Regaining Myself

I know that there are many reasons to not come clean about one's addiction. Ever since I was a teenager, I would regularly feel the twinge of my conscience telling me that I needed to make a confession, but I never listened to it. It was just too terrifying, had too many ramifications, and would brand me with too many labels. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I kept the double-life going all the way through dating and the first five years of my marriage. As the years went by, I developed more nuanced justifications for concealing the truth. I knew that my wife looked up to me, and I told myself that it would be irresponsible to hurt her by letting her know of my betrayal. I considered the callings that I had in my church, and told myself that making a confession would mean losing those opportunities to serve others. And what if there were legal ramifications to my sins that compromised my ability to be a father to my son? “So you see,” I said to myself, “silently bearing the burden of what you’ve done and letting everyone else remain in blissful ignorance is the noble thing to do.”

What absolute, manipulative, self-serving, BS!

This wasn’t about other people, it was about me. I didn’t want to jeopardize my marriage. I didn’t want to lose my social status. I didn’t want to pay the price for my wrongs. I might have dressed my selfishness as concern for others, but it was selfishness all the same.

Thankfully, one day I managed to break out of that state of denial and justification. Exactly how is a story for another time, but the end result was that I finally told my wife, my church leaders, a therapist, and my family what was really going on. And when I did, I found something that I hadn’t even realized I was missing.

Myself.

You cannot live a lie without losing yourself. That’s just the way it works. And in all my years of telling lies I had lost my soul so gradually and imperceptibly that I didn’t even realize it had happened. Because I was always wearing a mask, life happened to the mask and not to me.

But then, from the very first moment that I made my confession, the mask came off and light and air rushed back onto my real face and I definitely felt that! It felt like my soul was being restored. Yes, now there was a great deal more stress and drama in my life, but it was all happening directly to me, not to the mask, and that was all that mattered.

In all my years of fear, I had been keenly aware of all the bad things that might happen to me if I told the truth, but I had never accounted for the good. If I were to travel back in time to talk with my past self when I was still unsure about coming clean I would say, “you’re right, you might lose your family, your status, your church, but none of those will be as bitter as you think because you’ll also get your authentic self back, and that is sweet enough to make up for all the rest.”

Jesus asked, “For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” (Matthew 16:26). He is suggesting that no reward is worth the loss of a soul. I know now that this is true, because I’ve experienced the happy opposite of it.

What does a man really lack, even if he loses the whole world, but regains his own soul?

By Abe, Writing Team

Do I Understand My Pain?

In my previous writing, titled “God is Eager to Display His Work,” I used the story of Jesus healing the man born blind to explore the idea that the pain I often try to medicate with food and pornography could serve a greater purpose: to display God’s work as He heals me. And that healing may be closer than I think.

In this piece, I want to explore the possibility that I may not perceive my pain as clearly as the blind man understood his. The blind man knew exactly what his problem was—his blindness. Before Jesus came, he wasn’t wandering around upset that someone had neglected to turn the lights on. He understood the source of his pain.

In my case, much of my pain comes from past trauma, unwise decisions made by my children, challenges at work, and sometimes even the frustrations of home maintenance and loud noises. I often pray for God to help me forget my traumas, to guide my children to better choices, for work problems to be resolved quickly, for my house to hold together, and that my neighbor’s dogs will just - stop - barking! But I realize now that I’ve been praying wrong.

You see, I’ve been assuming that I simply am the way that I am - like how I believe loud noises will always bother me. But as I read about the healing of the blind man, it struck me: the problem isn’t the noise. The problem is how the noise affects me. And I could pray for healing from that.

Christ couldn’t have "turned the lights on" for the blind man if the man had seen his pain that way. In the same way, it might not be in God’s plan to change the hard things from my past, to fix my children, to make work easier, to hold my house together, or even to quiet my neighbor’s dogs.

