Tag Archives: pastoral care

February 24, 2023 · 5:57 pm

Believing her, and “false accusations”

This morning, on Facebook, I wrote this:

When someone has been abused, their abuser has also worked very hard to convince them and everyone else that they are liars.

You should be able to understand why.

The fact of human nature is that wicked people can do far worse things to one another than we can possibly imagine. Even people of your own tribe can do unspeakable things to one another.

When we say “I believe you” when someone shares their story, we have given them space to heal, space to breathe, and have gifted them with the first step to their healing and peace. We have borne their burden with them and told them that they are not alone. They are three of the most powerful words we can say.

“I believe you.”

Those words are like water in a desert land, food for a starving man; One spends their life hiding, fearing, silently hoping that she (or he) could speak and someone, anyone would believe them.

We don’t do so well with that. They finally get up the courage to speak up, and most of the time we try everything we can think of to not believe them.

“Are you sure?”

“People don’t act like that.”

“Were there witnesses?”

“We need to get both sides of the story.”

Because if they are lying, then we can continue to pretend that our lives are safe and normal and predictable. But if they are telling the truth, then our world flips over and everything we thought was true proves to be false. It is so much easier if they were just lying.

But they are almost never lying. In fact, it is usually far, far worse than they first tell you.

And so most people never speak. And because they never speak, they aren’t allowed to heal and grieve.

We should do better, even if it turns your world upside down.

“I believe you.”

The normal- albeit disturbing reaction – among certain ones in the church is something like, “What about false accusations, Like Potiphar’s wife?”

So here are a few thoughts on that.

On my original post, I was not speaking to judges, jurists, or anyone else whose business it is to determine the facts of crimes committed. For some reason, Christians have been trained to enter into “jurist” mode whenever a friend discloses abuse. No wonder so many people keep silent.

I am a pastor. When a woman discloses to me,  I listen, I empathize. I ask listening questions to make sure I am understanding right. If there are crimes committed and I am mandated to report, I report it to those who have the duty to investigate. If not, I protect her privacy, but encourage HER to report it to the ones trained in investigation. But I believe her.

For one thing, except for a few exceptions which I will mention later, the reporting victim has everything to lose and nothing to gain. When you look at what all of those who reported abuse in high-profile cases have endured, don’t you wonder why anyone would disclose anything – unless, of course, it was true.

I am trying to think of exceptions – but I can only think of one. Potiphar’s wife. Look at her case:

Now Joseph was handsome in form and appearance.
7 And it came to pass after these things that his master’s wife cast longing eyes on Joseph, and she said, “Lie with me.”
8 But he refused and said to his master’s wife, “Look, my master does not know what is with me in the house, and he has committed all that he has to my hand. 9 There is no one greater in this house than I, nor has he kept back anything from me but you, because you are his wife. How then can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?”
10 So it was, as she spoke to Joseph day by day, that he did not heed her, to lie with her or to be with her.
11 But it happened about this time, when Joseph went into the house to do his work, and none of the men of the house was inside, 12 that she caught him by his garment, saying, “Lie with me.” But he left his garment in her hand, and fled and ran outside. 13 And so it was, when she saw that he had left his garment in her hand and fled outside, 14 that she called to the men of her house and spoke to them, saying, “See, he has brought in to us a Hebrew to mock us. He came in to me to lie with me, and I cried out with a loud voice. 15 And it happened, when he heard that I lifted my voice and cried out, that he left his garment with me, and fled and went outside.”
16 So she kept his garment with her until his master came home. 17 Then she spoke to him with words like these, saying, “The Hebrew servant whom you brought to us came in to me to mock me; 18 so it happened, as I lifted my voice and cried out, that he left his garment with me and fled outside.”
19 So it was, when his master heard the words which his wife spoke to him, saying, “Your servant did to me after this manner,” that his anger was aroused. 20 Then Joseph’s master took him and put him into the prison, a place where the king’s prisoners were confined. And he was there in the prison
.

The New King James Version (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1982), Ge 39:6–20.

A few things to note – first, SHE was the abuser, not Joseph. The power was not on Joseph’s side. It was on hers. She sexually abused him for a long time and he resisted. She became angry at his resistance and was looking for vengeance. She had nothing to lose. She was the master’s wife. He was a slave with no rights at all.

My guess is that everyone (including Potiphar) knew what kind of a person she was, which could explain why Joseph was kept in prison instead of executed.

But everyone involved in the household knew that the woman was after the slave. He had to keep avoiding her and tried not to be alone with her. The other slaves weren’t stupid. They would all have known who was the victim and who was the aggressor.

The fact is that unless the woman has the upper hand with the power, the money, the privilege – she will NOT be believed. Look at how many witnesses it took to get anyone to listen about Harvey Weinstein, Larry Nassar, Jerry Sandusky, Bill Cosby.

Look at how many years it took to expose the wickedness in the Roman Catholic Church, the Sovereign Grace Ministries, and the Southern Baptist Convention – and the victims STILL are cast out, ridiculed, and threatened.

And then look at what all of the victims have had to go through. They have had the most private things about themselves revealed to the world. They have been mocked, disbelieved, ridiculed, thrown out of churches, they have lost their homes, their families, their friends, their safety –

Who on earth would go through that? – unless, of course, it was true.

Do false accusations exist? Sure. Which is why pastors MUST be trauma informed, trained in the dynamics of abuse and assault, and spend far, far more time listening then they do speaking. And they certainly are not trained investigators. Leave that to those trained in it. Just believe. Listen. Be a pastor.

