Compromise

"Come near to God and He will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded."

---James 4.8

"You shall have no other gods before me."

---Exodus 20.3

I read an article from Christianity Today over the weekend that made me stop and think. It was by a pastor who chose to remain anonymous. He told of many years of leading retreats and speaking in churches all over the country. The pastor remembered fondly the cheers of approval he would receive as he spoke eloquently on any variety of spiritual disciplines, the crying eyes as people flooded the altars, the pleading invitations to come back as soon as possible to bless the body of Christ again. He also spoke of the rampant pornography that was, literally, tearing his soul apart. The evenings alone in strange towns when he would go to strip clubs, peep shows and x-rated movies. The magazines that would find their way into his carry-on bag at the airport. The visuals that would flood his mind, even as he preached holiness in the pulpits of these churches.

Over time, this respected leader felt like he was going crazy, unable to control these ungodly images. Finally, at a conference with many other pastors, he said to himself that enough was enough. He sat down with one of his mentors, a pastor only identified in the article as leading one of the largest churches in the South, and began to confess, detail by sordid detail, all he had done. The mentor could only wail and sob. It turns out that he had been savaged by lust and pornography as well. He began to unravel a life full of every type of sexual perversion. He showed the author a list of medications he took to fight the venerial diseases he'd picked up along the way. And he also laid out on the table the divorce papers his wife had recently filed.

It's easy to point a judgmental finger at these pastors and blame them and their "kind" for all that's wrong with the church. But more and more, as I grow in God, I'm seeing areas of my life where I've lived as a double-minded man. Little compromises to the teachings I know are in the Word that I justify by saying things like, "Jesus wouldn't want me to be unhappy, right?" or "Come on, I can do this and that. I mean, the kingdom's all about grace, isn't it?". I've said it in fun before, but it seems more real with time - It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. We look at the world around us, how much fun everything seems to be, how "cool" we dream about being, and we start to follow those around us, instead of the precepts Jesus wants us to base all our decisions on. Allowing the world to "squeeze us into its mold" (Romans 12:2 paraphrase), watering down doctrine and taking the teeth out the Bibles we carry around all the time, is bad enough. What kind of life will this type of fence-walking create? What's the result of it?

Well, look at the pastors in the story. The author speaks of feeling mentally unstable. The elder pastor was literally destroyed - physically, financially, emotionally. James chapter 1 describes a man like this as "double-minded" and "unstable in ALL he does". It may seem like we can keep our two lives separated. Eventually, it will come to disrupt everything. You know the old addage, "One bad apple spoils the whole bunch?" It's true. Buy a bag of apples, put one rotten one in there, close it off and let it sit for a week. I guarantee you won't want to eat what you find in that bag. No one can serve two masters, Jesus said.

In 1Kings 17, the nation of Israel was sent into captivity for compromising the Law God had given them. They saw nothing wrong with honoring God and the pagan worship of the nations around them. Eventually, the deception was passed down. Verse 41b says, "...To this day their children and grandchildren continue to do as their fathers did." God said in the Ten Commandments that He would punish three generations down of those who worship false idols. Jesus quoted from Deuteronomy when He confronted the devil in the desert, "It is written, 'Worship the Lord your God and serve Him only'." Daily, Satan comes at us like he came at Jesus, dangling the carrot of compromise in front of us. Some things, obviously, we are going to shoot down right away. But we make agreements on things that are "harmless", at least on the surface. "There's nothing in the Scripture about - whatever - and it's what I want. So I'm going for it." But often there's a slippery slope at work. Little by little, agreement by agreement, we soon find ourselves in a place we barely recognize. Out and out sin, once crouching at our door, now takes up full residence. What we once were repulsed by is just another choice. We become unable to pray with power. We attend church and it seems hollow and empty. The Bible that once spoke with passion, now barely gives off a whimper.

If you're like I used to be, you're reading this and saying, "This is great. But no one can attain that! I'm not a monk or a nun!". Obviously, I'm not either. But you know what my idea of abundant life is? A life I don't have to apologize to anyone for. One I don't have to make excuses for to my kids. A life that is the same inside me as it is outside me. It's about purging all the "little foxes" that have been stealing my peace, joy and hope for years. It's about truth in the inward parts. Letting God into every (I mean EVERY) inch of my life and having God dismantle it piece by piece and then, like the potter we see in Jeremiah 18, build it up in a way that is pleasing to Him.

The anonymous author in the article I read this weekend got it right. We read how he humbled himself before God, repented for a long season, sought forgiveness of family and friends, and found healing. May those who are in the depths of deep sin, depravity and addiction get out before, like the author's mentor, it's too late. May those who are dancing on the edge of the pit come alive in the power of His spirit, resist at all costs, and overcome. And, ultimately, may we become a generation not afraid to stand up for what our hearts know is right, no matter what the cost.

Welcome to the new-look True Heart Times!

