Category: Loneliness

A Cat Tale: Relentless Pursuit of Love

by ShethCats / Death / Loneliness / Love / Pets / SeminaryLeave a Comment on A Cat Tale: Relentless Pursuit of Love

Look, this is going to end with one of those endings that we appreciate but still roll our eyes over it. Like, in my preaching class, a young man was delivering this really great sermon and it was all tossed out when he ended a sentence with, “…and that boy was me.” We all contained our laughter as best we could and we recognized the power those phrases don’t always have. And this is going to end like that, but don’t toss this out. Please.

My partner and I were in seminary together (we met there (fun fact: I did not like her when we met (at all))) when she rescued this cat named Muji. She’d been talking about getting another cat but this wasn’t just another cat. This was a special-needs cat who would need a lot. I had a general understanding of Muji’s condition when Chelsea May adopted him, and I wasn’t too keen on the idea because I was keen on her. I wanted to be with her for the long-term and adding a handicapped cat – a handicat – into the mix wasn’t what I had in mind.

I also had a general understanding that when Chelsea May sets her mind on something, nothing can change it. She had fallen in love with this cat and the expression of  my emotions and feelings about it were appreciated and taken under advisement. And then we went and she filled out the paperwork to adopt him.

Muji shortly after he arrived at Chelsea May’s

Muji was an orange tabby with long, spindly legs and patchy fur partially covering his ribs and hip bones. His mouth was more gum than tooth. He had a neurological disorder similar to CH (cerebellar hypoplasia) which caused him to walk with a wobble, stammering across the floor in uncontrolled stops and starts. When he lost his balance he would fall onto his side, yet somehow he would still make progress in the direction he was headed. He used his claws to his advantage, dragging himself across rugs and up pant legs and the sides of furniture. For being a handicat, he was certainly very mobile.

Unfortunately, Muji couldn’t make this physical ailment go away, so the litter box situation was almost always a disaster. And when Muji was startled he would – with super-cat-like strength and agility – he would just launch himself across the room. So if he was in the litter box pooping and he lost his balance and fell backwards into said poop, he would then be startled by the poop now in his fur, and so all rockets would be fired and he would zoom across the floor. And the poop on the fur would then be the poop on the floor, and he would be over in the corner somewhere trying to get fresh poop out of his fur with his tongue, and that was a nearly-daily thing.

Muji wanted to be with you on an incredibly close level.

Muji was a handicat but he didn’t let his disability keep him from being a cat. He liked to chase toys and laser lights, falling and stumbling along the way, eventually just swatting away at the air and the toy as he lay on his side, eyes desperately seeking the target. He loved food…he loved food the way I love food (and I really love food); if he heard crinkling plastic which may have made a similar sound to his cat treat bag, he would come bumbling and fumbling across the floor yelling his loudest meow in a desperate attempt to get food. The sound of a can opening sent him into fits of uncontrollable excitement and when the food was set before him he became something similar to the Cookie Monster, but instead of delicious cookies it was wet, pureed cat food…everywhere…oh my goodness it went everywhere. And that “being startled” thing and flinging himself across the floor I mentioned earlier? That would happen with food, too.

Aside from the poop and pee and food in his fur and on the floor, he was a pretty good cat for a cat. He was snuggly and wanted to be near people. He wanted to be held and loved – Chelsea May had a papoose that he loved to sleep in as Chelsea did her chores. This cat was relentless in his desire to not only be loved, but to love. He pursued you to get into your arms because he wanted to be with you. He would journey for ten minutes to get across the house to find where the people were and yelled until you held him. He sought out affection and love and did not stop until he received it.

But I wasn’t having it. I wasn’t the biggest fan of this cat (everyone else was) and I did my very best to tolerate his existence in my life and in my relationship with my partner. He felt like a burden to me and my future. He felt like he was more trouble than it was worth. He felt like he would be too much for Chelsea May and I didn’t want to carry that weight.

As much as it sounds like I was, I promise I wasn’t this way because I’m a heartless ogre; I was this way because I wasn’t doing well myself and my mental space was too clouded and crowded to bring in another being that needed my time and attention and energy. Someone else could take care of this cat. Someone else had better resources to take care of this cat. Someone else would have more time to spend with this cat. Someone else had a partner who could enjoy a special creature like Muji. And in those days, I wasn’t that someone.

As I moved through seminary it was pretty apparent to me that my mental health wasn’t spectacular, but it wasn’t terrible; I wasn’t in need of medical intervention because I thought I could get out of that depression pit on my own. Exercise and lots of sunlight and hanging out with people and doing the things that bring me joy – that’s what I was doing and it was keeping me afloat. But then the COVID lockdowns hit and all of the things that kept me going were no longer present to keep me going.

