Praying for the Pastor

I've been thinking of asking someone at church - the elders? the prayer group leader? - to arrange for someone to pray for my husband, with my husband, on Sunday mornings. I feel a little strange about this so I haven't done it yet.

Then I read this post on the blog A Different Story. She explains better than I the seemingly unseen weight on my heart on Sundays.

I know everyone brings grief and joy and sorrow and blessing to the worship service. But if someone else wants to tell the pastor about it, he will listen with the ears of a spiritual guide. If I want to tell the pastor about it, he'll get all wound up and stressed. That is, surely, why clergy families need pastoral care too. We also need all the spiritual care our congregations can provide.

Sitting with Sadness

One of the things I've started trying to attend to as a parent is letting my kids feel sad. It's hard. I want to talk them out of feeling sad or frustrated, to move the frame so they just see the happy things. The other day my son lost two rounds of Candyland and he was despondent. He sobbed for about ten minutes. I wanted to say, "Really? Candyland? Buck up, mister. It's no big deal." But to him it was a huge deal. Losing is very sad for a competitive six-year-old. He sat on my lap and I made soothing sounds and waited. After a while he stopped crying and started talking about something else.

For most of my life I have distracted myself from things that are sad. It's much easier for me to be angry, or feel guilty, or tell myself it's not worth being sad about. That's one of the things I learned from talking to a therapist. My therapist doesn't take it personally if I feel sad. Most of the time, she'd nod her head and say something like, "Of course you're sad! Life should not be this way!"

The problem with sadness, for me, is that there is nothing to do about it. It just is. And it hurts. The only thing to do is feel it, say it, complain to God about it, expect it will end sometime, and wait.

Medical Woes

I've been in the hospital for the last several days. I came with pain that made me think appendicitis. I was right on that point, and had surgery to repair it. The surgeon also removed a "large" tumor nearby. Sounds like I'm headed for six months of low-level chemo in the near future.

This is what I've been telling God: "Well, look! Here's something else. Cancer. Good thing you are bigger and more powerful than this mess because it is a MESS. There are entirely too many piles of sh** around here and I cannot cope with them all. I fully expect you can and that you will hold onto me and all of it and just dole out what I need one day at a time.

"You also know that in a few days I'm going to stand up and start pointing and barking orders and trying to get a handle on all this for myself. Please forgive me. And be gentle with me. This is very, very hard."

I can see already that there are going to be some interesting comparisons between dealing with cancer and dealing with depression. People are much better prepared to support a friend with cancer.

What I (Don’t) Pray For

God pointed out something distressing to me today. I write down some of the people I want to remember to pray for and all of them are people who do not live in my house. I neglect to ask God’s blessing on the people closest to me! It’s shameful.

The reason for the omission was immediately clear to me. Every intercessory prayer on my list is a person or situation over which I am sure I have no control - people who are sick or grieving, or who are on the periphery of my life such that I care about them but have no influence over them.

My family, however, is *my* responsibility. I take care of my kids and participate in the important aspects of my husband’s life. If something is not right with one of them, I take steps to make it better.

The layers of my illusion that I have control are stunning. I’ve written down the names of my kids and my husband because it seems I need to be reminded that God is responsible for them and He’s invited me to express His care and love for them.

Where To Look

On facebook I posted a link to this list of 10 ways Christians tend to fail at being Christian. Someone commented that maybe “we should all make a list and look very carefully for ourselves in it.” I don’t have time for that! I’ve got my hands full detailing other people’s self-righteousness!

For the last couple of weeks I’ve had a decent routine of personal devotion that is really good for me. It’s generous of God to give me a disposition toward this habit. I have found, though, that every chapter I read leaves me thinking about sr pastor and how destructive and misguided his efforts are. Stupid brain. I don’t want to be thinking about him, even to consider in detail his misunderstanding of the Christian life.

I am of two minds - maybe I’m being sinfully distracted from God’s message about himself and me, or maybe this is a necessary step in making sense of (and discarding the lies of) what’s been going on for the last couple of years. I’m not sure how to distinguish between the two.

I have exerted a lot of energy trying not to judge sr pastor & co., but realized that I have to judge their actions so that I don’t take responsibility for all this misery. “Love the sinner, hate the sinner” is much more complicated than it sounds.

Fruit of the Spirit

The acts of the sinful nature are obvious...hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy... But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. (Galatians 5:19-23)

Good things have happened in the last week. Sunday I attended a new church. I think “our church” is now “my former church.” What a relief. For the first time in months, I listened to the sermon without meditating on the failings of sr. pastor. I heard God talking to me about Himself and me.

Here’s what I heard: you are not bearing the fruit of the Spirit, mp, you are bearing the fruit of you. Nursing anger and wishing for disharmony at your former congregation comes from you. Let Me live in you, and I will fill your heart with love, peace, and patience.

Ouch. And thank you. And let me think on that.

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Evenings tend to be difficult for me. Along about 9:00, the kids have been in bed for a while and I can feel pretty blue. I settle on an old recording of unhappy thoughts -- what if? why didn’t he? why us? will this ever be over? Urgent to escape that unpleasantness, I take a moment to select some distraction: eat something (good feelings), watch tv (mind numbing), read a Psalm (reassurance), go to bed (escape). Of these, reading a Psalm is the one that takes a fair bit of discipline. I do not choose it most often because it doesn’t involve escape. Praying = thinking & feeling, two things I’m basically trying to avoid.

Last night, as it happens, I made it through Psalm 37. It was reassuring, challenging, painful & hopeful. Am I the only one who finds this difficult?