No Secrets in a Marriage?

Before I met her, my wife worked as a magician’s assistant. That’s not the set-up for a story, it’s really true.

Shortly after we were married, I asked her about the routine and she mentioned one particular illusion, and I asked her how they did it.

David & Kylie Knight are Christian magicians who would never sue me for using this photo image. Learn more about them here.

She wouldn’t tell me.

The ability to maintain a confidence is a great character trait to possess, but we were married, right? There’s no secrets in a marriage, right? Surely she could tell me, couldn’t she?

But she flatly refused. The more I kept grilling her, the more she stated that she had promised not to reveal the secret to anyone, and it was a promise she intended to keep.

And this was before the internet.

I was angry. I got up and went for a walk in the ravine. (Our apartment overlooked a beautiful river valley, but there was trouble in paradise that day!)

Fast forward 30 years…

…We were talking about magic acts somehow last night, and I asked her if the trick in question was one she would perform back in the day. It was.

So then I asked her how it’s done.

You guessed it; 30 years later we were having the same conversation and she still refused to tell me how the illusion is performed.

“You know that Penn and Teller probably have a video on this?” I reminded her.

But her loyalty to her promise, made back in the 1980s still held for her, and she wasn’t about to break that promise last night.

…I realize there are pastors who are told things in confidence that are told to them in the church office which cannot be shared. But I would think that a good percentage of these pastors use their spouse as a sounding board to either get an additional perspective or decompress from an intense counselling session. I would also equally recognize that it’s more in the DNA of some pastors to simply not burden their spouse with the information that would come with sharing.

I’ve been told things, and on occasion, before the words are out of the person’s mouth, I will say, “I will keep the confidence, but can I share it with my wife?” Most, some of whom know her, will say yes.

And as it turns out they don’t need to worry about information leaks from her, since apparently a secret with her is safe. For life. With everyone.

I still want to know how they do the trick, but more than that, I wish she would just tell me.

Magicians, eh?

I hear we’re having rabbit stew for dinner.

Empathy: The Helper’s Most Powerful Asset

Some of you will remember that years ago I posited the idea that the reader who focuses only on the latest books would do better to alternate between current releases and classics. When opportunity presents itself, I like to get my hands on books which have been proven bestsellers.

Book Review: The Wounded Healer by Henri Nouwen

I can’t tell you how many copies of this book I’ve handled but had never actually flipped the pages until this weekend. Realizing that it was only 100 pages made the prospect of reading this a relatively simple task and I actually competed it in a single sitting.

The book’s title is a bit of a spoiler, not to mention that the book is often mentioned in sermons and lectures. Still, the idea of the “wounded healer” really doesn’t really come into focus until the last of the four chapters.

A Wikipedia search reveals that Nouwen — pronounced NOW-in — “was a Dutch Catholic priest, professor, writer and theologian. His interests were rooted primarily in psychology, pastoral ministry, spirituality, social justice and community. Over the course of his life, Nouwen was heavily influenced by the work of Anton Boisen, Thomas Merton, Rembrandt, Vincent van Gogh and Jean Vanier. After nearly two decades of teaching at academic institutions including the University of Notre Dame, Yale Divinity School and Harvard Divinity School, Nouwen went on to work with mentally and physically handicapped people at the L’Arche Daybreak community in Richmond Hill, Ontario.”

Six years ago, we ran a collection of Nouwen quotations at Christianity 201.

At first I thought the book might be simply a collection of four disconnected essays. I was unsure where he was going with his first chapter, a description of ‘beat generation’ youth. (I created that term from the subsequent chapter where Nouwen quotes “an English beat group.” His actual term for the composite person in the case study is “Nuclear Man.”) Though the book was written in 1979, I thought one observation in that chapter was particularly applicable to us today, namely the idea that the young care more about what their peers think than what their parents might think. He sees such a person as having three major life options.

Once I got into the second chapter I began to see where the cohesiveness of the book was beginning to take hold. Again, though written nearly 40 years ago, it was interesting to note the parallels between the three characteristics of what he might term ‘next generation’ youth, and what is written today about Millennials.  

