The Achilles' Heel

It's been a while now since I got the e-mail, but it still bugs me a bit. There was a parishioner who had gone through an extensive bit of surgery and was recovering well. The Deacons had gone out regularly and she had received a handful of calls, visits, and card from well-wishers. All reports back to the office were that she was in great spirits. Thanks to vacation, continuing education, and plain 'ol prioritization, I hadn't made the effort to go and see her. Admittedly, I should have. Then, one Monday morning, the one-line e-mail with no subject:

"So are you ever going to come visit me?"

Dangit. That bugs me. Bugs me a lot. Still does. And not in the "I'm so angry I could yell at you" way, but in the "Why did you have to go and make me feel like garbage" way. And it bugs me because it works. I got out to see her the next day...she was happy as a clam to see me out there, and now everything is fine. But it still bugs me.

It bugs me because I'm going to spend some time today running up to Lowe's to get come light bulbs because somebody in the congregation has noticed something that I have noticed...that some of the lights have been going out in the sanctuary. They let me know about it every time I see them. And, yes, I know that it's not my job to go buy light bulbs. And, yes, I know that I'm giving him exactly what he wants. But I've reached the end of that line of thought...I have thought that every time he's brought it up, and placed it on the back burner every single time. Today...I'm doing it. Why?

Because of my Chicago-sized Achilles' heel: I'm a people pleaser.

I need people to like me, to like coming to this church, and to like each other. I want people to be happy. And even though I have realized this personality trait, observed it, heard time and again in seminary that it will burn me out, worked as hard as I can to ignore/change it, and have done what I can to undermine it...it's still there. It still bugs me and makes me feel like dirt when I get that e-mail. It still bugs me when I get guilt trips about not doing enough. I still take it personally when the only thing people talk to me about it what's wrong with the church. I still have way too much riding on positive feedback and "warm fuzzies."

And probably the most frustrating thing of all is that I know this...and on my best days I can get over it. But then there's periods of time when I can't help but claim all the guilt and all the responsibility. There are times of extended self-pity/delusion when I feel like there's too much to do, that nobody is happy, that all the programs and sermons and visits aren't "working,"

And it's all because of what I have done or left undone.

Funny how this works...I really had no idea where I was going with this post. But after writing that last sentence, a parishioner came into my office, and we started talking about his son. We talked for an hour. His son, who lives halfway across the country, continues to make bad decisions even to the point of putting his life at risk. As he told me this story, he started to share with me the guilt, the pain, and the responsibility he and his wife feel every time something goes wrong; they go down the, "if we only did this..." road and scrutinize their parenting. And when he was done, he asked me what I thought. I found something flowing out of my mouth, plain as day (something I was once told in relation to myself):

"Would you take credit for it if he was rich and successful right now?"
"No...well, no. Not too much."
"Well then why are you taking all the credit now?"

We talked about loving someone without taking full responsibility for them...and how that becomes harder as the love gets stronger. We talked about praying, stopping, walking away and getting perspective. We talked about getting more sleep, about not letting it be all-consuming; about not spending so much time and energy trying to fix everything.

And I think he left feeling better, knowing that God had moved in our conversation to bring some of that perspective and peace. But what I don't think he knew was that he was being used by God, even in his struggles, to bring that perspective and peace to someone else.

That even when we feel broken and defeated, even when it feels like we're throwing punches at a brick wall...we realize that it all doesn't lie on us, that it is God who is moving...

Even when we know we're the ones who need the help.

Check that, epecially when we're the ones who know we need the help.

WifePod

It has been a busy week or so with a lot of challenges (I'll post on some of them tomorrow), but there have definitely been some highlights...such as an outstanding wife-of-the-year display of affection and humor from Julie.

I have continued my running routine, and it is getting somewhat better. I am now only cursing/doubting the existence of God about once every jog instead of the one-time standard 10-20 times a block. The joints are still a little creaky, but getting slowly into shape. I am, by no means, a powerhouse (a woman walking a poodle passed me today)...but I am still at it. I get credit for one thing and one thing only: stubbornness. I have also been equally vigilant in my decrying/complaining about running to our old tapes of sentimental favorites. As much as I love "Wonderful Tonight" by Clapton, not much fun to run to.