And if you are a friend, just listen. Believe your friend. She (or he) has risked so, so much to reveal just a tiny bit of what she has endured.

If there are lies involved, they will be exposed. Don’t further wound the injured sheep with skepticism. They are only telling you the tip of the iceberg, in the hopes that they will be believed.

And perhaps, if we quit assuming that she is probably lying, maybe more people will talk to us, exposing the works of darkness. And as we humbly seek change in our own hearts, maybe we can become better at listening.


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June 21, 2022 · 9:29 am

Silence, Prayer and Pastoral Visits

One of my favorite authors is Fredrik Backman. His brilliant novel Beartown is set far north of the Arctic Circle in the fictional village of Beartown. I can only read a little at a time because it moves me so deeply.

In one section, he describes the effect of the intense cold on the method of building. I won’t quote the section word for word, but he writes that water can creep into the cracks and empty spaces of the bricks and the timber. And then when it freezes it expands and tears the structure apart.

Silence, he says, is like that. You keep it inside and it creeps into the cracks and chinks and then it expands and expands until it tears you apart. I felt that. I had to put the book down a while. And I started thinking.

The things that affect us the most are those things that we would never, ever share with anyone. We bury them down deep and promise ourselves to never, ever speak of them.

Hold that thought for a moment.

In the early church, there was a custom set up where members of the congregation could talk to the pastor and get help with whatever was troubling them, or to get counsel in their battle against sin. This developed into the confessional booth and the sacrament of confession and penance. (Long story).

In the 16th century, the Reformers did away with the abuses of the confessional and the false assurances of penance and rightly preached Christ alone received by faith alone.

But then they were asked about what a member of the congregation would do if they were bowed down by sin and needed to confess and get help?

And so began the custom of pastoral visitations. These have a long history in the Reformed churches, especially in the Dutch Reformed traditions.

Many years ago, I did a “pastoral visitation” with an elderly Dutch couple. They were a delightful couple and they encouraged my heart many times.

When I showed up at the house, it was spotless. They were dressed up properly. They sat at the edge of their chairs. It was almost like they weren’t themselves.

When I visit someone as a pastor, I just want to talk and see how they are. I don’t need to set up a formal visit to do that. I just try to connect.

But the Pastor’s Visit has a long, long tradition.

I tried to ask them about their lives, if anything was concerning them, if there were anything I could pray for – really anything to get them to open up. And I received short, one word answers. So I tried another strategy.

I closed in prayer.

They immediately relaxed, she got up and got cookies and coffee. And then we had our real talk.

I thought about that, and I thought about the silent spaces that grow until they tear us apart.

And that, of course, led me to our view of prayer.

I wonder how many view prayer the same way that this couple viewed the visit from the Domine? (The Dutch term for the pastor?)

Sweep the house. Get dressed. Answer properly. Don’t cause a fuss.

And the silences grow. Eventually it tears us apart.

To be fair, it is the fault of the pastors, for the most part. Pastors demand that the house be swept and cleaned, that they be dressed properly and their kids be lined up appropriately and that they don’t cause a fuss.

In my life before ordination, I can count on one hand how many times I tried to talk to a pastor about what was really going on in my life.

The first few times, the pastor responded with rage and contempt and asked how I dared criticize.

When I talked to another pastor a few years later, my struggle was dismissed and announced publicly at our next meeting.

So I get it. But it isn’t right.

And then we start thinking that God is like our pastor. We sweep our souls clean, stuff the embarrassing stuff into the oven or the dryer, sit properly, make sure we use the thees and the thous, recite the right words, and breathe a sigh of relief when prayer time is done.

We learned about God from our pastor, and didn’t even know it.

But what would happen if we actually told God what was really going on?

What if we left the dirty clothes and the dirty dishes and the cobwebs all over the place and just told him about it?

“Sometimes I scream inside my head and I don’t think that I will ever stop.”

“Sometimes I wonder how many sleeping pills to take to just finally get some rest.”

“Sometimes I cut myself just to see if I can still feel anything because pain is better than the screaming silence.”

“Sometimes I wonder if God looks at me with contempt whenever he sees me just like my father did.”

“Sometimes I feel far too dirty and used up to stand before God and if I could just do a better imitation of the corner of the room maybe he won’t notice.”

“I choke back my tears because if I let go and just start weeping I don’t think I will ever, ever stop.”

“Sometimes I’m so lonely even in the middle of a crowded room that I want to shout to the universe, “Sir! I exist!!” but I’m afraid that no one would hear me.”

“Sometimes I feel so cold inside I wonder if God ever loved me or if it were even possible.”

“I’ve been same-sex attracted my whole life and don’t know if the pain will ever stop.”

“Once I was so desperate that I got an abortion and never told a soul.”

Can you imagine saying these things to your pastor? Why not?

Pastor, if someone in your congregation said something like this to you, what would you do?

Is not this the help that people actually need?

In fact, God pleads with us to talk to him just like this. He doesn’t want us to hide away our pain and silent screams like a Dutch homemaker hides her dirty dishes and laundry. He doesn’t want us to sweep up before He is invited in.

Because he knows that we can’t sweep up. The wound is deadly and there is no cure apart from Christ. We can’t hide it away and when we try to hide it away it expands and expands until we break apart.

But if we tell Him about it – with words, with honest words, with true words – we will find that he already knows it and has just been waiting for us to admit it.

“Call upon me in the day of trouble” he says.

“Cast your cares upon him, for he cares for you”, he says.

And I know and fully understand why so many of you would never, ever tell a soul about the silent screaming. And I understand why the very, very last person you would want to know about the nightmares and loneliness would be your pastor.

