HEELCATCHER

I grew up in a good home. I absolutely love my family. But we had our share of dysfunction at times. Conflict avoidance. Difficulty expressing deeper thoughts or emotions. Unspoken tension and disagreements. Relational distance.

Church life also had its problems. What should have been a place of mutual acceptance, honest exhortation, vulnerable humility, and practiced forgiveness was often a place of superficiality, feigned spirituality, offended sensibilities, and an inability to model the love of Christ. Watching a church argue and split over minor issues and personality clashes impacted my young faith. Seeing abuse in a church…which was subsequently ignored and swept under the rug…still causes me to wonder, “How in the world could a church let that happen? And what in the world were they thinking when they chose to act like it never happened?”

Looking back, the mistakes, failures, and sins seem obvious…avoidable…correctable.

But then I realize I am guilty of my own share of mistakes, failures, and sins.

Here is a revelation that is hard to deny.

We all suffer from the dysfunction of our past. And we all contribute to the dysfunction of our present.

The wounds that we have received are real…and often deep. But the wounds we create…often in our own woundedness or self-righteous sense of justified anger…can often be as real and deep to others.

I am reminded of the words of Miroslav Volf in his excellent book, Exclusion and Embrace, which revisits his own experience in the Croatian-Serbian War:

To break the world cleanly into victims and violators ignores the depths of each person’s participation in cultural sin. There simply are no innocents.

If victims do not repent today they will become perpetrators tomorrow who, in self-deceit, will seek to exculpate their misdeeds on account of their own victimization.

As I look back on my own past, I see much to be thankful for…and much to lament. I wish some parts were different. I wish I could rewrite the script on many experiences. I wish I could get past many of the fears, anxieties, and thought patterns that I developed as a child.

But in another way…in a strange way…in an almost paradoxical way…I am thankful for the dysfunction.

I am thankful that I can see it as dysfunction. It motivates me to change.

I am also thankful that it opened me up to explore my heart….to ask deeper questions…to see my own brokenness…to seek help…and to develop a sensitivity to others with similar wounds and pains.

We are all broken people…not functioning as we ought…learning to grow…needing grace…waiting for full redemption.

Isn’t it a gift to realize that?

David, after the biggest failure and sin in his own life, wrote a heart-wrenching, honest confession in Psalm 51. I have always been fascinated by verses 5-6.

Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity,
And in sin my mother conceived me.
Behold, You desire truth in the inward parts,
And in the hidden part You will make me to know wisdom.

David wants us to stop and “behold” two truths.

One, we are all dysfunctional, selfish, sinful from the moment we are born. We can blame our environment, family, upbringing, church, culture, or even God….but in the end our own hearts have a problem that we cannot fix…and our own thoughts, words, and actions contribute to the messes that we often find ourselves in. Denial, blameshifting, bitterness, and self-righteousness only add to the mess and the pain…and keep us from finding wholeness and healing.

Two, God desires us to be honest with ourselves. Self-confrontation and humble confession are…quite simply…powerful. They remove the illusions of invincibility and the masks of perfection and bring us face-to-face with our own weaknesses and failures. From here we are finally in a position to receive grace and extend grace.

But there is a second part to the equation. Not only does God desire honesty in our “inward parts” but He also gives us insight and wisdom into the “hidden part.” Perhaps this is just Hebrew poetry repeating the same principle. But I tend to see something deeper here…more profound…more revealing.

In each of us there is an “inward part,” the part that we are aware of but that we often hide from others. Being honest here is the first step toward vulnerability and authenticity.

But in each of us there is also a “hidden part,” the part of us that even we do not understand. Like an iceberg, there is a whole mass of hidden motivations, wounds, hurts, offenses, thought patterns, idols that lie deep within our hearts. Behind our anger, anxiety, and depression is often something that we simply cannot see. Ironically even the most self-aware person isn’t aware of all their self.

It is here…in these hidden areas…that God grants wisdom…as we learn to submit to Him and listen for His still, small voice.

