The most embarrassing thing I’ve done… this week… so far

The most embarrassing thing I’ve done… this week… so far

Monday morning.

I’m rather proud that I’m getting an early start on my lengthy one mile commute to the office.

Briefcase packed, cell phone in my purse, jacket on – I’m ready to go.

Except I can’t find my keys.

keysI usually put them on a coat rack just inside the door. They’re not there. They didn’t fall to the floor beneath the rack. I check my pants pockets. I paw through the dirty clothes to check the pockets of the clothes I was wearing the previous night.

I check the kitchen counters. The dresser in the bedroom. I check in every room of the house and then I do it all over again. No keys.

By now it’s time for my first client who, thankfully, is running behind herself.

As I try to figure out the mystery of the missing keys (thank you, Nancy Drew) my hand brushes against the vest I’m wearing. It’s a cute vest, and being as it’s from Eddie Bauer, it has lots of pockets.

One of which holds my keys.

I still beat my client to the office and all is well.

Later I thought about what a great life parable that was. We search high and low for something while in reality, it’s been with us all along.

We read a hundred self help books. We talk endlessly with friends and family and coaches and therapists, all in a quest to find that missing something.

Direction. Peace. Hope.

The great family therapist Virginia Satir was completely flummoxed after World War II. She began seeing people who’d survived Hitler’s camps. She was overwhelmed by their stories and felt completely helpless to help them. She thought about it and meditated on it and even prayed about it.

What could she offer to them?

One day she realized that she’d gotten it all wrong. She felt helpless in helping the victims of those camps but in truth, they were survivors. If they didn’t have some kernel of strength inside they wouldn’t have made it through, much less making it to her office.

Her job was to help them reconnect to that strength. Her job was to reconnect them with what they already had inside but had just forgotten.

(If there is a single story that guides my work as a therapist, it’s this one. If you’re able to make an appointment and make it into my office, you have more strength inside you than you know)

We run hither and yon looking for answers but never take the time to stop, be still and listen to our own voice of wisdom. We’ve gotten disconnected from that voice through the years, or maybe we never had a chance to connect in the first place.

If you want to start listening, journaling is a great way to start. Ask that wisdom to write a letter to you, and see what it says.

You may need someone else to help you listen, whether a wise friend or good therapist. We learn early on to discount our own wisdom so it helps to have someone who can provide a different perspective. Or tell us if we really are full of it.

What keys have you tucked away in your pocket? 


Need some inspiration for your reflection? I’ve just launched a Kindle version of my devotional book, Strugglers, Stragglers and seekers: daily devotions for the rest of us.

If you order by February 14, you can save $3.00. Find out more here.

Thanksgiving in the rear view mirror

Thanksgiving in the rear view mirror

The leftover turkey is transformed to hash stage and the last of the dessert is gone. But before we leave Thanksgiving completely, I share with you a Thanksgiving sermon… about not leaving Thanksgiving completely.

The Responsibility of Gratitude
Deuteronomy 15:7-15
I Corinthians 11:17-34

Have you ever been a part of the start of something new?
A new company.
A new organization.
A new club.
Even a new division.

If you have, you know that there a thousand decisions to be made.
Earlier in my ministry
I served on the boards of several groups
that were just getting started
or were still very young.

Oh my, there are so many decisions to be made.
Bylaws.
Officers.
Voting procedures.
And let’s not forget…..
budgets.

Like building a house
you have to figure out everything from scratch.

Why are we doing it this way and not that?
Do we need to improve upon the old models
or create something new?

Moses was the leader of a group
in such a situation.

With the immediate danger of Egypt and the Pharaoh behind them,
they had to figure out how they were going to live
as free people.

That’s a lot of what the book of Deuteronomy is about,
about how a rag tag bunch of escaped slaves become a people.

Part of these bylaws was a provision for the sabbath year..
Every seven years the land was to lie fallow, a sabbath for the earth.
Debts were to be cancelled. Slaves were to be set free.

Now we could spend our time in this text
thinking about best practices for our earth
or the conversation between economics and theology.
Instead I want to keep moving forward
to the last verses of this text.
The reason why they were to do these things.
“For you were once slaves in Egypt.”

You free your slaves and treat them
with justice and kindness
because you were once on the other side.
You knew what it was like
to have harsh taskmasters
demanding more bricks
with less straw.
You knew what it was like to cry out to God,
to cry from your bones
for something, anything.
For freedom.