We don’t have the best track record, do we? And for that, I am so, so sorry. I pray that the day will come when Jesus will make us more like him, and more worthy of the name “shepherd”.

We the pastors have given you the impression that you have to make yourself properly fit to be worthy of welcome in the kingdom of God. And every time we do that, we deny our savior, reject the cross, and teach another way of salvation: my own ability to sweep my floor and clean up my mess.

I can’t do it, which is what the gospel is about. And I pray that they day will come when God will raise up true gospel preachers and make us more like Jesus.

But until that day, please remember this. God is big enough for your tears.

God is big enough for your silent screams and desperate darkness and cold heart.

What he wants is for you to tell him about it – not swept and clean and made presentable – but with the dirt and the snot and the ugly crying and broken dishes –

But it doesn’t magically disappear, for we are all still in a world that is under the curse of death.

But the day will come when those tears will be wiped away, when our house will be cleansed – but not by us. And we won’t have to hide in the corners anymore. We will be welcomed, clean, dressed, and sitting at the head table as the guest of honor at the marriage supper of the Lamb.

Won’t that be a fabulous day?

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February 25, 2020 · 11:26 am

An introduction…

As a pastor, I would like to take a moment to plead with my fellow pastors and elders. I would like to plead with you on behalf of someone in your congregation that you have not met yet.

And so I would like to introduce you.

In my introduction, I will use “she”, but be assured that this person you haven’t met could very well be a male.

It is true that you might shake her hand every day.

You have probably done the pastoral visit, if you are of the Reformed persuasion. You have most likely taken an elder or a deacon and sat in their living room and asked questions like this:

  • Do you tithe?
  • Do you attend church regularly?
  • Do you have any issues with the leadership?
  • Do you have any unresolved sins in your life?

And she (or he) gave all of the expected answers and you smiled and nodded and said a prayer and ate a cookie and moved to the next house.

But you didn’t meet her.

She might be involved in every good work. She might be the first to volunteer to bring a meal to the shut-ins. She might be the first to be the meal coordinator and refreshment planner for the congregation.

Or she might be one who sits in the back and leaves the minute the service is over.

She might come sporadically. She might be at every service and every prayer meeting.

You might have known of her and seen her in the pews for 25 years.

And now I would like to introduce you to her. It is about time, don’t you think?

She is carrying in her heart an unspeakable burden, which she has never shared with anyone. And she certainly won’t with you.

  • She won’t tell you of the years that her father snuck into her bedroom at night.
  • She won’t tell you of being terrified of her husband.
  • She won’t tell you that she curls into a tight ball and shakes uncontrollably every night.
  • She won’t tell you about how she walks to her car every night with her keys clenched between her fingers, always on hyper-alert.
  • She won’t tell you about the time that dinner was late and her husband screamed at her for hours; or the time that she cried herself asleep because her husband was out all night again.
  • She won’t tell you about that time when she was so afraid she lay in her bed with her clothes on in case she had to run.
  • She won’t tell you about her grandfather’s roaming hands or what she had to do to get that job or why to this day certain songs cause her to break down.

Or perhaps this person you haven’t met yet is a man. He might be an elder, or the leader of the youth group. He might always be there. He might have a wife and kids. He might be single. He might be the first to serve, or the first to leave. He might have been sitting in your congregation for 25 years.

But he also carries around unspeakable burdens that he will never, ever tell anyone.

He especially won’t tell you.

  • He won’t tell you about the time his father took a belt to him until blood ran down his legs.
  • He won’t tell you about his struggles with lust or same sex attraction.
  • He won’t tell you that he is terrified of being known and terrified of being alone all at once.
  • He won’t tell you that his biggest fear is that one day his children will look at him with contempt.
  • He won’t tell you that he fears that his wife will someday find out what he is really like and head for the door.
  • He won’t tell you about Uncle Marty and all of the secrets that they kept; or the overnight scouting trips with Dad’s best friend and all of the dark things that happened in dark rooms with heavy breathing and foul breath and how to this day certain songs and certain smells cause him to panic and curl up in a ball.

And when you read this, you might say, “They should talk to me. They know I’ll listen. There’s no excuse for not talking to the pastor.”

And that is one of the reasons they aren’t going to tell you. They know you wouldn’t understand. They know that you wouldn’t care to understand.

Perhaps they know that you view your congregation as simply a stepping stone in your career. They know that you will only be there are year or two, until something better comes along. You are upwardly mobile, after all. And tiny, rural churches aren’t nearly as significant as big city churches.

Or perhaps they know that you already know everything and they are terrified that you will find out what they are really like. Dirty; outcast; unclean – they aren’t really fit for any company, either God’s or man’s.

And there is a part of them that knows that this is what you will think of them if they tell you who they really are, and they can’t bear that.

Better to keep it buried inside and carry it to the grave.

 

For those who haven’t dismissed everything I’ve said yet – if you truly want to know this person that I am introducing you to, then perhaps you will hear me one more time. I am begging you for the sake of the one you haven’t met yet.

There is a reason why she won’t tell you who she really is. She doesn’t trust you.

There is the obvious reason. She is perhaps afraid that you might gossip. But I think it even goes deeper.

She doesn’t think you can handle the darkness that is inside and know what to do with it.

She thinks that you will respond with revulsion and rejection, and that is what she (or he) can’t bear.

She heard you when you mocked the #metoo movement as a bunch of money-grubbing whiners, or scorned exes.

She heard you when you said, “God hates f**s”.