The third chapter was for me the most poignant. A young theology student visits a middle-aged man in hospital awaiting surgery the next day. His exchange with the man, although pleasant, doesn’t really offer much in the way of connection or hope. He returns to his chaplaincy supervisor and replays the visit word-for-word, and it as that point he — and we observers — are struck by the enormity of the failure in giving the man the desire to continue into tomorrow and beyond.  

The final chapter is in some represents the book’s title song; where the idea of the compassion and empathy needed is really driven home. It’s at this point I realized how this book has become a bestseller for so long. 

Some readers, especially Evangelicals, will wish the book was more Jesus-centric. There’s a line early in the book where a minister is told, “If, instead of reading your Bible, you had visited this young man just once and looked into his eyes, you would have known.” I can see how that, especially here out of context, could really grate on some people. However, Nouwen’s popularity today seems to be relatively the same between Catholic and non-Catholic readers. While book excerpts and quotations abound online, a good place to begin would be to check out The Henri Nouwen Society.

 

Counseling the Counselor

This first appeared in January, 2008 at Internet Monk and was re-posted yesterday. It would be great if you read it at source by clicking the title below.

Fridays with Michael Spencer: Jan 6, 2017

by the late Michael Spencer

Note: The following incident is fictionalized from real experience.

I look at my watch. It’s time for a counseling appointment. I clear my desk, bring in the extra chairs and wait.

My appointment arrives and the conversation begins. This is a first time conversation, with someone I don’t know. I spend a lot of time listening. Then questions. More listening. I try to put what I’m hearing into some kind of order; to make some kind of helpful response.

I’m not a quick thinker. My feelings are always way out in front of my thoughts. So I have to be cautious in counseling to be sure I’m doing what’s needed and helpful.

My counselee says the conversation has been helpful. He leaves. It’s been an hour and fifteen minutes. Longer than I like, but not unusual for a first conversation.

What did I hear? I heard what it means to do the best with what you have, as God brings all things into himself through Jesus Christ.

I hear about a broken marriage. Silence. Distance. Public pretense. I hear about broken children. The fear of what’s next and the impact of what has already been. I hear about ministry; a ministry that goes on under stress that’s unimaginable to me.

I hear about faith and its stumbling steps to do what is right. I hear of guilt, the certain knowledge that one has fallen short. I hear the cry for restoration of broken relationships; the longing for Christian community and the church to be what family and friends have failed to be.

I hear about secrets and the reluctance to speak of them. I hear of the learned response of looking away; the habit of staying busy; of attending to “real life” and never looking at the inner world. I hear of the pain of sin’s lingering work, its blindness creating deception and its deep roots that drive us away from God, others and even ourselves.

I hear of persistent belief in God, prayer, the Bible, the work of the Spirit. I hear the ache for a pronouncement of forgiveness.

I hear the mystery of God’s call to be a servant and a minister when life is broken. I hear the mystery of God’s presence in the midst of brokenness that is not healed and darkness that does not lift. Yet, I hear of love for others and a simple, loyal, persistent love for Jesus and for the people Jesus loved.

I hear about doing the best you can with what you have, even when what you have is broken, wounded and bleeding from our human frailties and cruelties.

The world loves to point out hypocrisy among Christians. I want to point out the inexplicable, amazing absurdity of people who continue on with Jesus when any rational, reasonable person would abandon all hope. Of course, love is not reasonable or rational. Love suffers long, all the while rejoicing in the truth.

If you are a person who believes that all ministers and their families are picture postcards, let me break this to you gently: many ministers and their families are living in hell, and you don’t know it. Perhaps right in front of you. For them, the ride to church to face you may have filled them with fear that somehow you might see past their facade and into the failure and hurt.

The tendency these days is to project the image of the minister as young, absurdly happy, socially perfect and free from care and hang-ups. In fact, many ministers are living lives of pain and facing situations that would make you wince, if not curse. The price of being the shepherd of Christ is often high; so high ordinary persons could seldom stand to see it.

Perhaps some Christians are masochists. Or truly warped from being around so much need and paying too little attention to their own lives. I cannot say what is motivating an individual person to carry burdens that would break others, and do to it for the sake of Christ, his gospel and his church.

