Balance Bike

A couple months ago my in-laws came into town. 

They brought with them the bike that my wife had learned how to ride on when she was a kid.  An old Fuji.  All chrome.  Still in great condition.  It provided the perfect opportunity and some incentive for my five-year-old son, Tighe, to learn how to ride without training wheels.  So we took the bike into the shop, got some new tires put on, and then shined it up until it looked good as new. 

The moment finally came when Tighe mounted the bike. 

I stood alongside him, my hands on the handlebars and the back of the seat, positioned to help guide him.  Slowly he lifted his feet, began peddling, and we began moving down the street.  The only problem was that he was leaning like the Tower of Pisa!  It was seriously pathetic.  Despite my best efforts to straighten him out and get him upright, he kept leaning my direction.  After going up and down the street a few times, I called it quits.  I was drenched with sweat, my back was aching, and I was totally exhausted…and feeling kind of old…and honestly, a bit frustrated at his lack of progress.   

The next night we set out again.

I was convinced that perseverance and consistent effort was the key.  We just needed to keep trying.  What kind of a Dad would I be to give up on him?  So off we went—me running alongside with Tighe still leaning like crazy.  It didn’t work.  Despite about double the amount of time and multiple laps around the block, I still ended up drenched with sweat, ridiculously sore, embarrassingly frustrated, and feeling really old.  But I am no quitter.  McCarthys don’t quit.  And I was beginning to take this lack of progress a bit personal.  So I made a declaration to my wife to demonstrate my commitment – By tomorrow night, our son Tighe will be riding that bike on his own!  Mark my words!

More like eat my words.

After another night of running up and down the street the only thing to show for my efforts was another pile of sweaty clothes.  And now Josie was starting to get frustrated because of all the extra laundry she was doing.

I felt defeated...and embarrassed.

The next day while I was driving home from work I had an idea.

After I pulled into our garage I jumped out and immediately grabbed my toolset.  I got right to work taking the pedals off of Tighe’s new bike.  The entire family came outside to watch what I was doing.  As I finished up, I stood the bike upright and gave Tighe his new instructions.

Tighe, the last several nights we’ve been working really hard on learning how to ride this bike without much progress.  I’ve put too much pressure on you and myself and we’ve both ended up really frustrated.  I am really sorry.  But I think I’ve got a way to start over.  See, the problem is you don’t know how to balance yet.  And balance is the key to riding a bike.  So here’s what you are going to do.  You are going to learn how to balance with this bike by pushing off with your feet and coasting on the driveway.  You can practice as much or as little as you want.  It’s totally up to you.  I’ll put your pedals back on once you can coast all the way down the driveway.   

You want to know how long it took for him to learn how to ride???

One week. 

I kid you not.  One week.

Tighe practiced every single night and after one week I put the pedals back on his bike and he literally road off down the street without any assistance at all.  There was no running on my part.  No sweating.  No extra laundry.  Not an ounce of frustration.  No badgering or pressuring.  I had simply created the right conditions for him to learn a new skill.  But he had put forth the effort and accomplished it on his own.  And he knew it.  He beamed with pride knowing it had been his hard work and effort that led to this new ability. 

Over the past several months, I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on this experience.  I’ve come to the conclusion that the shift I made in converting my son’s bike into a “balance bike” has huge implications not only for parenting, but for most relationships, leadership situations, and all of life.  Often times our (relational, leadership, and parenting) default is to run alongside others allowing them to put all their weight on us.  With good intentions and because we genuinely care, we keep running and bearing all the weight.  We might start out excited and enthusiastic.  But typically we end up exhausted, weary, sweaty, and burned out.  We end up frustrated.  And so do the people we are running alongside. 

I’m convinced we need to be giving out more balance bikes.

Instead of running alongside people bearing all their weight, we need to learn how to give the work back in a way that truly empowers people to act on their motivations.  To do so, however, we will need a new imagination for empowerment and, ultimately, a different set of skills. 

We are all too accustomed to swooping in, taking other people’s problems upon ourselves, playing the hero, and then stealing credit for whatever success was the result.  Such “support” ultimately cripples others, fosters codependency, and feeds our own narcissism.  Instead, we will need to have a clear understanding of where our responsibility starts and ends.  We will need to die to our savior-complex and need to fix or solve other people’s problems.  We will need to learn how to come underneath others, providing the right resources, and the right amount of encouragement for them to flourish.

In short, we will need to become more like Jesus.

 

Just read through the gospels and you’ll notice a sharp contrast between our standard weight bearing tactics and the way Jesus empowered and equipped those closest to him.  He didn’t do things for his disciples that they were supposed to do.  But he also didn’t abandon them to figure it out on their own.  He showed them, taught them, resourced them, and stayed present to them.  It wasn’t about less engagement, but a different kind of engagement—one that required more wisdom, discernment, and ingenuity than standard weight bearing tactics.  Jesus was masterful at giving out balance bikes. 