Well, what do you know? Four months old and already in need of a facelift! Here's the brand new look to my little blog site. The black background was a little hard to take for a long period. It was hard to follow some of the lettering. So here we go to a blue and white motif. It's already getting great reviews. Ok, so I'm the only one who's seen it so far. But I like it! So that gives me a support rating of 100%!!! Yeah, baby!

It's very late and I have to work early tomorrow. But to fill you in on what's been happening with me, I'll be brief with the committment to write more soon. Let me share with you my life's discontent for at least the last weeks, if not years. I can sum it up with a quote from a Switchfoot song. It says,

"This is your life...are you who you want to be?"

My answer? Absolutely not. Not even close. Some would call it a mid-life crisis. But I can't help but think that I'm wasting time sitting around selling hearing aids. It's the concept from the boot camp - I need to step out of my smaller stories and step into the larger story God has prepared for me. There is a lot to do. Am I ready for battle? I feel disconnected. Not from God but from my purpose. It's like I've settled. There is much, much more. Am I prepared to go after it? When will I be?

There's much more to say about this. And I will. Soon. I promise. Cross my heart.

Walk with God.

(Thanks to Steve Gallagher and Pure Life Ministries for the following good encouragement to our spiritual leaders. My hope is that all pastors would heed these admonitions. Many do, most don't.)

> Q: What can I as a pastor do to address the issues of pornography and sexual sin with the men of my church?


> A: I gave this acronym in a pastors’ magazine article once:

DEALING WITH SEXUAL SIN IN THE CHURCH

F - Foster an atmosphere of truth and honesty. Men who struggle must have the sense that they can confess their sin without undue consequences. You may have to take a man out of a leadership position, but you should never do anything that would disrespect the man or betray his confidence.
R - Renounce sin. It destroys lives, corrupts churches, and weakens the Body of Christ. Living and preaching holiness may offend those who wish to compromise, but it will attract those who are sincerely hungry for God.
E - Educate your congregation about proper and improper sexuality. If struggling men feel that the pastor is uncomfortable with the subject, they will never come forward for help.
E - Establish and encourage men’s ministry. Men tend to isolate and one of the greatest helps to a man overcoming secret sin is getting involved in godly fellowship with others.
D - Disciple those in need. We have learned how to build big churches but in the process we have lost our ability to build spiritual maturity in the lives of individuals. This lack of personal attention is one of the primary reasons men do not live in more freedom.
O - Offer restoration for fallen church leaders and members. Have something in place to refer men to such as a biblical counselor or a ministry that deals with sexual sin from a biblical perspective.
M - Model godly character and consecration. Your personal walk with God will determine the level of spiritual of authority you will have to speak into the lives of those you minister to.


Walk with God.

Why all this Father's Day stuff matters so much to me...

So as you read at the beginning of part one of my Father's Day monologue, I really felt God wanted me to share that on Father's Day with the whole church. Pastor Jim vetoed it. I'm still at a loss as to why. I asked him why, but he never responded. Busy? Ignoring the issue? Computer have a "Dad" virus? I have no idea. But it tells you something when on Mother's Day, all the kids in the church spend their class time making cards and sweet notes to Mom. On Father's Day, they schedule the "Moving Up" day, where the kids will be too busy having ice cream and marching around the church to honor Dad. Think Dad will mind when he gets home that Sunday and his kids got a present from church, but he didn't? No, of course not. That great tie will suffice as a gift, right? Or how about the fact that Father's Day is a national holiday to the lawn and garden industry. If we get Mom a vaccuum cleaner for her day, we'll be in the doghouse until her birthday or Christmas, whichever comes first. But a new weedwacker is perfectly suitable for Dad.

Have we missed something here? A recent study said that "mother" was considered one of the most beautiful words in the English language. "Father" didn't even make it into the top fifty! Granted, down through history, fathers have screwed things up. And as you'll read in my testimony a little later, I have THREE horrible examples in my own life. But I'm bothered by the fact that it's OK to pile on Dad for all the crappy things he did, and not honor him for all the great things. Dad may be work too much and not spend enough time with his kids, but many men fell that's how they show their ultimate love for family - by sacrificing everything so that his wife and kids are comfortable. Most guys I know, though they'll never sit down and share their feelings, are loyal to their homes and would never think of leaving or cheating. There are very few people who can look at their dad and not find something they can honor them for.

For some, it's hard. Because their father is the source of their greatest wound. The biggest hurt, whether it's emotional, mental, or (unfortunately) physical. Many, many people cannot relate to a personal God as their "heavenly Father" because the earthly father is more identified with Satan than God. So we percieve God as what our Dad was - maybe distant, maybe angry, maybe violent, certainly not loving, forgiving and kind. Pastor Jim a few years ago spent the entire Father's Day sermon reading statictics on how men/fathers have abandoned their roles and how society's downfall has hinged on his involvement or lack thereof. Congratulations, Dads! You've turned our nation into a fastering spiritual hole! Happy Father's Day! Have a donut next door before you go home!