I suffered in those early days of COVID and I experienced a number of great losses. I lost out on a graduation ceremony from seminary. I lost out on the dream wedding with my wife. I lost out on saying goodbye to friends. I lost out on healthy endings, so when I started my first pastorate in southwest Missouri I was at an all-time low in my life and had unhealthy beginnings in my work and life in Missouri. The job of a pastor is already difficult, but the difficulty is only compounded by a pandemic, a fair election called fraud with an attempt to overthrow the government, a large dose of an unhealthy congregation, anticipatory grief, and loneliness. All of this was what my mind, body, and soul was wrestling with as I moved into this new position and I knew I needed to do something different, so I talked with my doctor who prescribed me some antidepressants and I began meeting with a therapist.

It took a few months, but roughly a year after moving to Missouri and taking medicine and seeking therapy, I was feeling good; I was feeling like myself again and the world wasn’t nearly as difficult to live in as it was before. Don’t get me wrong, the world was still terrible (COVID variants, Trump’s 2020 election schemes, degrading of the Supreme Court, etc.), but I was in a better place mentally to deal with it all.

One day I was at home getting lunch and Muji heard the refrigerator open so he came tossing and shuffling and groping into the wind to make progress into the kitchen to see what he could find to eat and something startled him. Remember when I said that when Muji was startled he would – with super-cat-like strength and agility – he would just launch himself across the room? He did that this day and bonked his head on the wall, something I’d seen him do a hundred times before, but this day…this day it was different. This day, as I looked down at that poor, helpless orange-ish cat, I saw for the first time the beloved creature Chelsea May had seen the whole time. For the first time I saw a little being made by God that needed love and wanted to give love. For the first time I saw one of God’s little creatures who needed help. As he lay there at my feet yelling at me for food and attention and pets I saw and heard the cry of God’s beloved.

Look at all of that tooth.

When I was mentally in a good place I could see the world around me for exactly what it was. I could see the ones who loved me and wanted me to succeed. I could see what losses I needed to accept and what I needed to walk away from. I could see that there was hope and promise and something better. And I saw all of that when I looked down at that feline; when I looked at Muji I knew that it was okay and things were getting better. Despite his disabilities and his challenges, that damn cat pursued me since he set his wobbly little foot in Chelsea’s home because he wanted to love me, and he kept coming after me day after day after day until he won me over.

For the first time since he had been a part of our life, I had the ability to see Muji as a lovely and loving cat that I desperately needed. He could have written me off – many pets have that ability and can just ignore people they don’t like (some go so far as to bite those they don’t like), but Muji didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He was, in some strange way, a furry embodiment of what love was and what love wasn’t.

Love wasn’t going to stop its pursuit. Love wasn’t going to discriminate. Love wasn’t going to bother with formalities or always doing things in a regular way. Love wasn’t always show up clean and neat and tidy. Love wasn’t always going to look ‘normal’ (whatever that is). Muji showed me and all who met him that love is love is love and there’s a whole lot of people and animals and spaces that are filled with love just waiting to be accepted.

His last day on this earth. A full belly of wet cat food and treats, nestled into his papoose.

While Muji had been in my life for nearly three years, it was in his final few months that I came to appreciate and love him as much as he always had appreciated and loved me. I looked at his matted hair and ever-more-prominent hip bones (he was struggling to maintain weight) and saw a lovely little being with a dumb face that wanted to love me. I looked at his mouth perched open as he slept, heavily purring, and saw a contentment I so wanted in spite of all my pains and hurts. I looked at his herky-jerky movements and saw determination that somehow motivated me to keep marching forward until I got what I wanted. This little orange cat pursued me and loved me and you know, (prep your eyeroll) while Chelsea May had rescued Muji, somewhere along the line, it was Muji that did the rescuing.

All I can say now is thanks be to God for the pursuit of love. Thanks be to God for Muji.

P.S. – We have always had Christmas stockings for the animals (who am I?) and when Muji died, Chelsea May and I chose to keep filling his stocking every year and donate the gifts to a local shelter. This year is our third year doing this and we wanted to open it up to others. So, if you’d like to contribute to Muji’s Stocking Fund, you can do so here: https://gofund.me/485e28ae

much love. sheth.

Truth: Instantly Waiting

by ShethChristianity / Lectionary / Lent / Loneliness / Truth TuesdayLeave a Comment on Truth: Instantly Waiting

Instant oatmeal. Instant mashed potatoes. Instant rice. Instant pots. Instant gratification. Our world lives in the here and now and we demand what we want when we want it here and now. We don’t have time to wait. Waiting is laughable. When we can have anything we want whenever we want it, waiting is a joke, isn’t it? When millions of dollars are won and lost in milliseconds, waiting is a risk, isn’t it? When seconds count in CPR, waiting is deadly, isn’t it? Waiting is anti-capitalism…waiting is un-American…waiting is so difficult that we would rather forgo the end just to get what we can have right now.

