Mercy vs. Justice
Do you consider yourself to be a Mercy person or a Justice person? Can you be both?
This is something that I’ve wrestled with for quite some time, but especially as of late. It’s been two months since my last post. Why? Quite simply, I tanked during the month of December.
As I’ve stated in previous posts, I’ve been in a two year battle with depression, most of it tied to my unemployment and the circumstances surrounding the loss of my last two jobs. As Bill Murray’s character says in What About Bob, “I’m doin’ the work! I’m not slacker!” What I am still baby-stepping through is the tension between showing mercy vs. wanting justice.
So which is right? Are we supposed to ALWAYS show mercy? When is it RIGHT to want justice?
Two weeks before Christmas I had lunch with my pastor. He has walked this unemployment road with me and wanted to see how I was holding up. So I backed the truck up and dumped my payload of unresolved anger. When I finally came up for air he pointed out my struggle between showing mercy and wanting justice. We covered it all – the financial struggle, legal matters, its effect on my family, strained relationships, and just the flat-out pain. We also talked about the injustice of my situation and my desire for justice to be served against those who had wronged me. Ultimately our time together ended with the assurance that God is in control, and releasing it all to him on a daily basis was more important than ever.
SO, back to the question. Mercy or Justice? I believe no matter how hard it is, showing mercy is ALWAYS right, and justice is ALWAYS up to God, especially in how it is served.
I’m Coming Back
Ever get to that point where you’re just at the end of yourself? That place where the stuff we think we can count on in this world (job,skills, education, financial resources, self-reliance, people) has been stripped away? And we literally, and sometimes figuratively drop to our knees, throw our hands in the air as if to say, “God! What do you want from me?!” Well, I’m there. But don’t worry, this blog will not have a “Debbie Downer-ish” tone.
This past weekend our church resurrected an older worship tune that I had not heard in a long time. It so penetrated this worn and wounded heart, giving me a much needed message of purpose, hope, and affirmation of what I believe is important. My wife, Emily, happened to be on our worship team that morning. And the added bonus came in the form of her sweet gentle voice leading out on this song:
when the music fades
all is stripped away
and i simply come
longing just to bring
something that’s of worth
that will bless your heart
i’ll bring you more than a song
for a song in itself
is not what you have required
you search much deeper within
through the way things appear
you’re looking into my heart
i’m coming back to the heart of worship….
Reconnecting with Dad – Together At Last
If you haven’t read part 1 of this story, click here.
The phone rang at 10:00PM on Friday, September 19, 2008. “We’re here!” We had all anticipated the call and immediately jumped in the car and drove to the hotel where my dad and step-mother were staying. As we approached the hotel we could see two figures standing outside the entrance. We parked the car and started walking their way. Sure enough, here they came. What I saw was half the man I remembered from when I was twelve. He was very skinny and somewhat frail. We immediately embraced and my arms reached all the way around him until they overlapped. He kissed my face and held onto me so tight that it seemed like the tears already flowing from my eyes began to run down even faster. My daughter stepped right up and handed them each a card she had made by hand. They were blown away. Emily and our son followed with hugs and expressions of joy that we were all finally together.
They invited us up to their room and we spent the next hour looking at pictures, telling stories, laughing, crying, and simply getting to know each other again. At one point my dad was sitting directly in front of me and I noticed many scars from head to toe. When I inquired, he began to tell me about having prostate cancer, heart bypass surgery, and multiple other surgeries. Clearly he and my step-mom had been through alot with his health. The time flew by so fast and it was getting late. I think we all could have talked our way through the night but instead we gave into common sense realizing we would be together again the next day.
Saturday morning we headed back to the hotel with swimsuits in hand, all of it still very surreal. We had no big plans for the day other than to spend time together and do whatever we wanted. It was amazing to watch the interaction between my dad and Em and the kids. Very comfortable. It seemed like they had known him from the beginning. A personal highlight was going back to our house and having my dad help me put together a new grill. Emily made the observation that it was our first father-son project. My dad and I looked at each other with expressions of great satisfaction.