I understand how bad it can seem. But I don't think continuing to blame everything on Dad is the answer. OK, so your Dad was a jerk. I get it. But how about learning from his mistakes? Why do you feel like you're doomed to follow in his footsteps? Hasn't Jesus come to set the captives free? Jesus isn't your dad. It's not His fault. It's not your fault, either.

**********************************************************************************************

Linda graduated from high school in 1958. She could go to nursing school, or get married. She chose to marry Walter the next year. They tried for years to have children, but doctors said Linda was infertile. Now, they didn't have the treatments and therapies they have now. Back then, you were barren. Like in biblical times, that's a death sentence to many women. Walter was deeply wounded that he couldn't have kids of his own. By the end of the 1960's, he was so upset, they separated.

While apart, Linda met George and they began to have a serious relationship, leading them eventually to a sexual relationship. A few months later, Linda recieves the shocking news - she's pregnant!

This is where I come in. Hi, I'm Darren. The bastard son.

George, my sperm donor male role model, would not admit that I was his son. He denied it vehemently. The only time I know he even came close to acknowledging it was when I was two and, in the middle of the night, he brought a can of Tinkertoys into my room when I was asleep. But I wasn't asleep. I remember the silohuette putting them down in the doorway.

Walter found out my mom was pregnant with me and, to his credit, did a very honorable thing. He came back and said he'd raise me as his own. Walter Vance Barkman is, on the birth certificate, my "Dad". But all those years of pain from the past took their toll. He was a manic depressive and, by the time I was three, was not safe to be around. My mom filed for divorce and got it when I was three. I spent some time with Walter, his new wife Doris and her kids over a couple of summers. I didn't understand why I was there and I never really felt like I fit in.

Then, when I was nine, mom announces that we're moving to a bigger house. Great! We're moving in with her new boyfriend, Harry, and his son, Derek. I knew Derek a little. He was a couple of weeks older than me. I thought it was a chance to actually be a family, with a dad and a brother. Hardly. Harry treated me the family pet. He only spoke to me when he wanted to yell at me for something. Otherwise I didn't exist. Derek, on the other hand, got everything he wanted and was the "perfect" son. Even though he was barely passing in school. Even though he eventually got arrested for indecent exposure. Even though I got straight A's and never did anything wrong. I cried for days when Harry bought Derek a motorcycle and I not only couldn't get one, I couldn't ride his. I remember thinking there must be something wrong with me.

Harry was verbally and physically abusive to my mom. I remember sitting in the living room during a fight and seeing him knock my mom to the ground. I didn't do anything. I'm not sure why. It was like I was just a spectator to my own life. I was detached from it all.

Harry tried to beat on me once, but didn't. It was the night of Super Bowl 16. (It's crazy how I remember all that) The lady my mom worked for had given her a couple of Hershey bars for me. So, after dinner, I sat down to watch the game and eat my chocolate. For some reason, Harry had a fit. He said I shouldn't eat it all. Why he cared I'll never know. I looked at him and said, "But it's mine". In a flash, he stood up and started coming after me. I cowered in the big chair, crying. Harry stood over me, looking like he was going to destroy me. Mom begged him not to long enough for me to get up. She told me to go to my room and pack. Really, I thought. We're out of here! Awesome! I went upstairs, tore all my posters off the wall, packed up a few special things, went downstairs, put my shoes on and stood by the door. I'm free. We're free, Mom. We're out of here!

We went to my mom's work. We talked to her boss for awhile, calming us both down. Then, about an hour later, my mom said, "Well, let's go home". WHAT?!? We're going back? I couldn't compute it! Why would we go back to that hell? I even asked Mom out loud, "Why are we going back there when he treats me like that?". But back we went. Harry never apologized to me. I just went back upstairs to my room with all the posters off the wall. That was the time when the wound was delivered the deepest. Not only did it speak to me that men hate me, but it also said my mom took his side, not mine. See, I am all alone. And that's where I spent most of my teenage years - alone in my room.

I never got the chance to connect with these three men and try to heal relationships. Tricia and I did try once to find George's house but couldn't. He died from heart and lung disease in 2001. Walter, still haunted by his mental illness, committed suicide in 1988 - on my 17th birthday. Harry had a stroke while he was driving and died instantly in the crash in 1990. So the three who shaped my image of manhood here on earth are gone. Some would say good ridance. I wish I could go back and try to connect. I have no idea if I'd be successful. But it would be nice for my girls to know someone as Grandpa Barkman. It'll never be. I told Carissa, my seven year old, an abbreviated version of the story. She hugged me. I thought she was going to cry.

Here's the deal - I had no dad growing up. In fact, my role models were, as you see, horrible. But here I am with three girls of my own. I could be a monster of a dad. But I refuse. Because I determined in my mind not to make the same mistakes. Though society would want to bind me up in all of my disfunctions, I've hidden myself in Christ. I am crucified with Christ and it's no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. Jesus is a dad to my girls through me. I have no clue how to do it. But as I rely on Him, He gives me what I need. I'm not afraid anymore. Like the Mark Harris song says, "I'm ready to live...love...shine". I'm nowhere near who I want to be. But give me time. I'm going to be everything I wanted as a kid, but didn't get. I don't want the girls to have to go through what I did. Thank God they won't.

