Abba's Goodness Far Succeeds My Badness

Recently I was speaking with a friend who was deep in shame.  So deep in fact that they could not even recognize their 'bad' behavior for what it was, but rather went about justifying it in a comically absurd way.  Three-quarters of the way into our conversation these words came flowing out of my mouth; "God's 'goodness' far outweighs mine and yours 'badness'."

Their response was, "That's outrageous."

And they're right.

Even in affirming that the goodness of Abba succeeds over any of my inherent depravity or chosen sin, I feel uncomfortable.  Honestly, this is an outlandish statement to make, and yet I consistently find this truth affirmed throughout Scripture.  My worst sin pails in comparison to the goodness of God.  The reality is, this is true because of who God is, rather than who I am.  It is not dependent upon my 'badness' not really being 'that bad', but it is consistently hinged upon God's constant and forever holiness.

Living out of this truth sets free my captivity from the prison of shame I so often lock myself in.

The Need of Strength to Know I Am Loved

I often find myself low, feeling unloved or unlovable.  Far too often I act out of this insecure and unstable place; in my marriage I may doubt the affection of my spouse, which leads to all kinds of reactions of anger, frustration or criticism.  With friends I may judge their actions towards (or not towards) me with harsh cynicsim.  In a crowded room or packed church service I might feel alone, disconnected from the hundreds of people around me, which leads to roaming halls in order to stay isolated from small talk (an obvious bid to avoid further rejection).  My response to these reactions is often to 'stop being angry', affirm rather than criticize, try to be more social, or a hundred other formulas for making the situation better.  However, I'm finally starting to see that regardless of what I do, the reality always comes back to that lonesome place wherein I feel unloved, or even unworthy of another's love.

I cannot talk myself into a place of feeling or knowing I am loved, and I can't just stop reacting out of feeling unloved.  The strength required is not feasible for me to muster up.

Paul prays for the church in Ephesus (those who already believe and belong to Christ) that they would have strength to know what is the breadth and length and height and depth of the love of Christ. 

It struck me that Paul did not chastise them for not knowing this love, or condemn them for their sinful reactions out of a fearful and unknowing place.  Rather he prayed that they would have and be granted the necessary strength for knowing this deep, deep love of Jesus. 

Daily I react out of a place that does not intimately know that I am loved.  Frequently I combat this sense of unloveableness with the breath prayer "I belong to Abba", and yet I do not have even the strength to accept this truth over the deception that I am unloveable.  Oh that you and I might be granted the strength to receive and live out of the immeasurable love of our brother Jesus!

Grace Baby, Grace

Several weeks ago my wife responded to one of my emails with the words in this title, 'Grace baby, grace'.  Honestly, it pissed me off.  Then I looked back at my email.  The expectations I had for myself and her were impossibly high.

For most of my life I've imagined that God had these same kind of lofty expectations which involved me living a perfect, practically glorified life.  I'm not just talking about 'don't sin', but do everything 'right'. To this point it has been up to me to get myself together, making sure to never miss a beat.  One of the many implications of this thinking involves the absurd expectations I have on myself, which eventually find themselves placed on others as well.  To live with someone who has unrelenting, impossible standards is probably similar to being suffocated slowly by a large python.  The weight and pressure of these expectations cause you to fight for your life at first, then slowly go numb, and eventually concede to emotional death. (I'm also a sufferer of extreme thinking if you didn't notice)

Recently it's begun to sink in that this is not actually what God had in mind.  Repeatedly throughout Scripture the emphasis falls on restoration and rebuilding.  Rather than being seen as one who should get it all right the first time, Abba sees me as one who has suffered massive devastation and in desperate need to be rebuilt from the ruins.

In Isaiah 61, which Christ reads from to inaugurate the purpose of his earthly ministry as reported in Luke 4, the coming of the Messiah promises the following for us ragamuffins:

"They'll rebuild the old ruins, raise a new city out of the wreckage.  They'll start over on the ruined cities, take the rubble left behind and make it new."

The rebuilding which is mentioned here comes alongside of preaching good news to the poor, binding up the heartbroken, announcing freedom and pardon to the captives, and caring for those who mourn.  The Messiah also came to give bouquets of life rather than ashes of death, messages of joy rather than doom, and hearts of joyful praise in place of languid spirits.  Nowhere in this giving or restoring does the Messiah first require that the poor, mournful, heartbroken captives be perfect, or even do well at life.  Abba longs that we would hear the words 'Grace son/daughter, grace' and begin the life-long process of having our rubble rebuilt.

 

 

Incarnational Healer

I've been thinking lately about what it is I do as a therapist.  Often, people seem to think I'm a fixer, sometimes myself included, which quickly leads to crazy because I am in fact, not able to fix another person.  Thank God I do not have that much power.  Lately, I've found myself gravitating toward the word healer, not in the sense that I give healing but rather that I invite and walk with folks towards healing.  Included in this healing relationship is acceptance of a person as they are, not as they 'should' be.  Carl Rogers termed this 'unconditional positive regard'. John talks about 'perfect love' (1J4:18) which has no fear.  I believe this type of loving drives out at least the fear of rejection, shaming, punishment, betrayal, etc.  

This healing does not come from some outer strength or skills, but comes from the indwelling of the Spirit who puts Christ on my flesh, allowing me to incarnate the one who touched the lepers, and just as the lepers received emotional and spiritual healing when the Christ gave them physically intimate touch when healing their diseases, as I incarnate Christ I am privileged to give emotionally intimate 'touch' the those parts of people they feel are unclean, shamed and outcast.  I imagine the leper living outside the city longed for this kind of knowing touch for years before receiving it from Jesus.  I have come to know many (myself foremost) who long to be emotionally known and healed in much the same way.

In her book on healing those who have been wounded by abuse, Diane Langberg spoke of being an incarnational healer in saying:

"All that we do as those who name the name of Christ is to be both incarnational and redemptive.  Our words are to communicate his truth.  Our person is to reflect his person.  Our lives are to be a living, breathing explanation of his character. Those who sit with us in our office should have a better understanding of who God is because we have, through our obedience to him and love for him, touched them with the flavor of his presence.

The ability to give others a taste of Christ by leading to the way of healing is short-lived and possibly inauthentic if it is to be mustered up out of something in my self.  The underlying necessity of me being a healer comes by way of receiving my own healing.  Brennan puts this pointedly in his book 'The Furious Longing of God'. 

