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A faithful presence of love in the absences of our city.

I am afraid!

I am a fearful person.  Most mornings I wake up afraid that my blood pressure is too high and that I will not wake up tomorrow or that the small pain I feel is actually a symptom to something much larger, and as my thoughts drift and fears grow, I begin to think about missing the life my family will live and the bitterness my children will live with knowing their dad missed so much of thier lives.  This is what fear does, it drives us to deeper fears, to the deepest fear.  Now, the question is how do I deal with this fear-this fear that is not quite a panic attack yet not 'just' a nagging inconvenience?  Well, most of the time I withdraw.  I don't tell anyone about it, and if Danette asks me, I say, "I'm good!" in a hope-filled, happy voice.  But what I really do is I leave our bed, wander to the couch and quickly turn on the t.v., sportcenter, possibly Seinfield or Duck Dynasty and wait for heavy eyes to take me away to sleep again and withdraw from me this persistent fear.   

Now, the story is slightly different if fear captivates me during the day.  Let's say "hypothetically" that I get a call about someone wanting to leave the church, and this news is innoculus, it's not even about me.  In these moments my fear resides in the sustainabilty and viability of our little church, a fear of rejection and the shame that comes with it, a fear about the family and where they might go or what they might find.  This fear sends me once again to retreat to flee the negative emotions and find comfort in darkness, quietness, entertainment or sweet snacks.  Why do I withdraw, because it is a way for me to cope, a way for me to go forward, a way for me to forget, a way for me to not be afraid anymore.  It's false...I mean I don't really get away from the fear, but rather suppress it until the next bout, the next battle, the next foray.  This is what I do, or at least did do.  I mean I still do it, but now I recognize it and now sometimes do something different.  

About 2 months ago, I participated in a retreat known as Men @ the Cross.  It is put on by the Cross Ministry Group, and it's not the same as the one day event put on by Joe White and Kanakuk.   The Men @ the Cross retreat is a three day event, an event that I was not thrilled to be going to, but felt I had to, because men at our church had gone and some others were going, and I am their pastor and felt the responsibility to lead them there, even though I was fearful of going.  (This is just another example of how ministry sanctifies me not because of my strength but rather my weakness).  Anyway, I went.  And it was an incredibly uncomfortable experience.  We were challenged to not interupt the process, even though there were things in the process that we would do that we had never done before.  We did things like rock work, and practiced confession and screamed at the top of our lungs and a whole bunch of other exercises that involed body, mind and symbol.  I couldn't help but be changed by them just by doing them.  I know this is vague, and it's intentionally so, because if I told you what we did, you wouldn't come to the retreat and that in my mind would be a huge, huge mistake.  It would have been one for me, anyway.  At one point on Saturday, I was asked to ask God what He wanted to do for me or in me during the weekend.  I went outside, skeptical that I would figure it out, skeptical that God would speak, fearful that he wouldn't.  But I heard the word expectations or maybe that word rushed to the front of my mind, and this one little word sent me on an odyssey of discovery that would lead to me seeing clearly this false self of withdraw that I create to deal with my fear, sadness, anger or shame.  And because of this, and the friendships I made and my small group leader and my rock work, I came back changed.  I was a different man, because of this knowledge and because I was so loved by other men during the weekend, that it tangibly gave me courage and a portrait that allowed me to see that this is what broken and beloved men of God do.  They live in truth.  They see the false way they are relating because of their brokeness and they make choices to live in truth, because they are beloved.  I should say I see the false way "I" relate to the world, because of my brokenness, because of "MY" fears, because of my negative emotions, and I am now, sometimes, able to make choices because "I" am beloved by God.  You see that is another thing about Men @ the Cross, not only is is built on strict confidentiality, but also you must own your stuff.  I must own my stuff.  I must own my fear.  I must own my false self, if I am ever going to be able to live in truth.  

This morning I awoke again to the same aching fear.  Is that discomfort I feel in my chest, the beginnings of a heart attack?  Is that pain in my leg the sign of a stroke?  And in by brokenness, my fear, I walked off to the living room, but today instead of drifting off into the laissez-faire world of Willie and Si, I stopped and I prayed.  I asked God to show me how he is present with me in my fears, I prayed not that he would take it away, but that he would show me that He is there, show me how is He is here.  That he is present in this fear and he wants me to sit with him in it.  You see I know that "the reason I don't want to feel is that feeling exposes the tragedy of my world and the darkness of my heart. No wonder I don't want to feel: feelings expose the illusion that life is safe, good, and predictable."1 That last paragraph is from Dan Allender's book The Cry of the Soul, and he says what I have been trying to say much better than I am saying it.  I don't want to be afraid, but when I withdraw from it, I cut myself off emotionally from Danette, my kids, my church and my God.  Because of Men @ the Cross, I see this now and I am beginning to live in truth.  

So, why am I writing this, well tomorrow, we are having a Men @ the Cross event here in the Q.  It is a entry point to the weekend retreat and way to learn to how to live in truth, because maybe you are like me and you know how easy it is for us as men to live falsely in our jobs, our homes and our churches. These ‘false-selves’ cut us off from vital relationships. My hope is that at this conference we will learn how to live in truth with our spouses, our children, our friends and our co-workers.  So I want to invite you to come.  We will meet from 9:00-3:00 tomorrow at Trinity @ the Marketplace, which is located at 2520 Chama NE, Albuquerque NM, 87110.  If you want lunch, bring $6 and we will provide it.  

1.Dan B Allender;Tremper Longman. The Cry of the Soul: How Our Emotions Reveal Our Deepest Questions About God (Kindle Locations 63-64). Kindle Edition.

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