She heard you when you blamed the rape victim by asking “What was she wearing?” When you preached about dressing like a hooker and inciting men to lust. I don’t know what you meant, but what she heard is that it was her fault that her mom’s boyfriend snuck into her bedroom every night when she was nine years old.

She heard you when you preached about Bathsheba inciting David to take her by bathing on the roof, even though the scripture says no such thing.

She heard you when you preached that a woman’s responsibility is to give great sex on demand so her husband won’t stray. “If he has milk at home, he doesn’t need to go looking.” And she watched everyone chuckling at your wit. And she wondered what was wrong with her that her husband has a new girlfriend every week, and spends every evening with pornography. She tries, but won’t ever measure up.

And she watches you squirm uncomfortable whenever anyone mentions sex. She sees your indignation and fear over cleavage and bare shoulders and exposed knees, and she wonders to herself – if he can’t handle that, then how on earth will he be able to deal with reality?

She hears you when you make your funny, funny jokes from the pulpit about how women are. She sees how you laugh when famous preachers say, “go home.”

She hears the jokes and she sees everyone laughing at it and she dies just a little bit inside.

 

And it isn’t just her. There are also men who will never talk to you about their true struggles.

They hear your contempt about “effeminate” men, and how you praise the hunter and the sportsman and the athlete, and the hardbody, and the one who goes to the gym and works out (like Paul did, you know, when he “beat his body into submission”. Obviously he is talking about crossfit, ancient Sparta style!)

He hears you when you mock the poor, the sick, the lame. He hears when you show so much contempt to the one who “doesn’t keep his woman inline”.

And when you ridicule depression or chronic illness. When you roll your eyes at yet another man who “won’t work, so he shouldn’t eat!” because you have no concept what continual, chronic illness feels like.

Every time you preach on Christian manhood, or testosterone-fueled sanctification, he shrinks a little more inside.

Every time you say, “Men need to man up!” he hears his schoolyard bully, his father’s voice, his old PE coach.

  • “What are you? a girl?”
  • “You’ll make a great wife someday. Hahahahaha”
  • “Quit your bawling, you baby”
  • “Act like a man, you sissy. God hates f**s.”

And so when he hears those voices in you, he shrinks a little more. He might puff out his chest, and laugh along at the poor unfortunate, but inside he vows to himself that he will never, ever, ever speak of the darkest places of his heart.

And for all of these who carry dark recesses in their hearts – they know that Jesus said, “Who touched me” and then listened.

They know that God hears them and that Jesus knows them by name. But how they long to talk to someone! How they fear the loneliness of the dark, but even more than that they fear exposure.

Worm the Judge says, “I sentence you to be exposed before your peers!” and they continue to lay in the curled ball, building the wall around their soul, higher and higher and higher.

And at the same time, they are terrified of dying alone.

And scripture teaches us that Christ came to restore our voice. It is speaking aloud that brings light into the darkness. As long as we stay hidden, the darkness reigns. But speaking into the light is terrifying, especially when they know what you will do with their greatest fears.

 

In Proverbs 31, we read this:

Open your mouth for the speechless, In the cause of all who are appointed to die. (Prov. 31:8 NKJ)

The translation doesn’t quite capture it: “Appointed to die”. The NASB says, “The unfortunate”. The ESV, “Destitute”.

The literal is “sons of vanishing”.

Those who have the characteristic of hiding, silently waiting until they can slink away. Those who desperately want to never be known and yet want to be known all at once.

If you have ever seen “The Wall”, you can picture Pinky curled up in a ball on the ground behind the wall. “The son of vanishing”.

And I don’t care if you have a church of 20 people, all of them born and raised in the best tradition – or if you have a church of 300, from every walk of life – up to a mega-church of thousands.

Your congregation is full of sons of vanishing. They are the ones that you so desperately need to meet.

The first step is to acknowledge to yourself that you need to meet them. And then seek to understand the point of view of someone else.

We profess the “Total Depravity of Man” in the creeds of most churches. But do we act like it?

I wonder how often we dismiss the ugly things because we really don’t believe that people are that ugly.

Elie Wiesel remembers that his whole village had plenty of time to leave before the Nazis got there. The Jews could have escaped. They were even warned of the danger by someone who made his way back after seeing first hand what was going on.

But they kept going like they always did, because things like that don’t really happen.

  • “She is just looking for attention”.”
  • “He’s just melodramatic.”
  • “He’s just trying to get clicks on his blog”

At bottom, we confess Total Depravity with our tongues but don’t really believe it. Not us. Not our town. Not our tribe. Not our denomination.

And the child of vanishing in your congregation knows that. You’ve preached on it often enough – the wonders of being Reformed and the horrors of being “other”.

So she will continue to bring meals to the shut ins. He will continue to teach Sunday School. They will put on the happy face and everything will be just fine.

The panic attacks should go away any time now.

The nightmares and cold sweats should stop sometime.

He doesn’t hit me ALL the time…”

If I learn some new tricks and buy some new lingerie maybe I can get him to love me again….

And there may be a part of them that would wonder what it would be like to have a pastor that they could talk to.

Don’t get me wrong. They like you. But they won’t talk to you.

And if you are wondering if this is you, ask yourself – How many children of vanishing have talked to you?

If you don’t know of any in your congregation, then you have your answer.

“Woe, shepherds of Israel who have been feeding themselves! Should not the shepherds feed the flock?
3 “You eat the fat and clothe yourselves with the wool, you slaughter the fat sheep without feeding the flock.
4 “Those who are sickly you have not strengthened, the diseased you have not healed, the broken you have not bound up, the scattered you have not brought back, nor have you sought for the lost; but with force and with severity you have dominated them.
5 “And they were scattered for lack of a shepherd, and they became food for every beast of the field and were scattered.
(Ezek. 34:2-5)

If you are a child of vanishing, wishing to remain hidden, I am so sorry. But God did not leave you to hide in the dark.