And it is here that true healing needs to take place.

And what motivates us to seek this healing?

Difficulty. Pain. Relational conflict. Panic attacks. Wounds. Hurts. Hitting a wall. Even hitting rock bottom.

Unless the pain of where you are is greater than the pain of facing yourself and seeking change, then you will probably never change.

Here is where dysfunction becomes a gift.

It is the pain that motivates you toward healing.

It is the brokenness that leads you toward wholeness.

It is the darkness that points you toward the Light.

For You do not desire sacrifice, or else I would give it;
You do not delight in burnt offering.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit,
A broken and a contrite heart—
These, O God, You will not despise. (Psalm 51:16-17)

I remember my first bout with panic attacks. I felt like I was drowning on dry land as wave after wave of anxiety hit me.

It was a horrible experience. Feeling out of control. Fighting your own mind. Trying to catch your breath. Struggling to keep your head above the waves.

I wasn’t expecting it. I had counseled people with panic attacks. I had preached sermons on overcoming anxiety. I had a strong grasp on Scripture and theology…and seemingly I had control of my own thoughts.

But the waves hit me anyway.

It is wild to know that your thoughts are crazy and irrational…and yet be unable to stop them.

It is humbling to know that you are not in control.

If you have never had panic attacks, be thankful…and be sympathetic toward those who have.

If you have had panic attacks, take courage…there is hope after the storms.

My first battles with anxiety began when I was young. I was always a little nervous as a kid. My imaginative personality lent itself to an introspective life…an awareness of my mortality…and an ability to imagine the worst case scenario…often in vivid colors. But anxiety was more like an annoying little brother than a dominant taskmaster. I worked through it…avoided stressful situations…fed off adrenaline when necessary…and poured myself into activities in which I could succeed.

But as I got older, anxiety seemed to grow too. There was more on the line. The stakes were raised. Failure had greater ramifications…on me…on my family…on others who depended on me.

When the panic attacks finally hit me, they forced me to take inventory…to dig deeper…to face my fears…to face myself.

In the past fifteen years I have seen periods of weakness and times of victory in my battle with anxiety. But whether I was winning the battle or losing it, I still experienced growth in my life. God humbled me. He crippled me. He put me on my knees. Not to harm me…but to bless me. To heal me. To remake me in His image.

I believe at our core…we all have fear.

We are small, mortal, vulnerable individuals living in a massive, dangerous, sin-impacted world. Behind our masks of toughness and images of invincibility are the realities of our weakness. We can deny it, downplay it, hide it, fight it, medicate it, or compensate for it…but it is still there.

And it should be there…if we are rational creatures willing to take an honest inventory of our situation.

The Bible presents fear as the primary emotion of Adam and Eve after they sinned against God (Genesis 3:10).

Behind our shame is fear of exposure.

Behind our guilt is fear of consequences.

Behind our anger is fear of loss of control.

Behind our sorrow is fear of loss itself.

And, of course, behind our anxiety is fear itself…unmasked…unveiled…unchecked.

In battling anxiety, I have learned that the victory doesn’t come in denying fear but in exploring it…exposing it…admitting it…and putting your trust in something greater…Someone greater.

Anxiety used to be my annoying little brother…then it became my relentless taskmaster…now it is becoming my toughest teacher.

It is teaching me to be honest with myself…and with others.

It is teaching me to depend on the Spirit each and every day…and not on myself.

It is teaching me to change my habits…to learn to rest…to eat better…to think better…to breathe better.

It is teaching me that we are body-soul-spirit creatures…and that true healing involves all three.

It is teaching me to be compassionate…to love mercy…to embrace weakness.

It is teaching me to look higher…hope further…go deeper.

It is teaching me to fear God…as the antidote to all other fears.

“He who fears God has nothing else to fear.” (Charles Spurgeon)

Anxiety is a battle…but the battle is the Lord’s (1 Samuel 17:47).