Part of me wants to say “Go fix your marriage. Be 100% available to your kids. Let the ministry go for a while.” That’s probably very good advice.

But another part of me senses that brokenness is part of ministry, and it is not for me to say to God or another person what forms of brokenness should stop the show, and what others can be carried on and through.

I do know that my eyes are opened, again and again, to the immense pain that surrounds me in the Christian family. So many of God’s servants are hurting in their body, families, marriages and in ways I cannot label or identify.

Yet these are some of God’s best servants and most Christ-filled saints. Some of his most useful, loving people. The crucible does not need to be approved by me or you to be effective. God chooses his own instruments, preparing, sharpening and equipping them as He chooses. His agenda is Jesus. Mine would be comfort, wholeness, happiness and so forth, with Jesus as the end result. God is only interested in making us like Jesus.

So the cross, and the instruments of crucified glory, are his doing. I am a listener; an observer.

I bow my head and pray for what I’ve heard and seen. I will do so many times in the future as I realize I am watching, in the midst of pain, a kind of holiness that is only a rumor for me.

We do the best with what we have given to us, or what we have left over or with what still works after the latest wreck. And God forms Christ in us, brings Christ through us, glorifies Christ in us and all in all.

In such colors, the Spirit paints the Incarnation every day, and presents the painting to the Father. And each picture looks more and more like the Jesus we have never seen with our eyes.

Or have we?

 

Bicycles, Mental Health, and Life at Our House

The secret algorithm of repeated articles on this blog is that every new month I give myself permission to re-post items that appeared in the same month. Usually I go back several years, but if I feel something was important it might get reused as soon as 12 months later. This particular article represented some major stuff we were dealing with at this time a year ago… Today I’m happy to report that for the most part, things resolved and we’ve moved on.

---

More than a dozen years ago, we woke up one morning to discover a pair of children’s bicycles had been left at the foot of our driveway. After giving the kids 24-hours to retrieve them, we realized they were probably stolen, and since the municipal police here deal with stolen bikes — and twice-yearly auction off unclaimed ones — we told them to come and get them.

When the officer arrived, he started asking questions; a lot of questions as it turned out. I know that in a criminal investigation, everyone should be considered a possible suspect, but the absurdity of proposing that a community leader with no previous record should suddenly steal children’s bicycles and call the police about it was more than I could bear.

“You think I stole the bikes?” I asked him.

“Well, we don’t know;” he replied.

To the best of my knowledge, this is a cold case. For all I know my name is in a file somewhere under “suspected bike thieves.”

=O=O=

Two weeks ago my son found himself in a very difficult situation. He was trying to help someone who clearly was experiencing some behavioral, psychological issues. That’s really all I need to say about it. At the same time however, he realized how little he could do to help, which was draining him physically and emotionally, and as parents, we decided to step in and help him escalate awareness of the situation to a point where there would be some resolution.

But in the days that followed, the issue became less about the other student at the university, and more about my son and his response to it. I think that, not realizing the severity of the toll it was taking on my son, they felt he should have just ‘rolled with the punches’ or ‘risen above the circumstances’ or in some other way not be defeated by what has taking place.

While there’s some universal truth to that principle, I realized, in the course of a 40-minute phone call from the university administration that they felt that he stole the bicycles, so to speak, and today, their perception of the true problem probably has less to do with the problems the other student faces, and more about my son’s reaction.

=O=O=

I haven’t read it, but there’s a book out called When Helping Hurts. Putting yourself in the middle of a situation — or having no choice — is always difficult, and sometimes the other person experiences complete recovery but you now bear the battle scars. I can’t promise you that nobody is going to leave bicycles on your lawn or cross your path with psychological problems, but I can almost guarantee that someday you’ll find yourself caught up in a issue not of your own making, and have to reap the consequences of your involvement. It happens

=O=O=

There’s a rule in writing this kind of essay that you don’t suddenly introduce another analogy at the end, but I couldn’t help but add that my wife likened my son’s experience to a man who goes out into the river to save his dog, only to drown himself.

Sometimes the weight of personal or social or corporate responsibility pulls you under.