"Healing becomes the opportunity to pass off to another human being what I have received from the Lord Jesus; namely His unconditional acceptance of me as I am, not as I should be. He loves me whether in a state of grace or disgrace, whether I live up to the lofty expectations of His gospel or I don't. He comes to me where I live and loves me as I am.  When I have passed that same reality on to another human being, the result most often has been the inner healing of their heart through the touch of my affirmation. To affirm a person is to see the good in them that they cannot see in themselves and to repeat it in spite of appearances to the contrary."

To receive people as they are without the demand that they get better, stop sinning, or hide the offensive is to be as Christ to the lepers, whores and thieves.  To touch people with emotional acceptance reflects Christ touching the contagious.  This gospel act turns people away from their failed attempts of healing via sin, and towards the true giver and restorer of life.  As a therapist I participate in the healing ministry of my elder brother Jesus, with particular focus of healing on emotional and spiritual wounds.

Self Awareness of Poverty and Love

It seems dichotomous to think that the Christian walk involves knowing oneself as a poor and desperately needy child, while at the same time knowing oneself as a child who has received the favor and affection of Abba God.  In my life it seems that I have often veered towards living solely in either one or the other awareness.  At times I focus in on my life as the beloved and begin to think it is because of my great gifts, skills or lovability, which leads to an over-inflated view of self.  At other times I find myself dwelling on my utter poverty and depravity of mind and heart, which often leads to a despondent and hateful view of self.

To hold these two seemingly dichotomous views together in tension involves seeing myself as one who was loved first (1 John 4:19) and who is blessed in my poverty (Matt. 5:3), fully aware of being both depraved and beloved.  This leads to a proper self awareness, which frees me from either thinking too highly of myself without merit or too lowly without the merit of Christ.

"The first step in liberation from self-hatred is to move from the darkness of self-delusion into the daylight of God's truth...to accept that I am unacceptable, to renounce self-justification, to give up my preposterous pretending that my paltry prayers, spiritual insights, knowledge of Scripture, and blustering successes in ministry have made me pleasing to God.  No antecedent beauty enamors me in his eyes.  I am lovable because he loves me.  Period." ~Brennan Manning

To Fear and Trust

These past few weeks post-graduation have been plagued with constant attacks of panic and fear, particularly the fear that things will be turned on their heads.  Bank accounts, car issues, tenants moving out, new job transition, a hurricane which the news seemed to think was imminently more catastrophic than any hurricane to date, financial woes, etc.,etc.,etc.  I found myself on the brink of despair, with the words of 'I quit' lingering on my tongue.  Yet, all the while, I've had this nagging sense that it would be okay, not because these things would work out and go just the way I had planned for them to go, but because of a deep and prevailing sense of trust in Abba's character.

I began to think of how much energy I put into the fear of all these things (and no doubt many others).  Quite frankly, a lot.  My mind then began to be drawn to so many passages in which Scripture refers to 'fearing the Lord' (Prov. 1:7; 19:23; Deut. 6:1-3; Jonah 1:9).  Honestly, I've not enjoyed these passages in the past as they never really set well with me.  It seems that the truth of fearing the Lord has begun to take root in me now as I find myself uttering phrases like "Abba, if you don't show up, I'm done for", or "If you let me go, I perish".  This stirs up appropriate fear.  If God turns His back on me, or turns his wrath towards me, I don't stand a chance.  The fear of Him now begins to far outweigh the fear of money loss, car issues, house foreclosure, etc.

Yet paired with this truth belong many others, including the truth of His covenant making love which he promises to direct towards me and a thousand generations to follow me (Deut. 7:9,10; 1 Chron. 16:15); the truth of the refuge He provides to the pursued, travel-weary and lost (2 Sam. 22:3; Psalm 7:1; 36:7; Heb. 6:18); the truth of my adoption as a full son who shares all things with my brother Jesus - including the Father's affirmation, affection and intent for glory (Rom. 8:15; 8:23; Gal. 4:5; Eph. 1:5).

"But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons.  And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, "Abba! Father!" Galatians 4:4-6

To be afraid of the Creator and Sustainer of life is appropriate and right, so long as it is paired with knowing the goodness of a Father who does not give a stone to his son when asked for something to eat.

There but for the grace of God go I

Twice in the past week I have heard the phrase 'There but for the grace of God go I'.  

Several times this week I have seen myself truly and begun to realize how true this statement is.  Honesty is a two-way street.  It is not enough to only be honest with others,which is in fact impossible apart from first being honest with ourselves.  Often this is the very thing we need the most (gut-wrenching, clear-eyed honest looking at our self), but is quite commonly the very thing we neglect out of fear, anxiety or a tendency to seek comfort at all costs.

To neglect seeing our self clearly has several consequences, the most profound (in my opinion) being that we trivialize our need for the intervening work of the Spirit.  If I see myself detached from what I could be apart from God constantly hedging me in, then I am unable to grasp the profound and constant work of Abba, which disables me from experiencing a full and rich life of dependency upon Him.  This seems to be even more profound in those professions which require a spiritually or emotionally professional employee; such as pastors, therapists, ministers, counselors and the like.  Yet, the one thing which qualifies us to be spiritually helpful to others is our keen sense of self which proclaims plainly that were it not for the grace of God we would be of the worst sort of sinner.  

Even now as I write this there is an urge for me to let you know that I'm really okay, trust me, don't take this to mean to much.  I have a desire to qualify these statements in a way that shines a nice and pleasant light on me.  This to, is dishonest.  The reality is I often carry a sense that were it not for the constant intervening grace of Abba, I would be a full blown ______.  Even now I'm too afraid to fill in that blank because of the fear of what you might think. 

I think Paul had a very real, gut-wrenching sense of himself when he wrote to the Corinthians 

"For I am the least of the apostles, unworthy to be called an apostle...But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain" (1 Cor. 15:9-10).  

I don't believe he was just saying this as some trite, pious affirmation of a detached sense of God's grace.  I think he looked hard at who he could have been apart from his encounter with the Christ.

I encourage you to do the same.   The next time you see someone of disreputable lifestyle or station, think of how easily you could have ended up in the same spot, and then look for those gracious interventions of Abba in your life, as well as in the lives of those who impacted your upbringing.  If it weren't for the intervening grace of Abba, you could have easily become a full blown _______.  Then give thanks to God, who graciously chose you and called you from this potential life as a rebel into a life as his beloved.  It's quite sobering to glimpse the magnitude of God's kindness as He impacts and directs our lives.  

