Destination Discipline

Have you ever wondered if your life mattered? Do you find yourself crippled by insecurity because your appearance or functional abilities don’t match up to those around you? Are you too thin? Too heavy? Too tall? Too short? Or any other host of physical abnormalities? Are you poor? Not of good social standing? A felon? Worse, are you simply invisible? Does no one even seem to notice that you exist?

Joseph Merrick was a man born seemingly normal in 1862 but who later developed physical abnormalities that made him difficult to look at. Physical defects began to develop in his formative years that included bony protrusions, swelling of the face, hands and feet, and loosening skin. So frightening was his appearance that he was unable to make a living and made the decision to show himself to people for money. His story was immortalized in a play and later the movie, “The Elephant Man”. He died when he was 27 years old during the seemingly innocent act of trying to sleep lying down. People speculated that the weight of his head crushed his windpipe.

But Merrick was no idiot. He was fully cognizant of his deformities and forced to come to terms with not only his body but his place in the world. He often read a poem to those who paid to view him up close.

What makes a human being relevant? What is the measure of a man’s worth? Anyone who has ever experienced insecurity because of a physical or emotional ailment has asked this question. Others ask this question in regard to those who are intellectually impaired. I’m not certain I’m qualified to comment on such a weighty question except for the fact that I too have questioned my value and place in this world.

Personal relevance begins with a deeply ingrained sense of identity. The way we view ourselves in correlation to those around us is important. Should we start to believe our life has no value, we despair. Should we overinflate our worth, those around us despair (of being around us!).

For those who are theistically minded, the idea that man was created in the image of God presents a unique vision for the sacredness of the human soul. But that does not mean that atheists and agnostics do not believe in a purpose driven life. I appreciate Kevin Yuill’s poignant case against physician assisted suicide when he states, “But when society legalizes assisted dying, it surely corrupts the fundamental belief in the value of life that underlies all medical treatment.” I would gladly drink coffee with him and discuss why he believes all human life has value outside of a biblical world view. I understand his viewpoint to mean that people who long for death do not have absolute clarity for themselves. Because of this they are therefore dependent on doctors to legitimize/protect their lives. (Hopefully I’m not oversimplifying this.)

A non-believing friend was recently describing her experience with personal adversity and her desire to escape an unfortunate situation. In essence she said, “I want to experience joy. My life has more value than to endure the wrong that is being done to me and to my children. I only get one life and life is too beautiful to waste.” I concur wholeheartedly. I would also posit that the measure of a man is not complete without acknowledging that a person is more than how they are treated by others. We cannot be defined by how others view us because those positions are relative. All human life is beautiful—even magical—if only because we have no capacity to bring it into being. This is why murder is abhorrence. To take that which one cannot create is the ultimate identity theft.

We are not valuable simply because we think, speak or act a certain way. Conversely, our lives do not lack meaning simply because we are not visually appealing or of a certain heritage or royal lineage. Christie Brinkley is not more valuable than Stephen Hawking. Neither does Prince Harry have more worth than Jack Black simply because of his family tree. We all have our place and purpose in this great, mysterious life. Every moment matters, even one that is mundane. The very breath in our lungs indicates that we are more than the sum of our syntheses. That is why racism is immoral, sexism is wicked, and class warfare is iniquitous. What gives us the right to infringe upon the sacred rights of another human being simply because they inconvenience our world view? This is why I believe abortion is an abomination. If we are willing to recognize the terrible wrongness of a tiny kitten glued to the road, we should be able to recognize that the destruction of human life in its most vulnerable form is murder.

I had lunch with a friend this week who doesn’t necessarily conform to societal norms yet is uniquely beautiful. She suffered terribly at the hands of someone she wanted to trust but who lied, manipulated and cheated her for years. She is bravely walking the path she feels her God is directing her to travel, even though those who know and love her best are fearful for where that path will lead. She knows she doesn’t have all the answers and she is faithfully pursuing the fundamental longing we all have to determine our identity and purpose, and to be loved simply for who we are.

This is why I love the story of Jesus Christ. The bible foretold of his birth, “He had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.” (Isaiah 53:2-3) When people devalue human life, I can trust that the God I love does not. He created human life. Jesus came to earth and claimed to be God. He died for the sins of the people who rejected and murdered him in order to reconcile them to himself and then rose from the dead. He sympathizes with my weakness because he too experienced it in human form. I believe that He loves and values all human life and therefore so do I.

