three thoughts from Henri Nouwen...
From Blaming to Forgiving
Our most painful suffering often comes from those who love us and those we love. The relationships between husband and wife, parents and children, brothers and sisters, teachers and students, pastors and parishioners - these are where our deepest wounds occur. Even late in life, yes, even after those who wounded us have long since died, we might still need help to sort out what happened in these relationships.
The great temptation is to keep blaming those who were closest to us for our present, condition saying: "You made me who I am now, and I hate who I am." The great challenge is to acknowledge our hurts and claim our true selves as being more than the result of what other people do to us. Only when we can claim our God-made selves as the true source of our being will we be free to forgive those who have wounded us.
Being Handed Over to Suffering
People who live close together can be sources of great sorrow for one another. When Jesus chose his twelve apostles, Judas was one of them. Judas is called a traitor. A traitor, according to the literal meaning of the Greek word for "betraying," is someone who hands the other over to suffering.
The truth is that we all have something of the traitor in us because each of us hands our fellow human beings over to suffering somehow, somewhere, mostly without intending or even knowing it. Many children, even grown-up children, can experience deep anger toward their parents for having protected them too much or too little. When we are willing to confess that we often hand those we love over to suffering, even against our best intentions, we will be more ready to forgive those who, mostly against their will, are the causes of our pain.
Laying Down Your Life for Your Friends
Good Shepherds are willing to lay down their lives for their sheep (see John 10:11). As spiritual leaders walking in the footsteps of Jesus, we are called to lay down our lives for our people. This laying down might in special circumstances mean dying for others. But it means first of all making our own lives - our sorrows and joys, our despair and hope, our loneliness and experience of intimacy - available to others as sources of new life.
One of the greatest gifts we can give others is ourselves. We offer consolation and comfort, especially in moments of crisis, when we say: "Do not be afraid, I know what you are living and I am living it with you. You are not alone." Thus we become Christ-like shepherds.
Showing posts with label blame. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blame. Show all posts
Monday, April 27, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
He Repeats it back to me
On my way to work this morning, (at a stoplight), I jotted three reminders on the back of a handy envelope. Things I wanted to blog about here today or in the upcoming days. Thoughts I'm toying with and thought I might share. What I'm actually sitting here to write isn't any of those three.
I arrived at work this morning and found an email waiting for me that contained some disappointing news. Not entirely unexpected, but still deeply disappointing. The news that something I'd longed for, something that had finally seemed to be within reach, would not come through.
I could blame the outcome on a number of different things.
On a decision to take what I still believe was a step of obedience to the Lord just over a year ago, and the huge ongoing cost that that has had.
On my own inability to control some difficult emotional things this past year, and the way they've shown through in all areas of my life.
On the raging menopausal moods of someone who had a direct impact on the outcome.
On someone else who has very much been a catalyst for many of the difficult things that have affected this outcome.
On ongoing spiritual attack that has seemed to "steal" so many things I desired and thought God had for me over the course of the last year.
But I don't think I'm interested in playing the blame game. I'm not interested in harboring further hurt and bitterness. I'm not interested in exploring how this year long mess is still having negative impact. I'm not all that interested in continuing to be angry and miserable. (And those of you who know the finer details of this year will know what an impact it is for me to say that.)
As I said, the news wasn't entirely unexpected. All week as I wondered which way the outcome would be, I rather militantly told God (and myself), "I'll be okay if it's not the outcome I want." Sometimes I even believed it.
This morning, when it was confirmed that it was not the outcome I wanted, just for a moment or two I felt a bit stunned. Someone who had an impact on the outcome asked me if I'd received word, and I told them bluntly that I had, and that it was likely their input that had cost me what I'd longed for. I was a bit angry, and frustrated.
And then, I paused, and waited just for a moment in silence, sitting at my desk.
And in that silence I began to hear two things.