We were once slaves
and with a strong hand and mighty arm
God brought us out from Egypt.

This is why you do what you do.
Not because it’s a good idea for interpersonal relations.
Not because it will make you a swell person.
But because you’ve been there.

You know that ring of authenticity, don’t you –
That realness that comes
when someone’s been there.

When I did my clinical pastoral education residency,
they told a story to us
about another student in another time.

It was back in the days when
they still delivered babies at Baptist hospital.

This chaplain was called to check in on a woman who’d had a particularly difficult delivery,
hours upon hours
of agonizing labor.
The chaplain came in the room,
introduced himself,
sat down by the bed,
took the patient’s hand
and in his most gentle, pastoral voice said,
“Mrs. Smith, I know just how you feel.”

This being a chapel of worship
I will not repeat verbatim
what she said,
but it was to the effect that he really didn’t know
and would never know.

“You do this for your slaves,” the book of Deuteronomy says,
“because you were once slaves in Egypt.”

Granted,
this is not the most popular text
for a Thanksgiving service.
In fact,
I may be the first preacher in the history of Thanksgiving
to use it as such.

But as I thought about this sermon I kept coming back to that phrase…
“for you were once slaves in Egypt.”

We like our Thanksgiving celebrations
a bit contained.
Many of us will celebrate tomorrow.
Some will go for the reduced scheduling conflict
of getting together this weekend.
But come Monday
we’ll have the sense of having Thanksgiving
behind us.

On the other hand,
the biblical witness is clear
that Thanksgiving isn’t a day we celebrate
but a determining factor in how we live.

We were once slaves,
and the Lord brought us out with a strong and mighty arm,
and because of that,
we live differently.

We cannot offer one hand in thanksgiving to God
and close the other hand to God’s other children.

I’m not talking here just of a Thanksgiving food drive,
as important a they are.
In my own church last Sunday
we filled the altar with bags of groceries that will help
sustain the needy in our community.

No, I’m talking about what we do
the next week and the next and the next.
How we treat those who are despised and rejected.
How we take the time to see
those who are invisible.
How we seek kind hearts
in an age where the prevailing wind is a mean wind.

You see, we were once slaves in Egypt.

Now perhaps you have had a golden life.
You’ve never despised yet felt beholden to an addiction
or felt lost in your grief
or wondered how you were going
to pay the power bill this month
or waited out an endless dark night of the soul.

Still,you join in the song…
We were once slaves in Egypt.

For there is not a one of us present
and not a one of us on the planet
who has done enough
and done it well enough
to earn the boundless love of God.
It’s why we call it grace.

Because we were slaves…
because we were flawed,
stumbling,
soaring,
struggling,
seeking,
sinning,
sometimes compassionate
and sometimes clueless
children of God,
and God reached out
and welcomed us home,
that is why we are thankful.

And that is why we must be different.

Paul said as much to the church in Corinth.

In some traditions the Lord’s Supper
is known as the eucharist,
after eucharisto – he gave thanks.

He took the bread, and after giving thanks…

Some people in Corinth
were treating the Supper
like an all you can eat buffet
and they were coming hungry.

They filled their plates
and their bellies.

As a result,
there was none left for those who came later.

By the time some folks got there
others were full
and some of them were drunk.
And there wasn’t always enough
for all of God’s children to share.

It should not be so in the body of Christ,
Paul said.

This isn’t a place
to get as much as you can get for yourself,
forgetting your brothers and sisters.

“Do you show contempt for the church of God
and humiliate those who have nothing?” (11:22)

Having given thanks, he took the bread and broke it.
Having given thanks,
we share the bread with all of God’s children –
the bread of sustenance for our stomachs,
the bread of hope for our spirits,
the bread of kindness for our neighbors,
the bread of welcome for those
whom we’d rather not call neighbor,
the cup of grace for the broken places in all of us,
the cup of gratitude for all we have been given
and all the roads we have traveled through,
the cup of comfort for grieving hearts
the cup of the waters of mercy and justice
that still long to flow
like a never ending stream..

Tomorrow night
after the leftovers have been divvied up
and the dishes have been washed
and sleepy children put to bed,
thanks giving will not be done.