On Bicycles and Mental Health

More than a dozen years ago, we woke up one morning to discover a pair of children’s bicycles had been left at the foot of our driveway. After giving the kids 24-hours to retrieve them, we realized they were probably stolen, and since the municipal police here deal with stolen bikes — and twice-yearly auction off unclaimed ones — we told them to come and get them.

When the officer arrived, he started asking questions; a lot of questions as it turned out. I know that in a criminal investigation, everyone should be considered a possible suspect, but the absurdity of proposing that a community leader with no previous record should suddenly steal children’s bicycles and call the police about it was more than I could bear.

“You think I stole the bikes?” I asked him.

“Well, we don’t know;” he replied.

To the best of my knowledge, this is a cold case. For all I know my name is in a file somewhere under “suspected bike thieves.”

=O=O=

Two weeks ago my son found himself in a very difficult situation. He was trying to help someone who clearly was experiencing some behavioral issues. That’s really all I need to say about it. At the same time however, he realized how little he could do to help, which was draining him physically and emotionally, and as parents, we decided to step in and help him escalate awareness of the situation to a point where there would be some resolution.

But in the days that followed, the issue became less about the other student at the university, and more about my son and his response to it. I think that, not realizing the severity of the toll it was taking on my son, they felt he should have just ‘rolled with the punches’ or ‘risen above the circumstances’ or in some other way not be defeated by what has taking place.

While there’s some universal truth to that principle, I realized, in the course of a 40-minute phone call from the university administration that they felt that he stole the bicycles, so to speak, and today, their perception of the true problem probably has less to do with the problems the other student faces, and more about my son’s reaction.

=O=O=

I haven’t read it, but there’s a book out called When Helping Hurts. Putting yourself in the middle of a situation — or having no choice — is always difficult, and sometimes the other person experiences complete recovery but you now bear the battle scars. I can’t promise you that nobody is going to leave bicycles on your lawn or cross your path with psychological problems, but I can almost guarantee that someday you’ll find yourself caught up in a issue not of your own making, and have to reap the consequences of your involvement. It happens

=O=O=

There’s a rule in writing this kind of essay that you don’t suddenly introduce another analogy at the end, but I couldn’t help but add that my wife likened my son’s experience to a man who goes out into the river to save his dog, only to drown himself.

Sometimes the weight of personal or social or corporate responsibility pulls you under.

Wednesday Link List

Our opening graphic, “Biblical Disaster,” is from an Auckland, New Zealand artist, Glenn Jones.  Click the link to see more.   Our closing graphic is proof that some book covers are simply funnier in Spanish.

Once again, we continue our symphony of shortcuts to articles and stories you may have missed. BTW, I do check comments both at my blog and Out of Ur; so let me know what you think of the mid-week madness. 

Click to read this week’s links at Out of Ur, the blog of Leadership Journal, a division of Christianity Today.

