 

Finally, I now operate with the understanding mental distress is multi-faceted, and usually runs deeper than the presenting condition.  People with diagnosed mental diseases and disorders are unique in their family history, social context and personal challenges.  I may not be the one to prescribe a medication, but I can show them they are loved.  I have heard the three greatest needs that people have are to love and be loved, to belong and to find meaning.   Even in the most acute mental cases, people will usually respond on some level to others who meet these needs.

Primarily, during my time in the psychiatric unit, I did a lot of listening.  I heard words of confusion, heartache, resentment and regret.  I sensed fear, anxiety and hopelessness, sometimes through the expressions of a patient who was largely unexpressive, and other times through tears of anguish.  

If I have learned anything I can pass along, it is to strive to overcome any fears we might have of caring for those receiving psychiatric treatment.  We are not with them to fix what they are facing, and we will often come away wondering if we made a difference.  But most anytime we listen with concern, we are making an impact.  And in the context of the church, the love of community can have a profound influence on the healing process.  This is true for all of us since we all need healing. 

We serve the One who has placed us as His hands and feet in the midst of a hurting world.  Jesus is the Healer and we are His ambassadors applying grace in the lives of others. 

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”. 

“I know you are, but what am I?” 

These classic playground taunts contain profound truths and are closely related.  Allow me to explain.

In 1946, a British psychoanalyst by the name of Melanie Klein coined the term “projective identification”.  Klein believed infants project intense feelings onto their caregivers, and the response of their caregivers, in turn, impacts the infants.  In time, this notion gained popularity in adult therapy, where clients were known to project feelings onto their counselors, and counselors occasionally accepted them as truth.  Consider these examples with the struggle of insecurity as our reference point: 

In a counseling session, a client might project personal insecurities onto a counselor.  This is a common human defense mechanism we all use in varying degrees when we wish to avoid the proverbial “man in the mirror” (James 1:23).  In most instances counselors recognize what is occurring and skillfully manage the projection.  However, in some cases, a counselor identifies with the projection because of his own insecurities.  In so doing, he becomes inducted into his client’s drama, significantly reducing his effectiveness.

Outside of the counseling room, this dynamic might occur when an insecure individual is repeatedly critical of another person’s performance and the other individual internalizes the projection and begins to lose confidence in his own ability.  There is nothing necessarily wrong with constructive criticism, and paying attention to honest feedback is one of the ways we grow.  But criticism that flows from insecurities, fears and doubts rarely brings about healthy results. 

I have been vulnerable to this dynamic in the past, and still fret over unwarranted criticism.  But now, I pay closer attention to the possibility of projections.  I have learned to be cautious of people who have trouble admitting their own mistakes, and who insist on debating a case until they have justified their position to their own satisfaction.  It is possible they are knowingly or unknowingly transmitting their own insecurities, hoping I will embrace them as my own.  With this understanding, I am able to be sensitive to the war inside of my critics, grant them space to process their feelings and treat them gracefully. 

I will add that it is possible for projective identification to impact entire groups.  More than one organization, church or community has embraced a poor self-image because someone characterized them unfairly.  As one who loves the church, I find it particularly disheartening when someone accuses the Lord’s people of faults that are evident in their own lives, such as hypocrisy, injustice and prejudice.  We all have faults, and the Lord’s people will do well to hold one another accountable to biblical values, but critics who project their own weaknesses are not coming from a helpful place and they are not producing kingdom fruit.

I admire Jesus for many reasons, but especially for His ability to avoid the trap of projective identification (with the possible unique theological exception of His willingness to take our sins on Himself on the cross, which was intentional).  Throughout His ministry, the Pharisees accused Him of being a sinner, a blasphemer and a hypocrite, in an attempt to draw attention away from their own flaws.  Jesus didn’t respond by saying, “Oh, gee.  Maybe I need to pay closer attention to my behavior.”  Instead, He said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick” (Matthew 9:12). 

