Several lessons ago I shared how I’ve had times where God felt absent, but I’ve been recently going through a season where I’ve been left questioning if God really cares about us on a personal level – Jesus died for us, but is His love shown beyond that? Because it’s been such a difficult year of many smaller things wearing me down instead of a major grief experience that would give me a target for my pain, it can be hard to even explain to others how hard it’s been. This can also lead to me second guessing my feelings: It’s all small; am I that weak that I can’t handle it or is it legitimate to feel this way? Another way of looking at it is a Tyrannosaurus Rex would be scary, but a smattering of little dinosaurs can still kill and eat you… which is a very strange comparison considering I’ve never encountered either. I’ve been surrounded by small children and that gives me the same feeling as being surrounded by tiny, hungry dinosaurs, but they don’t see me as dinner as much as a trampoline/play-set to climb (and kick). In that lesson I wrote the following paragraph:
What’s interesting is I’ve been part of a church for over a year now and I thought I was friends with the pastor. In the summer he was away for a month and when I saw him at the end of August I flippantly mentioned it had been the worst summer of my life and then apologized for my bluntness. He said he appreciated my honesty. I’ve missed almost every Sunday since because of working on the house and the couple times I went he walked past me in a rush for something. He has also never reached out to ask how I’m doing or ask my wife who’s been taking the kids every week. I get that pastors are busy, but it’s hard not to feel slighted, especially when he says that his gift in encouragement – doubtful. On the plus side, this is how it feels with God. He’s there; He just doesn’t care enough to connect with me.
I shared this because I liked how it explained the way I felt about God, but what’s interesting is it led to me having another idea grow: Do I need to reach out to the pastor to see why he hasn’t connected or do I wait? When we feel forgotten or hurt, it’s very tempting to want to keep waiting for the other person to make a move. At a certain point, however, not reaching out really just becomes a way for resentment to grow and darken our heart. We might feel hurt, but we make it worse if we don’t address it. That’s how a lot of marriages and friendships die: “If they really liked me, they would (blank).”
After another Sunday when I wasn’t able to go to church and nothing was said to my wife, I mentioned to her: “Do I need to reach out to [the pastor] to ask why he hasn’t checked in?” Her response surprised me: “Don’t be mad.” (That’s a terrible way to hear an answer start.) “About a month ago I asked him to contact you.” (I’m still not sure why she thought I’d be angry at her.) “I assumed he hasn’t reached out because you haven’t said anything. The other day I asked [her friend] what I should do. She told me to reach out again and ask, but I’ve been too scared. Can you help me write a message?” I always promote very simple and to the point messages and that’s what we did. I’m not sure what the final draft looked like, but the first real draft started with the question: “A month ago I asked you to reach out to Chad because he’s going through a rough time. Was it too low a priority (e.g. you forgot) or is it something else?” To be honest, being hurt that wasn’t my first suggestion. My first few ideas were pretty jabby, but that’s the beauty of writing a quick message: You can edit yourself. Unfortunately, most people don’t take advantage of this ability and end up sending pages of rambling emotions. Letters to people need to be simple, non accusatory, and with a good question to clear up what’s really going on.
The next day the pastor sent a message to me: “How can I pray for you?” On one hand, it was nice he messaged me, but on the other, I hadn’t talked to him for three months and there wasn’t even a simple pleasantry. My first response started with “So nice to hear from you…” but it made me want to vomit. The second one was more honest, “We haven’t talked in three months and this is the message I receive. Are you asking me this because you feel obligated or do you actually care?” I also erased that one… but it felt good to write. Generally speaking, if your response “feels” good, don’t use it; it’s likely a jab. I ended up going with my third option, which was more polite and fair (and didn’t feel as good):
Hi [pastor]. Thanks for reaching out. The last time we talked at the end of the summer I apologize after saying it had been the worst summer I’ve ever had. I’ve since had the worst fall I’ve ever had. This addition we’re doing has been… something. Prayer wise it’d be great if something amazing came out of this struggle (make it worth it) and for this season of terribleness to end. Is there anything I can pray for you about? (Not that my prayers seem to be doing much lately)
This message didn’t make me “feel” satisfied, but it was a proper response… and then I felt great about it later. My wife received an apology from him where he mentioned he’s going through something really difficult and his mind isn’t working the way it should. When she told me that I gave him a call to check in on him and after leaving a message, he got back to me. We talked for a half hour with fifteen minutes each explaining some of what we’ve been through. He couldn’t share too much about his situation, but it has something to do with being bit by a spider and staying up all night fighting crime… I could be wrong. My brain isn’t working right either.
What is important to note is our conversation had nothing to do with him not reaching out to me. Talking about the hurt like that would’ve made things awkward between us. Instead, sharing a little and hearing his little bit of sharing helped us connect like friends and it was like a weight was taken off my shoulders. What’s crazy is right after our conversation things got better with my situation… well, not really, but I was emotionally stronger for better handling it. By removing the emotional burden, I felt more confident and stronger for handling the garbage that was being handed to me.
It’s also important to note that this was all made possible by two things. First, I bit my tongue and didn’t write a message that “felt” good at the time (those usually lead to guilt and regret), but instead went with a message that was proper. It didn’t feel good at the time to send, but it felt great later. Because I never jabbed at the pastor in my hurt, I would’ve increased the level of safety and trust the pastor had for me and prevented me from any awkward feelings later. Meanwhile, jabbing him would’ve made me less of a friend and more of a typical congregant who’s nice only when it’s convenient. Instead, he can better see that I want to assume the best in him. The other very important factor was my wife was careful not to meddle, but she became an excellent conduit for the pastor and me to reconnect. That’s a tricky position to find, but she achieved it, which is largely because she kept her original request simple and details few. She didn’t try to “fix” the problem, but rather try to arrange us to fix it ourselves. People can fix their own problems, but sometimes they can use a conduit… but this is incredibly risky because you can suddenly be hated by both sides.
After the reconnection, my wife had an interesting thought. She pointed out that my life got increasingly busy to the point I couldn’t go to church for a number of months the exact time the pastor needed a friend. Maybe it was more about me not being there for him rather than him not being there for me. This would make sense since he’s in such a valuable and public position, but I lean toward the devil trying to mess with both of us and it just worked out that by keeping us apart we both ended up more hurt than if we had each other to lean on. The devil wants us to feel alone; there’s more hurt to be had and more potential resentment to grow for future damage. Love and feeling cared about is what helps make life better, so it’s a natural point for us to have attacked.
Whatever the truth is, I now feel less rejection from God and ultimately less alone because of handling this situation the way I did. It’s a good reminder that biting our tongues and being kind leads to better results than sharing what we feel and how we feel like sharing it. It also proves that by sharing things like I did in my lesson (it can also be in a journal or conversation), our brains can point out a new idea.
I’m still in a position where I’m hoping God will bring something great out of all of this because right now the pain has been stronger than anything good we’ve experienced in this year and four months, but quite often the good isn’t truly visible until much later. For instance, most people wouldn’t remove things from their past if given the choice because it helped make them who they are now. It was terrible in the moment, but in retrospect, it has value. Hopefully that’s what’ll I’ll eventually feel as well.
This week may you consider how you can address unresolved situations with kindness in order to free you to enjoy the holiday season better.
Rev. Chad David, ChadDavid.ca, learning to love dumb people (like me)