What We Resist Persists

Listen: “Breathe Me” by Sia

For most of my adult life I believed it was my job as a good Christian to battle and resist negative, unpleasant, and disruptive emotions and thoughts. I drew upon passages in the Bible to reinforce this idea. For example, the Apostle Paul wrote about the battle between the “flesh” and the “spirit” (Galatians 5:16-26). So my interpretation of these passages led me to commit myself to battling, subduing, resisting, and defeating my negative thoughts and feelings.

Certainly, there are things in life which we should resist such as social injustice, but what about our own thoughts and feelings? Resisting our own negative thoughts and feelings often has the opposite affect. We end up empowering what we are resisting through the negative energy we use to resist it.

For example, spend an entire day trying not to think about lust, anger, fear, or some thought or feeling you don’t want to have. Get up in the morning and commit yourself to resisting a specific thought or feeling. Chances are, you will empower the very thing you are trying to resist. You will think about it more often throughout the day as you focus on not thinking about it.

Try another approach. Neuroscience and mindfulness meditation offers us the practice of RAIN. Instead of resisting, try listening to your thoughts and feelings, especially negative and unpleasant ones, with openness, curiosity, and self-compassion. Recognize the unpleasant thought or emotion by naming it. Allow the unpleasant thought or emotion by letting it exist without judgment. Hold it with kindness. Investigate the unpleasant thought or emotion by asking questions, like a good therapist. (What is the worst part? What am I believing? Where do I feel these emotions inside?) Nurture the unpleasant thought or emotion like a good friend or therapist would do. Offer yourself love, acceptance, forgiveness, compassion, or protection.

The practice of RAIN helps in the process of healing negative emotions through kindness, love, and self-compassion. It also encourages positive emotions by nurturing love, acceptance, forgiveness, and compassion.

Practicing RAIN can calm and transform our inner critic. So many times when we focus on resisting unpleasant thoughts or emotions, we end up turning ourselves into harsh critics of ourselves. Our inner critic grows stronger, louder, and harsher. We end up treating ourselves with harsh judgment, even cursing at ourselves. 

And perhaps the Apostle Paul was simply acknowledging how we sometimes feel like we are in a battle with our thoughts and emotions. His remedy was life in the “spirit.” Paul identifies the fruit of the spirit as “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Galatians 5:22); and Paul encourages us “fix our thoughts on what is true, pure, lovely, and honorable” (Philippians 4:8).

As Richard Rohr encourages: “Your first energy has to be “yes” energy, and from there you can move, build, and proceed. You must choose the positive and rest there for a minimum of fifteen conscious seconds—it takes that long for positivity to imprint in the neurons” (Just This, “what you resist persists,” p. 44).

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Emotional Intelligence

Listen: “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac

In 1995, Danial Goleman published his best-selling book Emotion Intelligence. I was always reading books on leadership, and Goleman’s book struck a deep chord in me. His thesis was simple: Emotional intelligence (EI) is a better indicator of leadership performance than IQ. I immediately resonated with this idea based on my experience and intuition. By the late 90’s when I first read his book, I was leading a growing church of several hundred people meeting in a middle school, raising funds to purchase thirty acres of land and build a church, and developing a pastoral and volunteer team of over one hundred people.

Goleman believed a leader could grow and develop a set of five EI competencies which would enhance leadership skills including:

1. Self-awareness: the ability to know one’s emotions, strengths, and weaknesses and recognize their impact on others;

2. Self-regulation: the ability to manage one’s disruptive emotions;

3. Social skills: the ability to manage relationships;

4. Empathy: the ability to consider other people’s emotions when leading and making decisions;

5. Motivation: the ability to discern what motivates others.

By 2018, I had lead the church to almost three decades of explosive growth and a volunteer ministry team of over 2,000 people. Despite the success in church growth and my application of EI skills, I still went through a personal meltdown.

As I look back, I think my practice of self-regulation was done in an unhealthy way. What do I mean? (Be sure and read my blog: https://spiritualityadventures.com/blog/a-good-death.)

It’s possible to be self-aware of negative, unpleasant, or disruptive emotions and actually attempt to over-regulate these emotions in an unhealthy way. When I experienced negative emotions, I always tried to battle, suppress, and conquer my negative emotions. I would try to fight them and beat them. This is an unhealthy approach in the long run. I practiced this approach for forty years of my life, and became a harsh critic of myself.