• “Leading Sunday worship — the thing [clergy and lay leaders] know how to do, were trained to do and want earnestly to do better — simply isn’t as important as it used to be, and it isn’t where they need to be devoting so much time.” Time to rethink Sunday morning.
• If nobody is singing, longtime members are upset, and attendance is spotty; a North Point affiliated pastor in Canada suggests you might be doing everything right…
• …On the other hand, some reasons why it’s important that we do sing together.
• “One of the reasons why Chaplains and Christian groups are so accepted in [UK] prisons is that the value of what the Christian faith can offer to those whose lives are a mess is fully appreciated.” The church and restorative justice.
• On the spot counseling: How would you answer a young man requesting prayer for a pornography addition? Or a couple living together who feel they are spiritually married?
• I ended up doing a blog post on this TV station investigation of a west coast group that prefers faith healing to the practice of medicine; so it got left off last week’s link list. But you need to read this continuing story of recurring names on the cemetery plots of young children.
• Interview of the Week: With the “Pastor of Witch City.”
• This one is somewhat extreme: Touched off the the controversy surrounding Steven Furtick’s new house, here are ten instances where you might stop giving. (Which is an abridged version of this article.)
• Based on 12,000 court rulings from last year, here are the top five categories of lawsuits against churches…
• …And a U.S. federal judge has ruled that the clergy housing allowance — worth up to 10% of pastors’ paychecks — may be unconstitutional.
• An advocate for small churches suggests you can do more with less, something he teaches as The Closet Rule.
• Essay of the Week: The afterlife belief systems of tadpoles and butterflies.
• Some thoughts on the aftermath of moral failure; a very close-up look at what happens next.
• On my own blog this week: The attention of the world was focused on the antics of Toronto Mayor Rob Ford, but not all mayors in Canada’s largest city are painted with the same brush. This one played a pivotal role in the founding of a denomination.
• Here are five suggested local church spending priorities for the new year. The writer talks about “expenses that will push the ministry forward.” Do you agree with these?
• And here are five things that are often mistaken for evangelism, but aren’t evangelism.
• The Heaven is for Real movie, based on the bestselling book by Todd Burpo, is set to open in theaters on Easter weekend.
• After the YouTube success of Beatbox Christmas, Gavin Tyte has pushed through the rest of the Gospel of Luke, and the hip-hop scripts are online. (“One time a professor set Jesus to the test / On a quest the pious expert in the holy law expressed / Life eternal is my aim and I wanna inherit / Yo Teacher, I beseech ya, tell me how can I get it?”)
• Ligonier Ministries, an organization founded by R. C. Sproul has introduced Blueprint, an online discipleship tool for local churches.
• Do you have to follow the teachings of Jacob Arminius if you are to be considered Arminian? (Or do we know exactly what he believed?)
• 2,600 comments and counting at Time magazine? All because Costco put a “fiction” sticker on one particular Bible edition? (Sample: “You can bet that if this was the Qur’an the Costco people would have to go into protective custody.”)
• Science meets Religion: A University of Finland study reveals that “atheists get sweaty” when daring God.
• Shortest article in this week’s links: We say we’re inclusive, but in so doing, we’re using the language of power and control.
• Another picture of Pope Francis with a very disfigured man. A picture that’s hard to forget.
• How to tell if it’s time to quit blogging. (He’s not talking to me, is he? What makes you think he’s talking to me? Who’s getting defensive?)
• Parenting Corner: This time, for parents of teens, a physician offers five solid principles.
• Kid Min Corner: The maker of last week’s Bible Jeopardy game has one for the under-13 set.
• Don’t forget, just four weeks today we celebrate our Savior’s birth with crass commercialism. Why not give a couple of these?

The rest of the week, Paul Wilkinson rants at Thinking Out Loud, and assumes a much more pious posture at Christianity 201.

Self Editing: Careful Monitoring of What You Say

My oldest son made an interesting comment about a speaker we heard recently:  “I appreciated what she had to say, but she doesn’t self-edit.”   Self-editing involves that little 2.3 milliseconds between what your brain is thinking, and the actual movement of your lips.   It’s a brief allowance in time for you to decide what you’re about to say is not really in your best interests.   The wisdom to make this decision might arise from maybe reading a little book called Proverbs.

It happens all the time…

• the husband who knows how to answer when his wife asks, “Does this make me look fat?”
• the car dealer who is careful not to let slip that the $11,000 used car only fetched its previous owner $2,000 as a trade-in
• the gift recipient who doesn’t want to admit that she already has two George Foreman grills; neither one out of the box
• the student who doesn’t want to tell her math teacher that he has bits of his lunch on his sport jacket

…and other situations of that ilk.

What I’ve found is that sometimes we are more careful to avoid potentially awkward situations than we to avoid ones that are more blatantly hurtful.  In other words, we’re more likely to censor ourselves, or if you prefer the term, self-edit, for reasons other than those that would cause direct pain.

Maybe we think the amended adage “Sticks and stones may break your bones but names will never hurt you” is true.   But neither it nor its original version comes close to the truth.   Names do hurt, and they cause damage that causes people to shut down socially, or even end up in counseling for years following the hurt.

I am always amazed that otherwise seemingly intelligent people are capable of self-editing in so many different business, educational and social situations, but lack the grace to stop their mouths in situations where they are clearly bringing hurt to someone else.

Why do they do this?