Special Needs

One year ago today our lives took an unexpected turn. 

We joined the “special needs” club.  We had no clue it was coming... 

The pregnancy had been flawless.  Both pregnancies before it had been the same.  The labor and delivery went smoothly.  Josie dominated, delivering naturally for the third time.  We were overjoyed.  Three boys.  We were calling family and friends to share our exciting news.  It wasn’t until about two hours after our celebration had begun that a team of doctors and nurses surrounded our bed and told us to have a seat.  Your son Griffin is exhibiting characteristics consistent with Down syndrome.  That statement, those words, changed everything.  It rocked us to the core. 

What happened next is hard to explain or articulate.

I experienced an overwhelming and strange mixture of fear and faith, confusion and calling, pain and purpose, grief and guilt…guilt, I suppose, for feeling grief.  Questions flooded my mind.  How am I going to do this?  Self-identified inadequacies plagued me.  I am not equipped for this.  I am not patient enough.  I don’t have what it takes.  Resistance to our new reality raged.  I don’t want to be a parent for the rest of my life.  This is not what I would choose.  Everything felt surreal and scary and uncertain. 

That first night in the hospital I didn’t sleep much.

I tossed and turned and spent a lot of time looking at Griffin.  Sometime between 2-3 a.m. I fell asleep and the strangest thing happened.  I had a dream.  In this dream I encountered every person in my life that I had ever met with Down syndrome.  A guy named Jerry my parents had befriended when I was a kid, the daughter of a professor that I had grown close to while in school, an individual I had recently talked with at the local YMCA, and several others.  It was so weird.  It was like my brain had a file folder labeled “Down syndrome” and it had been storing memories without my knowledge.  I woke up sweating and out of breath.  My heart was racing and so was my mind.  I felt trapped.  I wanted to escape.  I wanted to jump out of my skin.  I felt like a giant ball of pent-up anxious energy that had nowhere to go.  So I started to pray…God, help me...and then ever so slowly peace began to creep into my frightened heart, and God’s presence became palatable.  The key moment came when I sensed God asking me to reflect on my dream.  As I did, I noticed that every single “special needs” encounter had been marked by love and joy. 

This past year has been a journey into deeper love and joy.

But that deeper love and joy has been discovered along the path of pain. 

Letting go of a future I had imagined, receiving well intentioned but hurtful comments, dealing with development delays, heart defects, ear problems, poor eyesight…all that’s been painful.  But pain and joy are not mutually exclusive.  The way to deeper love and joy doesn’t involve avoiding pain—but having the courage to open up your heart, embrace it, and live into it. 

Within the first week of Griffin’s life I noticed something important…

Whenever I started thinking about Down syndrome without him, I’d get anxious and my mind would start racing in a million bad directions.  But whenever I’d think about Down syndrome with him, while holding him in my arms, my fears would be replaced by love.  So I made a commitment to myself that I wouldn’t do any hard thinking about Down syndrome without Griffin being present.  We’d think it through together.  Very quickly I discovered that Down syndrome wasn’t something to be feared, but to be embraced.  And the more I’ve embraced it, the more it’s taught me about love.

As just one example, consider parenting. 

I’m a way better parent to my two older boys now because of Griffin.  Down syndrome woke me up to all the subtle and unspoken ways I was unknowingly communicating to my two older boys that they needed to earn my love.  Developmental delays have taught me to be less fixated on progress and achievements and more focused on connection and personhood.  Honestly, I now strive to parent my two older boys the way I parent Griffin.  I try to see my two older boys through Griffin-eyes.   

And it’s not just in parenting…

It’s in my leading and managing.  It’s in my marriage and my friendships.  It’s in how I relate to myself.  I am now trying to see and relate to the entire world through Griffin-eyes. 

Griffin isn’t the only one with special needs.  His are just more visible. 

The truth is that we all have special needs.  I think it’s unfortunate that the label “special needs” has been arbitrarily and wrongly attached to a select few.  It should be attached to all of us.  Labels have a way of creating separation.  They create distance between those who get labeled and those who do the labeling.  Labels give us unwarranted permission to sort by difference.  They promote disengagement rather than connection.  They provide reason for detachment rather than relational engagement.  Labels are dehumanizing.  Oh, there’s a Down’s baby.  Griffin isn’t a Down’s baby.  He is a baby who has Down syndrome.  There’s a difference.  Griffin is, first and foremost, a human being.  He’s a human being who has been fearfully and wonderfully made.  He’s got a unique personality, hidden potential, gifts and talents yet to be discovered, and a contribution to make in the world.  He’s a difference-maker.  Labels often prevent us from living into our shared humanity.

I’m not saying that we need to get rid of “special needs” language.  I am just saying we should apply it universally.  What if we all woke up to our special needs?  My guess is that there would be a lot more compassion and joy and love in the world.   

