Archive for the ‘Step 9’ Category

How To Just Get Over It

Thursday, January 13th, 2011

How do you get over it?

Ever been there? Something terrible happens and you can’t escape the grief. Or maybe a whole lot of things just accumulate and you just don’t feel very positive about life. Unwanted tears appear without warning. You feel stifled under a heavy blanket of pervasive sadness. The fog of depression or grief blurs everything and obscures vision and hope.

You’re tired of this crummy feeling. Perhaps others have become impatient with your less-than-cheery attitude. You—or they—want it to just go away.

Get over it. Snap out of it. Just forget it and move on.

Ever heard (or said) any of those to someone—or to yourself? Either way, the message is clear: Enough, already! Let it go and get on with life.

What if you don’t want to go to the next thing? What if it’s not time, or you’re not ready, or you just can’t see how it’s possible?

After my injury I spent ten years buried in depression. Others told me to move on. I told myself to let it go. I knew that I was wasting my life and destroying relationships, but I had no clue how to do anything about it.

How do you just “get over it” when “it” just hurts too badly?

Should?

I don’t think you do. When I hear “you should just let it go” I want to reply, “Don’t should on me!” (You have to say it aloud to get the full effect.)

“Get over it” feels dismissive and uncompassionate. I doubt if anyone ever just got over it because someone flippantly told them to.

WDJD (what did Jesus do?)

Jesus wept.

It’s the Bible’s shortest verse [John 11:35]. Jesus’ close friend Lazarus had died and Jesus confronted his grieving sisters.

Jesus knew what was about to happen. He knew that Lazarus would walk from his tomb as a sign of God’s glory.

He might have chastised Martha for her lack of faith. He could have reminded her that her brother “was in a better place.” He could have admonished her to just get over it.

Verse 33 tells us He was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. He didn’t tell Martha and the other mourners to snap out of it. Even though He knew their grief would momentarily turn to joy, He expressed compassion and shared their sorrow. At the brink of a miracle, Jesus wept.

The experience of Relentless Grace taught me that emerging from darkness isn’t about simplistic platitudes. I knew I needed to move forward, but I didn’t know how. Thankfully, God didn’t dismiss my grief and tell me to get over it as I continued on a path of anguish and misery.

I believe that Jesus wept when I fell and shattered my neck. I believe He wept beside my bed as I suffered emotionally and physically. I believe He walked every step of my long journey through darkness.

He wanted me to emerge into the light. He brought people who helped me, and I believe He smiled when I finally found a way out.

But while I suffered, I believe He wept.

It does get better—eventually. God provides new beginnings in even the darkest circumstances. Certainly there are things we can do to assist with the process, to encourage others or ourselves. Wallowing in self-pity isn’t the answer.

But please—don’t tell me, or yourself, to just get over it.

What can you do to help someone—or yourself—through a difficult time without dismissing the struggle?

Don’t miss CIR’s Daily Article !

Dixon
Copyright 2010 by Rich Dixon, All Rights Reserved. Used by permission.

Rich is an author and speaker. He is the author of:

Relentless Grace: God’s Invitation To Give Hope Another Chance. Visit his web site www.relentlessgrace.com

Our Words and Deeds are Irrevocable

Wednesday, January 5th, 2011

“But I tell you that men will have to give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken!” Matthew 12:36

We cannot recall any word we have spoken. It may be a false word or an unkind word–a word which will blast and burn! Instantly after it has been spoken–we may wish it back and may rush after it and try to stop it–but there is no power in the world that can unsay the hurtful word–or blot it out of our life!

It is just so with our acts. A moment after we have done a wicked thing, we may bitterly repent it. We may be willing to give all we have in the world to undo it, to make it as though it never had been. But in vain. A deed done takes its place in the universe as a fact–and never can be recalled.

We should be sure before we speak a word or do an act–that it is right, that we shall never desire to have it recalled–for when once we have opened our lips, or lifted our hand–there will be no unsaying or undoing possible.

Our words and deeds are irrevocable. We cannot recall anything we have done, neither can we change it. But by other words and deeds, we may in some measure modify the effect of that which we cannot blot out. Paul could not undo his persecutions of Christians–but by a life to devotion to Christ’s cause–he could in a sense make reparation for the terrible harm he had done.