Like most of us, I’m not big on waiting. As a child knowing a big event was coming up – church camp, Christmas, my birthday – I would be sleepless for nights prior; my excitement kept me awake and I could hardly wait. In the weeks leading up to my marriage proposal it took everything within me to stay on schedule and follow through with the planned day – I didn’t want to wait any longer to be engaged and married. As my partner works the remainder of her residency we work towards the next chapter of our life together, waiting for God to guide us to where and what we would do next. Waiting in good times is hard, but waiting in difficulties gnaws at my spirit and I often wonder how much more I can take; more often than not I end up yelling at God for delaying, for taking so long, for making me wait: “Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud, be gracious to me and answer me!” (Psalm 27:7)

Through the daily news I hear stories from Ukraine, stories of citizens – old and young – fleeing and fighting, fearful and faithful, all stretched to their limits as they live through the unprovoked, illegal Russian invasion, occupation, and war. I can’t imagine what decisions the Ukrainians have had to make – and continue to make – on an individual level for mere survival. How long they have waited! How long would I be able to wait, stretched to the limits until I couldn’t possibly wait anymore?

Since Europeans first set foot in the Americas, men and women who didn’t look like them were enslaved and traded, abused, murdered and tossed aside like garbage. For nearly five hundred years human beings on both sides of the Atlantic have treated other human beings as ‘less than’ – a mindset and practice which still occurs to this day. Racist and supremacist attitudes and behaviors are entrenched in our cultures, institutions, and personal beliefs, forcing people of color to continue to wait for equity and equality, to wait for desegregation and integration, to wait for acceptance and love. How long they have waited! How long would I be able to wait, stretched to the limits until I couldn’t possibly wait anymore?

This week marks two years since Missouri’s first confirmed case of COVID-19 and the residents here in the southwest corner of the state, like so many across this nation, have been less than patient with their neighbors, with the virus, masks, and vaccines. The virus and the work to defeat it has caused disruptions in every corner of life: each of us has been touched by the shift in the workforce and extended unemployment…by the dip in income and rise in inflation…each of us dealing with the physical, emotional, and spiritual effects of being isolated and alone for so long. How long we have waited for a reprieve! How long will we be able to wait, stretched to the limits until we can’t possibly wait anymore?

Here in the second week of Lent, as many of us pray, fast, and seek justice for our neighbors we have to admit that we’re already over it. We’re tired of waiting for Easter…we’re tired of waiting for ordinary time – for ordinary life – both in the church and in the world. We’ve been patiently waiting and diligently working but dang it, we’re over it. The Psalmist’s words this week ring in our Lenten hearts: “Do not hide your face from me. Do not turn your servant away in anger, you who have been my help. Do not cast me off, do not forsake me, O God of my salvation!” (Ps. 27:9) My translation: “Enough already, God!”

Like the psalmist, we too stand before God demanding satisfaction and gratification right now. No more waiting! How long, O Lord, will we be able to wait, stretched to the limits until we can’t possibly wait anymore? How much longer must we face war and violence, invading forces and enemies which seek to kill us? How much longer must we be seen as less than…be chased down and beaten down, murdered in our streets and homes because we don’t have the skin color of the ones in power? How much longer must we live under old relationships in the shadows of emotions from our abusers? How much longer must we be alone, left and abandoned, burdened with the realities of life? How much longer…

…..

I wish I had an answer to this. I wish I had a time frame that I could tell you about to alleviate the anxiety…but I don’t. I wish I had an answer to how much longer because I, too, am waiting. So I read on through this psalm to it’s final two verses. The Psalmist concludes their prayer with these words: “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!” (Ps. 27:13-14)

Wait.

The one thing we don’t want to do any longer is the one thing we’re most encouraged to do: wait. The answer our question of how much longer is but a command: wait. The Hebrew word used here for wait is קַוֵּ֗ה (qavah) which principally means to wait or look eagerly for and we get that, we live and push against that all day, everyday. But look at this definition from Ernest Klein, who says “the original meaning probably was ‘to twist, stretch’, whence ‘to be stretched, be strained’, whence ‘to await tensely.’”

The psalmist reminds us that the things of this world will assuredly cause us to be stretched to our limits, pulled to the point of breaking…we will be waiting in tension for God to answer us, to respond to our prayers, our complaints, our demands. We will be waiting in tensions of war and violence. We will be stretched thin as we wait to be recognized and valued. We will be waiting, strained, as our emotions remember…as our spirits remain alone.