Again, when the Teachers of the Law and Pharisees brought an adulterous woman to Jesus, they said, “The law of Moses says to stone her.  What do you say?”  (John 8:5) They were hoping to cast Jesus as a law-breaker.  But Jesus turned the tables on them and said, “Let the one who is without sin throw the first stone” (John 8:7).

I realize we are not perfect like Jesus.  And we certainly should not reject constructive criticism and heap guilt on those who are loving and courageous enough to tell us things we need to hear.  We also can’t read people minds or discern their motives perfectly.  But we can guard against adopting other people’s struggles as our own.  When we are successful in this, we are more prepared to remain objective as we attempt to love them.

We will also do well to consider our own projections.  Most people will see through our insecurities and take our words with a grain of salt (although, I don’t think we should place this burden on others if we can avoid it).  But a few could be adversely affected by our behavior and believe things about themselves that are untrue and harmful.

“Sticks and stones might break our bones, but words will never hurt us.”  Unless we take them to heart. 

When was the last time you let the baseless words of others ruin your day, or cause you to think less of yourself than you should?  Remember, it is OK to disagree with what others say about you, even if you just smile and chuckle inside.  I have to think Jesus did this more than once.     

Have your internal messages ever conflicted?  In other words, has a part of you wanted one thing while another part of you wanted another?  In answer to these questions, you might say, “Well, of course!”  But did you know these “parts” can hold the secret to transforming your life, along with your relationships? Allow me to explain.

We all have parts.  Some people bristle at this statement because they recall movies about people with “multiple personalities” where characters struggled with mental illness or committed violent crimes.  The idea that we are made up of parts doesn’t immediately appeal to us if we believe we are fairly normal, functioning human beings.  I will let you determine what “fairly normal” means in your case.

However, just because a multiple personality disorder (now known as Dissociative Identity Disorder), is an acute mental health ailment, doesn’t mean the fundamental traits of the mind leading up to it are abnormal. 

The notion that we all have parts was theorized by Richard C. Schwartz in the 1980s in his development of his “Internal Family System”.  Just as physical families have external systems that involve dynamics between their members, we all have internal family systems made up of parts. 

What is an Internal Family System and how does it function?  When a part of us is threatened with physical harm, emotional abuse, a terrifying event or some other trauma that part becomes an “exile”.  We bury our experience inside as a means of self-preservation.  Internal family members known as “protectors” stand guard over our exiles.  Some of our protectors are “managers”.  These turn the hurts we feel into productive, though sometimes harmful activities, such as obsessive-compulsive behaviors.  The goal of managers is to shield our exiled parts from any and every potential danger.  Other protectors are “firefighters” since they rush to sooth our exiled parts through addictions and other quick fixes which temporarily mask our pain.  While it may seem as though our protectors are our worst enemies, they are actually trying to keep us from further injury by keeping our exiles in their hidden places where they can avoid being hurt again.  The task before us is to identify our exiles, and convince our protectors we mean well.  Only then can we motivate them to stand down and let us love the parts of ourselves that are locked away in time. 

When I first heard about the Internal Family System, it seemed very odd to me, but the more familiar I became with its concepts, the more sense it made.  I was fortunate to encounter Jenna Riemersma’s book “Altogether You”, where she delves into this theory from a Christian perspective.  Jenna equates the “self” as “the image of God”, and believes there were no exiled parts until sin entered the world.  At that moment life became conflicted as human beings sought ways to deal with their own sins as well as the sins committed against them.  Jenna references Paul’s words in Romans 7:15 where he wrote, “For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do”.  Paul describes the drama playing out inside of him as his parts war with one another.  And he attributes this struggle to sin. 

There is no one way people protect their exiles, as individuals react differently to past experiences.  For example, one child of an alcoholic parent might rely on addictions (firefighters) to cope with feelings of insecurity and perfectionist thinking, while another child in the same family might obsess with achievements (managers) to address the same feelings.  The first child is often more approachable, but self-destructive, while the second child is more prone to lead others, while lacking compassion and the ability to admit mistakes.  If the parent’s alcoholism was a family secret, there is a chance both children will refuse to be honest about issues in their own lives or the lives of their created family members.