I know it seems like a fairy tale so far, but the time with my dad didn’t end without reflections of pain and regret. As strange as this may sound, one of the best memories I have of that day was standing in our kitchen with Dad talking about how much we have missed each other and yet how much regret we have by not reconnecting sooner. He apologized profusely for missing my wedding. But ultimately we embraced again agreeing to just move on from here. Pretty great day!
They headed back home Sunday. It was a quick visit but monumental in all of our hearts. I think I finally realized the magnitude of this process when my dad couldn’t even get out-of-town before he called from the gas station telling me what a tremendous gift this has been for he and my step-mom. WOW!!
Over this past year we have spent even more time together and have savored each moment. I have learned so much from this process about relationships and the effects of choices we make. Most importantly, there is HOPE for reconciliation even in the most difficult of relationships. But it takes risk. And quite frankly, that risk has to be given to God. This is not a step to take on your own.
Reconnecting with Dad
I didn’t know him well. The only time I ever spent with my dad growing up was through the court ordered visitations. I have some good memories of that time. Like playing baseball in his backyard – “Homerun Derby” to be specific. He was a lefty, and I would attempt to jack every pitch out into the cornfield that bordered his property. A regular “Field of Dreams” moment. Also, my dad was Catholic and we would go to the local fish fry on Friday nights. Small town kind of stuff. Loved it!
It was however very difficult to release myself to really enjoy the time with my dad when I was a kid. I was told that my parents’ divorce was very rough and the custody battle affected everyone as they all do. But as with any marriage, it takes both husband and wife to make it or break it. And while growing up without a strong and consistent father figure certainly had its effects on me, I have also learned the importance of forgiveness and being willing to see and understand that we are all imperfect people which also helped me think about my dad differently.
It was the summer of 2008. I had just lost my job and was at the place of complete surrender to God. Sort of a “standing naked in the wind” kind of surrender. Know what I mean? Fully exposed! Or as Kramer would say, “I’m out there Jerry and I’m LOVIN’ EVERY MINUTE OF IT!” Except I wasn’t “lovin’ every minute of it.”
I was sitting in church one Sunday. Didn’t want to be there. Just wanted to be invisible. And then it hit. I became overwhelmed with thoughts of my dad. “What?! Where did all this come from?”, I thought. I began to weep one of those embarrassing “sucking your lip-in-and-out” kind of cries. It’s almost as if I could feel my dad’s broken heart. It was almost a little scary how hard this hit me. So after the service I grabbed two people I highly respected and told them what was going on. Of course they prayed that God would show me what to do with whatever was was happening.
Over the next couple of weeks it was clear that I wanted to reach out to my dad. It was time to move beyond knowing my dad of the past and attempt to get to know him today. So I wrote a letter. I kept it short and to the point. For those of you who have ever thought about reconnecting with an estranged parent or family member, here’s what I wrote:
Dad,
I know it’s been a long time since we last saw each other but I have been thinking alot about you and would very much like to see you. I have a wonderful family. Emily and I have been married for 19 years this November. We have two amazing children that I would love for you to meet.
Dad, my desire to see you is unconditional. All I want is to try our best to re-establish a relationship if it’s not too late.
Please write back or call me when you get this letter.
I love you!
Scott
Three weeks after I sent the letter our phone rang and we couldn’t find the handset. On the third ring my wife finally found it and yelled, “IT’S YOUR DAD!!” Seeing his name on the caller ID was surreal. I tried to answer it before it kicked into voicemail, “DAD?!”…no answer…”DAD?!”…no answer…”DAD?!” Finally I hear a weak voice say, “Scott?” I ran upstairs to our bedroom and shut the door so I could hang on every word. It was one of the most exhilarating moments I have ever experienced. How do you catch up with your dad that you haven’t seen or spoken to in 25 years? Clearly we were giving each other the Reader’s Digest version of our lives. The conversation lasted about 30 minutes with the agreement that we wanted to see each other.
I was flying high! What an amazing experience so far. But taking this kind of risk is not easy and doesn’t always end with a beautiful package and a bow. Stay tuned for the next chapter to see how it turned out.
Dream On!
Dreams. I love hearing/reading stories about dreams. I’m particularly drawn to the stories of dreams coming to fruition later in life when the “odds” are against them.