And the psalmist reminds us that on either side of us, tensions await: “Wait for the Lord…wait for the Lord!” You’re going to be stretched…you’re going to be strained! But notice what the psalmist places in the midst of that tension and strain, of that stretching us thin: “be strong, and let your heart take courage.” The psalmist encourages us to be bold and alert, for our hearts to be firm, resolute, and courageous in the midst of the strain and stretching.

It’s hard. Most everything we experience and go through in this world is hard…it’s difficult…it challenges us and pulls us from all sides. This world is prone to stretching us to our breaking point. This world is apt to strain us to exhaustion. I know it because I’ve lived it…because I’m living it right now. But I believe.

I believe that we shall all see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.
I believe that God will hide us in his shelter in the day of trouble;
     that God will hide us under the cover of his tent;
          that God will set us high on a rock.
I believe and I wait, I wait and I believe.

The Lord is my light and my salvation – whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life, of whom shall I be afraid? I believe! I believe! I believe! I wait and I believe and I give thanks to God. Amen.

much love. sheth.

Truth: Beloved

by ShethChristianity / Life / Loneliness / Prayer / Truth TuesdayLeave a Comment on Truth: Beloved

“She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large blue caterpillar, that was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else.

“The caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.

“This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I-I hardly know, sir, just at present – at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”[1]

 

 

“Who are you?” A question posed by the hookah-smoking Caterpillar to Alice, a girl lost in a topsy-turvy world who struggles to find an answer to the question. Her response to the Caterpillar – that she knew who she was – demands explanation, but all she can say is, “I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, sir…because I’m not myself, you see.”[2]

As the COVID-19 pandemic took hold of the world in the late spring of 2020 I was living into my Christian vocation and working to fulfill all that I believed I was called to be in this world. In the span of three months I had graduated from seminary, married my partner, moved to a new state and started my career as the pastor of a small, rural church. I had defined the essential characteristics of what was most important to me: degree-holding, small-town-living, left-of-center husband, preacher, writer, and pastor.

Over the past year-and-a-half I’ve struggled with maintaining most of these characteristics because of the loneliness of the pandemic, because I was the new kid on the block, because I couldn’t find support, because a thriving marriage is hard work. Mostly, though, I’ve struggled with preserving these characteristics because they’re not entirely preservable: they shift and change, ebb and flow. And now, with most of these characteristics in shambles (my marriage is good, though!), I’m am standing in Alice’s shoes, finding difficulty in explaining myself because I, too, am not myself anymore.

I’ve spent the past month moving our belongings and setting up our apartment. I’ve been cooking and cleaning, tending to my partner’s needs and wants. I’ve been doing a lot of reading and reflecting on my life over the course of the pandemic, seeking to shed some burdens and tend to some wounds. I’ve been mourning the loss of all these characteristics that I have leaned on, trusted, and felt comfortable being. All these things have been parts of who I was and what I did but, as much as I trusted them to be, they were never essential to my innermost being, to the createdness of who I am. Now I, like Alice, am standing in a topsy-turvy world faced with the ‘who are you’ question and my response is absolutely similar to hers: I hardly know who I am.

Truthfully, the Caterpillar question has loomed over my head for most of my life, one that I have returned to year after year. Notebooks have been filled with my own words as I have tried to spell out who I am. Books and psychology journals have been read and digested as I’ve sought the right words to define who I am. Therapists have spent countless hours guiding me on my quest to understand who I am. In the end, though, I hardly know much more than when I started because at the end of reading all those books and writing in all those journals and attending all those therapy sessions I always come up with the same definition of who I am: beloved.

 

Beloved. It’s one of those words we know, but we don’t really know. Etymologically it’s a compound-like-verb of be+loved. Love, we know, is “a feeling of strong or constant affection for a person”[3] – here it would be like the love between a parent and child, between siblings, between close friends. The prefix be- is and Old English element meaning “about, around, on all sides”[4]; beloved means ‘to be surrounded by love and constant affection’. Encircled by love. Loved on all sides. No matter where one goes, as one who is beloved you cannot get away from the love. No matter what one does, as one who is beloved you cannot out-do the love.

My Creator’s love is a beloved-love. No matter what I do, no matter what I don’t do…no matter where I am or how I live, my Creator’s love never abandons me, never leaves me, never stops surrounding me on all sides. I am beloved by God. That’s who I am. My belovedness is the core of my existence, the reason for my living and being and doing. Without it I am not – I am nothing. Beloved is who I am and honestly, beloved is all that I am.

Despite my knowing that I am God’s beloved I struggle with accepting it. I struggle with trusting it. I struggle with living it. The books and journals and therapy sessions have all been a constant attempt to discover something more than my belovedness because it seems too simple. All of who I am is narrowed down to being beloved by God? Absurd. Preposterous. Unimaginable. Which is why I have continuously been seeking more. There has to be more, right?