**************************************************************************************************

So, as John Eldredge says, "Out of your wound comes your deepest glory". That's why Father's Day is so important. And it hurts when people gloss over it. Last year about this time, I was really sinking my teeth into Eldredge's stuff and this issue was burning in my heart. The moms last year got a book and flower, high praise. Father's Day? We got nothing. Except a thrilling message, "Six Ways To Be a Good Dad". I was stunned. I looked around at all the men in the church. They loked like zombies. It was like they were saying, "Pastor, I know you're trying to help, but I have no idea how to even get to where you're going! I'm dying here! Help me!". I called my pastor on it. I told him he missed a golden opportunity to heal mens' hearts. He just said, "I preached what I preached.". Yep, and it was crap.

Well, things are changing in me and my family. I'll discuss more of the big changes in a future post, when I actually understand what some of them are so I can describe them! For now, Happy Father's Day! Guys, you DO have what it takes!

Walk with God.

Standing up for modesty

Paul Denham, my good friend from Good Fight of Faith, brought this letter to my attention last weekend. It was printed on the front of the Sunday morning bulletin at Loudonville Christian Church, near Albany, New York. I instantly put Pastor Stan Key and LCC near the top of my favorite churches. This letter takes guts to put out there for the whole church. This is NOT comfortable Christianity. I don't want my relationship with Jesus to be like my relationship with my La-Z-Boy. Soft, pleasant, sleep-inducing. The Word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword. Sometimes the truth will make you go, "Ouch!". Sometimes doctors have to re-break the bone to make it heal correctly, right?

So if the issue of modesty and sexual idolatry hit you like they hit me, may you draw comfort that someone has put your words down in a form that "gets it". And e-mail Pastor Stan at lcc@lcchurch.org. Thank him for his courage. May all pastors "get it" like he does.


Dear Sister in Christ,

As your brother in the Lord, I need to be honest with you. I have chosen to write my thoughts rather than share them face to face wanting to spare both of us a lot of embarrassment and discomfort. It's about the way you dress. To be blunt, your clothing (or lack of it) often makes it difficult for me to keep my thoughts pure. (I told you this was going to be awkward.)

I know it's summer and that fashions are what they are. I know it's hard to find clothes that are not sexually provocative. I know that it is not your intention to be a temptress. I know all this. My purpose in writing is not to blame you for my temptations but to appeal to you to be more careful in how you dress, especially when you come to church.

I have no clue what goes through a woman's mind when she is deciding what clothes to buy and wear. Whether you are motivated by comfort, fashion or economics, I simply don't know. Whether your intent is to make heads turn and draw attention to yourself (which part?) is beyond my ability to discern. I only know that short skirts, exposed midriffs, tight fitting clothing, low neck lines and strapless tops make it difficult for me, as a man, to keep my thoughts pure.

You may think that this is my problem, not yours. Of course, you are right...but only partly so. As members of the family of God, we have shared responsibilities in this manner. The Bible is very clear - my responsibility is to make a covenant with my eyes (Job 31.1) and to keep my thoughts pure (Matt. 5.27-30). Your responsibility is to dress in a manner that highlights your true and eternal beauty, not just your body (1 Tim. 2.9-10; 1 Peter 3.3-5).

I realize how risky this confession is. The truth is, I want to be a godly man with a pure heart. And I desire to respect women as persons (not objects) and treat them in godly ways. But this becomes more difficult when the women around me consistently send signals that tell me these values are (apparently) not important to them.

Please accept this letter in the spirit in which it is written. I am not blaming you for my struggles. I am simply asking you, as a sister in the Lord, to prayerfully consider what you wear. Your choices are more important than you think.

In Christian love,

Your Brother in the Lord


Positively brilliant, no? I owe you thoughts on Father's Day. You'll get them soon.

Walk with God.

A Father's Blessing, Part Two

(Author's note: This is the conclusion of my Father's Day monologue. This close to the actual holiday, it speaks to me more than ever.)


One day my mom called me on my cell phone. She never called me during the day, so I knew it had to be important.

Mom: Chris, it’s mom. Your dad’s had a heart attack.

Chris: What? How is he?

Mom: He’s not good, Chris. Not good at all. The doctor’s don’t think he’s going to make it. You should come home to see him.

Chris: Wow. OK, uh...You know, I’m not sure I can. Work is really crazy. I have a big presentation tomorrow and I might lose a big client if I don’t show up. Just keep me posted on how he‘s doing, all right?

Mom: Christopher Michael, you have been running away from your dad for nearly twenty years. I have had up to here with your attitude. He needs you now...

Chris: Mom, he doesn’t need me now. He’s NEVER needed me.

Mom: You’re wrong. He asked to see you. Come home for him.

Chris: (Pause, runs hand through hair) OK, I’ll be out as soon as I can.