Well, my spectacular wife decided to make me a running tape while I was away at Session about a week ago...and while she didn't complete the task, what she has put together so far is a masterpiece. Samples from the list:

First Song: Born to Run, Springsteen

She didn't tell me what was coming when she handed me the tape, so I almost collapsed from oxygen loss when I started last Tuesday. Granted, the fact that I currently can't run and laugh at the same time proves that I was, in fact, not Born to Run, but the song still makes me feel like I was. I have decided that if you can't run to this song, you're definitely not trying hard enough. The "1,2,3,4..." followed by musical explosion part is enough to make me run right now...in slacks.

You Can't Always Get What You Want, Rolling Stones

This may seem strange at first...and, yes, it is one of the harder songs to run to on the tape, but it is an inspired choice. I've had red meat, pizza, and cheese once a piece over the past three weeks and had to watch a kid from our youth group eat a slab of deep-fried cheesecake in front of me at IHOP last Saturday. I was about to throw my ordination to the wind, burst out with a Rebel Yell, push him head-first out of the booth, and make a break for the door with the goods before Julie could catch me. Instead, I thought of my ever-hardening arteries, calmly ate my egg-substitute omelet, and cried on the inside. Sing it, Mick.

Gonna Be Some Changes Made, Bruce Hornsby

Many of you all know my affinity for the one-time ringleader of the Range. This song is another excellent "message song" that she put on the tape that makes encouraging/gently nagging me more fun for both of us. Although a closer examination of the lyrics reveals:

"Gonna be some changes, some changes made

Can't keep on doing what I've been doing these days

Better figure out something

Things are looking grave

Gonna be some changes, changes, changes made"

Grave? Grave? I know I've let myself go a little soft, but geeze. It's just a little cholesterol.

Vertigo, U2

Another inspired full-throttle choice. Good beat, good rhythm, and excellently appropriate lyrics. The song (from what I have been able to deduce) is about a person who feels out of control but eventually realizes that God is in control. The most appropriate lyric in the whole song is the final one: "Your love is teaching me how/How to kneel." A song about relying on God in the face of realizing how limited you are? Could there be anything more perfect?

And, finally, the Piece De Resistance:

War (What is it good for?), Edwin Starr

I can't tell you how much I love this song. I've belted it out at college, screamed it on baseball trips, and grunted along in my car an infinite number of times. While I definitely approved of it's addition, I found myself getting more and more passionate as I chanted along to the lyrics (slightly modified) as I ran:

Running! Hugh! Yea-a-h! What is it good for?

Absolutely nothing! Uh-huh!
Running! Hugh! Yeah! What is it good for?

Absolutely nothing! Say it again y’all!

Running! I despise,

Cause' it means destruction,

Of the muscles in my thighs!

War means tears in thousands to my eyes,

As my lungs go out to fight and lose their lives.

I said...Running! Hugh! Good God y’all!

What is it good for? Absolutely nothing! Say it again!

Running! Whoa-whoa-whoa, Lord...

What is it good for? Absolutely nothing! Listen to me…

Running! It ain’t nothing but a shin-breaker!

Running! Friend only to the shoemaker!

Running! It’s an enemy to all mankind,

The thought of running blows my mind,
Running has caused unrest in the middle-aged generation,

Induction then destruction-Who wants to ache?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Running!

And...you get the point. I hit this song in the homestretch, and I swear I was up to about 1/98th of a mile an hour singing along, growling quietly to myself.

Anyway...with our 5th anniversary coming up this Friday, I just wanted to pass along one of the many excellent, humorous, and life-improving things that Jules does for me...and also give you a brief public service announcement: That (in spite of my original theories) good music, while helpful and wonderful and workout-improving, doesn't make the side cramps stop.

Maybe I need some new shoes. Yeah, that'll do it.

Hello Old "Friend"

I am back in the office this morning...and it feels like an "Ultra-Monday." There is the usual backlog of mail and messages from the weekend, but there are also messages and duties from the entire previous week...a week of vacation that I wish had never ended. But more than anything, I'm feeling it this morning because I had an early morning meeting with someone I have let slip out of my life:

Fitness.