In the absurdity and unimaginable is where we try to do and be so much more. We try to fill in self-perceived holes because being God’s beloved can hardly be enough. We seek money and fame, glory and prestige because to the world around us that is enough…that is who we are. We seek careers and promotions, job titles and jobs because that is enough…that is who we are. We plant our being in partnership, parenthood, friendship, and career because to the world that is who we are. To the world, being the beloved of God and resting in that belovedness is simply not enough.

But it is enough. Being God’s beloved is enough; in fact, it’s all there is. At the very core of who I am is my belovedness, is my being surrounded by the love of my Creator God. The very essence of who I am is God’s beloved. The reason for my living is because I’m God’s beloved. I love my partner and my parents, my siblings and my friends because I am God’s beloved and I express my love out of my belovedness.

And every good and pleasant and pleasing thing I do in my life is an expression of my belovedness. I seek my neighbor’s well-being – their welfare – because they, too, are God’s beloved. I care for all of creation because it, too, is God’s beloved. I seek the end of death in all forms because life is God’s beloved. I pursue mercy and justice for the oppressed and imprisoned because they are God’s beloved. I work to shelter those experiencing homelessness, to feed those experiencing foodlessness, to give drink to all who are thirsty because they are all God’s beloved. Alice and the Caterpillar, me and you and them – we are all surrounded by the love and affection of God – we are God’s beloved.

I’m living in a topsy-turvy world right now where nearly every worldly definition of who I am has been stripped away (again, marriage a-ok). I don’t know what I’m to do next, where I’m to live next, how I’m supposed to live out my vocation. I’m scared and worried, depressed and medicated. I’m looking at myself, questioning: “Who are you?”

Right now I don’t know much more than this:

Emmanuel, you love me.
I am your beloved.

And that is enough.
That is enough.
That is more than enough.

much love. sheth.

—–

[1] Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (New York: Books of Wonder, 1992), 57-60.
[2] Ibid, 60.
[3] Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary, s.v. “love,” accessed February 8, 2022, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/love
[4] Online Etymology Dictionary, s.v. “beloved” accessed February 8, 2022, https://www.etymonline.com/word/beloved

Truth: Man.

by ShethChristianity / Church / Friends / Loneliness / Love / Relationships / Seminary / Truth Tuesday1 Comment on Truth: Man.

There was a question posed on Reddit this past Sunday: “Men of Reddit, what’s a thing that can be scary about being a man?”  I thought it was an intriguing question, and the answers that were given didn’t entirely shock me:

  • It is terrifying how lonely middle age is…
  • People expect you to be ‘okay’ in obviously dangerous situations…
  • Expected to make the first move…
  • She (my ex) spread rumours that I was abusive and violent…
  • Being told to ‘man up’ when you’re having a terrible day…
  • You could be the most depressed person on the planet and no one would give a shit…
  • I don’t want to be seen as a thread by people I would never hurt…
  • People don’t believe when we express sexual assault or abuse…
  • The sheer expectation that we can shoulder everyone’s stress…
  • The loneliness of it…[1]

Yes, as a man I’m comfortable walking down the street.
Yes, as a man I’m comfortable on payday.
Yes, as a man I’m comfortable leaving my drink at the bar.
Yes, as a man I’m comfortable accepting a first call to a pulpit.
I’m comfortable when these things happen because, as a man, life is sometimes easier.[2]  But…

If I’m honest, I’d have to admit that this Reddit thread’s answers and the stories surrounding them are not just heartbreaking…they are my answers and my stories as well, landing terribly close to home.  It’s scary as hell to be a man.

It’s scary, not just because of these things, but because there’s a lot riding on maintaining my manliness.  I must protect.  I must fight.  I must conquer.  I must be the god that is portrayed and passed down because there’s an “invisible male chorus of all the other guys who hiss or cheer as he attempts to approximate the masculine ideal…the chorus is made up of all the guy’s comrades and rivals, all his buddies and bosses, his male ancestors and his male cultural heroes, his models of masculinity…”[3]   I must maintain this idea of ‘man’ and ‘manliness’ because I dare not face the scrutiny of that chorus of ancient voices.

It’s scary because I’m supposed to be an autonomous machine – no feelings, no emotions, no tears (crying is a sign of weakness!) – the world depends on me sucking it up and dealing with it.  I try to talk to women about how weird it is for a man to cry and sometimes I feel like I’m speaking a foreign language to her.  It’s utterly unexpected when a man cries, when a man expresses his heart, when a man exposes his most inner heart.  It’s scary that men don’t have more opportunities to express themselves, and it’s scary that it’s expectedly-unavoidable when men are crushed by the burdens of un-expression.