He calls to you – Come unto me, and I will give you rest.

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September 14, 2018 · 4:12 pm

The most damaging counseling mistakes

This could also be called, “Lessons from Ignaz Semmelweis.” He was a fascinating man. He was the first one to suggest that doctors wash their hands between patients. He was ridiculed and soundly mocked, put down, and outcast for it. Everyone knew that sickness came for spirits, bad air, bad joojoo, or God’s curse. What did handwashing have to do with it? He’s just being worldly. There’s got to be Bible verses about the evils of medicine. Isn’t it “trusting in man” or something like that?

I used to think the same way. I was taught that anything learned about counseling from a (hushed gasp) secular counselor, or, the most shocking of all, the psychologist (!) was just one step away from inviting the devil to dinner. I heard of a sermon where the pastor said that anyone who goes to a psychologist is denying Christ and the sufficiency of scripture. Stupid hand-washers!

I say this to my shame, for I used to believe and counsel the same way, and have since repented of my ungodly, unbiblical attitude.

If we will put aside our pride and listen to the voice of simplicity, and just “wash our hands” we will learn from our mistakes and quit killing the souls of those who come to us for help.

Here are the biggest mistakes we still make – soul killers – in no particular order. By the way, for you “nouthetic” people out there, each one of these mistakes is a mistake because it contradicts scripture, not because unbelievers say they are wrong. I agree with you that scripture alone is our only guide. So let’s hear what it says. So here is my list. I suspect there will be more to come.

  1. We say, “It takes two to ruin a marriage”. Or “It takes two to fight”. No. The Bible nowhere teaches this. Abel didn’t cause Cain to sin. David didn’t provoke Saul. Jesus didn’t provoke Judas. Joseph wasn’t to blame for his slavery. Stephen didn’t cause his stoning. And on and on. In fact, David said, “I am for peace, but when I speak they are for war.” (Ps. 120:7). There is a difference between David and those who sought to kill him. They wanted him dead because they “were for war”, not because “it takes two to fight.” Quit making this completely unbiblical statement. It simply isn’t true.
  2. When we hear of pornography use, we say, “Are you satisfying him in bed?” This one astounds me. Everyone listen up: Pornography and marital sexuality are as different as night and day, dark and light, good and evil. One is an expression of our one flesh intimacy, an act of love and mutual dignity and honor. The other is assault. A man who assaults doesn’t learn how to not assault by being taught to assault his wife instead. Just stop. Porn is death, murder, darkness. It isn’t “sex with the wrong person”. It is as far from the love of marriage as death is from life. Just stop. Now read Ephesians 5 again – from the beginning, not just the “submit” part. Fornicators need Christ and repentance, not a “porn-star wife”. Sheesh.
  3. (Similar to 3) We hear of a man committing adultery, and assume it is because the wife isn’t loving him enough. This comes from a horrible interpretation of 1 Corinthians 7. If you want to know what it really means, you can listen here. But, again, adultery is not simply sex with the wrong person. It is death, folly, madness – assault. The same applies, by the way, with the sexes reversed.
  4. When we hear the cry of the soul against injustices done, and we say, “You are just bitter.” Not only is this NOT the meaning of “bitter” in the scripture, the hatred of sin and the cry for justice is NOT sinful. It is what it means to be in God’s image. Jesus will not come in justice because he is bitter, but because he is just. We long for that day. We long to see our enemies destroyed, and justice reign. It is what Psalm 72 is all about. The promise of the kingdom is NOT that we should quit being “bitter” but that Christ will come with justice and righteousness in his hands. This is how we learn to put off anger, wrath and malice. Not by pretending that injustice is OK. You can learn more here.
  5. When someone is weeping, we assume that they are trying to manipulate us. Very common, but again, contrary to scripture. I am so glad that Jesus doesn’t treat us like that. Paul said to “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). Can someone show me the passage that says, “Beware of those who weepeth, for they are seeking to manipulate thee.”? Compassion with wisdom can only be taught by the Holy Spirit.
  6. We automatically assume that depression is a sin.  Depression is sometimes medical – an imbalance of chemicals.  Counselors, learn the signs of depression and get people to medical help if needed. But sometimes, our sighs and tears are just the proper response to living in a cursed world, far from the shores of the celestial city. We aren’t home yet, and sometimes that makes us sigh and weep.
  7. We make the same assumptions with every medical condition we don’t want to deal with. Chronic illness? Just laziness. Bipolar? Just rebellion. Adhd? Just a scam. Tourettes? Just looking for attention. They could stop if they wanted to. This one makes me want to scream at people.
  8. We assume that every problem that anyone can have can be fixed if we just find the right thing to rebuke them for.

And so we have turned into the most heartless bunch. Cruel, unkind, uncaring, fools. Heaping burdens of shame on those who come to us for help. It is no wonder that people won’t see pastors for guidance anymore. We forgot how to be compassionate. We look for the simple fix, when maybe we just need to listen, to stop and hear, to offer a kind word. Maybe point someone to Christ, who sweat great drops of blood, who was afraid,  who wept at the tomb of Lazarus – KNOWING that he was about to raise him from the dead.