When I got to the hospital, mom was at dad’s bedside. I hadn’t seen him in, what, 20 years? He looked old. And weak. He eyes were glassy. He had tubes everywhere. My mom ran across the room and hugged and kissed me. Dad just stared. Raised his hand and waved a little. Mom squeezed my hand as she walked out the door, leaving us alone.

Dad: (rough sounding voice) It’s good to see you, Chris. It‘s been too long.

Chris: Yeah.

Dad: Chris, I need to tell you something. I want you to hear me out. Are you listening,
son?

Chris: (nods head reluctantly)

Dad: I know I wasn’t the best dad when you were growing up. I wasn’t around for you like I should have been. That was wrong. And I’m sorry.

Dad: (continues) I had a stroke three years ago, Chris. I couldn’t talk or use my left hand for a week. I told your mom not to tell anyone about it, that I was just sick. But it scared me. I was really scared for the first time in my life. So your mom and I started going to church again. I figured I had to get my life in order. Son, I met Jesus in that church. The pastor showed me I needed to be forgiven of the wrong things I’d done so I could be accepted into heaven when I died. I never thought I’d be one of those ’born-again’ Christians, but I’ve never felt more free in my life!"

Chris: (letting out a lifetime of hurt) Dad, give me a break! You expect me to be happy for you because you’ve made your peace with God? You brought me all the way across the country for that? Forget it, old man. Tell it to the priest. I’m not buying it! (turns to walk out)

Dad: Chris, wait! This is about you. I know it’s hard to understand. I guess it’s crazy to think I can fix all I’ve done to you in one day. I only wanted to see you because I don‘t know if I‘ll get another chance to tell you to your face that...I’m proud of you, son. I’m really proud of you. I was so focused on work and money that I never really stopped to see how great a son you were. And are! Look at you now! Such a successful business man! Chris, I‘m sorry it took me so long to say it. And I wish I could take credit for you, but I know you’ve done it all in spite of me. And I know about it all, too.

Then, Dad pointed to the nightstand by his bed. It was a big blue scrapbook. He told me to open it and I began to look through all the pages. I was stunned - every clipping was of me! ’Newest USC grad a local star’; ’National Dynamic assistant VP is local prodigy’. Even my cover article in ’Business Times’. There must’ve been 40 pages of clippings and pictures. My life in an album.

Chris: (stunned) How did you collect all this?

Dad: Your mom found them mostly. I knew you didn’t want to talk to me but when I got a new clipping for the album, somehow I felt like I was a part of it. I really wish I could go back and make it all go away. I lost so much time.

Chris: I know, Dad. I know.

I don’t think I left his bedside after that. We talked for hours and hours. I asked him questions about things going on at work, in my life. For the first time he just sat and listened. REALLY listened. There were times when I thought he might be faking all this for some reason. But the more time we spent together, I knew. He was a changed man. I could see it in his eyes. The nurses kept coming in and yelling at me, saying I should let Dad sleep more. But the more we spent time together and talked, the stronger he became. Four days after I came, he was walking. Not long after that, they sent him home.
Needless to say, things changed drastically for me. I quit my big-time job and moved back to Arbor Springs. Everyone in San Francisco thought I was crazy to give up my career and the future I was setting up. But I had to. Dad needed me. I even went to mom and dad’s church. If my dad could change, there had to be something real in all this talk about Jesus. And I started my own consulting business, and though I don’t have nearly as much of the glamour or prestige, I consider it my greatest success. Well, my second greatest. The greatest was when I married Alicia six years ago and we had our son, C.J.

C.J.? Shoot! I forgot about the game! Listen, I gotta go! (grabs bag and begins to run off stage, then stops quickly) Wait a minute! What am I panicking for? Dad said he’d get there early to help the guys warm up. He really does a great job with the kids. I’m so proud of him. (stops to ponder that thought, a big smile comes to Chris’ face) Happy Father’s Day.

(Chris exits with bag over shoulder stage left. Lights down.)

THE END

We'll talk more about Father's Day later this week. Pray for dads. They need us.

Walk with God.

A Father's Blessing - part one

(Author's note - What follows is the fruit of my writing while I was in Colorado last April. I wrote in what I believe was obedience to a clear directive from God. I believe I was supposed to perform this a monologue at my church on Father's Day. I won't be; not because of unwillingness. A pastoral decision came down that it won't fit into the plans for that Sunday morning. Whatever. You read it and be the judge. If you know anyone who has suffered a father wound, or know someone who has, encourage them to read it. Hopefully, you'll be challenged. I know I was during the creation of this piece!)