Sometimes I develop a sincere longing for relevance. I want to know that I am here for a reason. I want to know that I am more than the size of my waistline, my intellect or my position in society. When I pray and remember Jesus, I am convinced that my soul is just as sacred as those of my non-believing friends. We do not necessarily have to agree on all points to love each other well. Our shared experience in the common framework called life should at the very least enable us to respect the splendor of our diversity.

Today, if you feel lost or hopeless or unloved, I promise that you are not. Keep walking. Your journey is not over yet. Feelings betray us as often as other humans. If you have not arrived at a confident conclusion, keep searching. My prayer for you is simple; that you know the truth and so be set free.

Have you ever had the kind of day that necessitated escape? Did the report malfunction? Did your friend shout at you for no good reason? Did the pain from your chronic condition beat you about the head with chains of despair? Was the strain too much for your weary shoulders? Did you turn to that vice again for comfort even though you know it only tightens its grip on your soul? Take heart, Dear One. You are not alone.

My friend wrote to me today from the tail end of her treatments for breast cancer. For months now she has endured wave after wave of radiation and chemotherapy. All of her hair fell out. She has struggled with radiation burns, sadness and self-pity. Some days she wonders if she can take it any more, but she has two young boys who need her. So she fights with all the energy she can muster and presses forward. My friend is my hero. She is courageous in her fragility. She walks a path she did not choose and weeps with suffering. I too grieve that she must suffer. How I wish I could change her story, but I’m not the author of it.

Yesterday was a very tense day at work. My leader asked me to schedule a meeting with several very important people. It was comical in its complexity. In fact, I felt somewhat like it would be much easier to fly a kite on a breezeless day than put all of those people in a room together for an hour. His exact words via email were, “Margaret, make your magic happen.” But the stars did not align. Travel schedules conflicted. Instructions were vague, causing me to chase down additional details. It was frustrating and exhausting.  Finally, I said to one of the ladies I was working with, “My wand is broken. My bippity, boppity, boo is all bummed out.” And we had a nice little laugh. That’s how it goes sometimes. But as I was driving home I felt the itch–the overwhelming urge–the necessity to escape my stress headache with ice cream. Chick Fil A ice cream to be exact.

Let the reader be advised that this vice is one of my strongest. When I consume Chick Fil A ice cream, I go all in. I don’t eat it to enjoy a little snack, I eat it to escape my problems. It is an elixir, a tonic, an anesthetic. But not only does it not fix the problem, it hooks me once more. Whatever it is about sugar that affects my brain, turns me into a raging lunatic who must consume until I’m sick. And then, once the sickness wears off, I need more. I am disheartened to admit how frequently I have given into this craving and fallen prey to months of daily indulging. It is a horrible addiction–one I try to avoid at all costs because I know what a terrible trap it is.

I have spent the majority of my life turning to food for emotional comfort and therefore, no matter how long I practice living a healthy lifestyle, there are times when I must strain against the urge to turn to it once more. I do not always succeed, but today I choose not give in. Today, I choose courage in the midst of frailty and hope instead of despair. I choose to take long, deep breaths, hug my sons, and write instead. Even though today was worse than yesterday. Even though Chick Fil A ice cream is still calling (screaming) my name.

There isn’t usually an easy answer to fighting against the desire to escape our circumstances. But escape is actually an illusion. We chase after and cling to wisps of smoke thinking it will “take the edge off”. Which they may–for a moment. But then we face once more the jagged path ahead. It takes moxy to stand in the midst of suffering and refuse to try to escape. Often no one even notices the sacrifices we make. We cling to sobriety like a man clinging to a tree in a hurricane. We want to let go because our arms are tired, but to let go is certain doom. So we just keep holding on.

Today if you are struggling against a powerful vice or addiction, take heart. Your addiction does not define you. You can say no. I know it feels impossible. I know your arms are tired. I know it feels like an escape, but it’s not. It’s the mouth to a trap door from which it is very, very difficult to escape.

Take a deep breath.

Ask for help.

Pray for peace.

And never, ever stop fighting.

“My deliver is coming.” – Rich Mullins via the Jesus Record

Have you ever followed a path into the forest of affliction? No one goes there willingly, but sometimes, like Dorothy in Oz, the path turns weedy, the trees grow angry, and the sky goes dark. We were singing a moment ago and skipping as we looked forward to a glad day, and then a horrible witch flies across the sky on a broomstick and we are stricken with terror. We cringe. We tremble. And we began to chant, “Lions and tigers and bears, Oh my!”