Encountering Griffin’s “special needs” has helped me become more aware of my own.  I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve got my own developmental delays.  I’ve got my own struggles and challenges, weaknesses and inabilities.  And while at times I resent and want to get rid of them, just like I resent Down syndrome, the truth is that embracing them has changed the way I relate to me.  If Griffin has to deal with his, shouldn’t I have to deal with mine?  Along the way, I’ve discovered the importance of self-compassion.  I have little problem being patient and compassionate toward Griffin.  Why is it that I am so impatient and judgmental toward myself?  The same patience and compassion I so easily extend to Griffin, I’ve started offering to myself…and to others. 

I believe our lives and our world would be better if we universalized the “special needs” label.  We’d be more compassionate and loving not only of ourselves, but to one another.  Our lives and relationships would be so much richer if we all related to one another as we are—as people with special needs worthy of unconditional love and acceptance.         

Family Rhythms

What’s the role of the church in helping children grow spiritually?

Some parents, it seems to me, underestimate the role of the church. 

They essentially treat children’s programming like free childcare.  Oh, I am so glad the church provides on-site babysitting so that I can enjoy the worship service free of distraction!  Isn’t it great that we get a free date night every Thursday night while our kids attend Awana?  I believe the church provides much more than free childcare.  The church can have a great impact on the lives of children.  The church can provide a safe place, an environment of love and acceptance, where children learn about the love of Jesus while being loved by caring adults…and so much more.  Treating children’s ministry like free childcare underestimates the impact the church can have on your child.    

Other parents, perhaps most, overestimate the role of the church. 

They place too much weight or emphasis on children’s programming when it comes to the spiritual development of their children.  If I just drop my kids off at children’s church each week, my kids will turn out great!  The church simply can’t give your children all they need to grow in just one hour a week, especially in homes that actively undo during the week what the church tried to build over the weekend.  The church can’t be the primary catalyst for your child’s spiritual growth.  It’s a mistake to treat it as such.

This is why church staff teams have been saying for a long time that parents are the primary spiritual developers of their children.  It’s the job of parents to nurture their child’s spiritual growth. 

It would seem that most parents don’t find much to quibble about here.

According to a study conducted by Barna, most parents with children under the age of 13 believe they are primarily responsible for engaging their children spiritually (96%).  In other words, most parents know it is their responsibility—not that of the church—to raise their children “in the training and instruction of the Lord” (Eph. 6:4).  The same study indicated, however, that despite this conviction the vast majority of parents do not spend any time during the week actually engaging their children in spiritual conversation or disciplines.  Instead, two out of three parents said they attend service at least once per month and often bring their children along.  That’s about as far as it goes. So notice the discrepancy.  On the one hand, parents know it is their responsibility to prioritize the spiritual development of their children.  But, on the other hand, they rely almost completely on the church to do it for them...in just one hour a month.

One has to ask: Is this predominately a motivational issue or an ability issue?

Is it the case that these parents know how to invest in the lives of their children, but are choosing not to do so because they are not motivated to do so?  OR, is it the case that these parents want to invest in the lives of their children spiritually, but don’t know how to do so?  Perhaps it’s a combination of both.  After all, you can’t give what you don’t have to give and you aren’t going to give what you don’t want to give.  The church can’t help parents who don’t want to invest in their children spiritually.  Plain and simple.  But a synergistic partnership between the church and parents is possible. In addition to supplementing work that is being done in the home, the church can also equip parents who are struggling in terms of ability—i.e. they want to invest in their children, but don’t know how to do so.

With this in mind, I’ve found that the best way to help prioritize the spiritual growth of my children is to simply create regular rhythms to attend to God with my kids.  If you just build these regular rhythms into your life together as a family, they will eventually become natural and comfortable.  At first, no doubt, they will require extra effort, and therefore feel burdensome.  But that’s how anything additional feels at first.  After a period of doing the additional work required, these rhythms will feel second-hand, part of the natural flow of your life together as a family.  Below are a few rhythms that typically happen each day in our home as a family.  Since these reflect my family and our current stage of life (3 boys under 5 years old), you will likely to have to take your specific context into account.

Chair Time

I am usually up before everyone else in our house.  I head down to the basement to spend time praying and reading the Bible in a big comfy chair.  When my boys wake up, their first trip is to join me downstairs.  We call this chair time.  They run down, climb up into the chair, and we spend a few moments together.  There is no specific format here.  Sometimes we sit and listen to raindrops on my headphones.  I tell them that raindrops remind us of God’s love.  Other times I will share something I just learned during my time with God.  Still other times I will let them determine what we talk about it.  Again, no template or formula here, but the core components of this time include reminding them that I love them, Jesus loves them, and today is a new adventure.  We always end this time and open up to the new day with prayer.    

Grace Time

Our next rhythm typically takes place around the breakfast table.