***Lights up. Chris begins walking across stage, whistling "Take Me Out to the Ball Game". He is on his way to his son’s baseball game, where he is the coach. He is dressed for the part - baseball cap, sweatshirt (or t-shirt) and sweatpants, sneakers. He is carrying a gym/equipment bag. Chris is early to mid 40’s, looking like a typical dad you’d see anywhere. As he crosses to stage center, he stops and looks at the audience. ***

You don’t mind if I cut through here, do you? I’m on my way to my son C.J.‘s Tee Ball game, and I’m running a little late. Seems like I’m always running a little late! But I’m really trying to set a good example for my son and his team. I love teaching the little guys how to hit and throw, My son CJ’s only six, but he’s the best player on the team. Yeah, he’s a real chip off the ol’ block.
See, baseball was everything when I was C.J.‘s age. My dream back then was to be a big league pitcher. I spent so many hours behind our house, throwing tennis balls up against the brick wall we had. I was Nolan Ryan, Tom Seaver, or Ron Guidry. (pantomimes a pitcher’s delivery) I threw twenty no-hitters a day! I’m amazed my arm didn’t fall off!
As I started playing on teams, my mom was at every game I ever played, cheering me on. She was my biggest fan. If I got a hit or made a great catch, you could always hear her above the crowd. And I think my mom invented the wave. Seriously! Like any kid, at first I thought she was embarrassing. But there was no stopping her. So I just smiled and let her do her thing.
My dad? My dad’s a different story. He didn’t come to my games. He was a quality control officer for an airplane manufacturer. He traveled a lot for his work. It wasn‘t strange for him to be gone three weeks out of the month. During one busy stretch in 1983, he was gone my entire summer vacation. Things weren’t much different when he was home. He may have been there physically, but emotionally? He was nowhere to be found.

Chris: (as 10 year old) Dad! Dad! I got three hits today! You should have seen it!

Dad: (face hidden behind newspaper, sounding less than interested): That’s nice.

Chris: Yeah, Dad! And I threw a kid out trying to steal second base. He must’ve been out by twenty feet!

Dad: (still uninterested): Son, why don’t you go outside and play. I’m busy now.

Chris: Ok, Dad. (starts to run away, but comes back): Oh, my next game’s on Tuesday after school. I’m pitching! Are you going to be there? Are ya?

Dad: (no hesitation to think about it) No, I’ll be out of town. Now go on outside. You’re bothering me.

Chris: Dad, do you think I’m a great baseball player? Do you think I could be a pro some day?

Dad: (oblivious to Chris’ question) Mary, get me another beer, would ya?

That’s how my dad was to me. Cold and distant. Over time, I stopped seeking affirmation from him. I desperately needed it. But he never gave it. Soon after, I pretty much stopped acknowledging him altogether. We lived in the same house, ate the same food. But it was like we were total strangers. I’d ignore him, he’d ignore me. One big happy family, right?
Fast forward to my senior year in high school. It was the league title game against Middlefield High. Bottom of the seventh, runners on second and third, two outs. We’re down by one run and I’m up to bat. I’d already gotten two hits in the game. All I needed was a single and we’d win. As I’m walking to the plate, I look over at the bleachers to where my mom usually sat and who do I see? It’s my dad! He’s here! He actually came! Just in time to see me in my moment of glory! I felt like I was back in Little League again. I wanted to jump and scream,

Chris: (Jumping up and down, waving arms) Dad! Dad! Look at me, Dad! I’m up to bat! I’m going to win the game for our team! Aren‘t you proud of me, Dad?

I’d never been so nervous! The bat was shaking in my hand. I worked the count full - 3 and 2. Then I must’ve fouled off ten pitches in a row. At that point, a hitter is just guessing what the pitcher is going to throw, and he prays he guesses right. I was looking dead red for a fastball, belt-high. He threw me some slow curve ball about a foot off the plate. I was so fired up for the fastball, I think I finished my swing before the ball even left his hand. Strike three. Game over.

And I’ll never forget my dad’s words to me as we left the ball field:

Dad: I can’t believe I missed work for that, Chris. And what was with the last swing? You looked like a girl out there!

I never played baseball again after that. I had scholarships to play ball in college. I turned them all down. I just didn’t have the heart anymore. I left home the next day, too. There was no big argument or speech. I didn’t defend myself to him, tell him he was wrong. I just moved out. That was it. He didn’t want me around. Well, he got his wish.
I wanted to get as far away as I could for school, so I worked it out with one of the schools that offered me a scholarship, USC, and applied to their business school and was accepted. Eventually, I got my MBA and started working for a big company in San Francisco. Within two years, I was named an assistant Vice-President. I was labeled the new hot shot. I could close deals that guys with twenty years experience couldn’t finish I was the subject of cover stories in big time magazines. I had my Mercedes in my private parking spot, the corner office, and a staff of 45 all by the time I was 30. If you could see under the surface, you’d see a man who hated himself. Because I could see very clearly that I was becoming the one thing I dreaded the most...my father. I saw him in my little mannerisms: the way I’d hold a pen or rub my nose under my glasses. Deeper? I found myself wounding people at work the same way I had been wounded -

Chris: (Takes sip of coffee, swallows hard, then screams) Karen! What’s this? This coffee is garbage! For the hundredth time, I take my coffee with three sugars and one creamer. Come on! Can’t you do anything right? I mean, it’s a simple cup of coffee! (Pause) Yes, you should be sorry. Now make it right and don’t let it happen again!