What this means is (and this is a very important point), while we need to allow God to address sin in our lives as He restores His perfect image in us through Jesus, we can grow in new ways when we identify our exiled parts and work with our protectors to allow us to address our issues.  I believe this is one of the places where the Holy Spirit comforts us and we allow Jesus to love the parts we have been afraid to face.  There isn’t time or space here to share some of the methods we might use in this journey, except to say we can do much of the work ourselves, or enlist the help of a counselor.  Yet, there are a couple of principles worth noting.

First, it is good to know the same Jesus that gives us the strength and wisdom to improve relationships around us also provides what we need to heal parts within us.  How would it feel to be confident the parts of yourself you hate are actually good parts that need to be loved and welcomed back into your life? 

Secondly, if we can help our exiled parts on the inside, we can make headway with our relationships outside.  Have you ever thought about the possibility the reason you lash out, criticize, cast blame or shrink in the face of criticism is because your protectors have found ways to defend exiled parts inside that remind you of experiences you don’t want to remember?  Wouldn’t it be great to be able to stop yourself before you act or speak in ways that are harmful by recognizing you are responding to a drama that has little to do with the present or the people you are with at the moment?

If you are interested in finding out more about Internal Family Systems, I recommend Jenna Riemersma’s book.  You could have exiles who are hoping against all hope you will come looking for them and find a way to love them.  If nothing else, a better understanding of how our internal parts work might lead you to ways you can help others find healing and wholeness. 

We all have parts, and our parts desperately want to participate in the image of God our Savior is restoring in us.  What are your parts telling you today?  

Archeologists devote their lives to “unlocking the past”.   They dream of groundbreaking artifacts like the Rosetta Stone, which helped linguists decode ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics.  New insights into the past can help us understand the present, and possibly create a better future. 

This same principle applies to life in general.  My father used to say, “One reason people don’t know where they are going is because they don’t know where they have been.”  The revelations of our past can be painful, but they often open to the door to the fulfillment we seek.

The Apostle Paul once reflected on his past and its impact on his ministry.  He was addressing those who sought peace with God through their earthly resume when he wrote, “If someone else thinks they have reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee;as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for righteousness based on the law, faultless.” (Philippians 3:4b-6).  Paul concluded, “But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ” (Philippians 3:7). 

Paul wasn’t saying his past was unimportant.  In fact, God providentially chose Him for a special ministry because his upbringing in the Roman city of Tarsus, along with his training in Jewish law positioned him to share the gospel with Gentiles and build bridges between Gentiles and Jews in the church.  Paul’s point was not that he did not appreciate his parents, his teachers, or anyone else involved in his spiritual formation, but rather that salvation is not based on human achievement.  It is found in the righteousness of Christ and received by grace through faith.  This was his message to those in Philippi who thought otherwise, and who were creating dysfunction in the church with a religion based on works.

Our past matters.  There are several reasons I have often denied ways in which my past continues to influence my thoughts, words and actions.  These include an unwillingness to acknowledge I have an unconscious self that influences my daily decisions, the fear that I might dishonor people in my life who have invested in me and the false perception that I am strong enough to prevent the past from creeping into my present.  

One of the greatest blessings I received during my recent Chaplain Residency, was the ability to face my past more honestly and process my memories and experiences with seven other chaplains.  As we served and learned together, we confronted one another, spoke truth without reservation, provided perspective and delved into the “whys” behind our behaviors.  We cried, laughed and on a few occasions, left the room to cool off.  The work was hard, but so very rewarding.

I found the intensity of these challenges intriguing since I would not have thought I had major issues with my past.  I trusted in the blood of Jesus, which washed me clean and freed me from the shackles of sin.  I also believed the Holy Spirit was guiding, counseling and comforting me as I grew spiritually.  I am still convinced this was the case.