Just so, we cannot undo the wrong things we have done–but we should strive to set in motion other influences which may at least compensate in some sense for the harm they have wrought. We cannot unsay the sharp word which wounds our friend’s heart–but we can by kindness and loyal devotion–yet bring good and blessing to his life.

J. R. Miller, “Devotional Hours with the Bible”

Do I HAVE to Forgive?

Monday, January 3rd, 2011

To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.  ~Lewis Smedes

Don’t you hate it when faith conflicts with feelings?

If you’re any sort of sports fan you know about Michael Vick. He’s a pro football player who was convicted and sent to prison for financing and participating in a dog fighting operation. The details are literally unspeakable. You can Google him if you wish. I wouldn’t recommend it.

He’s out of prison and playing football again. He served his sentence, apologized, and received a second chance. He’s playing well, and by all accounts has turned his life around.

I hate what he did to dogs. His actions were despicable, horrific, evil—I can’t list enough adjectives to adequately portray my disgust. You can look at the pictures on my site and get a clear indication of how I feel about dogs in general and my dog specifically. Even if you don’t particularly like dogs you have to be sickened by what he did.

I’m glad he was caught and convicted and sent to jail. But now that he’s done with that portion of his life, there’s a big place in my gut that just doesn’t want him to succeed. In fact, I have this almost visceral desire to see him suffer more.

Am I the only person who struggles with this? Have you ever encountered a situation in which you didn’t feel like forgiving?

I listened today as someone publicly ripped at Mr. Vick. It’s obvious that many folks feel like I do. They’ll never see him as anything but a vile, repulsive figure. As I listened, I acknowledged something I really don’t like:

I do not feel forgiving toward this guy.

In a few days we’ll celebrate Jesus’ birth. He came so I could be forgiven. All of my mistakes, awful choices, and failures are washed away because of the horrible price He paid.

My selfishness slapped me in the face.

Jesus came so Michael Vick could be forgiven.

I don’t have to approve of what he did. I don’t have to like him, or trust him, or admire him.

But if I’m going to be true to what I believe, I do have to respect him and love him. And yes, I do have to forgive him.

Like Jesus said, it’s easy to love those who love me back and share my values and do nice stuff to dogs. The tough part is loving the unlovable and respecting people when I feel like punching them.

The hard part is forgiving someone I don’t feel like forgiving.

I’m reminded that forgiveness isn’t a one-time event. I can’t just say “I forgive” while secretly hoping he blows out a knee.

Forgiveness is a decision followed by a difficult process. I decide to forgive and then I confront my judgmental feelings. I continually remind myself that I forgive because I’ve been forgiven. When I feel like he doesn’t deserve it, I remember that little baby.

I remind myself that I don’t deserve the grace He brought to the world. He gave freely what I could never earn.

I don’t feel like forgiving, but I want to do it anyway. I guess that’s where I begin.

That’s my Christmas wish.

Do you fight this kind of internal battle? How do you get past it?

Don’t miss CIR’s Daily Article !

Dixon
Copyright 2010 by Rich Dixon, All Rights Reserved. Used by permission.

Rich is an author and speaker. He is the author of:

Relentless Grace: God’s Invitation To Give Hope Another Chance. Visit his web site www.relentlessgrace.com

Willing To Be Willing

Friday, November 26th, 2010

Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger… [Ephesians 4:21(a)]

Do you cling to any traces of bitterness?

Last week I wrote about talking to a younger version of me (Teaching Me). As I re-read my account of learning a scarcity mentality, it felt like I wrote a bit dispassionately. My words seemed somewhat cold and academic; I think I told the story but scrubbed away the raw emotions.

Fact is, I still harbor some bitterness toward my dad. I’m not proud of that, but there it is.

He did what he knew—there was no evil intent on his part. And he’s been gone for more than a year. Why am I still bitter?

Sometimes bitterness is right out in the open. Someone harms me and I want to strike back. I want vengeance. I want to get even.

That sort of acrimony can bury me in hatred, but at least it’s apparent. I see the danger, and I can choose to confront and resolve it.