The senior VP’s all loved me. They called me driven, a fiery perfectionist. I called it hell. I wanted to be encouraging, kind. But I couldn’t find those emotions in me. It’s like I wasn’t programmed with all the right parts. I would go home at night and sit in silence, trying to figure out how I got here. I would pretend my dad was in the room. Some nights, I’d scream bloody murder -

Chris: (yelling at his father) You know, I hate you! There! I said it. You’ve punished me for all these years and here it is. Thank you so very much for screwing up my life! Look at me! I ‘m a monster! People are scared of me! I have no friends! I can’t keep a girlfriend around because I can’t stop being what you turned me into! I’m thirty, I’m going out of my mind, and it’s all your fault! I wish you were dead! I hate you! I HATE YOU!!!!

Other nights it was more -

Chris: (crying) Why, daddy? Why did you leave me? Why did you do this to me? Why didn’t you say you love me? I want you to hold me! Daddy, I need you! I don’t want you to go away anymore. Be with me, Dad. I love you. I love you.

Part two next week. Walk with God.

Coming clean on a dirty issue...

A couple of weeks ago, my wife Tricia and I did our usual Wednesday night thing - attending the mid-week service at Calvary Tabernacle Assembly of God church in Schenectady. It’s a great place to worship. The music is passionate, the people are warm and friendly, the kids’ programs are fun and devoted to the Truth. This night, however, was just a little different. The youth pastors, Nathan and Pam Mandsager, spoke about issues that are really hot buttons for me and my wife right now - modesty and sexuality. Pam did an excellent job detailing how modesty is not just an issue of how you dress, but it’s more a condition of the heart - how you think, act, and carry yourself. Nathan spoke well of how sexual issues - pornography and masturbation - are destroying men (and some women) in the church. I think most in the audience that night were a little taken aback by the “in your face” approach and frank language. My wife and I were doing somersaults in our seats. It’s about time, we said after.

As I wrote in a tease here a while back, I am well acquainted with areas of sexual addiction. How you may ask? Because for years I have had a problem with lust and sexual fantasy. Now I was not into straight pornography, though I have seen it. In our culture today, who hasn’t? My downfall was girls in tight outfits and contortionists. Why those? I’m not really sure. As far back as I can remember, I’ve been struggling with these feelings. For the longest time, I wouldn’t consider them “problems”. But when my eyes would lock on to something/someone on TV or especially on the internet, it would send me into a tailspin of sexual excitement. I would masturbate to pictures or to my memories of those pictures. So many nights I would wander around the internet looking for new and exciting pictures to reinforce my habit. Sex with my wife was never enough. I was constantly looking for more.

Let’s talk about my wife for a second. She knew about it. She would find the pictures on the computer and ask me about it. Oh I’ve got it under control, I said. I can stop anytime. Yeah, right. I even said one time I’m doing “research” for our intimate times. I know she didn’t buy it, but so what? I felt like I needed to walk the line between reality and fantasy and I would do anything to keep my habit intact.

It came to a head at the end of September last year. Tricia finally called me on it for good. Things were going to have to change in me or things were going to change with us, as in my wife would leave. To be honest, I wasn’t really enjoying my addiction anyway. But any guy will tell you that these types of addictions are akin to slavery. You can’t get free, no matter how hard you try.

That’s where God come in.

Tricia gave me the name of a guy, Paul Denham, who is a part of Good Fight of Faith, a group here in Albany, New York for those in sexual addiction. I called him and spilled about my problems. He told me his testimony of how porn and an affair nearly destroyed his marriage. I could completely identify with the isolationism that comes about with these issues. We hide. We don’t want anyone to know how screwed up we are. Paul invited me to their weekly meeting. I jumped at the chance to go. Tricia was proud of me. I knew my way out was starting.

At Good Fight of Faith, I sat through the first meeting in amazement. Every guy who shared sounded just like me - the hiding of addictions from a wife or girlfriend, the anger issues, the fatherlessness. Why had I hid in the bushes for so long? They’re all just like me! I began to share about my struggles. I found an avenue for freedom. If any guys from the group are reading this now, let me thank you for such a great example. Brothers, you’re all heroes to me.

Now, I haven’t had a metamorphosis from sexual problems. Not completely, anyway. I have not wandered the internet to feed my lust in months. I have been tempted to do so, but the combination of my attachment to GFF, plus my encounter with Jesus in Colorado, has given me the strength to know I am in control. Satan does not control my eyes. I have the power and authority to shut that down. However, just like in physical combat, if your enemy realizes a strategy isn’t working, they come up with something else. For me, it was a lust-filled relationship with a girl in my church. I’ll call her Julie. By Jesus’ standards in Matthew 5, Julie and I had affair. I would think about her in a way reserved only for my wife. I would have deep conversations about spiritual and personal things. My heart jumped if she sent me an e-mail or she complimented me about something. I wondered what sex would be like with her. Like Frankie Valli, though I never laid a hand on her, my eyes adored her. I thought I was completely free. Obviously, I was very wrong. By around Christmas time, I had to come clean to Tricia. With my relationships at GFF, and the honesty I was trying to cultivate with the guys and my wife, there was no way I could hide it. Tricia was hurt deeply. She cried for days. During one period when Tricia was venting her frustration, God spoke to my heart - “Sit there and take it. Be quiet, you did this to her.” And I did. If you want to look at it from the Apostle Paul’s angle, my flesh did it and I allowed my sinfulness to rule over the Spirit of God who also lives in me. In Romans 7, Paul talks about the evil he doesn’t want to do, he does. And the good he wants to do, he doesn’t do. That’s the sin battle. We can choose blessings or the curses. I chose to allow the sin to entangle.