Weeping doesn’t mean I don’t believe the promise; fear doesn’t mean I’m not trusting God; sadness doesn’t mean I am unthankful. These things mean I am human, just like my Lord. And he came to redeem this flesh and this blood. He suffered with every infirmity, and was without sin, to redeem me, body and soul. The day will come when every tear will be dried, but that day is not today.

So excuse me if I weep now and then. Don’t mind me if I get afraid sometimes. Don’t sing “joy, joy, joy” at me when the infirmities of the flesh are sometimes too much to bear. Yes, I know that God is good. Yes, I know that he is coming again. Yes, I know that all things work together, and so on. But right now I’m sad. If all you can say is “All things work together for good!”, then just go away.

These are some of my thoughts today. What are yours? What is the worst thing you’ve heard? It seems like I am missing some. I expect that this blog will be continued…

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September 11, 2018 · 11:40 am

The Opinions of men

Recently, I saw that someone posted the following quote from Dr. Jay Adams:

In my opinion, advocating, allowing and practicing psychiatric and psychoanalytical dogmas within the church is every bit as pagan and heretical, and therefore perilous as propagating the teachings of some of the most bizarre cults. The only vital difference is that the cults are less dangerous because their errors are more identifiable.

I am sharing my response to this here – not because I have any wish to be controversial, but because I really think that it is time we as conservative, Reformed Christians, started to compare the words of our heroes to the scriptures and to the creeds. It is supposed to be what we do.

So here is my response:

Statements like these from Dr. Adams have caused more harm to the body of Christ than anything I can think of in the last 30 years.

“In my opinion” – the opinion of Dr. Adams has been elevated to creedal status, woe be to anyone who may question it.

Those who have dedicated their lives to the study of the human soul and to the easing of the suffering of so many millions are dismissed if they use “heretical” words like trauma, narcissist, abuser, pedophile…
Victims are cast out of the church and wolves are given safety within because we look for quick proof-texts, and refuse to do any soul-searching.
Those who have suffered unspeakable trauma and suffering are given 8 sessions with their pastor, not allowed to speak their story, given a few proof-texts and then cast out of the church for “bitterness”.

All because Dr. Adams had an opinion. This opinion is not backed up with any scripture, which is odd (since it is purportedly based on Sola Scriptura) but simply declared so to be.

So I would ask here – what scripture is used to cast everything with the title “psychiatric and psychoanalytical dogmas” into the bowels of hell? By what authority does Dr. Adams’ opinion supersede the creeds of the church?

Why is it, that in the ancient Heidelberg Catechism, which we all revere, we learn that good works are “not such as rest on our own opinions or the commandments of men” but are based upon the law of God, which is further defined as the Ten Commandments, – why is it now that Dr. Adams’ self-declared opinion is the criterion by which thousands and thousands of sufferers are allowed no relief, no second opinion, no question, and no other answers?

Some serious things that we should perhaps think about…

To back up my whole point, I am well aware that I am now going to be branded a dangerous heretic and anything I might say will be suspect from henceforth – because I dared to question Dr. Adams opinion.

How many of those suffering from real mental illness are allowed no relief because of this man?

How many have been beaten and abused and raped by their husbands and sent back home because of this man?

Those who follow Adams would have rebuked Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus for bawling like a baby.

I’m sick of it.

Yes, he said some good things, and some of his critiques were valid.

But he was just a guy. His opinion isn’t a creed. Speaking of trauma and narcissism and abuse and PTSD and depression isn’t heresy. It is naming what most of the Psalms are all about. We are created in the image of God, and naming things is what we do.

I would add a few things here:

When God created the heavens and the earth, he gave names to some of the things that he created. When he created man, he gave man the task of naming the animals. Men and women exercise their dominion as image-bearers of God by naming. Any study, any discipline, and lessons, first begin with learning the names of things.

The scripture gives us the outlines, the framework, the first principles. But because we are image-bearers of God, we are called to use wisdom and give things names as we study them.

Classifying biblical concepts is not being “worldly”. It’s called wisdom, and it is what we are called to do. I thank God for those who have spent their lives studying and classifying human behavior. The bible says that Jesus knew the hearts of men, and answered accordingly. We don’t have that ability, because we are finite. So we are called to listen, to classify, to stop our mouths, to hear what others might have to say.

But that takes work. It is a lot easier to simply classify all opposition as heretical, cult-like and evil and be done with it. But this keeps us steadfastly bound to our ignorance and happily immune from loving our neighbor.

God would have us reach outside our little bubbles and see that there is a huge world out there that cannot be explained by Christianized behaviorialism. Skinner is not the gospel, no matter how you baptize him.

Think about it.

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August 13, 2018 · 10:42 am

Chantry, Hezekiah and Chloe

When thoughts collide…

Last week I was preparing for my Sunday School teaching on Hezekiah and the siege of Jerusalem. As I was preparing, I was struck by this message from Isaiah to Hezekiah:

Because you have prayed to Me against Sennacherib king of Assyria, I have heard (2 Kings 19:20)

Hezekiah was in bad trouble. Sennacherib had conquered the whole world, and he was unstoppable. He had now surrounded Jerusalem and gave Hezekiah the terms of absolute surrender. There was no strength left in Hezekiah.

And Hezekiah took the letter demanding his surrender and laid it on the altar of God, crying out to the Creator of Heaven and Earth and telling God the problem. He spoke honestly and directly.

God delights when we call upon him. God takes pleasure in our prayers, when we speak to him honestly and directly. When we are in trouble, and when we are weak and helpless, fearful and doubting, in pain and in distress – God would have us tell him about it. He is our God, and we are his people and the sheep of his pasture.