Fitness and I were inseparable in High School. I used to run cross country and train for it...spending evenings out running. I played my share of pickup basketball games, ran track, even golfed without a cart on hot days. Now, granted, the relationship slipped a bit when I went off the college...but I still checked in regularly with pickup games of ultimate frisbee, football, and basketball. But then grad school came...and suddenly I noticed that Fitness and I were having an extremely hard time finding things that we liked to do together. It soon reached the equivalent of rolling over in bed, looking Fitness in the eye, and sobbing quietly, "I don't even know who you are anymore." Our once wonderfully mutual relationship had turned completely one-sided. All I did was give...all Fitness did was take. She nagged, she made me feel guilty, and then, when I gave in, she made me feel old, fat, and tired. Pretty soon, we weren't on speaking terms. And that has pretty much been the status quo ever since. Sure, I lifted some weights in seminary (which, it ends up, was like putting a little more cargo on the Titanic) and have dabbled in running over the past few years...all to no avail. I have longed for those glory days of fun-loving, attractive Fitness...but instead have found a stable of dependable, enjoyable friends in Apathy, Lethargy, and Procrastination.

Now...let's get something straight here...I think that I'm in decent shape. Mostly thanks to Julie, I'm not the average-American who's borderline-cardiac-arrest. I eat well and am relatively healthy. But the recent health test I did for health insurance revealed that I have borderline high cholesterol...which, when teamed with my borderline high blood pressure, means that I probably need to do something I've been avoiding for a while; reconciliation with Fitness.

One of my problems is that I've done the elliptical trainer some over the past few years and I think that my body has learned to "fool" it. I usually "run" on it for about 20-30 minutes while watching a James Bond movie, and when I get done I feel slightly sore but not really all that drained or tired. It's as if my body says, "There, see! You're in shape! Now never do that again." This morning I tried to rekindle my love affair with Fitness through our old favorite: running. I thought that pulling out the walkman and going back to my roots might bring back all those good memories. So I pulled out of bed early and hit the streets this morning...and, boy, let me tell you:

Fitness has let herself go. There is nothing even remotely attractive about her...in fact, these past few years have made her bitter and vindictive. I'm convinced that she hates me. First, she shook loose years of God-only-knows-what in my lungs, causing me to cough like a chain smoker for most of the morning so far (I swear there were some bats nesting down there or something). Second, even after trying to let her know I was coming back by stretching before and after, she took a billy club to my left knee just to remind me that it's been years since I have called, then added double side cramps to really bring home the message. Third, for a "soundtrack," she made sure that he only tapes we still have are old mix tapes I made Julie back in the day that have more songs of the "slow, lovey, mellow" variety than the "fast, motivating, exciting" variety on them...so I was panting and heaving to the soothing sounds of Tom Petty's "Wildflowers" and Neil Young's "Silver and Gold." So it not only looked like a wake and felt like a wake...it sounded like one, too.

Those who run fairly often speak of something called "runner's high," a feeling you get when you're done running that is akin, somehow, to the euphoric feeling you get when you do drugs. Well, this morning was bad acid. They also say that your body sends you messages that you need to listen to when you work out, mine was saying something like: "What the heck is thiiiiiiiiiiiiis!!!???" But, valiantly or stupidly ignoring those messages, I pressed on. When all was said and done, I stumbled into the front yard heaving, wheezing, and listening to the soothing tones of "Blue in Green" by Miles Davis. I was oh-so-close to just lying down in the sprinkler and asking Jesus to take me.

But I guess it is that yellow yard that brought me a small slice of solace this morning. Our yard, once spectacularly green, has recently been upgraded to "extra crispy." But Julie and I have been working at it, dragging hoses and watering more frequently. The lawn seemed resistant at first, screaming "You talkin' to me!!!?" by stubbornly staying pale yellow. But slowly, and surely, the lawn has greened up. It still looks absolutely terrible in places...there is still a lot of work to go...but it's getting there. I just keep thinking about how much easier it will be to maintain rather than catch up. I keep thinking about how much better the house will look. I just need to keep thinking about the benefits of the work I'm putting in...rather than what a pain it is to drag those hoses. I guess you could say that I just have just got to keep at it. And then stay at it.

And so I am "watering the lawn" of personal fitness. And, yeah, it's been a while. And even though I don't think I'm burnt yellow yet...it still feels like I have a long way to go. But even though I know that, even though I preached yesterday on the cost of being who God makes to be...I still sat out back, sucking air to the point that I nearly inhaled our neighbor's dog...

And prayed for underground sprinklers.