Current research shows that negative, unpleasant, or disruptive emotions need to be recognized, allowed, investigated, and nurtured (research from the fields of psychology, sociology, and neuroscience all agree on this approach). It’s a practice I’ve learned through mindfulness meditation called RAIN. (I will write more on the practice of RAIN in a future blog.)

It seems antithetical. When we experience a negative emotion, we naturally want to avoid it, push back against it, or numb it. Why would we want to change our tactic?

Research has shown that what we resist tends to persist. Fighting and resisting negative emotions actually escalates and empowers them over time. Marc Brackett is the Director of Yale Center for Emotional Intelligence. He is an advocate for introducing emotional intelligence training in public schools. As important as reading, writing, arithmetic, and science are, EI is even more important. And yet, most people have had zero formal training in EI.

Brackett wrote an excellent book which lays out his vision for EI entitled Permission to Feel: Unlocking the Power of Emotions to Help Our Kids, Ourselves, and Our Society Thrive. Brackett shows how just learning to recognize our negative emotions and name them is a healthy way to begin to heal and regulate our emotions.

Mindfulness meditation teaches us to sit with our negative emotions with openness, curiosity, and self-compassion. Think of how a therapist listens to a client’s negative emotions, acknowledges them, names them, validates them, and helps to investigate them. A therapist would never condemn a person for having negative emotions. I’ve never heard a good therapist say, “You shouldn’t feel that way.” Yet we beat ourselves up all the time for feeling certain ways. Many of us have a vicious self-critic banging around in our head. A therapist helps a client get in touch with those emotions in order to learn, heal, and grow through them.

Meditation teaches us to sit with our body, our emotions, and our thoughts like a good therapist for our own selves. It teaches us to be as kind and loving to our own selves as we would be towards a beloved family member, friend, or pet.

Inviting our negative, unpleasant, or disruptive emotions to sit with us for a loving, compassionate conversation is an extremely important step towards understanding, healing, and regulating our unpleasant emotions.

“Good morning fear. Good morning anger. Good morning regrets. Good morning anxiety. How are you today? Let’s have a talk.” Once you listen for a while, they calm down and relax. You might even learn something. They just need to be heard and held with love and compassion, like you would hold and comfort a hurting loved one.

Compassion and love grows and expands from ourselves to others, to the planet, and to the Universe. Love never fails.

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

A Good Death

Listen: “Mask” Matt Maeson

Tristan, the protagonist of the short story Legends of the Fall by Jim Harrison, is said to have had “a good death.” Is there a good way to die and a bad way to die? Physically speaking, many people reflect on it; but what about spiritually? All of the great religious traditions speak of the importance of shadow boxing. There is a part of our self, our ego, that is a “false self”—a persona built on a shaky foundation that needs to die or be transformed. There is also a “true self” that needs to emerge. The real you.

If you are from the Christian tradition, you are aware of the Apostle Paul’s writings. He talks about dying to the self quite often. One of the classic chapters on this topic is Galatians 5. Paul writes, “The sinful nature wants to do evil, which is just the opposite of what the Spirit wants. And the Spirit gives us desires that are the opposite of what the sinful nature desires. These two forces are constantly fighting each other, so you are not free to carry out your good intentions” (Gal. 5:17). Then he describes the fruit of the sinful nature: “When you follow the desires of your sinful nature, the results are very clear: sexual immorality, impurity, lustful pleasures, idolatry, sorcery, hostility, quarreling, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambition, dissension, division, envy, drunkenness, wild parties, and other sins like these” (Gal. 5:19-21). Notice that the fruits of the sinful nature (or false self) are a list of behaviors. These behaviors can be symptomatic of the false self. They are not a list of core emotions (with the exception of anger, but the focus is on the outburst not the anger itself).

I think this is an important distinction which could lead to a good death versus a bad death of the false self. For decades I tried to “die to self” by subduing, ignoring, or battling my negative emotions. I was thinking this was the way to die to bad behaviors. However, the opposite is true. Suppressing negative emotions leads to a host of other issues like depression, anxiety, guilt, and shame. (See Hilary Jacobs Hendel, It’s Not Always Depression.)

