Survival Basics

During one of the convention speeches last week I started channel surfing and caught part of one of the survival programs I enjoy. I never remember the name of the guy, but he’s put out in some wilderness area and has to survive as he finds his way back to civilization. Yes, the program has to be rigged for video recording, but still I enjoy it, especially the problem solving skills used as he tries to provide for the basics of survival.

And what are those basics? Water, shelter, food and fire - that’s what I surmise, although a survivalist may add more or rearrange the list. What the program emphasizes is that if you don’t provide for the basics, the body becomes too taxed and soon the mind cannot reason correctly and you can’t respond adequately to threats.

A couple of times this week I have been with friends and church members who have gotten horrible news - information that has dropped them down right smack in the middle of a different kind of wilderness. Life cannot go on as it did, and emotionally, they are thrust into providing for the basics of survival.

And what are those basics? Well, again, here are my suggestions. What are the emotional needs that have to be attended to before reasoning begins to falter?

SECURITY. We need assurance that we and our loved ones are safe. We need a non-anxious presence that sends a beacon of calm through the fog. We need someone in whom we can trust.

ACCEPTANCE. We need assurance that we are accepted just as we are with all our brokenness, wounds, inadequacy, sin, inability, and imperfection. We need release from the fear of shame and rejection. We need someone to welcome and acknowledge us.

AFFECTION. We need to know that we are liked and that our presence is desired. We need evidence that attention will be given to our needs. We need know there is someone to care for us.

COMPASSION. We need to experience empathy from others and we need to be moved to empathy for others. Compassion acknowledges our interdependence in sadness, joy, anxiety, and laughter. We need someone with whom to share.

I’m sure you noticed that I didn’t list “love.” That word just means too many different things to people. And I feel confident that if you experience security, acceptance, affection and compassion, you’ve experienced love. What would you add to the list?

Stepping into a crisis moment as a pastor, I would love to “fix” things – make it all right for everyone. Impossible. But I can by my presence remind others of the one in whom we trust. I can demonstrate acceptance and affection. And I can give and receive compassion. With those emotional basics in place, reasoning will not become scrambled, and those in the wilderness can find their way back.

I wonder if we could gauge the effectiveness of congregations in a similar way?

Broken Things

Been a busy week, this first week of 2008, and with the writers on strike I've been hesitant to cross the picket line and make a post. Actually, writing just hasn't been on my mind. In addition to the usual first of year administrative stuff, seems I've spend a considerable amount of time listening to people dealing with significant brokenness in their lives. Broken health, broken friendships, broken relationshps, broken hearts. Talking with a friend this evening about brokenness in our lives I remembered an article I wrote several years ago about Broken Things, which I've posted in its entirety on my Checked Luggage blog. It includes this paragraph:

On any given Sunday the congregation is full of people who are privately holding on to broken things in their lives. They may be struggling with conflicts at home, pressures at work, disappointments in themselves, or uncertainty about their world and their future. We know it’s OK to admit physical broken-ness and ask for prayers. But to place any other type of broken-ness in the box feels like admitting weakness or failure – things that reveal just how human we are.

It is so tough to admit to others that we don't have it all together. And we expend so much energy keeping up the mask of that "all togetherness" with each other. How courageous, how beautiful and how humbling it is when someone says, "I've got something I need to talk about," and they trust you with their wounds.

Sadly, too many times we even try to keep our brokenness from God. But remember what God told Paul when Paul prayed for his "thorn in the flesh" to be removed: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness." (1 Cor 12:9)

God knows our brokenness. In becoming one with our human nature, Christ took on our woundedness, even as we are wounded. And here's the question, If God's strength is made perfect in our weakness, then why are we so determined to hide our weaknesses, and why do we work so hard to portray ourselves as people (and churches) of great strength? I guess we still think it's all about us, when it really is all about God.

Redheads

An article this morning in The State newspaper brought back an encounter from Scotland earlier this summer. The article is about the taunting that redheads receive in England. The discrimination against "gingers" is apparently strong, and some are documented at the web site Red and Proud.

While in Edinburgh I went to the Royal Botanic Gardens one morning, enjoyed the beautiful scenery, and took pictures. As I was leaving and waiting for the bus, I struck up a conversation with Jill. I asked to take a picture of her and she readily obliged.

After the photo I said that I loved her red hair, that both my girls have red in their hair and I love it. She seemed surprised at my comment and said Thank you. Then after a pause she added, "I don't know why people have to say ugly, mean things to people. There's no cause for it, and it hurts." It took me a moment to figure out what Jill was talking about - taunting she'd gotten for her red hair, perhaps as a young girl.

Somewhat stunned by her disclosure, I said something lame like, "I agree with you." Then the bus arrived and I had to quickly say goodby. I rode away wondering about the wounds people carry around, wounds of the heart from both tauntings and careless comments.

As a boy I learned the well-known ditty, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." But we know words do hurt. And mean words striking a tender heart leave lasting pain. May God forgive me for the mean words I've thoughlessly hurled at others. And may I learn to speak words that heal. Bless you, Jill, and all the wonderful "gingers."