I can best describe this current season as excruciating. The only time I’ve been more emotionally low was right before my conversion. The only reason I feel better off now than I did then is that my hope is in the Lord. My feelings sometimes forget that, though, and I drift off into a ruminating loop of dread and despair.
It’s not just the one major thing, loss of church and community, but several other harsh contributors that have happened over the last 5 years, including, but not limited to: having a female teenage relative live with us for 2.5 years (let’s call her K) who had serious needs that I was not prepared for or qualified to meet, then having an empty nest and all that entails (I was not expecting such a significant shift), and a strained close relationship and betrayal. These are just the highlights of the last several years, and they have taken a toll on me.
At times in this last year, I have felt abandoned by everyone, including God. Even if that’s not true, and I know it’s not, it’s how I’ve felt. The fact that he says he will never leave me or forsake me (Heb. 13:5) has reassured me so many times. I know it to be factually true, but my feelings aren’t always there. I started writing again as a form of catharsis, alongside my desire to share information, experiences, and resources, and hopefully continue to work these things out in my head and in my heart, in an effort to move forward. It’s been pretty rough so far with muddled thoughts, lack of clarity, and feeling not sure of where I stand on things I used to be so sure of.
I look back at my writing from years ago, and I envy that person. So sure, clear, and refined. I used to know more things and be more sure of the things I knew. I was more confident. I miss that person. Of course, I didn’t know all the things I know now, about people, the church, and myself. I wasn’t as exposed, laid bare, and vulnerable. I can also say I was harsher and more judgmental. I can be sharp-tongued and cut people down pretty easily. And because of my inclination to that type of behavior, I was drawn to a certain kind of “talking head.”
Did I tell you I’m an excellent listener? I love to listen. For many years, listening has included talk radio, podcasts, YouTube videos, audiobooks, etc. I can listen to people talk for hours. I prefer listening to people talk over listening to music; I’m not sure why. I had my favorites, and a lot of them had a bite to them, too. Matt Walsh, Steven Crowder, J.D. Hall, John MacArthur, Allie Beth Stuckey, and even (occasionally) Doug Wilson, to name a few. There were more, but they all had the same type of message, and their message was a harsh one and often included name-calling, even (and especially) to those who were professed Christians (I think everyone that I listed is also a professed Christian).
Their harshness emboldened what I already had inside me and made it more abrasive. I had all this information and all these talking points that I could share and cut people down with. I loved Jesus and people, too. But I was also very concerned about our culture, fighting that “war” and letting people know that if they truly were Christians, then they would be fighting the same way I was. The same way the talking heads were.
The harshness I had was not only directed at other people; I put that on myself, too. Adding more rules and pietism to my own life, gathered from pastors, elders, and, of course, the talking heads. Scrupulously examining myself to make sure my motives were pure before the Lord. That I was not being a hypocrite, or wasting time watching TV and reading fiction, or “sinning” by having wrong doctrine.
Pretty quickly after K came to live with us, I realized I was in way over my head. I might have heard of Oppositional Defiance Disorder (ODD), but I had certainly never dealt with it, especially in my own home. She arrived just before COVID happened, and the lockdown ensued, so resources were limited. I was doing everything the Pastors, books, and talking heads were telling me to do. You know, all the “biblical” things. And I was sinking fast. I was praying, fasting, and reading the Bible, sinking further and further. Every day wore me down just a little more.
Shortly after K’s initial arrival to us, with me as her primary caretaker, I realized that I was not a very gentle or patient person. I started praying that God would help me be more gentle. After 2.5 years, I had run out of ideas, resources, and stamina and was functioning on autopilot. She had run out of chances and had to move on from us.
About 2 years ago, shortly after K left, I abruptly stopped listening to all the talking heads and several ‘celebrity’ pastors. I could no longer handle the harsh messaging and rhetoric. What had previously seemed funny to me, name-calling, mocking, dripping sarcasm, and condescension, now seemed cruel. I couldn’t stomach it anymore. I thought about all the people going through these very hard situations, some of them abusive, and how Jesus would respond to them. This was not it. I had been so wrong. I felt sorry for my harshness. I still do.
Now, almost 5 years (to the day) since K first arrived and all these other pivotal things happened, I see that God made me need gentleness for myself in order to truly extend it to others. I had not been expecting that. And only recently did I realize the work he had done.
I still listen. I stopped listening to the talking heads and “celebrity” Pastors, and I started listening to people’s stories. Their stories are everywhere. Stories of abuse and manipulation, of heartache, broken families, and broken dreams. What they had expected from the “church” versus what they had actually received and experienced. There are thousands of these stories, and something almost all of them have in common as they share their stories is their gentleness when talking to and about others, even those who no longer consider themselves Christian.
It makes me hopeful that people can take the ashes of their lives and create beauty from them, in something as seemingly small as how they interact with others, extending gentleness. So, God did give me what I prayed for: gentleness. Just not in the way I had expected.
Here are a few podcasts/videos that share people’s stories :
The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill
Please share your thoughts