Once everyone is dressed and enjoying breakfast, we spend some time reading a children’s devotional book.  Right now we are using Grace for the Moment: 365 Devotions for Kids by Max Lucado.  The goal here is not to find the perfect kids devotional.  The value of having a devotional guide is that it gives you a platform for discussion each day.  The main thing I like about Grace for the Moment is that it has a section at the end of each day called “Growing in Grace” that typically involves some action on our part as a family.  This is our response to God’s grace at work in our lives.  The other day, for example, we hid our boy’s stuffed animals and they had to go find them around the house.  Once they found them, we reminded our boys that God searches and looks for them too.  So we call this breakfast time “grace time” because we encounter God’s good grace in our lives and then we respond to it during the day in some way.

God Watch

My wife Josie often does the grace exercise with our boys during the day.  But the next time we are all together as a family is at dinner.  I love this time.  I’ve found that our dinner table is where our boys learn conversational and relational skills.  We often go around and share our highs and lows from the day.  They are learning to reflect on their day, express themselves, and take turns sharing and listening.  Even my 3 year old knows how to collect everyone’s high and lows.  Sometimes we will go around and encourage or affirm each person.  Let’s name one thing we’ve noticed in each person that we want to affirm.  There are tons of ways to use this dinner table talk time.  The thing I’ve found to be most productive is what we call God Watch.  This is where we each go around and talk about one way we saw God at work during the day.  This is huge because the heart of discipleship is discerning what God is doing and then joining it.  And the context for discovering what God is doing is in our everyday lives.  For my boys, this will often start with some situation or event that happened that day.  Themes for young kids may include sharing, forgiveness, self-control, etc.  The other day, for example, my son Tighe said his God Watch was just thinking about God while he sat in the sun.  Helping your kids identify where God is at work in their life is perhaps the most important way you can nurture their spiritual growth.  

Bed Time

Typically we end the day by reading our kids a story from the Bible, praying over them, and singing a song.  We try to make this fun—not boring.  Our Bible stories and prayers often rhyme.  Our songs get goofy and I typically get reprimanded for “riling up the kids” while we are trying to get them to bed.  My last words to my kids each night affirm who God is and who they are.  Good night boys!  I love you.  And Jesus loves you perfect.    

Please note that these are just rhythms.

For me, the word rhythm assumes some level of flexibility.  If we miss a rhythm, (or maybe even all of them) one day, no big deal.  We don’t beat ourselves up.  The point isn’t the rhythms.  The point is that these rhythms help us attend to God in the context of our everyday lives.  And once you develop rhythms for your family and engage them consistently enough, you’ll find your kids will be the ones making sure you do them together.   

One final thought…

It’s also helpful to think through weekly rhythms AND who else to do these with.  So, for example, we often do bonfires on our driveway to be present in our neighborhood.  We often invite other friends and families to join us.  We also spend a lot of time walking in our neighborhood.  Same thing here.  These don't happen daily, but do happen consistently.  We’ve also found that these daily and weekly rhythms become more productive when you do them with others.  Who can you invite into your rhythms as a family to become a community on mission together?

Riding the Waves

I’ve heard it said that time heals all wounds.

The basic idea is that as time passes, the intensity of the pain initially inflicted reduces, thereby creating enough redemptive space for the experience of healing.  And listen, this can happen.  Time can help heal a wound.  But there’s no guarantee that it will.  Time doesn’t always make things better.  Sometimes it can actually make things worse.  Some people, for example, become increasingly bitter and resentful with time by allowing the initial wound to fester and grow.  Time, in other words, is neutral.  It’s not inherently good or bad.  It is how a person uses time that can be good or bad.  So, in the end, time isn’t the key to healing.  It can help, and in many cases does.  But what you do with time is the real key to healing.  Using time to actually deal with your pain and work through your grief is the key to healing. 

This, of course, is easier said than done. 

My experience is that grief tends to come in waves.

One day you may feel like you’ve got the upper hand on grief.  The pain that was once so intense seems to be subsiding.  The hard work and time you’ve spent processing your pain and suffering seems to be paying off.  Your outlook is good.  You feel optimistic.  The sun is shining, so to speak.  The fog of depression, the haze brought on by sadness, has lifted.  You’re feeling good.  You know you are moving forward and in the right direction.  And then, in one split second, you get absolutely rocked.  The fog returns and the haze feels thicker than ever.  You feel down, depressed, and once again overcome with sadness and despair.  And now, on top of the overwhelming sadness and despair that has returned, you feel frustrated because you sense you are back where you started.  Here you thought you were making progress, and now you just don’t even know if progress is possible.  You feel stuck.    

Anyone who has experienced significant loss can perhaps relate.

Two steps forward.  Two steps back.  Stuck.   

But there is a way forward…

Waves of grief DON’T come out of nowhere.