First, a lyric to a song by David Ruis (which is a whole other story, how I came to be listening to David Ruis this morning) began playing through my head:
For I know that you are faithful
As we walk these fields of white
To the weary and the hurting
Your Kingdom Comes
I needed to be reminded that he was faithful, and that His kingdom often comes when I am most weary and hurting (and that it rarely looks how I expect either).
Second, I began to hear a quiet litany, the sound I've come to associate with the voice of Jesus whispering over me. "You're going to be okay. Even though it's not the outcome you wanted."
And that was enough. Those words whispered over me brought peace and restored joy.
A coworker (who knows the whole scenario) agreed with me when I commented, "I'm in a way better mood than I should be given the news I received."
I made some decisions on how to handle this latest news. I made some decisions on how I will move forward.
I'm going to be okay. I've reminded myself (and told Jesus) of that all week, and, in the moment that I couldn't quite cling to it this morning, when I most needed to be able to believe it, He repeated it back to me in a whisper, reminding me of oil poured out the other day, the day where this scenario took a decided turn to the negative outcome. He reminded me that blessing was spoken, and that I really would be okay, even in this latest mess.
I'm going to be okay, and that phrase is filled with a peace that has no rational basis right now. He repeated it back to me.
I arrived at work this morning and found an email waiting for me that contained some disappointing news. Not entirely unexpected, but still deeply disappointing. The news that something I'd longed for, something that had finally seemed to be within reach, would not come through.
I could blame the outcome on a number of different things.
On a decision to take what I still believe was a step of obedience to the Lord just over a year ago, and the huge ongoing cost that that has had.
On my own inability to control some difficult emotional things this past year, and the way they've shown through in all areas of my life.
On the raging menopausal moods of someone who had a direct impact on the outcome.
On someone else who has very much been a catalyst for many of the difficult things that have affected this outcome.
On ongoing spiritual attack that has seemed to "steal" so many things I desired and thought God had for me over the course of the last year.
But I don't think I'm interested in playing the blame game. I'm not interested in harboring further hurt and bitterness. I'm not interested in exploring how this year long mess is still having negative impact. I'm not all that interested in continuing to be angry and miserable. (And those of you who know the finer details of this year will know what an impact it is for me to say that.)
As I said, the news wasn't entirely unexpected. All week as I wondered which way the outcome would be, I rather militantly told God (and myself), "I'll be okay if it's not the outcome I want." Sometimes I even believed it.
This morning, when it was confirmed that it was not the outcome I wanted, just for a moment or two I felt a bit stunned. Someone who had an impact on the outcome asked me if I'd received word, and I told them bluntly that I had, and that it was likely their input that had cost me what I'd longed for. I was a bit angry, and frustrated.
And then, I paused, and waited just for a moment in silence, sitting at my desk.
And in that silence I began to hear two things.
First, a lyric to a song by David Ruis (which is a whole other story, how I came to be listening to David Ruis this morning) began playing through my head:
For I know that you are faithful
As we walk these fields of white
To the weary and the hurting
Your Kingdom Comes
I needed to be reminded that he was faithful, and that His kingdom often comes when I am most weary and hurting (and that it rarely looks how I expect either).
Second, I began to hear a quiet litany, the sound I've come to associate with the voice of Jesus whispering over me. "You're going to be okay. Even though it's not the outcome you wanted."
And that was enough. Those words whispered over me brought peace and restored joy.
A coworker (who knows the whole scenario) agreed with me when I commented, "I'm in a way better mood than I should be given the news I received."
I made some decisions on how to handle this latest news. I made some decisions on how I will move forward.
I'm going to be okay. I've reminded myself (and told Jesus) of that all week, and, in the moment that I couldn't quite cling to it this morning, when I most needed to be able to believe it, He repeated it back to me in a whisper, reminding me of oil poured out the other day, the day where this scenario took a decided turn to the negative outcome. He reminded me that blessing was spoken, and that I really would be okay, even in this latest mess.
I'm going to be okay, and that phrase is filled with a peace that has no rational basis right now. He repeated it back to me.
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