Neglecting the Inward for Outward Ease

Therefore we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  2 Cor. 4:16

Why is it that I spend so much of my time, effort, mental and emotional energy focusing almost solely on those things which are outward (success, financial security, reputation, comfort and leisure), while inwardly wasting away?  Isn't this the exact opposite of what Paul points to as the main theme of the Christian life?  To live as Christ is to place importance on the internal, which then transforms the external.  

I found myself this morning noticing just how much of the past few months of my life have been centered on getting to a place which I consider to be better, easier, less painful.  Through this my focus has shifted from abiding in Abba to abiding in the comforts of this world; which I am so often reminded are fleeting, temporary and unlasting.  I am so afraid to follow Jesus to the end, for in following Jesus I am promised that in order to live in Christ I will die to my sinful self, and the death of sin never comes easy.  To become like Christ will involve a life of love, which will certainly leave me heartbroken, lonely and grieving.  It is simply easier to ignore this inner life and desensitize myself through injections of leisure, comfort and financial stability.  

If we are true to this Christian love, it may kill us, impoverish us, or disgrace us.  In any event we are sure to lose at least some of the goods of this world, which Jesus took the trouble to point out are of no importance anyway.  ~Brennan Manning

I waste so much of my life in pursuit of that which will surely fail me.  O that I would fully believe and trust Abba.


*I also want to add that the inward and outward life are not at odds, but are intended to intertwine towards the same goal.  

Incomplete and Waiting (Part 2)

My basic premise in my earlier post is that so long as we are on this earth, living in this flesh, we will be incomplete.  Our hope is set on the return of king Jesus, at which time we will finally live in completion.  No longer will we have to fight sin, imperfections, maladies, disease, or the threat of death.

In the meantime however, we live in a perpetual state of war.  Many authors speak to this war-time mentality (personally, John Piper has had a great deal of shaping on my own mind).  Rather than living a life driven by the goal of finding comfort and ease; living out of our true self in our current reality demands that we see the great war we find ourselves in.  Going back to the analogy found in Tolkien's LOTR, as we await the return of the king, we find ourselves in a similar condition to those in middle earth.  Aragorn could not take his throne again until the war was finished, the ring destroyed, the foes of Gondor put down.  Thus, the white tree could not grow again until the fight was complete, at which time the king would come back to claim his own.

This is our current state.  Not only are we incomplete and waiting upon the return of our elder brother Jesus, but we are in a battle.  Our 'Great War' is not necessarily against terrorists or usurpers of freedom, but rather against the flesh which attempts to live apart from Abba.  Our enemy is self-righteousness which takes the form of either rebellious and independent living, or religous do's and don'ts which attempt to merit our goodness.  The great deceiver is still making war against us, as he has since the lies he bespoke in the garden, and we are to be vigilantly on-guard testing against his lies.

James speaks of having a 'militant patience' in his epistle.  We wait; we fight hard while waiting.

Yet, all this fighting is not in vain, but is rooted in a great promise.  Just as in Tolkien's world, as we wait long and fight hard, our hope is in what the return of the king promises; which is peace, order, relief, complete restoration.  We are in the last part of this epic which has been taking place since the serpent deceived in Genesis 3; was crushed  in Jesus' death then resurrection; and will be finished when the King returns with just vengeance as told throughout Revelation.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” ~Revelation 21:1-4

Embracing Disappointment

It seems so much of our struggle in relationships living within the tension of disappointment.  We often find our expectations disappointed, disappointed in how we are not received, disappointed in the way we are/are not connecting with another, and so on and so on.  The question I've begun to ask myself is, how much do we strive to not be disappointed?  Adversely, is it better to accept disappointment for what it is and be willing to receive what we are given in the midst of it?

The idea of being content while disappointed is extraordinarily foreign to me.  In a culture that is obsessed with getting everything right, all of the time, without fail, this almost seems blasphemous.  Adages like "Hurt me once, shame on you; hurt me twice, shame on me", "Failure is not an option", or simply the requirement of Superman-esque job skills speak to this.  Unfortunately...Fortunately, this is not the way relationships work; for if it was, we would all be destined to miserable and lonely lives.  Who could possibly live up to my absurd expectations?

Paul talks in Philippians 4 of being content in all situations.  Could this possibly apply to our relationships?  To be content and grateful for what my spouse does give me, rather than impatiently demanding perfect love, acceptance, and communication.

My idea here is that we:

1. See what another gives as it truly is (Look outside of our expectations)
2. Inwardly acknowledge and deal with the disappointment we have in response (Acknowledge our disappointed expectations)
3. Seek to see what they were trying to give (Create a new expectation)
4. Gratefully accept the muddled and imperfect gifts another offers us (Simply receive)

I cannot imagine the joy I would have if I simply received from others what they are able to give in the midst of my disappointment, rather than holding out on receiving until they 'get it right'.  I believe this would lead to gratitude and contentment far exceeding my former attempts at mustering up a grateful heart.  

Incomplete and Waiting

After two years of studying marriage and family therapy- during which I've thrown myself into the deep end- I find myself ending with a nagging sense of being incomplete...which seems appropriate.  For a while I had the notion that if I did just enough work I would be 'better', or at least have many of my issues close to resolved. I'm beginning to realize this is an untrue and impossible ideal. Of course, knowing that regardless of how much work I put into myself, that I will always be walking into another area of deficiency at first brought me low.  It brought me to a spot of neediness.  Which is right.

I imagine a tree planted as a seed, the acorn of a great oak, with the process of its growth being long and tedious.  Sometimes I find I am incapable of seeing any growth at all for long periods of time.  Adding to the naturally slow process of acorn to oak are the storms, diseases, insects, and other interruptions which injure and slow down the tree from shooting up.  Often, as the tree is battered and beaten, it is growing deeper roots, sometimes producing fruit, but on the whole showing very little in the way of extensive outer growth.  This is where my analogy gets a little nerdy.  In Tolkien's 'Lord of the Rings' there is a particular tree, the White Tree, which seems to represent and hold the authority of the kingdom of Gondor.  For years this tree was sitting dead and broken by the pool in the kings courtyard.  Thus representing the stunted and haulted growth of the kingdom.  It wasn't until the king returns and replants a new sapling that the kingdom can once again thrive.  Here is where our stories intersect.  It's not just that I continually find myself incomplete and in need of further growth, but that my healing and growth cannot happen apart from the hands of the king.