Those moments that knock you back into despair and sadness, while somewhat unpredictable, are actually gifts.  If you are willing to pay attention, you’ll notice that a wave of grief is most often brought on in response to some sort of trigger.  So, someone does something or says something that triggers something in you.  A situation or circumstance prompts a reaction in you that sends you backwards toward despair and sadness.  These triggers often feel like sources of frustration.  Man, I thought I was beyond this.  I thought I was past this.  I should be further along by now.  The truth is that these triggers are our friends.  They reveal to us exactly where we are still in need of healing. 

It’s important to know that not everyone will have the exact same triggers.     

In processing our son’s Down syndrome, for example, Josie is often triggered when seeing other people with Down syndrome that are much older.  As she has worked through that, it makes perfect sense.  Having a baby with Down syndrome already feels overwhelming enough, let alone getting a glimpse of what her life might be like 5-10 years down the road.  Right now, taking it one day at a time and trusting God is all that she needs to do.  So Josie has learned to pay attention to that trigger.    

My trigger seems to center on developmental delays. 

The other day, for example, I noticed that Griffin’s eyes involuntarily dart back and forth in a rapid, side-to-side, sort of flickering motion whenever he is trying to focus.  I did what I know not to do.  I started researching it.  Online.  Big mistake!  What I read was not comforting, at all.  That rapid involuntary eye movement is known as Nystagmus.  And it’s not good.  It’s untreatable and significantly decreases vision, according to multiple reputable online resources!!!  Within a half hour of research, I was in a deep dark hole of despair.  It’s already been a challenge to connect with Griff, why not throw in some Nystagmus for fun!  (I know, when I get upset I become negatively sarcastic!)  Shortly after self-diagnosing Griffin’s eye problem, we decided to meet some friends at the park.  When we arrived at the park, one of our friends took one look at me and asked what was wrong.  I am tired, I replied.  Now, here’s the thing.  I really felt tired.  I wasn’t lying!  At this point, I honestly hadn’t realized how badly I had been triggered.  Yeah, whatever Mac.  What’s really going on, she replied.  That’s when I realized it was flippin’ Nystagmus.  It had me in a fog of despair.  To make a long story short, we ended up calling Griffin’s ophthalmologist from the park to set up an appointment.  And while making the appointment, the nurse told us NOT to read about Nystagmus online because it manifests itself differently in children with Down syndrome!  Put. In. My. Place.   

The earlier you can notice a trigger the better. 

The other day we were hanging out with some friends.  One of them was holding Griffin and trying to get him to laugh.  His pseudo-Nystagmus was flaring up, making it near impossible for meaningful interaction.  Within a few minutes, I could tell my friend was losing interest in trying to interact with Griff.  They gave up interacting and handed him off to someone else.  And that was a trigger for me.  I felt tears welling up in my eyes watching his disability become an obstacle for relationship and someone giving up on him.  I started spiraling downward emotionally.  Trigger.  But catching that trigger made all the difference in the world.    

People typically respond to waves of grief in one of four ways …

The first, and perhaps the most common for me, is to fight it.  When you’re hit by a wave of grief, you get angry at the wave.  You get frustrated at the wave and start talking trash to it.  You get irritable and edgy.  The trigger causes you to put up your fists.  On the fight or flight spectrum, this is the fight option.  The second response to pain is to ignore it.  When a wave hits, you choose to run away from it.  In terms of fight or flight, this is your flight option.  While I personally don’t like this option, it’s the default for many people.  The inherent danger in this response is that you can’t deal with your pain while running away from it.  The third response to pain is to fake it.  This is what I unsuccessfully attempted to do when our friends arrived at the park.  Oh, I’m fine.  I am just tired.  I wasn’t tired.  That wasn’t really the issue.  The issue was that I was experiencing a wave of grief brought on by a developmental trigger.  Typically, people who choose this option try to convince themselves and those around them that they are okay when in reality they are not.  This is why it’s good to have friends that will call you out!  The final response to pain, and the one I think is the best, is to face it.  You face your grief head-on.  You square up to it.  You look it in the eyes.  And you conjure up the courage to work through it. 

Fight.  Flight.  Fake.  All bad options.

The best option is to face your grief.  You lean into the wave of your grief and you ride it until the pain subsides, until you’ve worked it through as much as possible.  Triggers are what produce waves of grief.  Once you’ve been hit by a wave of grief, brought on by some sort of trigger, the best way to move forward is to ride the wave.  You’ve got to see the trigger as your friend, graciously revealing areas in your life that are still in need of healing.  And then you just hang on for the ride.  Initially, this might feel counterproductive, like you are going backwards, rehashing stuff you’ve already dealt with…that you should be over by now.  Just remember, you may need to work through something several times in order to truly deal with it.  Be patient with yourself.  Leaning into a wave may also feel a bit scary.  That’s normal too.  Pain can be scary.  And honestly, pain is hardly ever any fun either.  The truth is that pain is painful.  It’s a total pain the butt!!!!  No wonder why most people would prefer to avoid it.  But avoiding pain isn’t facing it.  Facing it, leveraging your time to work through it, is the key to experiencing healing.  Ride on.  