I think the nastiest form of bitterness sneaks into the dark corners of our hearts. It hides behind old hurts and almost-forgotten struggles and festers within accumulated, unacknowledged slights. This subtle bitterness secretes venom in nearly imperceptible doses until our hearts harden and crack from long-term toxic exposure.

Bitterness also seems to create a cycle like the steps in the picture. The poison engenders more anger and an escalating desire for vengeance, leading to even greater bitterness. It’s an endless death spiral, every downward step leading inevitably to the next.

I have a sense that there’s no such thing as a “little” bitterness. One taste of “getting even” leaves us wanting more and still more, and down the steps we go.

Antidote

The encouraging aspect of the steps is that they lead eternally down—or up. I think we get to choose which direction we travel. So if bitterness destroys like poison, what’s the antidote? What’s the secret to stepping upward?

I think the antidote is forgiveness. I need to recognize my dad’s impact (done), acknowledge the pain (done), and then sincerely let go of the resentment (uhhh…apparently not quite done).

I don’t wish to be overly self-critical. Forgiveness isn’t an event as much as a process. As my friend Jeff Lucas says, the critical step is “to be willing to be willing” to forgive. Perhaps that’s the key to turning the cycle around and walking up the steps toward light and freedom.

It’s not about sprinting, or even getting, to the top. It’s about stepping up rather than down.

If my feelings are an accurate barometer, I don’t think I’ve completely forgiven my dad yet. But I am willing to be willing. Hopefully that gets me going up the steps, because I’m tired of trudging downward.

You? Any old resentments hanging out in the shadows? Are you willing to let go, or at least willing to be willing?

Bitterness imprisons life. Love releases it.
Bitterness paralyzes life. Love empowers it.
Bitterness sours life. Love sweetens it.
Bitterness sickens life. Love heals it.
Bitterness blinds life. Love anoints its eyes.
Harry Emerson Fosdick

I’d tell the younger version of me to choose love and forgiveness, to do his best to walk up the steps. The journey down isn’t all that satisfying.

How about you?

What if…

Monday, November 1st, 2010

… Jesus really meant what He said?

“I did not come to condemn, but to save.”

Condemn: to declare to be reprehensible, wrong, or evil…to judge unfit for use or consumption.

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus … [Romans 8:1]

What if that were true?

I know—it’s a complex theological statement. But what if it were as simple as “follow Jesus” = “no condemnation”?

What if every follower of Jesus stopped judging others as “reprehensible, wrong, or evil”? Even “those people”—you know, the ones who are, well, “unfit”?

What if

We refused to make—or forward, or approve—snarky political comments?

We didn’t support causes or people that marginalize or diminish any individual or group?

Our Twitter and Facebook posts were conspicuous for their lack of condemnation?

We greeted people and behaviors that offend us with love and acceptance?

We were known for the causes Jesus advanced—peace, agape, hope, mercy, grace?

God’s kingdom mattered more than governments or countries or flags?

We were identified by the things in which we believe instead of the things with which we disagree?

Others saw that we follow Jesus without being angry about it?

We stopped trying to win battles He never asked us to fight?

We took The Great Commission as a standard by which to measure our own actions?

We loved evil into irrelevance (sort of like Jesus did) instead of trying to beat it into submission?

What if

I stopped the most disabling kind of condemnation—the “self” kind?

Don’t miss CIR’s Daily Article !

Dixon
Copyright 2010 by Rich Dixon, All Rights Reserved. Used by permission.

Rich is an author and speaker. He is the author of:

Relentless Grace: God’s Invitation To Give Hope Another Chance. Visit his web site www.relentlessgrace.com

Do the Faults of Others Bother You?

Wednesday, October 13th, 2010

There is a duty of fault-finding. The Master Himself teaches it. In the Sermon on the Mount, He makes it very plain. We must note carefully, however, where the duty begins. We are to look first after our own faults. “Why do you look at the mote that is in your brother’s eye–but do not consider the beam that is in your own eye?”

We must consider the beam that is in our own eye!

The form of this question suggest that we are naturally inclined to pay more attention to flaws and blemishes in others–than in ourselves; and also that a very small fault–a mere mote of fault in another person–may seem larger to us than a blemish many times greater in ourselves!