14 Offer unto God thanksgiving; and pay thy vows unto the most High:
15 And call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me. (Ps. 50:14-15 KJV)

But this goes against the culture of most churches. If you have been following the Tom Chantry trial, you see what so many people have suffered. People aren’t believed, they are silenced, when they complain about mistreatment or abuse, they are told to be quiet. To be thankful and put off their “bitterness” and their “complaining spirit”.

And so people are being groomed to take abuse and mistreatment, and put on the happy face. Let’s all play happy families. Only sinners are in trouble. Only sinners complain. Only unthankful people are unhappy.

But Isaiah didn’t rebuke Hezekiah for being bitter or for complaining. Hezekiah was in trouble, and God heard him because he spoke the truth to God.

And while I was thinking about that, I was also thinking about the household of Chloe.

For it hath been declared unto me of you, my brethren, by them which are of the house  of Chloe, that there are contentions among you. (1 Cor. 1:11 KJV)

If Paul had been a modern church planter, 1 Corinthians would never have been written. Instead, Paul would have rebuked Chloe’s household for gossip and bitterness.

How many of you have heard these?

“Now, Chloe. Have you gone through the steps of Matthew 18? I don’t want to hear about this.”

“This is just gossip. You need to repent of your bitterness.”

“We are right in the middle of a fund-raising campaign for the saints in Jerusalem. We can’t have this negative talk and gossip going on. It will hurt the Jerusalem Famine Ministry.”

“Chloe, have you spoken to a man about these things? In fact, it isn’t even your household. You need to go submit to your husband and let the men handle it. When women usurp authority, all sorts of gossip and complaining start happening.”

“I know the man who you say was sleeping with his step-mother. He’s a good man. Remember that he is innocent until proven guilty. I know everyone is talking about it, but we really need to get a handle on the undisciplined talk before it destroys a good man’s name.”

“Chloe, I can’t hear this unless you have two or three witnesses. No, the children don’t count. No, the women don’t count. No, those men don’t count. They’re just bitter.”

And on and on it goes.

Aren’t you glad that Paul wasn’t a modern Big Eva guy?

“I hear that Paul is coming to Corinth! Did you get your tickets yet? I hear he will have another epistle to the Thessalonians on sale in the foyer. His conferences sell out every year!”

I thank God for the pastors that are far more concerned about truth than their reputations or their bank accounts!

Hezekiah spoke the truth and was heard, even though he was surrounded by Assyrians. Chloe’s household spoke the truth.

It was when David finally spoke the truth to God that God heard him (Psalm 51).

In fact, all of the Psalms are about speaking the truth to God. Tell God what is going on. Tell God the truth.

And find a church that is more interested in the truth than in the cover-up. That is more interested in the health of the sheep than the hurt feelings of the wolf. That is more interested in being faithful to God than in their reputations and bank accounts.

We need more pastors that want to know the truth about your marriage, your families, your fears and your doubts and your struggles. This is what the church is for. God is not interested in the happy façade. He wants the truth.

Listen to Chloe. You just might learn something.

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July 26, 2018 · 11:08 am

Bad Listeners

“Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath:” (James 1:19)

Yesterday I was watching old reruns of Monk. I don’t know if you remember the show about the OCD detective. Tony Shalhoub is brilliant, but that really isn’t what this post is about.

Anyway, one scene in the show was the detective interviewing a witness in her home. While she was trying to tell him what she saw and what she experienced, he was extremely distracted. The items on her coffee table were out of place and disorderly. Monk, suffering from OCD, couldn’t hear a word she said until he rearranged all of her knick-knacks.

I’ve been thinking about that. Why are pastors such horrible listeners? Yes, I am talking about you – particularly Reformed pastors. This is a critique of my own tribe. I also have struggled with being a good listener, so these things are coming from my experience.

Have you ever had a conversation with someone and they weren’t listening to anything you were saying? You can see the exact moment they shut down. They have already figured out what they were going to say, and anything else you might say is not relevant. I think it is a problem for pastors. We are really bad at listening.

Why are we such bad listeners?

I have a few suggestions:

  1. We are OCD with theological error. We completely miss someone’s trauma, but woe to the uninformed that uses the word “potluck” (you mean “pot providence”) or “My father was a good man” (THERE IS NONE GOOD; NO NOT ONE!) Just like Mr. Monk, if all of the theological ducks aren’t neatly lined up to our liking, we shut down. Seriously, when was the last time you allowed a theological mistake to just pass you by. Even the attempt to “let it go” causes our muscles to twitch, our words to stammer, our eyes to water…
  2. We forget to remember that Jesus was moved with compassion for the multitudes – like sheep without a shepherd. Are you compassionate enough to actually let someone tell you their story – even if it makes you uncomfortable, even if you don’t know what to say, even if it takes several hours? Jesus was moved with compassion. So should we be.
  3. Most of us heard Jay Adams tell us that after 6 or 8 sessions you have a discipline problem. We feel this urge to rush through, tell people what they need to do and move on. Depressed? Get over it. Still depressed? Church discipline! Angry at your rapist? Quit being bitter. Get over it. Move on with your life. We are convinced that we HAVE to give the solution, give the cure, tell them what to do to make this uncomfortable feeling stop. But only a fool answers a matter before he hears it. Listen first. Then speak. It’s what the Bible commands.

I was at a church years and years ago. There was a young man visiting. After the service, I was talking to a couple of the elders and this young man came up to us and asked “Is there a grocery store around here? I need some food”. The elders looked stunned, and then said,

“We don’t shop on the Sabbath Day.”

Really.