It's right for me to both work hard and delve deeply into my growth spiritually, mentally and emotionally; and in the same breath to necessarily wait upon and deeply need Abba to heal and bring me to complete fruition.  I'm finding that it is prudent in personal growth to keep the long view, which is that my progress, growth, healing, and completion is going to take time.   Yet time alone will not suffice.  What I absolutely need in order to arrive at completion is the return of the king.

Loving (oneself) the Way Jesus Loves

'Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.  Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you.' Luke 6:36-38

Why is it that we struggle against our natural inclination to judge, condemn and show our displeasure towards others; yet we freely pour out the cruelest condemnation on ourselves?  For myself, this use to be the way in which I pursued sanctification; if I could only hate and condemn myself enough I would begin to grow in Christ-likeness.

It seems that the human heart falls to one of two extremes when it comes to how we view ourselves.  On one hand is a love of oneself which is not based in reality (narcissism); reality being that ones heart is more sinful and corrupt than can be imagined, and yet more loved and cherished by Abba than one could dream.  This narcissism is blind to ones sin and struggling need of a redeemer.  On the other hand is the extreme of a self-hatred, often disguising itself in a religiously judicial robe pronouncing swift judgment on the smallest of indiscretions.  This self-hatred is blind to the mercy and love of a kind Father.

The problem is, to be more Christ-like is to live in neither extreme.   Brennan Manning put it this way:

'It is simply not possible to know the Christ of the Gospels unless we alter our attitude toward ourselves and take sides with him against our own self-evaluation.'

The command to be merciful by not judging or condemning but rather by forgiving and giving is applied with more ease to those around us (even the most vile of assailants) than to oneself.  What would it be like to live without condemning with vigilance our smallest inconsistencies, struggles or flaws?  What would it be like to love oneself with the same raging tenderness of Jesus?  How do we experientially know the way in which Jesus loves us?  Bernard Bush puts it this way: if you love yourself intensely and freely, then your feelings about yourself correspond perfectly to the sentiments of Jesus.

'There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.' Romans 8:1

Prayer of an Anxious Heart

The more I wrestle with my own fits of anxiety and depression, I recognize that praying often feels out of reach as fitting words seem so distant.  I offer you a few of my own in hopes that you feel free to post a phrase or line of your own to add to this prayer.

Abba...I want to wait on you.  I desire that my strength be renewed.  This waiting is so far removed from my reactive mind and spirit.  Please, slow down my anxious and fretful heart.  Calm this chaotic storm which thunders fear and rains doubt.  Bring to mind your faithfulness, and reign in my attempts to outsmart this patient waiting.  I do believe you are at work for what is truly good, that you are for me.  Lord, help my unbelief, transform it into a remembrance of your faithful and abiding care, a trust in your promised restoration.  Restrain depression from overtaking me, leaving me bottomed out and empty.  Bring me Shalom, true peace through patient waiting.   

Wandering

I'm at one of those places in life where each step seems to affirm that I live in a constant wandering.  By that I mean to say I never feel sure where my next step will take me.

At times, this wandering produces excitement and curiosity, with the words of Bilbo Baggins reminding me that 'if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off.' At other times, rather than being 'swept' off my feet in some grand adventure, I feel like I'm lost at sea, pummeled by incessant waves, barely able to see over one before the next comes crashing down.

My emotion resonates with this imagery of being at sea; high waves with endless sight of water and little to no sure sign of what's coming next.  Some while back I began thinking through my life as a small ship, myself the first-mate while Abba is Captain.  This imagery led me to consider my response to feeling lost at sea, fearful of storms and their capsizing waves, which usually falls into one of several categories.

At the first sign of trouble I may endeavor to rip the wheel from my Captains' hand, assured in myself that I know a better way to stay the storm.

Or, when feeling lost and confused, I see myself as fumbling with a telescope and map, desperately searching for what lies ahead, determined to foresee the next part of this adventure before it comes to be.

When dread or despair of the raging storm overwhelms me I may even try to jump ship, believing the boat and its Captain to be unsafe and more dangerous than what lurks in the waves.

If fear begins to take hold of me I may find myself seeking shelter below deck, believing if I hide the storm will pass me by unscathed.

The option I seek out far less than the others is to patiently trust my Captain.  It seems absurd to doubt Him.  He's led so many on this Way before that I'm astounded by my own unbelief and cowering heart.  To live on deck in the midst of the storm, at work with the things at hand, seems to be the way of faith.  Faith which is not simply wishful thinking that somehow this storm will pass, but which is grounded in the fact that if this ship sinks, runs ashore, or breaks asunder; my Captain will have me, He won't let me perish.

This trusting faith escapes me.  I long to live my wandering life with the affirmative shout of O' Captain, My Captain!  Yet I so often find myself cursing the Captain for how long the journey takes, murmuring about how great the waves are, or complaining about the intensity of the storm.

"Jesus had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd." Matthew 9:36

Fixing Hurts Doesn't Heal

This week has been one of slowly walking in the desert place, where my emotionally parched and dry tongue longs for something refreshing.   In this place it often seems that the only sustenance I receive are the dry bread of loneliness and bitter herbs of fear.

In my own self I constantly have to fight the overwhelming scream to 'fix it!'.  Unfortunately for most of us, 'fixing' an emotional wound typically involves another unhealthy venture which brings about further isolation or anxiety; be it distraction through overworking, numbing through drugs or alcohol , soothing through pornography or gossip, or running away by living in silence.  Rather than healing an open wound, our efforts to 'fix' our pain only builds up a thick callous, which prevents the wound from ever being fully healed.

At one point this week I found myself enraged attempting to get rid of all my pent up loneliness, fear and anxiety (i.e. 'fix it!').  Several years ago this urge would have found my hand contacting a doorpost.  This time, however, there was a buffer between my urge to react and the time of my reaction.  Rather than reacting in anger, I consciously chose to sit in the deep hurt and loneliness which was attempting to take on the form of punching a wall.  This buffer time between stimulus and reaction, in which I am able to process my emotion and make a wise decision, caught me off guard.  I found myself sitting in my truck, feeling lonely and rejected, but smiling in my choice to sit with my hurt rather than react with anger.