There are a number of reasons, but one of them might be that they believe that certain people are impervious to pain and injury.

And one of the groups they believe fit this category is pastors, clergy,  and people generally in ministry.   We believe they are tough enough to take a lot of pain, take a lot of pain, our words are like a cloud, bring a lot of rain.  (Wow! I should copyright that line.)   We believe that something in their seminary training gave them rhinoceros hides — skin so thick that nothing can injure them.   We believe that as God’s representatives on earth they will just smile and nod and continue to say, “God bless you.”

Well it ain’t so.

Pastors and ministry workers are people, too.   They have their own spiritual life which can be devastated by insensitive remarks.   They have their own spiritual formation happening.   If anything, their profession leaves them more vulnerable to hurt.

And they cry.

Ministry profile has its price; and some of that is increased sensitivity to careless remarks or outright criticism.   Some pastors would gladly shed the large round target that is apparently painted on all their vestments.

But for all of us, in every situation, and every type of interaction, it begins with a heightened self-editing mechanism that is set to monitor potential hurt.

Several months ago, someone in ministry I know was dealt an unexpected blow that was actually quite calculated on the part of the perpetrator, who was out to prove a point, and out to accomplish an objective, but never thought to monitor for potential long-term damage. In carrying out their crusade, the perpetrator had a billion times more than the normal 2.3 milliseconds, but never bothered to self-edit themselves.

The recipient of their words is still hurting.

Related post on this blog:  Words Matter.

Another related post: Easy To Be Hard.

Who is Qualified to Save a Life?

Tyler didn’t mind cleaning up the pool change rooms so much as he minded doing it alone.   The lifeguards and other pool staff always left him to finish up; and although they didn’t really talk to him much, they at least considered him responsible enough to have a key to the building.

The plan was that by working as the evening janitor he had an “in” to get one of the coveted positions as a lifeguard.   There was always a lot of turnover as many of the guards went out of town to college, but there was also a lot of competition for positions as they became available, so the janitor strategy had a lot of merit.  As a lifeguard, he’d be part of their crowd, and would get to go out for fast food with them after closing time.

He had passed all the swimming tests with flying colors, but had found out two days prior that he came up one right answer short on the written part of the lifesaving test required by the state.   It was a crushing defeat.  It would be at least a month now before he could redo the exam, and it would be known that he failed the first attempt.   Tyler wondered if other applicants who passed lifesaving the first time out would look better than the guy who had been “doing time” on cleanup, but didn’t pass the exam straightaway.    He felt like he just didn’t measure up, and he wondered if the guards at the burger place were talking about his failing the written part of the test.

Running the damp mop back and forth on the concrete floor of the restroom part of the guys’ change area was the worst.   Little boys didn’t seem to care where the pee landed, but eventually the pungent smell of urine gave way to the pungent smell of chlorine bleach.   Tyler wasn’t too sure which was worse, but the floor was complete, although it was far from sterile.

As he put the bucket and mop away in the utility closet he noticed the little girl in the pool area.   There had been a problem with teenagers sneaking over the fence on hot nights, but this was different because (a) she was much younger, (b) she couldn’t possibly vault the fence, (c) it wasn’t yet sunset, and (d) she was by herself.

Using the railing and steps she was halfway into the water when he yelled out at her, “How did you get in here?”

She pointed at a small bend in the bottom of the fence near the shallow end.   He’d seen it before and a small dog had gotten in once, but never did anyone figure a human could do what this girl had done without getting cut or badly scratched.

By now she was up to her neck.   Tyler figured her for about eight years old.   “You’re breaking the law by breaking in here, and besides, swimming alone is just plain stupid.   Time to go.”

She turned around and started up the pool stairs.

Tyler locked the bleach in the chemical cupboard and then locked the utility cupboard.   Since the girl hadn’t come inside the building, he figured he’d watch to see how see would exit back through the bent chain link fence.

But she wasn’t there.

He went to lock the door, but realized he needed to make sure she wasn’t hiding behind the outdoor cupboard used to store pool noodles and flutter boards.    That’s when he noticed her, face down in the deep end, not moving.   He thought he saw some blood coming from her head, and figured she had slipped getting out — or had jumped back in for a defiant full immersion — even though he hadn’t heard a scream or a splash.