As I reflected on the idea that I may not be seeing my pain accurately, I envisioned what life would look like if the real issues were fixed. Here’s what the vision entailed: A difficult memory surfaced, and I acknowledged it, let it go, and moved on. I was assigned a difficult work task with a deadline and got right to work on the interesting challenge. One of our three showers sprang a leak and I calmly turned off the water and added the repair to my to-do list. My child made a poor decision and I responded with love and guidance, without catastrophizing, forming an unhealthy attachment to the outcome, or taking it as a reflection on myself. An intentionally unmuffled car woke me up and I turned over and went back to sleep.

This sparked a new hope in me—that I could be changed. The world could stay as it is, but I could live in it without the negative effects it currently has on me. And why should it have that kind of power over me anyway? God may need me to work at it or even seek professional help, but I believe He is powerful and good enough to make that change in me.

In short, the real issue isn’t events themselves—it’s my negative reaction to them. What I need healing from is the hurt, not the causes of it.

This perspective can change how I pray. Instead of asking for events to change to suit me, I can now pray to be healed from my unhealthy reactions to these events.

I’m going to give it a try!

By Ty, Writing Team

It Starts With You (Me)

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by Pete, UU Writing Crew

A recurring theme with those whom I love of late is a conversation around brotherhood, sisterhood, connection, and support. 

October marks three years since my first Warrior Heart Bootcamp. I well remember getting a rush from finally seeing what true connection with God and others felt and looked like. 

A few months later I attended Advanced Bootcamp and came home again with the same feelings, including a renewed urgency and desire to have those same types of experiences more often and a lot closer to home. 

I was sitting in a pew at Church and praying to God, half complaining, “why don’t we have that type of connection in my local congregation?” I listed off the people to blame and bemoaned that a close friend who had been a ringleader for connection had just moved out of state.

In my contemplative state the thought came very strongly into my mind, almost like a voice: “you have been to two camps and know how it looks and feels. You are the person you have been waiting for.”

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Feelings of inadequacy, fear of rejection, a desire to keep the status quo all rushed over me and I felt overwhelmed. Again the powerful thought said to me, “just show people how much I love them and don’t worry about anything else. Just serve and love.”

It took a few false starts and a few more bootcamps to finally start having monthly Breakfast Burritos with Bros on a Saturday morning, as well as the occasional Crepes with Couples (the women were jealous and wanted to be invited too). 

I took opportunities when I was asked to teach our Men’s group and around the fire at young men’s camps to ask people what makes their hearts come alive and how their heart is doing today (asking “how are you doing” usually dead ends with “fine”). We began inviting families over for dinner and organizing movie nights and tried to always say yes when we were invited to something.  

It was uphill for many months, but then people started to soften. I took opportunities to go to lunch or breakfast with guys and get to know them. I would ask how I could battle for their hearts as I got to know them better. Admittedly, when things didn’t pick up as quickly as I thought they should, I still felt despair and wondered what the point was at times. But I have since seen the guys I’ve reached out to starting to reach out to others. It’s not at all about me but the love of Christ. It is independent of any one person’s efforts but it does need group participation to work. 

I am constantly reminded that Christ invites me in. Always ready to pull me up and into something better. Crazy adventures have occurred and I’m now actively walking and mountain biking. I’ve been rappelling and tried a lot of new things, including axe throwing and going to music concerts. 

“Adventure Awaits” is God’s slogan to me. I may wreck my bike, run into a cactus or a snake along the journey, but my heart and mind are alive, and I have been so blessed by waking up and doing something with others. 

If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. - Ghandi (Longer version of “Be the Change …”)

I challenge you to look for ways to love and to surrender the self. God has so much to give, and you are one of His tools for giving. People are dying on the vine all around us and are waiting—just as we are—for someone to get the ball rolling. 

After exhausting all of my excuses for it to NOT be me, I am living a life with a lot more connection, support, and love; and I’m working to let God be my navigator. I pray the same blessings for you! Get started somewhere and I promise the blessings will eventually come.