Jimmy Morris. His story is the subject of one of my favorite films, The Rookie. Jimmy’s dream was to play baseball in the big leagues. Growing up he struggled to gain validation of his love for baseball from his military father. The family moved frequently and finally settled in a small Texas town where baseball was almost nonexistent. The odds were against him. Although Jimmy was drafted by the New York Yankees, he never quite made it to the majors due to an injury to his throwing arm. So he retired early and became a teacher and baseball coach at the local high school.
Loved by his players, Jimmy agreed to a bet that if his team won State, he would try out for the majors. The team won State. So after much hard work battling his demons and getting the blessing of his family, Jimmy Morris tried out and was signed by the Tampa Bay Devil Rays at the age of 35. In baseball years, THAT’S OLD!
And while the dream didn’t play out quite like Jimmy originally planned back in his prime, it was the support and belief of those around him that led to the dream being fulfilled.
I too have a dream. In fact I’ve had my dream for a while. And just like Jimmy Morris, I almost gave up because of fear, self-doubt, and time. But surrounding myself with people I love and respect, and who believe in me, a moment of clarity hit and I’m back on track with more passion and drive than ever before.
What’s your dream? Have you given up on it? Don’t! Your dream just might be the answer and hope that someone else needs.
The Trail to Amphitheater Lake
My mother frantically running toward me crying, yelling, and screaming. It’s an image that will forever be burned into my psyche.
My step dad was a park ranger in Grand Teton National Park. So between the ages of seven and eighteen I spent my summers in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I know (eye roll) it’s one of the most beautiful places on earth. But I didn’t appreciate it. Typical kid I guess. I hated the anticipation of leaving my friends and missing all the summer adventure. Instead, I was living in log cabins and hiking up canyons to waterfalls and crystal clear lakes. Pure torture! (wink)
Over time I learned to appreciate the beauty of Jackson Hole and those majestic Tetons. I enjoyed saying “Hello” to people I passed on the trail. I made a game of it to see who would say “Hello” back. It helped pass the time. But nothing brought me more pleasure than the anticipation of those last several hundred feet at the end of the trail. Often times I would hike ahead of my family so I could be the first to finish. And once everyone caught up with me at the end I would often say, “That wasn’t so bad!” Yeah, right!
But there was one hike that almost made me physically sick to even think about. The trail to Amphitheater Lake. This was one of those brutal ALL UPHILL hikes with over 100 switchbacks or so it seemed. And just when you thought you were almost to the lake, the realization that you were only about half-way would set in. UGH!
Amphitheater Lake is without a doubt one of the most beautiful lakes I have ever seen. The scene is dramatic. The lake sits at the base of Disappointment Peak, named for the many climbers who attempted to climb the Grand Teton and then realized it was unreachable due to a massive drop into a glacier. We made sure to spend at least a couple hours at the lake to justify the ascension. It was tempting to jump in for a swim. But one toe in the water was enough to know that hypothermia would be my demise.
As a family we were as dysfunctional as they come. My step dad was one of these guys who still wanted to live a bachelor’s life while trying to be married. Playboy & Penthouse magazine were regular “reading material” for him and easily accessible to this tween boy. It was also a major point of contention for my mom. My mom’s weight dropped dramatically over their eight years together, and they fought regularly. My sister and I would often leave the house for long periods of time just so we didn’t have to watch or listen. Eventually they divorced.
But before the end of their marriage they built a condo in Jackson Hole so we could have a permanent vacation spot. My mother got the condo in the divorce. At first I thought it was a bit strange. Why would she want to go back to that place? Regardless, we went back every summer.
By the time I was eighteen Jackson Hole had become a place of peace and rest since the divorce. It was amazing how much more I enjoyed hiking those canyons and enjoying the lakes. In fact, I was enjoying it so much, my mother and I decided to brave the trail to Amphitheater Lake one more time.