I have recently been reading a most interesting story, “South: The Endurance Expedition”, by Sir Ernest Shackleton. It is a story of tremendous courage in the face of unimaginable adversity. 28 men, armed with curiosity and the King of England’s blessing, started out on the best ship man could build in August of 1914. They hoped to find safe passage across–in their minds–the last great frontier; Antarctica.

He wrote, “The first crossing of the Antarctic continent, from seas to seas via the Pole, apart from its historic value, will be a journey of great scientific importance.” He guessed the journey was roughly 1,800 miles through the Weddell Sea and ice encrusted waters. Their ship had been fortified to withstand the ice and freezing conditions and they were confident of success.

These were not ordinary men. Shackleton and his friends, Wild, Worsley, Clark, Hudson, and the others were hard-scrabble, flinty rocks of men that fought through the ice and survived to tell the tale. They spent nearly two years on their journey, 10 months of which were spent on an iceberg after their ship was consumed by it, and they lost nearly all that they possessed in the process.

They departed with 100 dogs for the land portion of their journey, a ton of whale meat and many other provisions. But the elements were against them. They learned what it means to suffer. Frost bite. Sleepless nights. Hunger. Fear. But they experienced also incredible hope. I have never read such an account of a leader who cared so much for the mental fortitude of his men that he aspired continuously to save them from discouragement. He allowed no grumbling, but instead sought to fill their hearts with hope in order that they might find courage despite despicable odds.

I have been reading this story from the forest of affliction and marveling over the tenacity of these men. Having experienced a recent blow of heartache and disappointment, I have struggled to see a way out. So deep and dark have been the woods that I have often wept with despair. My thoughts of hope failed me and I thrashed with grief. In this state of torment, I distrusted God. I felt the bite of my adversary and groaned. And because I could not find a way out of the forest, I cried out to my friends to come and light the way.

“But now it has come to you, and you are impatient; it touches you, and you are dismayed. For affliction does not come from the dust, nor does trouble sprout from the ground, but man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.” – Eliphaz via Job 4:5 & 5:6-7

It interests me the things that people say when someone is hurting. When someone is in the bowels of despair, there really are no words of encouragement that can touch them. I have dear, sweet and wonderful friends who have said kind things to me over these past days and for whom I am incredibly grateful, but words have not eased the pain. And that is why when a friend was trying to comfort me I blurted out, “I don’t care if God wants to make me holy! And I’m angry at you for saying that. I ache. And nothing can stop the pain but Him from whom it comes.” And I felt terrible for saying those words, even though they were true. And that is when I fled from human contact and buried my nose in my Bible and considered again the words of Job. Because the very last thing I would ever want to do is hurt the ones I love. And sometimes they truly just don’t know what to do to help.

“I loathe my life; I will give free utterance to my complaint; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul. I will say to God, Do not condemn me; let me know why you contend against me.” – Job 10:1-2

Only one who has truly suffered can understand how important it is to be silent and weep with those who weep. Sometimes there is no clear explanation for the pain. This is the essence of depression. Other times the foe is a physical ailment that robs mobility or comfort. Would we say to one in a wheelchair, “Rise and walk! Why are you so lazy?” And so when the heart is so heavy and the burdens are not light, there really is only One person who can comfort the soul. His name is Jesus. And He knew what it meant to suffer.

Near the end of Shackleton’s journey he wrote, “When I look back at those days I have no doubt that Providence guided us, not only across those snowfields, but across the storm-white sea that separated Elephant Island from our landing-place on South Georgia. I know that during that long and racking march of thirty-six hours over the unnamed mountains and glaciers of South Georgia it seemed to me often that we were four, not three. I said nothing to my companions on the point, but afterwards Worsley said to me, “Boss, I had a curious feeling on the march that there was another person with us. Crean confessed to the same idea. One feels ‘the dearth of human words, the roughness of mortal speech’ in trying to describe things intangible, but a record of our journeys would be incomplete without a reference to a subject very near to our hearts.”

“Human effort is not futile, but man fights against the giant forces of Nature in a spirit of humility. One has a sense of dependence on the higher Power.” – Ernest Shackleton

Are you walking through the Forest of Affliction today? Has your heart failed you? Can you not taste and see that the Lord is good? Are dust and ashes your only solace? Have sores covered your skin? Have your relationships ended in darkness or death? Dear friend, take heart! You are not alone. He is with you. Even when you cannot sense his presence, He is there. Tell him all your heart. Tell him your pain. Weep and mourn. It is okay to be sad about sad things. But do not despair. You will come out on the other side if you trust Him.