Dealing with Disappointment

Most people know that disappointment is part of life.

Life has a way of throwing curve balls—disappointment curve balls.  Life doesn’t always give you what you want or go according to plan.  The issue isn’t whether or not you will experience disappointment.  The issue is what you will do with it when you experience it.  Disappointment is inevitable and universal. 

There are, of course, varying degrees of disappointment. 

Some disappointments are trivial and superficial. 

My pants don’t fit the way they used to fit. 

That movie just wasted two hours of my life! 

The service was slow and the food was subpar.

Little things in life can disappoint us when they fail to meet our expectations.  But other disappoints are anything but trivial and superficial. 

I just lost my job and don’t know how I am going to provide for my family. 

Why can’t we have a baby when everyone else seems to be popping out kids like the Duggars?  We just had our third miscarriage in a row.  My best friend was just diagnosed with cancer. 

These kinds of disappointments leave you breathless and gasping for air, like getting punched in the gut.  Trivial disappointments are easy to shake off.  Sure, they are annoying and maybe cause a minor fog of depression.  But the haze generally clears quickly and we are able to move on.  Gut-punching disappointments, however, are an entirely different story.  The fog lingers.  Layers of haze can remain for months on end.  It’s not always easy to move on.    

It seems to me that the more severe a disappointment, the longer it takes for us to recover.  Not only that, but the more severe a disappointment, the more likely we will be to direct our disappointment at God.  We find we are not just disappointed with a situation, circumstance, or particular outcome.  We are disappointed with God’s involvement (or lack of involvement) as it pertains to that situation, circumstance, or particular outcome.  This can often be a shocking realization—to discover that underneath it all, you are ultimately disappointed with God.  

About a month ago Josie uncovered some disappointment with God. 

We were sitting on our couch talking after we had put our kids down to bed.  We were talking about Griffin, Down syndrome, and how his diagnosis is shaping us—our hopes, our dreams, our family. 

I love him so much.  And I am not disappointed with him.  But I don’t like his Down syndrome.  I’m mad at his Down syndrome.  I wish I could just take it away.  I wish God would just take it away.  I don’t get why he won’t.  I don’t get why he didn’t. 

What you do you mean, “Why he didn’t?”  I asked.

Mac, I specifically prayed through all the body parts before we even conceived. 

(Yes, my wife is a nurse).  I prayed that each part would be healthy.  And you know what?!?  I prayed against any ‘chromosomal abnormalities’ – I said those exact words, Mac.  “God, I pray against any chromosomal abnormalities.”  And here we are.  Chromosomal abnormality!  Trisomy 21!  What’s the point of even praying? 

So what do you do when you find you’re not just disappointed with the cards life has dealt, but you find yourself disappointed with God?  Unfortunately, there are no easy answers or quick-fix solutions as each situation and person is different.  But here are a few principles that help me.

1). Be Honest

Be honest with God.  God already knows you are disappointed.  He already knows you are upset and angry.  So just talk to him about it.  Tell him exactly what you are disappointed about and why.  Trust me, he can handle it.  God wants you as you are more than you pretending to be something you are not.  If you are frustrated, be honest.  If you are angry, be honest.  If you are sad, be honest.  If you are hurting, be honest.  Simply present yourself to God as you are, no hiding.  God’s not going to respond with anger or give you a slap on the wrist.  He loves you and cares for you.  He likely wants to meet you in your disappointment and bring encouragement and love and grace and goodness.  That’s who God is.  He already knows everything there is to know about you – the good, the bad, the ugly – and he loves you unconditionally.  He knows you better than you know yourself.  He loves you without boundaries.  So just be honest with him.

Often our impulse to defend God gets in the way of honesty. 

We see this in the book of Job.  While Job’s friends start out by being present to Job in his pain (what good friends ought to do), they don’t stay present long enough.  As soon as the customary time of grief passes, they start trying to fix and correct Job while defending God’s honor.  If you want to know what NOT to do when it comes to helping people in pain, just watch Job’s friends.  They do everything wrong.  And what’s really interesting is that at the end of the book, when God finally speaks, he’s not mad at Job!  He’s mad at Job’s friends! 

After the LORD had said these things to Job, he said to Eliphaz the Temanite, "I am angry with you and your two friends, because you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has.”  – Job 42:7

The word “right” here carries the connotation of honesty.  It’s not that everything Job said about God was correct.  Just read the book.  Job said some nasty and accusatory stuff to God.  But the thing Job did right was speak honestly.  He was honest the entire time.  This is one of the primary lessons in the book of Job.  It’s also one of the primary lessons throughout the Psalms. 

Raw, real, ruthless, gritty honesty. 

