Folks, it has been a rollercoaster over the last three
weeks. An emotional rollercoaster.
I sent one daughter 14 hours into the future—to Australia. Who knows when I’ll see her again? I sent another just 1 hour ahead—to Arkansas. It will be a good couple of months before I
again see her smiling face.
I witnessed a friend’s son…and a man I know…go from
obscurity to being one of the most famous faces on the planet…all the while he
was fighting for his life against one of the most deadly diseases on
Earth. While on that voyage into the
spotlight, while battling to survive, he also managed to inspire a whole new
generation of Christians, and touch the lives of believers and non-believers
alike. He went from death’s door, to
stepping out of an ambulance, to being released…and he wasn’t supposed to
survive. All the while trusting God…regardless
the outcome.
I watched the streets of Ferguson, Missouri erupt…and the
tears of loss cascade down the cheeks of a mother’s face. While a whole segment of our American
community mourns, another whole segment continues to not understand. And, our national pain continues. We don’t really know the facts, but one side
claims a cold-blooded murder and the other claims a “thug” was killed in the line
of duty. Lots of accusations. Lots of assumptions. Lots of arguing, shouting, crying
voices. Bottles flying. Tear gas pluming.
Very little listening.
Meanwhile, a friend from middle school sent me a message to
ask me to sign a petition and post it to my Facebook wall in support of
reparations for the descendants of enslaved black Americans. (Notice that I didn’t say a “black friend.” I don’t have black friends or white
friends. I just have friends. Some happen to be of different races, but
that is not what defines them to me.) I
asked him to give me more detail on what he was talking about. I asked him some hard questions: Would it really change things? Would it change hearts on both sides? How would it be applied or distributed, etc.? Could it really be enough in the end to not become an insult? I’m still mulling over his ideas. Frankly, I like some of them…maybe a good
many of them. But, what sits on me the
most is the pain in his words. In some
ways, he is the same Marvin I met in 7th grade all those many years
ago, but in other ways he’s not. There’s
a heaviness there…brought on by the weight of social injustice; a wall of
emotion born of 50+ years of witnessing and experiencing disrespect and
mistreatment for no other reason than the color of the pigment in his skin and
the skin of his family, neighbors, and friends.
Then, there are the deaths.
And, not just normal deaths.
Suicides. They have touched me
three times this year. One close to a
niece. One a former
customer/co-worker. And, one a celebrity…Robin
Williams. (And, isn’t unusual how we all
seem to feel like Robin was a friend?
Almost none of us had actually ever met him, but I bet most of us felt
like he was someone we held dear; like a family member or close friend.)
In thinking about those deaths, I began to think back, and suicide
has visited me many times over the years.
I had not realized just how often:
My brother, Freddie; A boy in one of my High School classes;
Danny-another boy from school; Larry-a friend from my Bible College days; two
different neighbors (one just last year); my niece’s fiancé; and Doug, the guy
I’d worked with. That is eight people,
and there may be more that I just haven’t considered yet. That realization was staggering.
Finally, there is the murder of James Foley. I can’t really express how that makes me
feel.
All of that, and I’ve been blessed with an overactive
empathy gene.
I sensed the hopefulness, faithfulness, and fear mixed all
together in the voices and faces of my friends, the Brantly family. I sensed the same thing in the prayers and
petitions of my church family as they prayed for Kent Brantly and Nancy
Writebol. I felt the hurt of that mother’s
heart as the tears rolled down her cheeks in Ferguson. I could hear the anger and pain in my friend’s
words as he explained his reparations plan.
I feel the sadness of the world’s loss of Robin Williams mixed into the
sadness I feel for the loss of my former work associate, Doug. (And, regarding Doug, maybe a little guilt. Could I have done something for him to change his course?) And, I harbor the shock…the anger…the deep
sadness of that picture of James Foley on his knees with the man in black
holding the knife; knowing that only a moment later…
Contrast that with the joy of seeing Kent Brantly speak at that
news conference as he was released from the hospital-Ebola free! Two weeks prior, I nearly jumped out of my skin
when he walked into the hospital in Atlanta…when I was expecting to see him
wheeled in on a gurney. And, today that
was furthered by the joy of seeing him reunited with his wife, and his recovery
from the brink of death.
It has been a rollercoaster summer, folks. I’m telling you, it really has.
And, here’s the thing.
I’ve basically been holding all of this inside. Only a little has slipped out. A little to my wife. A little to a fellow elder at church…just a
dribble really. Frankly, it’s mostly bottled
up.
Why?
Because, in our lives these days, we don’t talk. Not really.
We don’t know how to be REAL with one another. We are afraid of emotion, and we hide it
behind false bravado.
I could spill it all out to my wife, but what I really want
is a friend. My wife is my best friend,
and I could share it all with her…in fact, I did share some of it tonight. But, what I actually want is a really close
buddy…another guy…whom I can be real with.
Someone I can share my fears, my failings, and my dreams with…and
someone who will do the same with me.
Without judgment and without expectations. Someone to commiserate with. Someone to confess to. Someone to pray with. And, then someone I can go with to watch the
game, eat some wings, and have a beer.
And, to all you guys out there who are still reading this…you
know you want the same thing. At least
be real with yourself.
The problem is our false bravado and our spiritual
lies. We are too proud to admit we need
each other. We are too embarrassed to
admit that we do things we are ashamed of.
We can’t abide the idea that our whitewashed exteriors might be removed
to reveal who we really are.
And, before you girls go getting all self-righteous…you need
to take off those smug, pious church smiles and replace them with sober reality, admitting that you have some
messes too. You need these kinds of
relationships just as much.
We can have it, though.
These special relationships. All
it takes is two individuals willing to be totally real with one another. Totally honest. Willing to share the darkest details. Two people finally willing to step into the
light with one another.
Here I am. Where are
you?
1 John 1:7 – But if we walk in the light, as he is in the
light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son,
purifies us from all sin.