Of course, it is far easier to see other people’s faults–than our own. Our eyes are set in our head in such a way–that we can look at our neighbor, better than at ourselves. Yet we all have faults of our own. Most of us have quite enough of them to occupy our thought, to the exclusion of our neighbor’s faults–if only we would give them our attention.

Really, too, our own faults ought to interest us, more than our neighbor’s, because they are our own; and being our own, we are responsible for them. We do not have to answer for any other one’s sins–but we must answer for our own sins, “Each one must give an account of himself.”

Also, the responsibility for getting rid of them, is ours. No faithful friend, no wise teacher, can cure our faults for us. If ever they are taken out of our life–it must be by our own faith, our own firm, persistent effort.

It is a fact, that the faults which we usually see and criticize in others–are the very faults which are the most marked in us! In our judgment of others–we show a miniature of ourselves. If this is true, we should be careful in judging others, for in doing so–we are only revealing our own faults! This should lead us also to close scrutiny of our own life, to get rid of the things in us which are not beautiful.

~ J. R. Miller, “The Duty of Fault-Finding”

Compromise: Left, Right, Or Something Else?

Thursday, May 13th, 2010

Which are you—left, right, or somewhere in the middle?

spectrumWe’re apparently programmed to think of nearly every aspect of our lives in terms of a linear continuum.

Politics provides the most obvious example. Left/right, liberal/conservative, red/blue. While most of us don’t reside at an extreme, we’re certainly conditioned to think of ourselves at least on one side or the other of center.

But it’s not just politics. I’m struggling to come up with an example of a choice or behavior that doesn’t convey the implication of a continuum on which you’re either toward one end or the other or closer to the center, but everyone occupies some position along the line.

One of my friends holds a strictly literal interpretation of the bible. Another claims that scripture is conveys principles—the details aren’t important. I know a pastor who maintains that the bible is God’s complete revelation and another who says that “humans shouldn’t put a period where God placed a comma.”

I’ve always felt a bit uncomfortable, or maybe out of place, with the notion that everything in life is represented by a left-right continuum. I think I finally understand why.

Continuums are about debate and compromise.

But compromise is inherently values-neutral. Compromise is about what’s possible, not what’s right. In order to “get things done” we take some of the good—and some of the bad—from each side. Everyone gets a bit of what they want and swallows some distasteful medicine. It’s the price of doing business in a democracy. I get that.

But the “muddled middle” of compromise doesn’t define truth. The center of the continuum may be the place of consensus, but that doesn’t make it right.

I believe in truth. I don’t claim to always—or even mostly—know what that truth is, but not being known doesn’t prevent truth from being, well, true.

And since I believe truth exists, my goal ought to be to discover as much of it as possible.

If that’s REALLY the goal, a lot of my behavior needs to change. I’d like to spend this week looking at some of that, but today I’d like to get your reaction to this idea:

Truth may not be anywhere on any continuum.

I’m thinking that the lines are human creations, expressions of our need to make sense and order from apparent chaos. But as long as we seek truth along a continuum, we’re always thinking in terms of debate and compromise.

TRUTH or RIGHT isn’t on the line at all.

I think that might have been Jesus’ message. Perhaps He was saying that the gospel isn’t left or right but a different thing entirely. Perhaps He was so radical precisely because He didn’t fit an existing category.

He wasn’t liberal or conservative or anywhere in between. He was something else altogether, something that didn’t fit into any human preconceptions. Some folks rejected Him, some followed Him. some tried to kill Him. Didn’t matter—He was still I AM.

What would change if we tried to simply know Him rather than boxing Him into the corner that makes us most comfortable?

How about you? What’s your response to the idea that TRUTH may not be anywhere on our lines?

Don’t miss CIR’s Daily Article !

Dixon
Copyright 2010 by Rich Dixon, All Rights Reserved. Used by permission.

Rich is an author and speaker. He is the author of:

Relentless Grace: God’s Invitation To Give Hope Another Chance. Visit his web site www.relentlessgrace.com

Toughest Forgiveness

Tuesday, March 30th, 2010

man-mirrorForgiveness is giving up the possibility of a better past.

Is there someone you just can’t seem to forgive?

For some reason, forgiveness is on my mind lately. I’ve written a couple of posts  (The Real Power Of Forgiveness and Forgiveness isn’t …) but it’s still poking at me. After some conversation with God (prayer) I realized that there’s one person I cannot quite seem to forgive.