The Man of Sorrows taught us this way in his life, which is seen in the opposite of the actions he chose.  Consider his time in the garden.   Luke tells us he kneels to pray that the cup of wrath might be passed from him, which plunges him into a prayer of anguish.  We see the magnitude of his emotion as we're told of the physiological response he has to this incredible stress when his capillaries burst and bleed with stress.  Jesus arises in the midst of this deep emotional pain to find his closest friends asleep rather than in prayer as he requested from them.  In this instance the Son of Man shows us a way of life in which one sits in their emotional pain, instead of reacting in various ways to escape it.  Rather than reacting in anger or shame to the further hurt, rejection, and loneliness he receives from his disconnected and sleeping friends, he beckons them to awake and bids for them to join him in further prayer.  He allows himself to receive and sit in these new emotional wounds, and in knowing his pain he has the ability to specifically ask for what he needs from others.

This road wherein we feel our hurts and ask from others those things which we want and need is a foreign way of life for me.  I find that as I allow myself and others into this state of my emotional woundedness, there often develops a deeper intimacy and knowing.  In all honesty, there also exists in this vulnerable state the possibility of further hurt and rejection, which is probably why we spend so much effort running away from it.

In the many years I have spent attempting to escape feeling wounded I have denied myself and others the privilege of intimate relating, as well as an opportunity for true healing.

No Neutral Relating

A former boss/mentor/fatherly-friend once told me 'You can't not lead; the fact is you're always leading, it's just a matter of how well or poorly you're doing it.'  This phrase has been stuck in my head for years now, and always seems to find new areas to lay hold of.  Lately, this saying has modified into 'You can't not affect others in relationships, you're either building up or tearing down, there is no neutral.'

"Sin sprouts, as banana trees on the Nile, whenever the effect of your relationships with others is to diminish rather than enlarge them.  There is no neutral corner in your human encounters, no antiseptic arena in which 'nobody else is hurt' or 'nobody else knows about it.'  You either make people a little better, or leave them a little worse."  Frederick Buechner

When I read the above quote I was affirmed in so much of my own woundedness, as well as provoked to consider the many ways in which I have wounded others.  It seems that so much of what we do in ourselves we consider to have no effect on those with whom we are intimately relating.  I think this is most clearly seen in addiction, wherein the addict believes the only harm being procured is to themselves (if they see any at all), and in this self-absorbed blindness they fail to see the emotional harm they cause to those around them, whether by blatant jabs and emotive cuts of anger, or in the more subtle but quite as harmful inattention they pay.

This also seems to be the case in those personal and secretive sins, such as pornography.  The idea that one can use pornography to meet internal needs is in itself a denial to those with whom you are relating to intimately meet those very needs (intimacy is much grander than just sex).  By overly giving my attention to an object, behavior or substance, I am essentially denying another to know me, and in the process denying another of being known.  Thus, what I once considered something harmful only to myself has wounded those who I was made to share life with intimately.  This wound typically finds its target in another's worth and identity.

Unfortunately, the buck doesn't stop with addicts and pornographers.  This giving of myself to an object, behavior or substance occurs at a much grander level.  What about when I deny another intimacy as I give myself too fully to my work, leisure, religion, entertainment, studies, self-satisfaction, etc.?  When Abba asked for Israel's affection, He referred to this denial as their worshiping idols and false-gods.

I write this with much sorrow as I recognize the past, current, and future wounds I gave and will give to my wife and children, all due to my self-focused activity and behavior which I consider(ed) harmful to no one but myself.

"Life can be taken out of others in rivulets and drops, in the small daily failures of inattention, that bitterest fruit of self-absorption, as surely as by the terrible strokes to their hearts." Brennan Manning 

I believe the question to ask oneself is 'Who am I denying intimate relationship, and what am I doing which is hindering this?'  I believe changing this is as simple as paying attention.  First, to myself and the needs I am seeking to meet in all my behaviors and  relationships.  Secondly, to those who I am in relationship, and to what I am denying them in my behaviors and relationships.  Third, pay attention to what those around me are longing for with and from me.  Abba wired us for intimacy, and it really is as simple as paying attention to how to feed that intimate hunger.

On being Honest...

Such a vital part of vulnerability comes by way of being honest.  By this I am referring to true honesty, with all its scary, terrifying truth.  If I can't be honest with myself, then I stand no chance of being honest with others.  If I am unable to be honest with others, how will they ever know me?  Thus, how will I ever connect at an intimate level with another?

Here's my task: to speak where I'm at, what I feel, want, think to another.  Lay it out there, show my cards.  In the past week I've resolved to do this twice, with each situation having drastic possibilities for this thing called honesty to blow up in my face.  Yet, I've set my teeth and determined to do it.  To speak truthfully and vulnerably; with all my pain, fears, and hesitations.  The hard part comes when the recipient of this honesty is not a safe person.  So, I'm giving them an opportunity, allowing them in a bit and letting them respond as they will.  The chances of this hurting are pretty great, with the chances of this healing and developing growth in relationships equally as possible.

In case your asking 'How can I be honest with someone I feel unsafe communicating with?' here's one idea that's seemed to work for me.  Write a letter.  I began by writing a letter in my journal, never intending on letting another read it.  After a week or two of chewing and digesting all the pain, fury and sadness in my journal, I sat down with a pen to write another.  I read it aloud; to myself, close friends, and my wife.  The feedback I received rang true to what I was trying to express.

What about the motivation behind writing out honest pain, fears, bitterness, rage and desires?  To be quite honest, I don't expect anything in return.  The mere notion of standing up for myself, expressing some of my deepest wounds and longings, has been quite enough.  In fact, for quite a while I didn't even see the need in sending the letter, but eventually wanted to give another the chance of receiving me.  Honesty can't be grounded in seeking change in another, which is a not-so-subtle form of manipulation.  Rather honesty must allow them the opportunity to hear and respond however they might.

I think Jesus knew this.  He allowed others into his pain, his identity, and even his intimate communication with the Father.  Yet, he knew many would never receive him, but would instead betray him, deny his friendship, and use his words against him.  But he vulnerably communicated with them anyway.

Why?