It was amazingly beautiful that day. The hike seemed effortless. But for such a beautiful day it was odd that we hadn’t encountered anyone on our way up the trail. Nonetheless we enjoyed lunch at the lake and took in the scenery. It was a perfect day. After a couple hours we decided to head back. Finally about half-way down I passed a lady sitting on a rock next to the trail. I gave my customary smile and said, “Hello” as I passed by. The lady just chuckled. Kind of a “Whatever” chuckle. I remember thinking, “Weird”, and kept on going. My mother was way behind me at this point and so I stopped at the end of the next switchback to wait on her. The minutes grew and grew and I started to worry. Finally after about 45 minutes I saw my mom at the top of the switchback running toward me yelling and screaming, “RUN! RUN, SCOTT! RUN!” I froze. And I was scared. Was she being chased by a bear? A moose? I did what she said. I ran like the wind! It seemed like we were running forever (I sound like Forrest Gump).
We finally reached the bottom of the trail. We took a few moments to catch our breath. Then my mother began to unfold what had happened. Remember when I passed that lady that gave me that snide chuckle? Back behind her was a large rock about 8 ft. x 8 ft. When my mother reached that point, my step dad jumped out from behind that rock and startled my mother. The lady sitting on the rock was his mistress, and they began to harass my mother. Needless to say I was fuming! I wanted to charge back up that trail and beat the crap out of him! But instead we found what we thought was his car (he always rented a Volvo) and began cramming dirt into his gas tank. We laughed and cried the whole way home.
It’s now been over 20 years since that day. And even though it is a painful memory, I am thankful for it. Why? Because it is a perfect example of an unequally yoked marriage. Not only did he not value my mother, he didn’t value women. And he certainly did not value God. How do you construct a healthy marriage with those elements? You can’t. It also shows me first hand how wicked a human being can be. And without the grace of God, there go I.
I hope someday to hike the trail to Amphitheater Lake once again. I wonder if that rock is still there? What emotions will I feel? Maybe I will take Emily and the kids with me as a testament showing that God has helped me break the cycle of divorce in my family. Whatever happens, you can count on me writing about it.
We Are Better Together
I grew up a child of divorce. Not one, but two. I didn’t handle it very well. I was lonely most of my teenage years and would befriend anyone, even if it meant participating in “harmful activities”, which I did. At the time I couldn’t necessarily identify the problem. I was just, well, LOST!
When I was 19 I met the love, grace, and mercy of Jesus. Had no idea what that meant, but I liked it, and I wanted it.
The added bonus came in the form of meeting Emily. We will celebrate 20 years of marriage this November. Emily was and is unlike any girl I have ever known, and without a doubt an extension of Christ. Clearly she was a gift from God and we knew pretty quick that we wanted to be married. Most of our dates consisted of sitting and talking (still do). Not chit-chat. I’m talking deep, honest, “I trust you”, kind of talks. It didn’t take long for us to realize that we had similar passions and goals. Particularly as it related to our relationship with Christ. We wanted more than just “church talk.” We wanted to KNOW HIM!
We have two amazing children, Jackson(12) & Riley(10). I remember being extremely nervous about being a dad. I was definitely excited. Just didn’t have anything to draw from that gave me the confidence I needed to enter this fathering adventure. And on top of that, Jackson was diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome. Sometimes that meant “all hands on deck” just to help him get through an overwhelmingly stressful situation at school or home.
We have both had jobs where we’ve had to do some traveling. In fact I’m writing this from my hotel room in Baton Rouge, LA. We don’t like being apart but we “hold down the fort” for each other when one of us has to be away. Thankfully we have been extremely blessed to mainly work from home. I know alot of couples can’t do it. But we love it!
So just like any married couple we have faced many different circumstances. Some hard and some not so hard. We’ve experienced great joy and great heartache. But regardless of what we face in life one thing is true – we are better when we’re together!
I believe the same is true in our relationship with Christ.
Fearless!
I’m reading, “Fearless“, by Max Lucado. My journey to read this book is a combination of my own intrigue as well as Emily’s strong nudge. She’s reading it too and is farther along in it. She even blogged about it. But before we started leap frogging our way through it, I took a little condensed version booklet (brilliant marketing by the way, Mr. Michael Hyatt) on one of my last trips….it was the deodorant confiscation trip from my last blog. Anyway, I plowed through this little teaser on the plane and just HAD to have more. Why? Because I have lived in fear my whole life!
What if I screw up?
What will people think of me?
I might as well not even try….I can’t do it?