This person has harmed me more than any other individual. He’s caused more hardship and failed to meet my expectations more than anyone else. He’s messed up my life at nearly every opportunity. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that his sole mission is to make me miserable.

Do you know someone like that—someone with a seemingly infinite capacity for making everything about your life harder and more painful than it ought to be? I’ll bet you do.

He’s called myself. Do you struggle with forgiving yourself?

Forgiving myself seems a lot harder than forgiving others. I carry back-breaking grudges against myself, stubbornly lugging around an unbearable weight of self-punishment.

I’m not exactly sure why myself is so difficult to forgive. But since I think lots of us struggle with this, here are some of my reasons. Perhaps you’ll consider leaving a comment with your personal thoughts.

It’s difficult to forgive myself because …

I really don’t want to accept responsibility. If I’m going to forgive myself, I first have to admit my mistakes and bad choices. I need to take an honest look in the mirror and acknowledge that I’ve hurt and disappointed people who trusted me. I’ve fallen short of my own standards. I’ve missed God’s mark.

As long as I’m deflecting responsibility and working hard to blame someone else, I’ll never be able to forgive.

In the hospital following my injury, I heard an obscure country song that resonated with my feelings of guilt and regret. The words stick with me more than twenty years later (you can listen to the song here).

Sometimes I laugh when I look way back to find out who stole all my dreams.

I wish it was easy to face the fact that there’s nobody there but me.

It’s an unpleasant reality; when I honestly seek the source of my failures, disappointments, and unrealized dreams, I often find that there’s nobody there but me. I’d rather avoid that reality.

It feels like taking the easy way out. Why should I get to forgive myself? Especially if others haven’t forgiven me, why should I be able to release myself from further punishment?

I don’t think I deserve it. I haven’t earned it. I need to do more and suffer more. But somehow it’s never quite enough.

Forgiveness isn’t deserved and can’t be earned. It’s a gift, given graciously because it’s the only path to healing.

I think forgiving myself is an event. I forgive, wave the magic wand, and suddenly it’s all supposed to be okay.

Of course, that doesn’t happen. That’s because forgiveness is a process rather than a one-time event. I forgive, the anger and resentment return, and I forgive again.

I think forgiveness is a feeling. When I forgive, I somehow think I should feel something different. When that doesn’t happen, I conclude that forgiveness didn’t really happen.

Forgiveness isn’t a feeling. It’s a tough, intentional choice. I don’t forgive because I feel like it; I forgive because it’s the only way to move forward in love.

Forgiving myself

I think forgiveness is a gift of healing. It heals the giver when it’s offered freely and graciously. It heals the recipient when it’s accepted humbly and gratefully.

Forgiving is never easy, but forgiving myself is especially difficult because I must occupy both roles. Generosity and grace, humility and gratitude, all at once—that’s almost too much for a broken-down old bald guy.

Fortunately, I don’t have to do it alone, because forgiveness is a spiritual issue. It’s the reason Jesus lived and died. If I want to forgive, I believe He’ll help me find the strength and courage I need.

Do you struggle to forgive yourself? Why do you think it’s so difficult?

Many people are afraid to forgive because they feel they must remember the wrong or they will not learn from it. The opposite is true. Through forgiveness, the wrong is released from its emotional stranglehold on us so that we can learn from it. Through the power and intelligence of the heart, the release of forgiveness brings expanded intelligence to work with the situation more effectively. ~David McArthur & Bruce McArthur

Don’t miss CIR’s Daily Article !

Dixon
Copyright 2010 by Rich Dixon, All Rights Reserved. Used by permission.
Rich is an author and speaker. He is the author of:
Relentless Grace: God’s Invitation To Give Hope Another Chance
. Visit his web site www.relentlessgrace.com

The Real Power Of Forgiveness

Monday, March 29th, 2010

forgiveness

To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.  Lewis Smedes

A few days ago I posted an article advancing a revolutionary notion: Forgiveness isn’t … easy.

No kidding.

We all struggle to forgive when we’ve been hurt. That’s sort of obvious.

So here’s a question: If it’s so hard, why bother? Why go to all the trouble of forgiving?