For you were once slaves in Egypt.
For you, his body was broken.
We were all once slaves in Egypt.
For all of us his body was broken.
Thanks be to God.
With our very lives we declare,
Thanks be to God.

 

copyright Peggy Haymes
November 23, 2016

If you only had faith…

It’s enough to break my heart.

worried womanMy client sits across from me and admits that they’re sure that God hates them or is angry with them or is ready to give up on them. Because they’re anxious. Because they’re depressed.

And well, if they were just a better Christian they wouldn’t feel this way.

Which, of course, is poppycock. Usually (but not always) I say it in nicer ways. It’s just not true. God doesn’t base grace on how chipper we are, which is one of the reasons that it’s called grace. As Frederick Buechner once said, we don’t have to do a blessed thing and that’s the blessedness of it.

Still, if you’re a Christian and you battle anxiety, it’s hard not to feel a little guilty for it After all, there’s that whole “the Bible says ‘Fear not’ 365 times so you have one for each day” picture on Pinterest. You know you shouldn’t feel anxious.

But you do.

We don’t help our anxiety by beating ourselves up for being anxious. If anything, that fuels the fire. We do help ourselves when we can take a step back to understand it, to pay attention to what’s going on in our spirits and in our brain. Once we understand it, we can use tools for changing it.

 

God loves us anyway: Thinking about Will Campbell

Will Campbell
Will Campbell
(Picture courtesy of The Tennessean)

I’ve been thinking about Will Campbell recently.

If you aren’t familiar with Will, he was the campus chaplain when Ole Miss was integrated and was a courageous voice for civil rights. He was a writer, Brother To a Dragonfly being his best known book. He was also tour chaplain for Waylon Jennings and inspiration for cartoonist Doug Marlette’s Will B. Dunn  character in the Kudzu comic strip.

I had the good fortune to hear Will when I was a student at Furman. I don’t remember what he said in the Wednesday morning lecture series but I’ll never forget the Tuesday evening gathering with Religion majors and other ministerially minded folks. (We used to get Tuesday night exclusives with the Wednesday speakers, followed by a cheese and cracker reception.)

During this reception one of our more conservative students engaged Will in an argument. As the argument escalated the rest of us started circling them, high noon style. The student, Chuck, called Will the worst thing he could think of – a communist. Will called Chuck a damned liar.

We collectively held our breath for the next volley. Some of us were kind of looking forward to it because Chuck was a thorn in our progressive sides. We wanted to see him taken down.

It never came. Instead, Will put his arm around Chuck’s shoulder.

“We disagree,” he said. “We’ll probably always disagree.” He then went on to say something to the effect that in Christ they were still brothers and that he loved him.

Will wasn’t just there when the Southern Leadership Conference was formed. He was also the unofficial civil rights chaplain of the Ku Klux Klan, listening to them and trying to understand them. He knew they were in need of conversion.

But then again, aren’t we all.

When Campbell died in 2013, a writer in Alabama shared the following story:

In a 1989 speech at Samford, Campbell criticized the Southern Baptist Convention’s plans to meet and evangelize in Las Vegas. “I said something a few weeks ago in Greenville, S.C., that got me in some trouble, so I’ll repeat it,” he said. “If we want to have an authentic Christian witness, we need to go, one by one, to the brothels and ask the women we call whores, ‘Please, Ma’am, please teach us something about grace, because in our certitude, we’re not even aware that we need grace.”

We need grace, all of us.

No matter where we stand on issues or what Bible verses we like to fling at each other, may we be certain about this one thing.


Rolling Stone article on Will Campbell

Losing my Religion

Seems like I see one of these articles or interviews about every day. Someone who professes their lack of spiritual belief shares with the world why life is so much better on their side of the fence. Frankly, I’m getting irritated.

Not because of what they believe or don’t believe. That’s their choice. But because they do such a bad job of representing what I believe. Today it was a blogger who described the free and happier life without his religion. It opened up a world of learning to him. It freed him up not to have an answer for every question. It enabled him to embrace people whose lifestyles were different; for example, people who loved and wished to marry people of the same gender. Friends who are more fun. On and on.

Guess what? All of those things (and many others) are already a part of my faith. Yep, I’m a Christian. And even a Baptist one that that. And I’m not narrow minded.