That’s what God wants.  Without honesty, there’s no relationship.  You can’t have a real relationship with someone if one or both of you aren’t being real.  Being real with God is a prerequisite to having a real relationship with him.  And this requires honesty.  So be honest about your disappointments.  And allow others to do the same.      

2).  Acknowledge Your Ignorance

This is another lesson from the book of Job.

When God shows up to respond to Job, he doesn’t really answer his questions.  Instead, he drills Job with a bunch of questions that are totally beyond his insight. 

“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?  Tell me, if you understand.  Who marked off its dimensions?  Surely you know!”  This kind of questioning goes on for the better part of two chapters until Job finally responds, “I am unworthy--how can I reply to you?”

God responds to Job by revealing his ignorance. 

This is significant because often we speak beyond what we actually know when it comes to disappointment.  We try to give the reason(s) as to why this or that has happened in life.  This tendency, as I’ve said before, often manifests itself most clearly in the clichés and platitudes we use to speak into tragic situations.  And the reason they never work is because they are entirely too simplistic. 

In some circles everything comes down to God’s will.

This leads to statements like God is in control or God has a wonderful plan.

Processing disappointment becomes all about accepting God’s good and perfect plan for your life—no matter how atrocious or heartbreaking your circumstances.  In other circles everything comes down to a faith or sin issue.  If things aren’t going well in your life, it’s because you either have unrepentant sin in your life that you need to turn from OR you just need to exercise more faith and overcome your doubt.  The problem with pointing to just one of these variables (or even all three of these together) as the reason for pain and suffering is that it is still too narrow in focus. 

When you read through the gospels, you’ll notice that there are all kinds of other variables that inform what’s happening in any particular situation or circumstance.  Other variables that could inform a situation beyond the three already mentioned include things like prayer, persistency in prayer, spiritual warfare, free-will choices, etc.  When you start putting all of these variables together, you’ll find a web of possibilities that make providing a definitive explanation near impossible.

This is why I find it best to just acknowledge ignorance.

We don’t know why any particular event happened the way it did.  I will never know exactly why my son Griffin was born with Down syndrome.  And that’s okay.

3).  Exercise Trust

The most challenging part of dealing with disappointment is trust.

How do I know that I can really trust God with ______ going on in my life—especially when my life situation makes God seem unreliable?  This is exactly what Josie was getting at during our conversation. 

Mac, I prayed for this and it didn't happen.

So what’s the point of praying?  How can I trust God to act on my behalf?

These are honest questions.  And we should welcome them.

Asking these kinds of honest questions not only requires honesty, but also forces us to continue in honesty as we search for satisfactory answers.  For Josie, she realized much of her prayer life revolved around trying to put a divine stamp on the future—praying against potential problematic situations in the future to prevent them from happening.  It’s not that this kind of prayer is without warrant.  There is certainly a place for praying against sickness, pain, and other negative outcomes that are contrary to God’s will.  But is this the primary purpose of prayer?  As we talked, my answer was no.  Again, there may be a place for that kind of prayer.  But it seems to me the foundation of prayer is to connect with God, to know God, and to participate in God’s mission—to bend toward God in our lives rather than to bend God toward us, to move toward God’s preferred future—not to move God toward our preferred future.    

The turning point in my conversation with Josie came when we both realized that God already answered her prayer concerning Griffin.  It’s not that God didn’t answer Josie’s prayer.  God has already answered Josie’s prayer.  He answered it before Josie ever prayed it.  One day God is going to make all things right.  Whatever is off in the world will be made right through Jesus.  And that includes Griffin and his chromosomal abnormalities.  That also includes you and me.  And that is the basis for exercising trust no matter what.    

Joining God

We are continuing our journey into uncharted territory.

Again, this is territory most of would prefer to avoid, myself included. 

But, so long as we live this side of heaven, there’s really no way to avoid it. 

I am talking about the territory of pain and suffering and tragedy.  And since there is no way to avoid it, we might as well figure out how to engage it constructively.

The tension here is that most of us don't now how to do this.

I’m convinced that a large percentage of the church simply doesn’t know how to enter into the pain of another and just be present.  Way too often we resort to giving people in pain positive clichés and pleasant platitudes to relieve our own discomfort with what they are experiencing.  Even when our intentions are to genuinely encourage or provide comfort, the opposite is too often the result.  And if we are genuinely striving to encourage others in pain, but discover that our words served to cause deeper harm and pain, should we not stop and examine where the disconnect is between our intentions and the result? 

Catchy Christian slogans simply will not do. 

God is in control.  God has a perfect plan. 

God never gives you more than you can handle. 

While many of these statements may be true, they are profoundly unhelpful and hurtful when applied in the wrong situations and circumstances.  When someone is in pain, they don’t need a catchy slogan that glosses over their pain with the assurance that God has a wonderful plan.  They need someone to enter into their pain and stay there as long as necessary.  It is within this context, the context of presence, that opportunities to speak in helpful ways actually originate. 