What if I FAIL?!
HEAD TRASH as one of my good friends calls it. IT’S ALL HEAD TRASH! But nontheless, it’s something I continue to struggle with everyday. And this isn’t just about me. I come across people all the time who are paralyzed by fear. Makes me sick and angry at FEAR! So I’m reading, “Fearless”, because I will do anything to personally overcome it, and hopefully help others as well.
Even though I am only as far as chapter 2, here’s a little example of how this book, actually, Max Lucado, is helping me. I’ve been out of full-time work for a little over a year. I have 15 years in the event planning & management industry, and I love it. To me, there’s nothing like putting together a party, fundraiser or conference, and then sitting back and watching people have a great time or learn how to do their job better. And at the risk of sounding prideful, people tell me all the time that I’m REALLY good!” So you would think I’d have all the confidence in the world, right? WRONG!
However, here is the glimmer of hope that I am finding, and learning from Max. I MATTER! “What does that mean”, you ask? It means that I matter to God. YOU, matter to God. It DOESN’T matter what others think of us. Whether we’re good enough, smart enough, or dog-gone-it, whether people like us. The reality is that we WILL fail from time to time. But the beautiful thing is that God’s opinion and acceptance of us stays the same. Did you hear me? IT STAYS THE SAME! He loves us unconditionally. So you know what I did yesterday? I took a chance and applied for what I would consider to be a dream job in my field, Event Coordinator at a local upscale concert venue. I was scared-to-death! Scared that I wouldn’t interview well. Scared that I wouldn’t get the job. But I fought through it, and it turned out to be a great interview. But what was so freeing in the process is that I can honestly say that once I walked out of there, the fear was gone. If I don’t get the job, it’s OK. It doesn’t define me. So “Fearless” is kicking my butt right now, and I love it!
As I said earlier, many people are paralyzed by fear. There are also those who pretend that they don’t struggle with fear and go through life with a false self-confidence and then crash and burn at some point. I strongly encourage you to pick up this book, “Fearless“, and see what it has to say….for you.
The Joy of Air Travel
The past few months have been rough. And as many of you know, we have two choices when we go through hard times. We can either drown in self-pity or we can learn from it and move forward, and hopefully be wiser for it. I chose the latter of the two and scheduled some much needed R & R at my sister’s farm in Texas. You know, get away from it all, get a fresh perspective on life, and “have a little talk with Jesus.”
So, my sweet wife, Emily, took me to the airport. On a side-note, whenever one of us has to go out-of-town and we do the whole “airport drop-off thing”, I can’t help but always think of the scene in the movie, Dumb & Dumber when Jim Carrey’s character, Lloyd, is dropping off his new love, Mary Swanson……”I HATE GOODBYES!” “SHHHHHH (awkwardly shoves his finger up her lips and practically into her nose)……JUST GO.” Cracks me up every time! Anyway, back to the story. So I enter the airport, excited about my trip and becoming a farm-boy for a few days. I don’t know about you, but whenever I begin to enter that dark tunnel leading towards the security line, my butt-cheeks tighten, I start having hot flashes, and my mind races:
“What if they send me to THAT line?”
“What if the buzzer goes off and I have to take off MORE clothes?”
“What if they send me into that shower looking thing where it shows you naked on the monitor? I hope my manhood looks like a Clydesdale and not a Shetland!”
“What if they decide to go through all my stuff and I miss my flight?”
Anyway, not a pleasant experience for my screwed up mind. But I was determined that NOTHING could mess up this trip. Not even the worst case scenario in the security line (which would actually be the site of a TSA agent boring a whole in me with his eyes while snapping a rubber glove onto his hand). I digress. Moving on!