I don’t fear learning. I am curious about the world and believe that science opens us up to wonder. While I believe that there is a life beyond this one and hold that belief with great hope, the reason that I try to live a moral life is that God asks me to do justice and love mercy, not to earn brownie points for heaven. My faith pushes me towards embracing diversity because it reminds me that those people who are different from me are made in the image of God as well.

I have gay friends. I love them. I do not think they are going to hell. Sometimes I envy them because some of them are such great couples. I have friends both straight and gay who are pretty fun folks. We don’t just sit around quoting the Bible to each other. We laugh. We go places (even to the theaters!) We have been known to dance. Even in church. Sometimes with them I laugh so hard that my face hurts and I am physically exhausted.

Yep, I’m a Christian. Even a Baptist one at that. And one who is getting a little tired of people who are so proud of their open-mindedness being so quick to confine people of faith into one narrow little box. The varieties of religious experience are wider than one small experience or shallow stereotype.

A Brick of a Fellow

Our sixth grade teacher had already given us the news so  I wasn’t surprised when I saw the obituary in our local paper. “Brick” Johnson, the much beloved custodian at our elementary school, was dead at age 95.

And yet I was completely surprised by the front page article announcing his death.

His role as the custodian at Brunson Elementary School was but a footnote. He and his wife were owners of Les Abres, a club that was a major gathering place for African-Americans during the days of segregation. Mixing jazz and soul and great food, the club was a gathering place for professionals, civil rights leaders and blue collar workers.

I never knew.

I don’t think my surprise was a case of prejudicial assumptions. At that age, I lumped Brick (who, incidentally, I liked a whole lot because he was always kind to me) in with the teachers and principals; that is, people who have no lives other than school. (A friend’s preschool age son saw his Sunday School teacher in the bookstore one day. “They let you out?” he exclaimed in surprise.) Brick running a club was just as unimaginable as the reality we later discovered: one of our fifth grade teachers was only ten years older than us. Back in those days, she was considered the ancient age universally shared by teachers.

But it did make me think about our human tendency to create judgments and assumptions about people based on the one small snapshot of their lives that we are able to see. A school custodian. A CEO. A welfare mom. A jock. A disabled person.

We see something that is indeed true about them. Too often we mistake it for the whole truth about them. The truth is we cannot know even a fraction of who they are until we have taken the time to listen to them, to listen to what their journey has been and what they hope it will be.

We see one photograph and mistake it for the whole movie.

Sometimes we even do it to ourselves. One moment of failure becomes the whole of our lives. One negative flaw in our makeup becomes the definitive statement of our character. What we do becomes who we are.

It’s not true for them. Neither is it true for us.

And by the way, upon reflection it’s not so surprising that Brick owned such a club. Any man who could shine such a light in the midst of snotty nosed, garishly dressed (it was the late sixties and early seventies) children must have had real music in his soul.

Before you make your New Year’s Resolutions

According to University of Scranton Professor John Norcross, who studies such things, by June 60% of us will have abandoned our New Year’s resolutions.

Cheery thought, isn’t it?

A lot of things contribute to our failures. We make goals that are too big and too broad. I will never eat sugar again for the rest of my life. (There’s a reason people in recovery talk about taking it one day at a time. Forever is a big bite to take on at once.) They are too much of a leap from where we are. I will start running and do a marathon in a month. They are too vague. I will get into shape.

Good goals are SMART goals (specific, measurable, attainable, relevant and time bound.) If I make a resolution to give up brussels sprouts that’s not relevant because I never eat brussels sprouts anyway.  If you’re into such things, here’s a worksheet.

But there’s another reason we drop out before reaching our goals. We define what we’re going to do but we never address the mess inside our head. It’s like trying to drive with the brake on. It’s hard to succeed if there’s a voice in your head telling you that you’ve always been a failure. (Here’s more specific information on dealing with the critical voices in your head.)

fitness motivationAs a mentor with the No Boundaries program sponsored by Fleet Feet (as well as in my own journey) I’ve seen how much our heads can get in the way of our feet. That’s why I created MindRight/BodyFit, a weekly podcast or PDF addressing an issue that can get in the way of beginning or maintaining a fitness program. You can read more about it (and even sign up!) here.

 

The beginning of a new year is a great time to set goals for living in healthier ways. Just don’t forget to take care of the unhealthy stuff between your ears.