However, what I had not considered was the truth that forgiveness does not equal health and wholeness.  Please don’t misunderstand.  I know I can bring anything before the Lord.  I live in the shadow of the cross and am saved by grace.  But perhaps my biggest mistake was believing if I prayed harder and read God’s Word more, my issues would disappear.  Prayer and Bible study are the bread and butter of spiritual maturity, but unless I am honest about what is going on in my inner world, these can be used to repress what God wants to stir up. 

During my Residency, my Supervisor would say, “We need to be honest about our unchristian self.”  He didn’t mean we should act in unchristian ways, or say unchristian things.  Instead, he was suggesting we all have thoughts and feelings about experiences in our lives that we know are not becoming of a follower of Christ.  While we may learn to control how we express these things, they are also signposts pointing to issues in our past that need attention.  We may experience healing as we revisit events we tucked away because we felt powerless at the time, and finally allow ourselves to become angry.     

The choice to deal with our past is the first layer that must be removed to find what lies beneath.  Additional layers can be removed in their proper time. 

I want to encourage you to begin, if you have not already, taking an honest look at how your past experiences continue to show up in your life.  Why are you constantly struggling with perfectionism, addictions and self-loathing?  Why do you continue to bring conflict and dysfunction into your human relationships?  Are you replaying a drama in your past, hoping someone will help you solve it?   

I believe if we can begin to address these questions, we will not only have more peace, but we might learn that the turmoil we encounter is less about the issues before us and more about the issues inside.  The good news is, we have the rest of our lives to figure it out!  But it does take work, and we should not settle for good enough when there are so many blessings to be had by allowing God to heal us with His grace.  Then we can share the attitude of Paul in Philippians 3:12 where he wrote, “Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me”. 

What artifacts are hidden in your heart and mind?  If you are willing to dig a little deeper, and bring them before the Lord, the results could be historic!

During my first 6-month rotation as a Chaplain Resident, I was assigned to a psychiatric unit.  My supervisor was doing double-duty as an interim department lead, and since we had worked together in the unit during an earlier Internship, she said, “You know your way around.  Go on over and get started”.  As a local church minister, jumping into a situation “cold turkey” was not a problem.  But this was different than church.  I was a part of an interdisciplinary team of providers, including psychiatrists, psychologists, doctors, physician assistants, nurses, dieticians, pharmacists, activity directors and social workers.  My patients (whom we called “residents”) were receiving acute care.  Some had underlying mental illnesses.  Others battled substance abuse.  The majority had expressed some level of suicidal ideation, prompting their admission. 

Scrolling ahead to the completion of my rotation, I can now say I treasure my time in the psychiatric unit as a life-changing experience.  I was blessed by the relationships I formed with my team and residents.  And I gained amazing insights into life, faith and the circumstances that can push any of us to the breaking point.            

This brings me to the subject of hope.  As a Christian, my ultimate hope is in my Savior, Jesus.  He cancelled my sins on the cross of Calvary, and because He conquered death, I have the promise of eternal life.  Regardless of the trouble this world dishes out, I find strength in knowing I belong to Jesus.  I concur with the words of the Apostle Paul who spoke of the mystery of “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:17). 

However, as sure as I am of this faith foundation, I have found it is possible to have a relationship with Jesus along with the eternal hope He supplies and still feel hopeless in the here and now.  I now have a keener understanding of why, through my years of church ministry, some faithful believers confessed feelings of doubt and fear when they were journeying through a personal storm.  They faced spiritual confusion on one hand while clinging fiercely to their faith in Jesus on the other. 

I have considered the last days of John the Baptist who, while rotting away in prison, sent messengers to Jesus to confirm that He was the Messiah.  This is a perplexing passage, especially when we consider John was the one who announced that Jesus was “the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.”  Jesus instructed the messengers to return and tell John what they had “seen and heard” as evidence of His identity and power (John 7:22).  What was going on with John?  Had he left the faith?  Hardly.  But I think he was losing hope.  “How is this possible?” you might ask.  How can someone have faith in Jesus and lose hope?    