Why not get revenge? Why shouldn’t I make that other person suffer? Why just let it go and let him get away with it?

I know the bible tells me to forgive. I know Jesus talked about forgiveness. I know I’m supposed to forgive. But why?

RTM

Designers frequently answer basic operational questions with the acronym RTM: Read The Manual. When I’m not sure what I ought to do in life, I sometimes imagine Jesus smiling and whispering, “Read the manual.”

I think the bible is a sort of “owner’s manual” for humans, written to help us understand how we were intended to function.

An owner’s manual doesn’t provide arbitrary instructions. The designer carefully explains proper operation and maintenance to achieve optimum performance. I don’t follow directions just because the manual says so—I do it because I believe the designer knows best.

I think many of God’s commands are like that. He doesn’t arbitrarily tell us to do stuff just because He can. He gets no thrill from controlling or threatening us. He doesn’t sit around dreaming up ways to make our lives more difficult.

He wants us to live in the freedom and joy He intended for us. When He points in a particular direction, it’s because He knows that’s the path to true freedom. He’s the designer.

Why do I have to forgive?

It’s like asking why I have to put oil in my car’s engine. I don’t HAVE to do it, but things aren’t going to work properly if I don’t.

We like to imagine the other person suffering as we cling to our anger. We stubbornly embrace the pain, believing that the knot in our gut will somehow translate to theirs.

Does the other person lie awake at night as you endlessly rehearse those cutting remarks that’ll help you get back at them? Do they churn uncomfortably as you relive the painful events?

When you desperately hold on to the anger and resentment, who’s really harmed?

Refusing to forgive is like swallowing poison and waiting for the other person to suffer and die.

It’s a trick

I think our enemy wants us to focus on revenge. He wants us to remember the wrongs and center our attention on the pain. I think forgiveness is the very last thing he wants us to consider.

Why? Because he knows how we were designed. He knows that a desire for retribution takes our attention away from Jesus. He knows that we were designed for agape, and he’ll do anything to divert us from the path of love.

The enemy’s goal is our confinement. He knows that refusing to forgive traps us in a self-constructed prison of anger and pain.

It’s not easy

God doesn’t command forgiveness from afar. He’s not like the teachers of the law to whom Jesus said, “… you load people down with burdens they can hardly carry, and you yourselves will not lift one finger to help them.” [Luke 11:46]

God forgives me at the price of His Son. Jesus forgives me at the price of undeserved suffering and death. Forgiveness isn’t easy or free.

God forgives sacrificially, out of love, because love is His character.

Don’t seek to forgive because you’re supposed to, because God says so. Forgive because He first forgives you, and because it’s the only path to the freedom and intimacy for which He designed us.

When you hold resentment toward another, you are bound to that person or condition by an emotional link that is stronger than steel. Forgiveness is the only way to dissolve that link and get free. Catherine Ponder

Don’t miss CIR’s Daily Article !

Dixon
Copyright 2010 by Rich Dixon, All Rights Reserved. Used by permission.

Rich is an author and speaker. He is the author of:

Relentless Grace: God’s Invitation To Give Hope Another Chance. Visit his web site www.relentlessgrace.com

Are there Jebusites in Your Heart?

Tuesday, March 23rd, 2010

“The king and his men marched to Jerusalem, to fight against the Jebusites who inhabited the land.” 2 Samuel 5:6

The Jebusites still held a stronghold in the heart of the country, never having been dislodged. Just so, there are ‘Jebusites’ in every Christian heart!

In every heart, there are little ‘Jebusite strongholds’, which it seems impossible for us to conquer. Sometimes it is a secret sin which lives on, unconquered, amid the general holiness of a life. Sometimes it is a remnant of the old nature–such as pride, worldliness, selfishness, lust, or bitterness. There are many other such citadels of evil, which rear their proud towers and defy conquest.

“We all have our faults!” we say, and under this ‘cloak’ we manage to tuck away a large number of dear idols that we do not want to give up!

We ought to give attention to these unsubdued parts of our life–that every thought, feeling, and temper may be brought into subjection to Christ. It is perilous to leave even one such unconquered stronghold in our heart!

“We take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ!” 2 Corinthians 10:5

(J. R. Miller, “Miller’s Year Book–a Year’s Daily Readings”)