It’s scary because as much as I’d like to, there’s not a damn thing I can do about this at all.  I don’t want to be emotionally distant.  I don’t want to ‘man up and deal’.  I don’t want to carry burdens because it’s expected of me.  I want to talk, express, cry, be free – but until the world allows me space to do so, I can’t do it.  Until the world admits that my world is scary, I will continue to bow under this weight.  It’s scary because men can’t admit that their world is scary.

Friends, talk with the men in your lives.  Help them to have expression.  Help to carry their burdens – and try to ease their burden.  Help them to overcome those ancient voices of doubt, fear, distrust, and stability.  Help the men in your lives to have friends – real, honest-to-God friends – who talk, share, cry, laugh, and be vulnerable with one another.  Help the men in your lives to understand that they don’t have to do it all…they don’t have to be it all…that they’re not alone.

May God give us vision to see the suffering of the strong.  May God give us hearts to connect to the pain of the powerful.  May God give us the ability to realize that we needn’t be strong nor powerful, but honest and real.  And when we are open and exposed with one another, may we be caring and grateful, offering peace.

much love. sheth.

 

[1] “Men of Reddit, What’s A Thing That Can Be Scary About Being A Man?” Reddit.com; Accessed 12/15/2019. https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/eaymhi/men_of_reddit_whats_a_thing_that_can_be_scary/

[2] I must say that I’m not comfortable with the idea that, because I’m a man, these things are inherently easier – I’m working for and promoting gender equality so it’s all uniformly easier.

[3] Philip L. Culbertson, Counseling Men (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994), 25.

Truth: Burning.

by ShethBeauty / Christianity / Friends / Life / Loneliness / Love / Prayer / Relationships / Seminary / Suicide / Truth Tuesday1 Comment on Truth: Burning.

Villa Grove is a dot on the map, not even a stop – it’s simply a place people drive through, and while there are a few residents within the immediate township, most of the people are scattered around the San Luis Valley.  The residents of the area moved there to enjoy the tranquility of the valley, while others moved there to run away from civilization.  If you mind your own business and don’t get overly friendly, the area is a great place to live.

As a pawn for the USPS, I worked the Villa Grove post office quite often as they were seeking a permanent employee.  The office, situated on the side of the highway, faced east towards Hayden Pass and was prime viewing ground for watching smoke plumes from a forest fire in 2016.  The initial days of the fire were unnerving for people on both sides of the pass as it was unclear which direction the fire would travel. Would it remain on the east side of the pass and head towards Coaldale or would it crawl over the pass and head west towards Villa Grove?

I had a customer come in to the office and she made it clear that she was terrified of what may happen, pounding the counter and demanding that the fire be put out.  She wanted to know why there weren’t more planes and helicopters dropping retardant and water, and why there weren’t more firefighters creating fire lines.  She didn’t want to see the destruction.  She didn’t want to see the dangerous after effects.  She didn’t want people to lose homes and property.  The raging fires were too much for her and she couldn’t see any good in it.

*****

Today I was talking with one of my friends and I was trying to explain why I was taking on more than my fair share of some group work we’re doing together.  And out of nowhere I started to well up with tears because I know this person is facing some big fires in their life, and that’s why I’m doing extra.  The fire in their life is moving along, taking out a lot of old, dead wood and I hate that they have to face the destruction.  The truth is, I’m a lot like that woman at the post office: no more pain, no more struggles, no more danger.  I want the fires out!

*****

That fire on Hayden Pass ended up moving across more than 16,000 acres of land, burning vast areas of deadfall trees and brush – things that needed to burn.  In the following months after that fire, it was difficult to imagine the good that could come from it.  The burn scar had no protection from the rains and there ended up being great deluges in gulches, bringing down dead and burned trees and giant boulders.

As the years have passed, the benefits of the fire are becoming clearer, with healthier trees and grasses becoming more prevalent across the landscape.  The burn scar is becoming less noticeable and, if anything, it makes the unhealthy, non-burned areas more noticeable.  The fire and it’s immediate aftermath were destructive, painful, and left many feeling scared, but it’s made the landscape more beautiful.

*****

I know that my friend has to face these fires. 

I know that it’s going to be difficult, painful, and destructive.

I know there’s nothing I can do to put out these fires –
they’re necessary and have to burn.

I thank God that my friend will be cleared of all the deadfall in their life
and will come out of it with fertile and healthy ground
to grow stronger, deeper, and taller than they were before.

May the fires in our lives burn where they must, and may we face the flames with strength and humility.  May God bring us out of these fires and into growth…into thriving…into beauty.

much love. sheth.

Truth: On Leave.

by ShethChristianity / Friends / Life / Loneliness / Love / Prayer / Relationships / Seminary / Truth Tuesday2 Comments on Truth: On Leave.