Jesus could be honest with those around him because of who he was secure in.  His security did not rely on their acceptance, approval, or faithfulness to him.  He was in no way dependent on men for his identity, voice, power or freedom.  Rather, and this is so huge to me, he was securely loved by his Father, and knew that regardless of his emotion, or how others responded to his communication, he would be loved and kept by Him.
His security was abiding in Abba's furious love for him.
My security can abide in Abba's furious love for me.

I can speak honestly from myself because I am a kept, secured, and loved child of Abba.

Posted: Listen (self-awareness)

Last weekend I was exploring and working through some fears I have in regards to potential sin, future mistakes, career decisions, etc.  Rather than what I have normally heard from others (i.e. just try harder; buckle down, grit your teeth, and push through; trust more; have more faith; persevere), the feedback I received was much different.

Listen.

Quit trying to fix everything and just pay attention to what you hear.  This listening is not referring to the many different voices around me, but rather to what's going on inside me.  This idea of self-awareness is relatively new to my Christian walk.  By self-aware I mean knowing myself in relation to me, others, and Yahweh.
Most of the time I feel like I'm walking with a serious limp as I attempt to know myself.  In fact, there are times this seems at odds with following Jesus, or at least the version of Jesus I was introduced to earlier on in life.  Now, I'm not so sure.  Several new ideas are starting to form as I contemplate the self-aware Christian.

• How can I 'cast my cares on the Lord' (Ps. 55:22; 1 Peter 5:7), if I don't have any notion of what my cares are?  It seems we so often use this phrase as an escape from having to actually identify the pain, grief, and shame which saturates their lives (aka 'Let go and let God').
    
• The Proverbs seem to consistently put a great emphasis on understanding before speaking, which I don't believe is limited to just external cognitive knowledge.  Rather, to be non-foolish, one needs to understand themselves, as well as those around them before they speak (Prov. 1:4-6, 4:1,18:2).  Thus, speaking for self involves understanding others and oneself before a word is ever uttered.
   
• Additionally, the Proverbs call us to listen before speaking. (Prov. 1:5; 4:10; 12:15; 18:13) Listening, not just hearing, necessitates receiving feedback from others about oneself, which is then integrated into ones total self-knowledge.  To speak before listening (receiving from others what they are offering in the form of feedback, instruction, affirmation, correction, etc.), is as foolish as taking a trip cross-country without receiving supplies, direction, or advice.  At some point you'll most likely find yourself stranded, out of fuel, and isolated on the side of the road.
   
• The mere essence of the Trinity is one of knowing and being known.  This knowing does not end in regards to others, but is found in its fullness when turned inwards.  Jesus not only knew the Father and walked in obedience, but had a firm grasp on who he was (the Son - John 8:28), what he was sent to do (Isaiah 61/Luke 4:17-19 - set the captives free), and the limits of himself (Matt. 24:36 - the Son doesn't know the day nor the hour).  How can one know and be known by others when they are disconnected from themselves?
   
• The actions of Jesus seem to come out of a profound awareness of self in relation to who he knew himself to be, who he knew others to be, and who he knew Abba to be.  Time spent alone, or with friends, at sea, in the synagogue, or in large crowds are all intentional actions coming out of Christ's  intimate knowledge of self.  Often, I think I have made the mistake of viewing the Son of Man as a robot implanted with a divine hard-drive, rather than a man of sorrows who daily sought communion with Abba.
   
• The need for self-awareness is also seen in Jesus' communication with others.  He pushed the rich man to see he couldn't find righteousness on his own (Mark 10:17-30).  After Peter denied him, he pushed Peter to embrace the pain he had caused, as well as who he was being transformed to be as a Shepherd (John 21:15-19).  At the well he challenged the Samaritan woman to see herself, truly see herself, in all her brokenness, sinfulness and need, and after glimpsing herself as she is, her eyes were opened to the Messiah (John 4:1-45).
   

I've seen the joys of self-awareness in my marriage, the glimmering shadow of my relationship with Abba.  If knowing myself truly has such a profound impact as I relate to my wife, how much more will it have as I relate to my Father.  Is self-awareness painful at times?  You bet, but how else can I commune with Abba without it.  

Who do you say that I am?

"Who do you say that I am?"  This question had to baffle the disciples the first time they heard it.  How is one to answer such a personal, intimate, knowing question asked by the Word in flesh?

It's helpful to keep in mind that this question shows up in three of the four Gospels, giving us a notion of just how profoundly important it was in the minds of Matthew, Mark and Luke.  Which begs the question, 'What is it about this question that is so important?'  Quite honestly, I'm not sure the weight of this question lies in some great theology or doctrine.  Jesus had gotten to know these friends of his deeply and intimately, whether it be in a small boat on a raging sea; on multiple mile-long treks; in crowds of lepers, whores, thieves and the religious; or around a table breaking bread; the incarnate Word in flesh had gotten to know their hearts and was now turning the question to them.  I think Jesus is simply asking 'Do you know me, do you really know me?'  This seems to be the same question we, if we're seeking out connection and vulnerable intimacy with others, ask those around us.  Again, how does one answer this question posed by the living Christ?

"Only a superficial stereotyped answer can be forthcoming if we have not developed a personal relationship with Jesus.  We can only repeat and reproduce pious turns of speech that others have spoken or wave a catechism under children's noses if we have not gained some partial insight, some small perception, of the inexhaustible richness of the mystery of who is Jesus Christ."  Brennan  Manning

Three years in Seminary have given me an arsenal full of those 'pious turns of speech' mentioned above.  If someone asked me 'Who is Jesus?' I, as many of my peers, could (and most probably would) give a lengthy monologue about Jesus as the interceding priest, the true Davidic King, or the final paschal lamb of atonement.  This is all true, all very, very good, and in many ways has deepened my love for Jesus.  Yet it sounds much like what the disciples answered with, references to others or to a prophet long gone but now returned, but not from actual intimate knowing.  That is, until Peter, that reckless and needy disciple, who answers with 'Messiah'.  It's not a far stretch to realize Peter had experienced Jesus as Messiah.  Peter's heart had been turned toward Jesus in love and then given a small glimpse into his divine person-hood.