I dropped off worship team for a few months to devote myself to my family and to my wife. Through Christmas and work, I really had neglected them. I broke all soul ties with Julie. Though she’s still around, and I still talk to her, I don’t feel that flaming lust for her. The Spirit of God in me put out the fire. Now, I just feel sorry for her. That’s leads me to the other issue - modesty.

See, Julie is around the teenage girls in my church. She’s a leader. In title, she may be. But you’d never know it by the example she sets, particularly in the way she dresses. Recently, she wore a t-shirt on a Sunday morning that was so low-cut that you could see below the tan line in her cleavage. Skirts that are too short, shirts that are too tight or too low. It’s a consistent thing. My wife saw the aformentioned t-shirt and gasped, “Oh my God!” I don’t say this now to get you or me all excited sexually. Praise the Lord, I have crossed over in my battle and I am aware of the devil’s schemes. I am accountable to Tricia and to the GFF guys for my eyes and my mind. But why do Julie and other girls/women in our church insist on dressing this way? Why do the dads/husbands not stop them? Why haven’t any church leaders spoken up?

I think my wife is going to pick a fight about it this week, though. And I’m proud of her. She’s not just fighting for me. She’s fighting for all guys in our church. I wonder how many guys look at her on a Sunday morning, then go home and masturbate to her in their mind Sunday afternoon. To quote Third Day, “It’s a shame. And I wonder if it’s ever going to change.”

What about you, my friend? Any of this ringing bells with you? Are you living a secret life no one knows about? Are you controlled by sin that you can’t break free from? I’ve been talking mostly about sexual addiction, but you can insert lots of other things - drugs, alcohol, food, etc. I’m not just talking to those who don’t have a personal relationship with Jesus. See, the church is full of closet addicts. Do you think the shame of addiction is great in the world-at-large? Try it in the church, where you’re supposed to be perfect, holy and totally righteous in all you say, do and think. Keeping up appearances is the motto of most churches. Admitting you have a deep problem is like being a leper. Ostracized. Oh, we segregate our wounded in 2005. We don’t want to go deep with anyone to help them. That’s the pastor’s job, the counselor’s job, anybody else‘s job. Meanwhile, the struggling continues, with no one coming clean for fear they will be treated the exact same way. And they would be. Because we shoot our wounded.

But don’t let that stop you from coming clean. The freedom you can feel when the light is shone on sin is amazing. It’s like the 800 pound gorilla climbs off your back. Your heart is lighter. Your soul is purified. For the first time you will talk to people and not feel shame or guilt, because you can be the true self that God made. Joy Williams has a song where she sings, “You don’t have to hide anymore.” Exactly. Come out, come out wherever you are. Jesus longs for you to be free from your pain and struggles. Isaiah 61 sets the real reason Jesus came - “To heal the broken hearted and to set the captives free”. His deepest desire is for that to be real in you right now! It can be. Pray this with me...

Father, thank you for Your truth. That you truly desire to set me free. I so long to be free. I admit I cannot set myself free. I have tried and failed. You alone are life and freedom for my heart. Thank you for sending your Son, my Lord Jesus Christ, as the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Thank you that in Him, I can have an abundant life here and now.

Father, I confess to you my sin of (name what has held you in bondage. Be specific!) to You. I know you did not design me to be bound by these things. It has taken energy that was meant for worship of You, study of Your Word, and work in Your service. It has divided my mind and my heart. I know I cannot serve two masters. I confess the sin and, according to 1John 1:9, I know that as I confess my sin, you will forgive me and cleanse me from all unrighteousness. Help me to walk and live in that forgiveness. Help me to reconcile with those I’ve hurt because of my sin. Help me to understand the authority I have in You to overcome all the power of the enemy. Grant me the grace to live in that authority with an even greater abandon than when I lived in my sin. Thank you that I am free. Here and now. The blood of Jesus washes me from all sin. I am truly free in You.

If you prayed that, I’d love to hear about it. Either leave a comment here or, if you’d like to be more discrete, you can e-mail me at absolutelydarren@hotmail.com. I’d also love to assist you in getting some help - seeking out a counselor or a church that can give you the love and support you need. Freedom is not as far away as you think. It can be yours. But you have to fight for it. And you don’t have to fight alone.

Walk with God. Talk to you soon.

We’ll start talking about Father’s Day next time around.