Out of character, I’ve been pretty defensive lately, keeping my guard up with the people around me.  Part of it is because there are a handful of students who have learned some of the tricks of the chaplaincy trade and they can now crack the toughest shell with ease (and I need to maintain my mysteriousness). 

As she was working on worship bulletins, Carrie was nonchalantly talking with me, weaving her way through my defenses and she asking me the tough questions.  We talked about my feelings (ugh) and she mentioned that I haven’t been my usual, happy self lately.  I responded that I’m a bit behind in classwork…I’m tired of the school’s systems and unresponsiveness to problems…I’m weary of swings too far to the left and too far to the right…I’m feeling silenced because I’m stereotyped as the oppressor.  I said I’m done with the whole school ‘thing’ and want to move on.

“Maybe you’re beginning to mourn the fact that you’re going to have to move on?  Maybe you’re a little angry that you’re going to have to leave?”

*****

A few weeks ago I had come up with the theme for May’s student newsletter – ‘Leaving’ – and I was looking forward to writing on that subject matter because I have some things I’d like to get off my chest!  But as I think about it and the reflect on the conversation with my friend from earlier today, I’m realizing that she’s probably right – I’m mourning the fact that I’m going to be leaving.  The truth is that I’m ready to go, but I’m not ready to say goodbye to these people.  And I’m realizing that I’m not good at leaving.

I recall being in 4th or 5th grade and having to go to church with my parents outside of our ‘normal’ church time.  It wasn’t rushed or an emergency, but it was still a serious moment.  While not given all the details, I recall my parents telling me that the pastor might be leaving and the church was meeting to discuss it.

The adults met in the sanctuary and us kids went (unsupervised) to the gym to play.  As the evening progressed, it began to sink in that if the pastor left, his daughter – my best friend – would have to leave as well.  My heart dropped slowly through the evening, and I didn’t know how to process those feelings.  I ended up using anger and frustration to express my sadness and heartbreak, and from then on I’ve been protective of leaving moments.

Leaving for college was disastrous.  I intentionally have zero contact with any woman I’ve previously dated.  I slowly let friendships die off if they – or I – move away.  I’d rather cut off, cut out, or destroy any relationship than have to face the process of leaving gracefully.

I know that’s not a healthy way to live, and I think that’s why I’ve been wrestling with all kinds of feelings lately.  I don’t want to be defensive, angry, and holding back my feelings for people – but it’s a whole lot easier than remaining attached and doing the work to maintain relationships.  And it’s a whole lot easier than having to show my feelings and be vulnerable.

I don’t know how to leave gracefully. 

I don’t know how to say goodbye to some relationships and foster others.

I don’t know how to acknowledge that I won’t see most of these people again.

I don’t know how I’ll manage to be in ministry without these talented, loving, Christ-like people by my side.

This hurts my soul…and raises my defenses.

My God,
help me to leave this place well.
let me humbly return.
guide my heart to the new
and bring me often to old.

much love. sheth.

Truth: Not Enough.

by ShethChristianity / Friends / Life / Loneliness / Love / Seminary / Truth Tuesday1 Comment on Truth: Not Enough.

This past week I spent a few days at the Mount Carmel Retreat Center in Dallas, partially for my Spirituality class and partially for personal reasons.  The truth is I’ve been struggling with feeling like I’m not ‘enough’ – not good enough, smart enough, lovable or loving enough, wise enough, holy enough, worthy enough, generous enough.  My feelings of ‘not-good-enough’ have kept me at arm’s length from God, from my family and friends, from my schoolwork and relationships because if I’m not ‘enough’ then what’s the point in continuing on with them?

I felt I had to be faultless and flawless before I could go to God, and I had to be the most Christian of Christians in order to maintain the relationship.  I had to be the absolute and ideal son for my parents.  I had to be the unequivocal and unmatchable boyfriend.  I had to be the matchless and impeccable friend.

I’ve burned more than my fair share of bridges because of this feeling of not being enough.  I’ve ended relationships, dropped out of courses, cut off friendships, and tip-toed around God because I didn’t think I was enough.  While I’ve wanted to be married, have close friendships, and a close walk with God, I’ve turned tail and ran because I didn’t think I was able to reach these self-perceived expectations of being ‘enough’.

As I spent these past few days in the silence of the monastery I came to the realization that I am, honestly, not good enough. And I’ll never be good enough.  I’m never going to be the perfect son, boyfriend, or friend.  I’m never going to be the best student, pastor, or Christian.  I’m never going to be the most giving, generous, and kind person.

My not enough is, in fact, enough.