I pondered one answer to this question when it became apparent to me that many who expressed suicidal ideation had experienced a recent break in a relationship.  This included, but was not limited to the loss of a loved one, the end of a relationship or even the death of a pet.  There were other contributing factors such as a serious illness, the loss of meaning and purpose, abandonment by adult figures, financial upheaval, addictive behaviors and legal struggles. But in the present, it was the loss of an important source of emotional support that sent them spiraling downward.   This may help explain why John the Baptist was in crisis.  He evidently had some contact with his disciples, but we can only imagine how depressing it was to be largely cut off from others. 

The bottom line is that, while we need to know the specific details of our hope, whether it be our hope of salvation and eternal life in Jesus, the prospects of physical healing, financial security or restored relationships, the “sense” of hope that often brings us through our darkest hours is most often felt through the presence of others.  This is why we fall into the arms of our church family, loved ones or friends when they respond to a crisis in our lives.  This is also why I didn’t have to have years of chaplaincy experience in a psychiatric unit to provide care for my residents, some still bearing bandages from self-inflicted wounds.  What they needed most was someone to sit with them, because the presence of others reminded them that they were not alone.

As I reflect on the word “presence” and its relationship to hope, I consider how the appearance of Jesus in human flesh brought hope to a weary world.  I recall His name “Emmanuel” which means “God with us.”  I think of the shepherd on the hillside who calmed the shepherds’ fears by telling them a Savior had been born in the city of David, and how they traveled to stand in His presence.  The earthly presence of Jesus is a thread that weaves through the gospels, from the mount where He taught, to the streets where He healed.  Mary Magdalene cried out “Rabboni”! when she recognized He was with her, alive, at the tomb.  And we listen to one of the disciples who met Jesus on the road to Emmaus as he proclaimed, “Didn’t our hearts burn within us on the road when He opened the scriptures to us?” 

As I had already noted, we need more than a “sense” of hope to sustain us.  But I also believe we can possess real hope and still feel hopeless because we lack the presence of others who care.  Yes, Jesus gave us the Holy Spirit to comfort and guide, but He also gave us each other.  He put His church on earth as His Body to provide a collective presence for believers.

When you find yourself with people who are hurting, scared, angry or grieving, don’t worry about what to say or do.  Chances are they don’t need you do say or do much at all.  What they need most is your presence.  If you are a believer low on hope, please continue to remind yourself of God’s promises, and cling to the assurance of your salvation.  But I encourage you to also be open to those you trust who are attempting to reach out to you in your distress.  Don’t be afraid to let them sit with you and don’t feel guilty about the darkness that has invaded your world.  Feelings of hopelessness aren’t always a sign we have no hope.  We might just lack someone to share it with.   

On September 20^th, I completed a year’s Chaplain Residency at the Hampton VA Medical Center, Hampton, Virginia.  The program included four Clinical Pastoral Education units, which are the basic building blocks of Clinical Chaplaincy.  As I pursue some additional credentials and contemplate the next chapter in my life, along with my wife Jane, I find myself processing my Residency experience. 

I could not have imagined a better opportunity to reflect on my life and prepare my heart, mind and soul for the days ahead.  My supervisor Dr. Kim Nielsen, a licensed Pastoral Psychotherapist and Chaplain (who recently celebrated his 80^th birthday), provided guidance for my journey and much more.  Dr. Nielsen is a living legend, as a mentor to civilian and military chaplains and a specialist in the areas of anxiety, depression, grief, PTSD, veteran and military issues. 

One might say I was offered a year of free psychotherapy, within the folds of my chaplaincy training.  It has been said that that Clinical Pastoral Education is not therapy, but it is therapeutic.  This was certainly the case in my situation.  Coming on the heals of forty-seven years of local church leadership, my Residency was a time of enlightenment, healing and growth.  The work was hard, and the brutally honest nature of the CPE format is not for the faint-hearted.  But the lessons I learned were priceless.  My only regret is that I waited until I was sixty-six years old to learn them!