This is what I mean. Where is the compassion? Where is the discernment?

Be compassionate. Be educated. Be like Christ. Listen.

The hardest thing for a pastor to learn is this: You don’t have to talk all the time. You don’t have to have answers all the time. You don’t have to fill the air around you with a miasma of ignorant pious slogans. You don’t have to correct everyone that is wrong.

But you do have to listen. And you do have to be compassionate.

Let’s practice:

“Potluck, potluck, potluck, potluck.

“He’s a good man. He’s a good man. He’s a good man.

“God loves everybody. God loves everybody. God loves everybody…..

“Last Sunday I went to a restaurant…”

 

Let it go. There is a time and place for correcting theology, but remember that we would be in a far better place to do that if we first learned how to listen.

(By the way, Jay Adams was wrong here. Most people haven’t even gotten to the real issue until the 6th  session. They start out by seeing if you are trustworthy and willing to listen. If you shut them down the first session, they won’t come to you with the real issue. I believe that this is a major reason why nouthetic counseling has been so disastrous with trauma and assault.)

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June 12, 2015 · 8:26 am

The Pastor’s Great Struggle

13 He that answereth a matter before he heareth it, it is folly and shame unto him. (Pro 18:13)

I have had fellowship with many pastors. I also am a pastor. I have had lunch with pastors, talked with pastors, and have even at times tried to reason with pastors as pastors have also tried to reason with me.

There is one particular sin that I see in myself and continually fight against. I think it is probably endemic among pastors, to our shame.

We don’t listen.

We think we do. We nod and go Mmmhmmm a lot. But if the story goes on to long, we want to finish it. If the problem is clear in the first three words, we want to give the answer and get on with things. This is also  my great shame, for which I continuously repent.

We thought we were validated by the early nouthetic counselors: The problem is sin; the solution is repentance. There. Don’t waste any more of my time. I already told you what to do.

But we never listened. It took me years of repentance to begin to understand that most people don’t actually get to the real problem the first time they meet with the pastor. They are simply testing the water to see if we listen.

We usually fail that test and the sheep scurry away. We then wonder why no one talks to us. They don’t talk because we don’t listen.

Reformed pastors, to which tribe I belong,  seem to struggle with this to a greater extent. I don’t know why, but I think I might have a few clues. We are usually well-read, full of book-knowledge, and love to see the inner workings of the great truths of scripture. We are usually well-acquainted with original languages, and have a high regard for the authority and inspiration of scripture. All of these things are great and to be greatly desired. But the devil never rests and sin turns our strengths into folly.

We already know everything, so we don’t need to listen. We already know what the problem is, so we don’t need to hear.

But the Bible doesn’t call this “an area to work on.” Nor does it call this “a weakness”.  It calls this folly and a shame to us.

Shame on us every time we fail to listen. Shame on us every time we don’t hear.

We fail to hear in so many ways: The language of a childhood victim of sexual abuse goes beyond words, but we usually don’t stick around long enough to hear.

We silence the voice of the victims of domestic abuse by repeating the mantra, “God hates divorce.”

The voice of the abuser is decidedly different, for it comes disguised as a sheep.

The voice of those who are hurting and poor and in trouble shout at us all around. We would far rather stand on the corner and shout gospel platitudes than actually listen to them.

If we would open our ears to hear, we would begin to make some sense to the cacophony around us. The voice of the proud, saying, “I am, and there is none like me.”

The voice of the hurt, building barriers around her heart to stop any more pain.

The voice of the oppressed, whispering in the corner.

We don’t hear the matter because we don’t want to. It rattles our windows and shakes our floors and makes our house unsteady. It is an unwanted visitor brought to us by sin and the power of the devil and we think that if we shut our eyes and stop our ears and ignore it perhaps it will politely go away and let us get back to our books.

But

13 Whoso stoppeth his ears at the cry of the poor, he also shall cry himself, but shall not be heard. (Pro 21:13)

That should stop us in our tracks. When we refuse to hear the cry of the ones without strength, God will eventually stop HIS ears when WE cry to Him!

Also implied is the great truth that we ourselves, we pastors who have “so much knowledge” (sarcasm alert), who have everything all together – are just as needy, just as poor, just as helpless as that poor and oppressed one – we ALSO will cry out, and we will be heard to the extent that we heard those who cried to us. This should strike fear into our hearts.

Fellow pastors, we don’t need to do better. We need to repent. We need to learn to hear the cry of the poor and repent of all the times we were too busy, too uncomfortable, too unsure, too occupied with “important things”, to hear.

When we have shut our mouths long enough to listen, then we must open our mouths to speak.

8 Open thy mouth for the dumb in the cause of all such as are appointed to destruction.
9 Open thy mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and needy.
(Pro 31:8-9 KJV)

The phrase translated “such as are appointed to die” is literally “children of vanishing.” They are the ones who are so easily ignored, the ones who suffer quietly because they have been unheard for so long. They are the ones who don’t meet your eye, withdraw into the corner, whisper so low they are hard to hear.

They vanish and are forgotten – except that their names are written in the Lamb’s book of life and He entrusted them to your care and commanded you to hear them and then open your mouth to defend them, to plead their cause.

Yes, it will be uncomfortable. Yes, it will rattle the very foundation of the nice and neat theological house that you built. Yes, the Enemy won’t give up without a fight.

But it is God’s fight, and He commanded you to fight it. And the day will come when you will stand before God and give an account of every idle word. You will be called to account for your listening skills. You will be called to account for your willingness to open your mouth.

Don’t delay. Learn to hear. Learn to speak. Learn to listen.

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