Let me explain through a traumatic childhood story (what Hendel would call a small “t” trauma). Between my kindergarten and first grade school experience, we moved to a new neighborhood in Prairie Village, Kansas. I would walk about a mile to school (even in the snow, uphill, both ways). On the way home, I was bullied virtually every day. A large, heavy set third grader would confront me on one of the corners and beat me up almost every day on my way home.

I would arrive home in tears, and I didn’t want to go back to school. My dad decided to teach me how to box. He taught me how to make a fist, how to throw punches, and how to avoid punches. He sparred with me in the living room. I remember when he thought I was ready—he looked me in the eyes and said, “Now Fred, if the kid tries to beat you up again, you fight him back. Don’t come home crying again, or I’ll give you something to cry about.” Now I was really scared. It was like double jeopardy. I went to school the next day and could not concentrate on anything. All I could think about was the fight. I was a nervous wreck.

Well sure enough the kid was at the corner and started to bully me again. I made a fist and started swinging. I had never fought back. I caught him off guard. He fell backwards to the ground and I sat on his chest and just started pounding on his face with my fists. All my fear and anger were poured out in that moment of violence. I don’t think I was strong enough to hurt him, but his pride was wounded in front of his friends. I exhausted myself and let him up. He ran home crying.

I walked home on an adrenaline rush. I felt like I had defeated my biggest fear. I gained the respect of all my peers. Nobody messed with me again. I had fought back and won.

My dad loves me with all his heart. He’s my greatest fan. I’ve often thought about what I would have done in his shoes. He knew if he went down to the school and tried to fight my battle for me I would not gain the self-respect I needed. It was a different time culturally in America (1966) and most dad’s in America would have done the same thing. Even if I got beat, my dad knew that if I put up a good fight I would gain respect. Like two MMA fighters hugging after a bloody fight.

Interestingly, I didn’t become a bully. In fact, that’s the only physical fight I have ever had my entire life (with the exception of karate matches). I learned how to stand up for myself and gain respect in other ways. My dad taught me those skills as well. But thinking back, it did have a negative consequence. I learned how to subdue my negative emotions through battling them and fighting them. I never learned how to listen to my negative emotions with love, curiosity, openness, and self-compassion. What are my emotions telling me? When I linked up negative emotions with negative behavior, I felt like it was my job to fight, battle, and subdue my negative emotions.

This is not a good death spiritually or emotionally. Suppressing, ignoring, or fighting negative emotions does not work in the long run, and it causes a multitude of other problems. A good death to the false self sets us free; it integrates and transforms us. A bad death just makes us more ill.

While Paul in Galatians teaches us about the struggle between the false self and the true self (very real), describes the fruit (symptoms) of the false self and true self, and points to our resurrected self in Christ as our hope; he does not provide a model for dealing with negative emotions. It wasn’t his focus.

The psalms of lamentation are the best place in Scripture to learn how to deal with negative emotions. There are about forty-two psalms of lament in the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament). If you read through all of these psalms you would see a pattern: invocation, complaint, request, hope, and praise. The complaints express every negative emotion in the human repertoire. (Hendel identifies core emotions as fear, anger, grief, excitement, disgust, and sexual excitement. The famous “Feeling Wheel” developed by Dr. Gloria Wilcox identifies core emotions as sad, mad, scared, peaceful, powerful, and joyful. Core emotions are hardwired in our brain and body. Hendel identifies inhibitory emotions as shame, guilt, and anxiety.)

This pattern of expression of negative emotions in the Psalms of lament is a healthy pattern. We need to learn to listen to our negative emotions and express them. We might share them with God, with our journal, with a friend or partner, with a support group, or with a therapist. But it is important to hear and to understand our negative emotions. It’s also incredibly important to end up in a place of hope and gratitude as we express our negative emotions. That can take effort—even a daily gratitude list when we don’t feel grateful.

The Psalms of lament give us a mentally healthy pattern. At times these psalms are messy and raw and vicious. They express doubt and anger towards God. They question God and challenge God. I have talked to many people who don’t like these psalms—they are too raw. But it’s so important for emotional, spiritual, and relational health. The individual and communal Psalms of lament make up almost a third of the book of Psalms. Jesus quoted from Psalm 22 on the cross. Even Jesus felt utterly abandoned by God and expressed it.