This is the first of several installments in which I hope to capture the essence of principles, theories and encounters which have become a part of my life as a result of my Residency.  I do not intend to offer an academic accounting, although I will provide insight into various approaches.  My chief goal is to suggest practical ways in which we can all care for others better.  We are never finished learning how to care, just as the need for care is increasing exponentially in our culture. 

I begin my reflection with one of the first principles repeatedly voiced by Dr. Nielsen.  He would say, “I believe most people already have what they need inside”.  This does not mean counseling is irrelevant, but rather that two of the greatest tools a caregiver has are the ability to listen and the willingness to provide the time and space for others to wade through an internal muddy river of muck and arrive safely on the other side.   

Perhaps this is why Jesus often asked so many questions.  “Whose image is on the coin?”  “Woman, where are they?  Has no one accused you?”  “Were there not ten cleansed?”  “Which of these three do you believe was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”  “Peter, do you love me?” 

Don’t misunderstand.  Jesus was also direct.  In Matthew 23:15, He spoke harshly to the Teachers of the Law and Pharisees: “Woe to you, Teachers of the Law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You travel over land and sea to win a single convert, and when you have succeeded, you make them twice as much a child of hell as you are.”  The Teachers of the Law and Pharisees may have had everything in them they needed, but their hearts were so hardened they needed “a straight shot” from Jesus (another phrase used frequently by Dr Nielsen). 

Giving people the time and space to find answers within was one of my greatest challenges in my year of Residency.  After spending forty-seven years as a “proclaimer”, “guide” and “teacher”, it was easy for me to slip into a “Father Knows Best” (a show from the 60s with variations on the theme suggested by its title) mode.  I had to learn self-restraint as I allowed others to talk through their struggles and find a way forward. 

I have always heard, and believed that listening is the most valuable gift we can give to others.  After spending months ministering in a psychiatric unit, Hospice and long-term care, I have come to realize that sometimes listening is the only gift we can give. 

I will come back to this idea that we already have all we need inside in future devotional installments.  I certainly want to add that, as a Christian, I believe the indwelling Holy Spirit, my Savior and my God are ultimately “all I need”.   But as they (along with the biblical truths I plant in my heart) are also “in me”, they are key to the answers I seek.

I would encourage you to join me in listening more, both to others and ourselves.  And if you have spent your life proclaiming, consider the “Father Knows Best” analogy.  Even this classic sit-com ran its course.  In contrast, listening never goes out of style. 

Fall is that time when the air grows crisp, the days grow shorter and our lives are fill with…leaves.

We have several trees in our yard, which means I rake and blow a lot of leaves.  Fortunately, my city has a system that allows me to pile my leaves by the curb where they are picked up after Christmas.  While this makes my life easier, removing leaves from my yard, roof and gutters consumes me. 

I have learned, when an experience in life requires considerable commitment on my part, it soon becomes a part of my spiritual walk.  I am not saying everything I do has a deep religious meaning.  But since my faith guides me daily, even the most mundane activities provide opportunities to remember truths from God’s Word.

Which brings me to leaves.  Not the beautiful colorful ones that hang on trees in the fall mind you.  I speak of the brown, dry and wild ones that blow where they wish, complicating the lives of neighborhood dwellers everywhere.  You may think I am out of my tree!  But join with me as we consider these leaf lessons:

The first lesson involves the leaves I own.  These are the ones that fall from my trees and land in my yard, bushes and gutters.  They are a nuisance.  Yet I feel an affinity toward them.  I have known them since they were little buds, as my trees emerged from their winter hibernation.  And yes, they are my trees.  While I cannot claim them as dependents, each one of them are living organisms, drawing nourishment from the ground I own and offer to them freely.  Should I grow tired of them, I would cut them down and pay to have them hacked into little pieces.  Please don’t think badly of me.  I merely wish to firmly establish what it means to possess trees and the leaves they drop at season’s end.  We have an understanding.  I provide the place, my trees provide shade in the summer and beauty in the fall, and I clean up the mess.  It works.  In like manner, I seem to cope best, though not perfectly, with managing the things I own.  This includes my personal decisions, commitments, passions, dreams and mistakes.  Of course, sometimes I am reluctant to accept ownership of things that belong to me; especially my mistakes.  But once I recognize them, I know what I must do.  I don’t mean to suggest I don’t need others to help me carry burdens of my own making.  However, it is easier for me to process my own responsibilities.  I remember the Apostle Paul’s words in Galatians 6:5 where he wrote, “For every man shall bear his own burden.”  And so, I rake and blow my own leaves without grumbling or complaining; with the occasional exception of an evil thought directed at a tree as I mumble, “Maybe it is time for you to come down, my friend.” 

Secondly, there are the leaves that others own; specifically, leaves others own, which fall or blow into my yard.  Perhaps, one could debate leaf ownership depending on its location.  And in case you are wondering, I pay close attention to the species of trees growing in my neighbors’ yards.  I know when my leaf pile has been invaded!  Not that it matters…much.  Ok, a little.  After I spend hours cleaning up my own leaves, I don’t want to manage more leaves that don’t belong to me; or at least didn’t belong to me until they drifted across my property line.  When this happens, however, I am reminded that I am called to bear burdens I don’t own.  The Apostle Paul wrote, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way, you will fulfill the law of Christ.”  (Galatians 6:2).  I must admit, in that the leaves from my trees fall by December, it is discouraging to wake up in the morning and discover my neighbor’s “late-fallers” have recarpeted my lawn, or that he has delayed his leaf clean-up and as a result his leaves have blown into my yard.  Since one of my neighbors and I have lived next to each other for over 25 years, I really don’t mind his leaves much.  He and his wife are faithful servants of Christ and we watch out for one another.  But I also have some renters nearby with whom I have very little history.  I do my best to build good relationships with all of my neighbors, yet…  Let’s just say it is harder to keep my perspective with those I don’t know well.  I think this is the case in most situations, whether I am managing leaves or any number of relational issues that test my patience.  Every case is different, and while sometimes I don’t mind, other times I do.  Regardless, I am called to carry other’s burdens.  While Paul may have been speaking to believers, I think the Parable of the Good Samaritan compels me to add all of my neighbors to the list.  No, they aren’t my leaves, but they become mine to care for when they enter my space. 

Finally, there are leaves from my yard that wind up in my neighbor’s yards.  This is an ugly secret I would rather not share.  But there is no denying the truth.  My leaves fall and blow into my neighbors’ yards.  In addition, because I use the “pile-up” method by my curb, when the wind blows, leaves on top of the pile scatter.  And many of them end up in other people’s yards.  I wonder if some of my neighbors walk into their houses grumbling about the Jones guy who is unwilling to spend a little extra time to bag up his leaves.  Or maybe they wonder why I don’t thin out my tree inventory to reduce its impact on others.  And, I would be remiss if I did not share some more wisdom from the Apostle Paul who writes, “Each one should test their own actions.  Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else.” (Galatians 6:4).  I don’t think Paul is talking about leaves here, but he is asking me to step down from my proverbial “high horse” and stop comparing my actions to that of my neighbors.  In truth, we are all just sojourning leaf “picker-uppers” trying to find our way home!

The next time you pick up a rake or leaf blower to clean up your yard consider the words of the Apostle.  It may not make your job easier.  And you might still get frustrated with your neighbors.  But God’s word will help you keep your perspective when things pile up.  As a result, you will gain a new appreciation for this season when our leaves bring us together.

If you have been struggling with Paul’s words and/or your neighbors, maybe it is time to turn over a new leaf!  I will let you decide whether to put it in a bag or pile it by the curb.