a voiceless prophet

I’ve found that I live extreems. They’ve been unbeknowst to me mostly. Over a long span of time God has been drawing me into being a prophet. This is not the first you’ve heard this from me if you’ve been around me or read this blog much. I’m still working out what the ramifications are on my life, minisitry and relationships.  I haven’t always thought good things about prophets. That’s one of my hang ups about being one.  It sounds like it could be lonely or deadly.   I lack the desire to be either of those.

There is something else at play. To some extent I haven’t felt like I had a voice most of my life. A lot of this surrounds feelings. Feelings aren’t always welcome are they?  Often I have needed permission to speak. I’m talking overt verbal say so as if I’m in the Army.  This is in most settings, with individuals, groups, and large groups.

Also at play: My ability to fill a room with words.  I only do this when it’s safe.  I also do this to disassociate.  When I monologue someone its because I don’t think I’ll get another chance to speak. [Faith, Hope & Love… Does Kathy’ s dog ring a bell to my cohorts?]

I’m stuck.  Sometimes I feel like I don’t have anything to say.  Sometimes true.  I don’t like it when people don’t give me a work edgewise, but I have the capability of doing that.  I hate that about myself.  I long to be heard… yet I don’t want to harrang people.  What is a boy to do?

God wants me to speak.  I don’t feel like I can.  I often have ambivalence to speaking.  When I do speak God often uses me.  Huh, funny how that works.  I often am told about eerily timed messages, calls, hugs or even loving glances.  When praying with people God speaks through me.  Most of the time I don’t have sense that’ve spoken with God-breath.  The time that it’s been most apparent to me was when I used to give a blessing at the end of a worship service every week.  I felt like a spiritual amplifier.  The spiritual physics of it were palpable.

So apparently I have something to say.  If I admit it, I have more to say.  All in due time.  Thanks for listening.

on anger

I have had quite a journey this Fall.  I still feel like it’s only a beginning.

I know many of you have noticed my “angry tweets.”  Some of you have enjoyed them, some have not.  I wonder why that is?  A simple answer comes to mind: We are not comfortable with anger in America or in Christian America.  Anger has been quarantined with other “negative” emotions.  It’s not doing our culture any good. It’s not going the church any good either.  This seems like it could be a thesis to a paper, perhaps it will be some day.

In case you can’t recall here’s a recap of my tweets: “I’m an angry man, I’m angry, I’m not angry, I’m a man that gets angry.”   You have all been part of a theraputic process for me.  I’ve discovered even saying the word angry out loud helps. Most of the time just saying and noticing is enough. So by broadcasting it in moments when I was angry or not helped me through this process. I’m learning that I don’t even have the vocabulary for anger.  I’ve discovered this fall that anger can help me find my voice.  Anger is my friend.  Anger is our friend.

I’ve hid my anger well.  Judging by some of the interactions on social media many of you were shocked.  I assume shock came first by an expression of anger by broadcast, but also from me at all.  Most of you probably think of me as a gentle soul. But I’m a whole person, with broad reactions to life. I do get angry, but most of the time I’ve stuffed it deep down somewhere. It would smolder like a smoke house.  I would cover up my anger, not giving it air.  It would sit under the surface for quite some time. Eventually, sometimes hours later I would notice that anger’s energy was gone.

This isn’t a depressing or scary story people. If you’re feeling that way as you read, I want you to ask yourself why?

As I hope you can see from my tweets I’ve made some good movement this Fall. I’ll share a time that I was able to express my anger and move on.  It was a Sunday morning. We were trying to get out the door.  It was a morning after a sleepover.  The 3 other kids that were with us were ready with all their gear and our boys were dawdling. Of course, right?  Jen and I growled at each other in the kitchen while grabbing drinks for the cadre.  We openly expressed our anger with each other and with the kids. Five minutes later I’m putting the key in the ignition and realize that I’m not angry.  Most Sundays leaving for church is a infuriating process. I usually I realize I’m not angry 20 minutes down the road.  That day I let anger out.  It didn’t hurt anyone.  I’ve realized that most of the time anger has been harmful to me.  Not wanting to harm others I’ve harmed myself.

Can anger harm? Absolutely!  Sometimes it doesn’t.  Sometimes it helps you find your voice.  Sometimes its a good thing.  Just like eating isn’t always debauchery.  Anger doesn’t always harm and destroy.

The church needs some angry prophets. Sadly, I’d rather not be either.  When I think of being a prophet I think of being an outcast.  I think of running for your life.  I think televangelist when I hear the word prophet.  But I think I may be called to be both: angry and a prophet.  What?  That doesn’t sound at all like something I want.  Not at all like something the church remotely wants!  Here we are Needs vs Wants.  The belly of a whale sounds nice and cozy about now.  Nauseating, but cozy.

In class Dan Allender expanded on some therapeutic roles we see in scripture: Prophet, Preist, and King.  When you read “therapeutic” don’t just read “therapist.”  If you’re a pastor or follower of Jesus there should be a therapeutic quality to your interactions.  If there isn’t that quality, something is amiss.  Prophets invite people into the story.  This is a disruptive task.  A prophet points out the present state of the community.  This usually is when the community has headed off into dangerous direction.  We see this a lot in in the people of Israel and the interaction with their prophets.  The Church needs to be called out on where they’ve drifted.  God wants me to help in that disruptive work.  (Please refer back to my belly of a whale comment.)

I thought I was an angry man. Perhaps I am, but not every day.  I felt so angry this Fall.  I thought since I acknowledged that part of myself rage would somehow always be active.  I realize that I’ve stuffed my anger so deep that I’m an angry man.  As I begin to cope I’m becoming a man that gets angry.  I’m not sure if that all semantics or my experience.  Either way I’m becoming more of who God and I imagine me to be.

Thanks for coming along with me.  There’s more to come I’m sure.