As I reflect on this question Jesus asks his followers to answer, I come away today with an answer so new and odd that I'm not quite sure how it fits into my framework of Christianity.  If I were to answer today I believe I would respond with 'brother'.  If I were asked to go into more depth, I would probably stumble over my words (likely making a mess of it all).  Yet, I find I am beginning to know him as brother.  I imagine this is what it's like for my two year old growing up in a home with a brother four years his elder.  He could point out his brother, know what he looks like, maybe even speak his name.  If you asked my youngest son to explain who his brother is, he could probably do little more than acknowledge him.  Yet, he knows him as brother.  He plays with him, spends time following him around, and often pesters him with his neediness for attention.  I'm grateful to be experiencing Jesus in this new way, a way I never before realized possible, much less acceptable or desired by an Almighty God.

How audacious and reckless, to call the infinite and eternal God-Man 'brother'.

How much more incredible and overwhelming to be called 'little brother' in return.

The Cross and Vulnerability

Sitting with friends recently, it occurred to us just how difficult it is to be honest.  Truly honest.  Not the kind of honesty that holds back in fear of being rejected, nor the kind that honestly says what you 'should' say to others.  This aversion to honesty stems out of an inability to be vulnerable.  Reflecting on the cross, I realized how much it has to teach me about living a vulnerable life.  Gutsy, raw, nothing-held-back, fully self-aware vulnerability.

It is really astounding to observe the vulnerability of Jesus in the Gospel of John as he drew near to the cross in that last week. 

• He asks his followers and friends to forfeit their life, to die like a grain of wheat as they follow him.  (John 12:20-26)  O how difficult I find it to speak my needs, dreams, hurts, and heart to those close to me for fear that they would leave me.
• He fully understands who he is, his purpose in life and in a giving death, and does not withhold this knowing from his friends.  (12:27-36)  It seems insurmountable at times to let others in on my identity as it seems to harsh a risk to have who I am rejected or spurned.
• He acts like a slave washing the crusted dirt off his friends' feet, which includes his betrayer. (13:1-20)  To lower my head and receive the reputation of a slave and ragamuffin does not become me; and this is only with my friends, it seems entirely foolish to do this with my enemies.  
• He calls for his followers to love like he loves, entirely confident with every relationship he had ever encountered.  (13:31-35)  I tremble as I think of teaching my own children the way of love.
• He unequivocally, without hesitation, pronounces himself absolute truth, way and life. (14:1-14) How often I hesitate to identify myself with Christianity for fear of being misunderstood, disliked or frowned upon.  
• He considers another more important than himself as he assures his friends of the sending of the Helper. (14:15-31)  If you knew me, there seems no way to over-state my lacking in this.  
• He knows and speaks of the absolute necessity to be connected to him/abide in him, and freely asks others to do so.  (15:1-17)  I am so terrified to be this connected and furiously loved by Abba.
• He embraces loneliness, becoming entirely abandoned, and does not retreat from it as he remains intimate with Abba.  (16:29-33)  O, how I long to be this connected and secure.
• He prays to Abba with all honesty, neediness, care, and boldness, and he does so aloud with his followers.  (John 17) Often I find my voice is all to afraid to beseech Abba in front of my peers as I am more concerned with their critique or response than with the bending of His ear to hear me.
• He neither fights nor flees those seeking to put him to death, for his fear is in the holiness of Abba rather than in the swords of men.  (18:1-14)  My security far too often depends on the support of men than in being kept by Abba.  
• He answers with full truth when his life is on the line, rather than bending his words to appease his accusers. (18:19-40)  My answers most often turn themselves to my ideal of what is wanting to be heard.
• He walks head first into his vulgar, demeaning murder, fully aware that the power of his death was held entirely by his Father.  (19:1-16)  In times of uncertainty my faith is blown about like a ship at sea, and consistently forgets the Holder of my past, present, and future.
• He was more concerned about his mother and followers continued caring relationships than he was about his own bloody, tortured and dying body.  (19:25-27)  At the slightest hint of discomfort my gaze is turned inward, rather than on those under my care.  
• He laid in the grave, trusting that His Father could raise him from the greatest power man had ever known; fully abandoning himself to trusting Abba's love and power.  (19:31-42)  To have that kind of unbounded trust would truly set me free.

The entirety of his walk toward the cross was basked in the knowing presence of Abba.  His faith did not retreat or run away as he knew I AM was a keeper of His promises.  In this abiding intimacy Jesus was capable of making himself completely vulnerable to his lovers and haters; friends and enemies; followers and pursuers; disciples and crucifiers.  

If I am to make myself vulnerable, the cross of Christ teaches me that I must abide in Abba, having my safe and secure attachment in His faithful, Fatherly love.  Then and only then do I stand a fool's hope of being intimately and vulnerably known by those around me.  

 

The Messianic Meal

After spending time on the mountainside healing the sick, wounded, oppressed, and inflicted, Jesus spoke this to his followers (Luke 6:20-21)

"You're blessed when you've lost it all. God's kingdom is there for the finding.

You're blessed when you're ravenously hungry.  Then you're ready for the Messianic meal.

You're blessed when the tears flow freely.  Joy comes in the morning."

This Maundy Thursday I look forward to the cup and bread of new covenant to feed my weak and frail spirit.  I reflect upon the past decade, in which I've lived in a constant stream of uncertainty, typified by change, loss and grief.  We came to seminary in need, having lost what job stability and safety we had once found secure.  We were starving for Jesus, desperately in need of his healing touch, ravenously hungry for the Messianic meal.  In many ways, this has been our mountainside meeting with Jesus, a foreign place in which we sat at his feet and received his blessing.  He spent time healing our emotional wounds, applying the balm of the Comforter to our weary and defeated souls.  We were needy ragamuffins, more akin to puppies waiting for scraps to be thrown from their Master's hand than strong, self-sufficient adults.  Thankfully, not much of this has changed.  In fact, I find myself hungrier now for the Messianic banquet than ever before.  For this insatiable hunger I am grateful.

This week I find myself in a situation I could never have planned, dreamed, or imagined; nor a situation I had ever asked for from Abba.  The tide seems to be changing, my fear of being capsized by insecurity or drowned in fear is being lessened by the week.  The prospect of a job which seems to fit me at my core is on the horizon.  I'm a witness to times of parenting my kids where I visibly see the gospel worked out and applied to their hearts.  Renee and I are increasingly fused together, ever more intwined as we listen to one another's hearts as we walk forward, dream, and trust Abba.