So I make it through the initial maze to the “I.D. reader TSA agent.” I know they’re looking to see if your I.D. is real or fake, but what is the number that they hand-write on your ticket? No one even looked at my ticket after that point in the process? I then look for what I hope is the “We’re friendly and not really paying attention” line so I can hopefully disrobe, get through the line, and then put my clothes back on as quickly as possible. No chance! They’re all packed. I at least made sure I chose the line that DID NOT have the shower-looking thing. So I make it through the beeper and begin to retrieve my clothing. And then I heard the dreaded, “Sir, is this your bag?” OH CRAP! You know, I purposefully packed light so I didn’t have to check a bag. What could they possibly see in that monitor that would be life threatening?! “Sir, I’m going to have to go through your bag.” FINE! So the TSA agent snaps on the rubber gloves (cheeks still tighten) and begins carefully pulling out everything in my shaving kit. “Sir, you know that all items must be 3.4 oz or less?” I just shrug my shoulders at this point and probably gave a good eye-roll. He then begins to fixate on my 4 oz. Right Guard deodorant. He starts smacking the bottom of the container into his hand over and over again. I guess he’s trying to compact the gel to make up the .6 oz difference that was needed to save my Right Guard from being tossed. I’m thinking, ”Seriously dude?!” Then (and I will NEVER, EVER forget the next thing that came out of his mouth), the TSA agent says,
“Sir, would you like to share some of your deodorant with the people in line so we can get this down to 3.4 oz.?”
Did I hear him right? Yep! He was as serious as a heart attack. Remind you, he was saying this while he stood there with two rubber gloves on his hands for…..SANITATION PURPOSES! And he was asking me if I would be OK with a stranger’s, no wait a minute, several stranger’s pit-juice on my Right Guard?! I looked at the guy next to me, and we died laughing. I mean double-over-bust-a-gut laughing. I then looked up at the TSA agent who was still trying to pack down my Right Guard, and he was not amused. “Sir, if you’re not going to share your deodorant I will have to throw it away.” GO FOR IT PAL! And I walked away still laughing and in disbelief at what just occurred.
The trip ended up being fantastic, and exactly what I needed. I drove a tractor, put out hay for the cattle, fixed several items in the farmhouse, and had some meaningful time with my sister. And most importantly, had some real honest talks with God. And looking back, I could have gotten really angry over that ridiculous display of obvious control issues, and allowed it to ruin my trip. But instead, I chose to see the humor in it.
So next time you head to the airport, don’t think about the hassle that has become air travel, but rather keep an eye out for the comical moments. Who knows, they might enhance your trip!
Marriage Survival During Unemployment
I was having coffee this morning with a good friend of mine who lost his job a few months ago and has had a difficult time finding work. I asked him how he and his wife were doing through the whole unemployment adventure and it was great to hear him talk about how “together” they were and the support he felt from her. He went on to talk about how thankful he is to have a wife who builds him up rather than tearing him down when he already feels a sense of defeat having lost his job. For some reason it got me thinking about one of my favorite movie scenes from Liar Liar when Jim Carrey is trying to make his case in court by blurting out the analogy, “Where would Tina Turner be right now if she’d rolled over and said, ‘Hit me again Ike, and put some STANK on it!’” And while I laugh every time, it made me wonder how many people out there are getting hit with some extra STANK from their spouse because they got fired or laid off?
Two years ago I too lost my job for the first time. This was new territory for me and I was just sick about it. The day it happened I remember being shocked, angry, and scared. I cleared out my office and headed home. But instead of worrying about what I would say to my wife, I called her immediately. When I told her the news she responded with more love and grace than I could have ever imagined. In many respects, it really didn’t surprise me. Don’t misunderstand me, it felt GREAT! And I was extremely thankful. But looking back, her response to me in that situation was a real testament to how our marriage had developed over the previous 18 years.
What I get most concerned about in this growing unemployment climate are the people who are being met by a spouse that says, What did you do?! OR You idiot! OR What are we gonna do now?! There is nothing positive or productive in these statements. Instead, these statements do nothing but shame your spouse and communicate a sense failure. And I personally don’t know of any marriages that are thriving on those elements. In fact, I guarantee that they’re looking for that unconditional support and approval in pornography, alcohol, drugs or an affair.
So, by responding to your unemployed spouse in a manner that is supportive, respectful, graceful, and full of unconditional love, here are some positive and productive things that can happen that will also keep your marriage strong:
Enjoyable Home-Life: There’s nothing worse than home becoming a battleground, especially if you have children. Instead, this can be a sweet time as a couple/family and a tremendous bonding experience. You also have an extra hand to help around the house. Use it.
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