Some of us have been through rough stretches emotionally. I have gone through seasons where the Psalms were about all I could read. In those seasons, it was the Psalms that rang truest to me. The author’s gut honesty refreshed me. It’s a big deal to have Spirit-inspired writers giving permission, by way of their example, to be gut honest with myself, others, and with God. When I grasped this, my quiet times were not so quiet anymore.

There were two recurring questions that the new, more open Rob started asking. They were: “WHAT IS THE DEAL!!??” and “ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!?? Warning: If you pray like this in public, you will forfeit opportunities to lead out in corporate prayer. And further: if you aspire to pray publicly, shouting and weeping should be avoided at all times.

This psalmist’s days were filled with distress and illness. As he wept and withered away, he pleaded with God, “Hear my prayer! Let my cry for help come before You! Listen to me!” While the anguished writer has no sense of God’s personal attention, he refocuses his remaining energy on something he was more confident about. He seemed to reason, “Even if I may have fallen off God’s radar, certainly Israel, the object of His compassion, has not.”

In his emotional drift, it is as though gut honesty allows the Psalmist’s anchor to catch somewhere way down below the fickle emotional currents and lay hold of the firm reality of God’s goodness. From this place, he is then able to think, write and proclaim with new clarity and fresh authority.

A pastor friend asked me a few years ago why I thought businessmen did not attend his church, which happens to be ultra-positive and upbeat. I admired him for even asking the question. My response was simple: Life has never been perpetually upbeat and positive. I suggested his tone might seem shallow to the businessmen who rarely sees idealism prevail. It may have escaped my friend’s notice that businessmen and psalmists had this trait in common.

Emotionally speaking, my story has some messy chapters in it. Audience responses are interesting. The religious ask, “Brother, where is your victory?” Or, “Brother, what sin are you harboring that has caused you to have such a negative testimony?” Or, (a favorite) “Brother, why are you not in proper submission to authority (namely – a pastor)?” Regrettably, I now have an involuntary twitch when someone calls me “Brother.

Then there were the hungry listeners, perhaps a bit poorer in spirit, who would breathe a sigh of relief as they heard someone being emotionally honest. They were relieved to know others, especially leaders, also had messy lives.

I do have an ultra-positive testimony but its not because God has exempted me from trying circumstances. My story is upbeat because He is with me in the midst of these circumstances and is leading me through them. I’ve noticed that at my friend’s church a testimony get’s more “amens” if one is delivered from something than if they are merely enduring that something. I’ve also noticed a great deal of pre-emptive religious energy devoted to making life work out (typically, in harmony with the American Dream). Calling this “ministry” is a wholesale disregard of the New Testament and the lives of its writers.

I recall one sermon where the preacher got transparent. With genuine fear and trembling, they confessed they had said a curse word after missing a free throw. The audience braced themselves as the curse word was spelled: “S-H-O-O-T.” My involuntary response to this scandal was, “Well *#! T, I am toast if this is how the score is being kept.”

In my defense, I had a grandmother who was apparently a sailor and a father who was a contractor. I’ve heard a few expletives. Consequently, a foul thesaurus remains in my operating software. I was genuinely proud I hadn’t verbally released my salty oath right there in the sanctuary. I don’t think I was alone in feeling that I would never clear the bar of holiness that had just been set. That may have been the glorious day I decided to quit jumping at all.

Transparency produces credibility and credibility is a root of authentic authority. This is one reason why I think pastors with professional smiles can have credibility problems with businessmen.

In my story, while brokenness has had its place, I no longer highlight it as my singular cross to bear or as the premier value of the Christian life. In my painful emotional drifts, also known as depression, I logged many raw hours in God’s presence, asking questions, often with bitter undertones. For the record, I got very few answers and zero apologies.

My anchor did finally catch, and a great deal of emotional stability was restored as well as a new spiritual vitality. Being emotionally honest is essential to having a personal relationship with God. People want to be led by those who have shared the trials and the pain they have known. Jesus was a man like us who suffered and was tempted just as we are. This qualifies him to lead. He is our safe place. In our transparency, we become safe spaces for others. The good news is God is using us messy, non-professional, Christ-dependent bricks to build his Church.

Father, thank you for giving us permission to be real. Show us how to move forward in being safe places for each other. Show us how to be the honest psalmists you desire, who worship you daily in spirit and truth. Help us to press on to know you through every emotional detour tempting us to think we are lost or unworthy. Deliver us from the evil of living by standards, which are at best, sad parodies of holiness. Amen.

 

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