In my journal, I scribbled down this letter to myself:

Seriously, Sheth, God loves you.  You!  Not the impostor, not the poseur, not the image you try to maintain.  God loves you in your broken, faulty, sinful, unkempt, messiness.  God sees through the falsehood (and hopes you will, too) and knows that that Sheth is the true Sheth.  You don’t have to be perfect to receive God’s love.  You don’t have to have everything in order and your life looking pretty.  You don’t have to be enough for God to love you completely.  God loves you, Sheth.

I know it’s difficult to fathom…it’s hard to comprehend…and frankly a little terrifying.  But it’s the truth.  You’ve had moments when you felt it and knew this truth, but you ran away from it because it’s so beyond your knowledge and understanding.  But somehow you can just know it, believe it, and revel in it’s goodness.

Sure, it’s terrifying on one hand to know that God loves you – God who created all, who can destroy all, who is everywhere, every time, always – God loves you.  That’s scary.

But on the other hand it’s comforting to know that God loves you – you…a bit on this earth, a mere blip on the timeline…as small and insignificant as you are, Sheth, God loves you…you!  You!  God knows you and loves you!

Moments will come (probably tomorrow) when you don’t feel loved, when you don’t feel lovable, when you don’t feel like you’re enough for any of it.  Nonetheless, God loves you still.  No matter what you do or how you act or where you go, God will not stop loving you.

Sheth…I hope you can understand this…I mean, truly in your heart of hearts understand this: God loves you.

I’m not enough – and I never will be enough – and that’s okay.  I don’t need to be enough for God to love me.  I don’t need to be enough for my family to love me.  I don’t need to be enough for my girlfriend, my friends, or my professors to love me.  All I need to be is me – the real me, the true me, the not-enough Sheth who will relish the love and affection that is poured on me.

May we know that God loves who we are, where we are, and desires to be with us.  And may we realize each day that our not-enough is enough.

much love. sheth.

Truth: Long, Dark Nights.

by ShethChristianity / Life / Loneliness / Love / Relationships / Suicide / Truth TuesdayLeave a Comment on Truth: Long, Dark Nights.

This Friday, the sun will set in Austin at 5:34 pm, and will not rise until 7:23 am on Saturday – roughly ten hours of daylight and fourteen hours of darkness. The longest, darkest night of the year.

We’re told through advertisements and tradition that during Christmas we are supposed to be happy, full of joy, and surrounded by family and friends. But many of us are dealing with other emotions: grief, loneliness, depression, disappointment, and anxiety. Many of us attempt to push down and put aside these feelings, trying to mask them over with the season’s joy and happiness. But the feelings are still there, still prevalent and intertwined in our lives.

For me, loneliness is one of the biggies in my life this time of year. Some people think that my loneliness means that I am alone. Sometimes that’s a good thing – we need to be alone, to be by ourselves and away from people, but that’s not loneliness, that’s solitude. Loneliness is deeper than that. Loneliness is darker than that. For me, it’s like sitting in a room at night by yourself and feeling like it will never become light again. It’s being invisible in a room full of people.

If you’re like me, the Christmas season’s loneliness can eat away at any sort of joy we may be able to muster up.  It’s difficult because this is a season of togetherness – family and friends coming together and eating big meals, opening presents, and playing games.  And we, the lonely, may be part of these gatherings, but we feel apart from them.  There is something deep within us that is hurt.  There is something deep within us that longs for true connection.

We can put on a happy face and carry on lively conversations, but we are split within our souls because we know deep down that there is something less than happy and lively.  We smile widely for the pictures, laugh loudly at the jokes, and carry on the conversations.  But within us is another person who wants to scream out for someone to truly notice us.

In truth, our loneliness comes out of a desire for an intimate relationship with someone else.  This intimacy isn’t sexual in any way – it’s much deeper than that.  Intimacy is closeness and familiarity.  Intimacy is private and personal.  Intimacy is vulnerability.  Our loneliness cries out for intimacy on an emotional and spiritual level that most take for granted.  Our loneliness desires fulfillment from being with other people on a soul level.

Sandburg’s words ring true for us, the lonely. We would suffer hunger, pain, want, shame, and failure all for intimacy – true intimacy – with another person.

As the darkest, longest night of the year comes upon us, let us continue to cry out to God, “I am lonely and troubled! Save me from my sadness!” May God hear our cries for comfort in our loneliness, grief, depression, disappointment, and anxiety. And may we find respite on this darkest night.

[Many churches offer Blue Christmas services which recognize and speak to these issues – you can do a quick search to find one locally. If you’d like to speak with someone about these feelings, you can contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. You’ll hear an automated message that will ask a few brief questions, then your call will be routed to a local Lifeline network center where your call will be answered by a trained worker who will listen to you, understand how your problem is affecting you, provide support, and get you the help you need.]

much love. sheth.