Part of the reason why we have such a hard time simply being present to others is that we are fixers.  We want to fix people’s pain.  We want to solve people’s problems.  We want to eliminate the crisis at hand…and get credit for being the hero.  And so we come with our gimmicky theological statements, our well-crafted advice, and our pre-planned solutions.  Let’s be honest.  This hardly ever works. 

Imagine two different therapists…

For all intents and purposes, both therapists are equally matched in education, skill, and competency.  The only difference is this: One uses his education, skill, and competency to craft action plans for his patients before his patients arrive with the goal of guiding them to the solution of their problem while the other therapist uses her education, skill, and competency to craft an action plan during the therapy session as a result of being present to the client.  Which therapist would you want to see if you were experiencing a significant issue in life?  My guess is the one who would take the time to be present to you, listen to you, and truly understand you. 

This is why there is no substitute for presence. 

If you bypass presence in an attempt to be helpful you risk being hurtful. 

In order to enter the pain of another, you must resist the temptation to fix their pain.  Please recognize that it is not your job to fix another person’s pain anyway.  That’s God’s job!  It’s God’s job to heal and restore and redeem!  Not ours.  Does that mean we don’t have a role to play?  Of course not!  God is good and invites us to play a part.  But our part is ultimately a participatory one—one where God is the primary fixer and healer and comforter and we are secondary ones.  We don’t fix or heal someone for God.  We become present to people in pain long enough to discern how God is extending healing and comfort to them…and then join in there. 

I find it interesting that when Jesus faced his darkest moment, in the Garden of Gethsemane, all he wanted was for his closest to disciples to stay present with him.  Even Jesus wanted people present when he was full of sorrow and deeply troubled. 

A friend of mine recently said that entering pain is a spiritual art. 

I really like that.  There is no scientific procedure to follow when entering pain.  There is no template or formula.  What’s being described here is something fundamentally different than imposing a pre-planned solution onto someone else’s problem.  We are after entering into the pain of another and remaining present in that pain long enough to discern and join God’s activity.  The goal of being present, then, is to join God.  We enter a person’s pain and stay there until we discern God’s grace.  So we don’t come with pre-packaged statements and gimmicky slogans to relieve pain.  No, that’s a robotic, non-empathetic, formulaic, scientific approach to handling pain.  No, we come to simply be present and discern what God is doing and join in his work—something a formula or template will never help us do.  We come to be present in pain and hear how God might want to speak to it.  That’s an art.  It’s not a science.  It’s an art because it requires spiritual discernment.  You don’t need spiritual discernment to offer clichés to people in pain.  Anyone can do that.  But you do need spiritual discernment to detect where and how God is moving and join his work. 

Isn’t that the difference between the two therapists?

One uses education, skill, and competency to offer pre-packages solutions. 

The other uses education, skill, and competency to enter in and discern what is really going on and what if anything can be done about it. 

The idea of joining God goes beyond just entering pain.

It relates to anytime we come alongside another whether in pain or not.  Too often we assume we know what’s best and work independently of God rather than striving to discern God’s presence and activity.  Most of us seek God’s direction and guidance when making big life decisions.  God, do you want me to marry this person?  God, do you want me to take this job and move my family?  God, do you really want me to trust you with _____?  Why not assume this same posture of dependency with every aspect of life?

The other day I received this text from a friend…

Mac, my wife is spotting.  We think we are going to lose our baby.  We are going to the doctor tomorrow, but right now things feel really hopeless. 

I’ve been there.  Josie and I had a miscarriage a little over a year ago. 

It would have been tempting for me to try to reduce their pain by staying positive.  Hey, spotting doesn’t mean you will lose the baby.  I know of several women who spotted and everything turned out fine.  Honestly, six months ago I probably would have done just that.  I would have tried to say something positive to relieve my own discomfort with what they were experiencing.  But experiencing deep pain changes you.  And it changes the way you relate to people in pain.  I’ve experienced great pain.  And, by God’s grace, I am learning how to relate to people in pain differently.  Sometimes there just isn’t a solution or fix.  Like, what if everything doesn’t turn out fine?  What if they really lose the baby?  What value would my words have then?  They would most likely become a painful reminder of what didn’t happen—some light spotting, but a healthy baby. 

And so I responded…

My goodness.  That sucks!  I am sorry you are going through this.  I am going to pray for you right now.  We are here to support you in any way we can. 

It turns out my friends did lose their baby. 

So what does support look like?

It’s remaining present to the extent that I am invited in and for as long as necessary with the hopes of detecting God’s gracious activity and joining in.  Seeking and joining God is not a one and done.  It’s a way of life.  It’s a way of approaching every situation and circumstance with dependency and faith and trust.  God, I trust that you are already at work here.  I know you invite me to join in.  Help me notice where you are at work and give me the courage and faith to respond.