Yet, as I read Jesus' words of blessing to the needy, I was suddenly struck by a new, unfamiliar fear.  What if I get everything I need and want?  What if my heart's desires are met, or even exceeded?  What if I find myself no longer feeling lost or hungry?  Is it possible that in receiving these sweet gifts from Abba I will somehow trust the gifts and lose the blessedness?
Fortunately, I kept reading. (Luke 6:24-25)

"But it's trouble ahead if you think you have it made.  What you have is all you'll ever get.

And it's trouble ahead if you're satisfied with yourself.  Your self will not satisfy you for long.

And it's trouble ahead if you think life's all fun and games.  There's suffering to be met, and you're going to meet it."

Even if I trust the gifts and lose the blessedness, Abba promises to bring me back to a place of neediness.  It's in suffering that He draws me in, allows me to rest and find peace, points my hunger towards His satisfaction.  This use to frighten me, God promising that I'd suffer.  Now however, I find security in the promise that God won't let me run too far.  If need be, the Father will even watch His adopted son suffer, because He knows what I need and where to find it.  I am grateful for my neediness.

May Easter find our ravishing hunger filled and fed by the resurrection of our brother Jesus.

Resurrection Gladness

Today is the Monday of Holy Week.  My mind races with so many thoughts as I contemplate the walk of Jesus towards the cross.  It seems unfortunate that a majority of these thoughts are coated with anxiety or worry, rather than a contented peace or anticipating joy.  Brennan writes this in regards to Ignatius of Loyola's prayer for 'intense gladness' throughout the fifty days of Easter season.

"If this prayer (for intense gladness) is heard, I shall have found a source of joy that is unassailable, for whatever happens, the Lord is always risen.  Contingencies cannot suffocate this deep joy.  Whether the day is stormy or fair, whether I am sick or healthy, whether I feel like a dirt ball or a butterfly, whatever comes cannot alter the fact that the Lord is risen."

 Thus, whether my job interview goes well or poorly tomorrow.
      The Lord is risen.
Regardless of my kids behaving or disrespecting.
      The Lord is risen.
When I act more like a sinner than a saint.
      The Lord is risen.
If my marriage is intimate or distant.
      The Lord is risen.
Friends may love me or leave me.
      The Lord is risen.
Self-control may win or wain.
      The Lord is risen.
These last eight weeks of Seminary may enable or exhaust me.
      The Lord is risen.
Whether I am dejected or comforted.
      The Lord is risen.
Whatever happens, the Lord is risen.
He is risen indeed.

My hope for a future, the redemption of my past, the sanctification of my present all hinge upon the resurrection of my brother Jesus. "His Easter victory means first his sovereignty over the living as well as the dead."  My brother Jesus is King over life and death, sin and righteousness, the present, past and future.

As I practice and contemplate self-control during this Easter season, I've noticed that the 'taking away' has illumined the many areas in which I severely lack self-control, which one could refer to as Spirit-filled living.(2 Tim. 1:7)  Thank God that I do not have to depend upon my flesh for righteous living, but upon the promise of my risen, interceding, and mediating brother Jesus.  Following his Resurrection he returned to his disciples, making this promise:

"And behold, I am sending the promise of my Father upon you.  But stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high." Luke 24:49 

The Son is risen, He is risen indeed.

Mistrust of a Trustworthy God

I have a feeling this blog endeavor will be more about reflections on Brennan Manning's writings than it will be on any new ideas of my own.  This seems like a foolhardy idea, putting my words down in some semi-permanent way.  Yet, it seems good and right to be a little foolish, particularly when reading Brennan.

"Human feelings cannot touch him; human thought cannot measure him. Experiences cannot heighten the certainty of his presence any more than fear of his absence can lessen it...God's love and mercy are too great and too lasting to depend on the rise and fall of his frail creatures. Clouds may shroud our soul in darkness, but above them the sun shines brightly; God's mercy never fails...There we will pray in peace and silence, attentive to the God who never changes."       Brennan Manning

As I read Brennan's devotional, 'Reflections for Ragamuffins', I consistently come away with a deeper sense of trusting Abba.  The quote above particularly grabbed me, and embraced my hurt and wandering heart.  To think that in times of sorrow I am blessed by communing with the man of sorrows, or in times of grief I find myself embraced by the Comforter.  It's all quite overwhelming.  The shear idea that regardless of the intense ride my emotions take me on; from feeling overwhelmed by joy and significance, and in the next moment finding myself despondent and hopeless, regardless of how I plummet or arise, my God is found never changing.  In fact, I think it this aspect of God, His immutability (unchanging consistency as a loving, redeeming Father) is what so many folks, myself included, desperately long for.

Regardless of the dark clouds which seem to suddenly spring up over the horizon and darken my spirit, leaving me feeling bankrupt and smitten with gloom, Abba seeks me out, like the woman searching her house with a bright lantern (Luke 15:8).  The light of His word does not dampen or darken, rather it seems to shine all the brighter in darkness.  This reminds me of a time when I was stuck in a cave with only one lamp, which a friend took ahead to seek out an escape.  The utter blackness of the cave seemed to weigh on me like a real force putting pressure on my mind and body.  When my friend brought back the light it seemed to penetrate everything, all the crevices and corners, letting me see myself and my situation with clarity.  The infinitely strong Word seems to have this same effect as it allows me to see myself clear of self-delusion.

In saying this I realize how many times we seek out this Light only to be disappointed in not finding Him sooner than later.  Brennan provoked me to think of this question, 'Is it worth the suffering, disappointment, heartbreak, and loneliness to learn that Abba's love and mercy does not change?'  I'm afraid to answer that question.  I can wholeheartedly say up to this point as I so often feel lost in the wilderness (then nudged and coaxed into trusting Abba, being led further towards wholeness in Him), there has repeatedly been built up in me a firmer sense of His trustworthiness (which is wholly independent of my own doubts and mistrust).  Is it worth a life in the wilderness to learn of His trustworthiness, love and fondness of me?  If it weren't for fear I could answer with a resounding 'Yes!', and yet even now I find myself doubtful, mistrusting.  I believe this was Brennan's point.  I can plead to Abba in the wilderness simply because He is unchanging, His love and mercy never fail.  My mistrust, doubt and unfaithfulness do not deter the Great Lover from beckoning to me:

'Arise, my love, my beautiful one,
and come away,
for behold, the winter is past;
the rain is over and gone.'
Song of Solomon 2:10