He knew right away what he had to do, but for one brief moment he considered the possibility that he was a failure at lifesaving.   That he was unqualified.   That he wasn’t good enough. That the state deemed him unfit at the skill immediately required.   However the moment passed when he considered that he was the only hope the little girl had.  He kicked off his sandals and jumped in.

…All around us there are people in need of rescue.    But too many times, Christ-followers refuse to jump in to help because they are too conscious of their own inadequacies.   Too cognizant of the times they have failed.   Too often reminded of the tests they faced in the past where they came up one right answer short.

If holiness, or more accurately sanctification is sinless perfection, they await for the day they will achieve it, or at least something close.  Something better than the current condition of their heart.   “Then;” they say, “I will be fit for this area of service, or that area of public ministry, or that type of personal evangelism.”   “Then;” they figure, “I will be the kind of person who is qualified to provide counsel to someone who is need.”

Until then, they pass on opportunities to become engaged in the rescue process.   They face that moment of hesitation like Tyler did, but instead of kicking off their sandals, they decide that nobody’s life is hanging in the balance at that exact moment,  and besides, there are people who are able to do a better job of it.

Guess what?   People need your help right now.

Paul Wilkinson

Classic Reading: Damaged Emotions

from Healing for Damaged Emotions by David Seamands If you visit the far west, you will see those beautiful giant sequoia and redwood trees. In most of the parks, the naturalists can show you a cross-section of a great tree they have cut and point out that the rings of the tree reveal the development history year-by-year. Here’s a ring that represents a year when there was terrible drought. Here a couple of rings from years when there was too much rain. Here’s where the tree was struck by lightning. Here are some normal years of growth. This ring shows a forest fire that almost destroyed the tree. Here’s another of savage blight and disease. All of this lies embedded in the heart of the tree representing the autobiography of its growth. And that’s the way it is with us. Just a few minutes beneath the protective bark, the concealing protective mask, are recorded the rings of our lives. There are scars of ancient, painful hurts… the discoloration of a tragic stain that muddied all of life… the pressure of a painful, repressed memory. Such scars have been buried in pain for so long that they are causing hurt and rage that are inexplicable. In the rings of our thoughts and emotions the record is there; the memories are recorded and all are alive. And they directly and deeply affect our concepts, our feelings, our relationships. They affect the way we look at life, and God, at others and ourselves.

This book was published in 1991 by Chariot Victor (div. of David C. Cook) and is still recommended by counselors today. The book is now available in 15 different languages.

Sexual Abuse Hits Home

I make no effort to change or modify the story which follows:

The woman came into our store today seeking resources.    Her 14-year old son has sexually abused her 6-year old daughter.    End of story.   Where do you start with that one?

I wasn’t at the store, but fortunately both of the sales associates on shift today have training in counseling.   The one who served her, I’m sure, would do as good or better than I would have done in her position, and she also consulted with the other at one point.

I was called by telephone to suggest resources.    There are tons of books of sexual abuse available to Christian bookstores.   Almost all of them are written to adults.   She wanted a book for the 6-year old.   I could find only one My Body Is Special: A Family Book About Sexual Abuse part of the Elf-Help-For-Kids series from Abbey Press.

But then, the big request; she wanted a book for the 14-year old.

He did a very bad thing.   I’m not sure that book has been published yet.   I’m not sure he would read it.

Tonight I wrote back to my staff member who served the woman this morning.   I reiterated what I said by phone earlier, namely that the 14-year old, without any doubt, has been affected by online pornography; and unless that is dealt with, he will, without any doubt, act out again on what he is seeing online.

If you haven’t read my online book on this subject, in one chapter I mention that there are people producing pornographic websites aimed directly at teens which have a particular agenda:  breaking the incest taboo.   Making what we have, for generations, considered wrong to be acceptable and desirable.   That’s been in the book since it was first written and first posted online, but I’ve never said it here.

Now I have.

But I will accept book suggestions for either child if you have any.    Both of my staff members encouraged the woman that what was needed right now was live, in-person counseling, not merely books.