Healing comes by releasing negative emotions in a healthy way. Hendel gives a simple four step process which can be applied throughout the day: (1) pause and breath; (2) tune in and listen to your body; (3) Identify underlying core emotions and name each one; and (4) think through best actions. I have had to work on this process in a deep way through therapy, journaling, mindfulness meditation, and prayer.

Our negative emotions are important and they must be integrated into our true self. They will teach us important truths about ourselves. Our negative emotions can lead us to positive change at work, at home, and at play. They have a purpose. I am learning how to do this, but quite frankly, I’d rather just beat up my negative emotions. Sharing them makes me feel weak, but I’m telling myself that’s not a bad thing—feeling weak. It’s a good death.

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

False Alarms

Listen: “Where is My Mind?” by The Pixies

Last week I lost my wallet and my brain freaked out. I facilitated a six week introduction to yoga and meditation for beginners by recruiting two of my friends who are teachers. We decided to do a ninety minute class with 45 minutes of yoga followed by 30 minutes of mindfulness meditation. We held the class at Living Water Christian Church, advertised it on Facebook, and had about twenty people show up for the first class.

We had to move all the furniture to make room for the twenty yoga mats, and I set my wallet and keys down on a table top before class began. We had a great opening night which released a flow of peace and gratitude in my mind and body.

I greeted people after the class, helped get the furniture back in place, and did a bit of debriefing with Brian Fritz and Pam Hausner who taught the class. When I arrived home after the class and got settled, I realized I didn’t have my wallet at some point.

My first thought was that I had left it on the table at the church or maybe it had gotten misplaced in the shifting of all the furniture. I went back up to the church and searched everywhere for my wallet. No wallet.

Now I am starting to feel a bit panicked. Not like a clinical panic attack, but an alarm went off in that ancient, reptilian part of my brain—the amygdala.

I knew most of the people in the class, so I was thinking that maybe someone saw my wallet or maybe somebody accidentally moved it or picked it up inadvertently. Everybody had their wallets and purses strewn around the room before class. So I got back home and started texting people and asking them if they had seen a wallet, and I asked them to double check their stuff just in case it had gotten misplaced.

By the next morning I heard back from everyone in the class—no wallet. Now my anxiety is shooting through the roof. I’ve misplaced my wallet on several occasions over the course of my life, but I always found it relatively quickly. My schedule has been crazy busy and the thought of canceling credit cards and replacing everything in my wallet, including my drivers license, created a great deal of stress.

I start praying prayers of complaint. “Really God, like I need this right now!” That’s a common prayer for me whenever something goes wrong. I’ve had a lot of those prayers in the last four years. Not that it’s God’s fault. I have trained myself to talk to God everyday and that’s the way it comes out when I’m pissed at myself or some circumstance. I start cursing myself or some force out there in the universe. It’s irrational, but hey, that’s the point of this blog.

Our amygdala can be highly irrational. It’s the “fight—flight—freeze” part of our brain. It evolved to protect us from predators and keep us alive. It’s where trauma is stored and how PTSD emerges in our lives.

I have often wondered whether or not I have an over-active amygdala. No kidding. It’s the source of my anxiety disorder and my decades of struggle with insomnia. It’s certainly a human condition, but some humans are definitely more susceptible to amygdala hijacks—an emotional response that is immediate, overwhelming, and out of measure with the actual stimulus. The emotions triggered by the amygdala are real, but they can be highly irrational.

I have been in many situations in which my amygdala actually saved my life—like hiking, driving, rock climbing, cycling—situations in which my life was actually threatened. But most of the time my amygdala overreacts to circumstances which are not life threatening like relational conflict, rejection, past regrets, or future fears.

I can get angry at my amygdala. It wears me out. It’s constant “fear alerts” trigger my anxiety and insomnia. I can get triggered by some “imagined threat” which actually does not exist, but my anxiety over it can last for a few hours or days until I figure out the threat is not real. Then I finally calm down.

Outwardly, I have managed to present myself as calm and confident through the years, but inwardly I can be a basket case (thinking of a Green Day song).

Which brings me back to the practice of mindful meditation. For decades I would try to fight, suppress, conquer, or subdue my negative emotions triggered by my amygdala. It didn’t work well over the long haul.

Meditation has taught me to sit with my negative emotions versus fighting them. I am learning to sit with my negative emotions and be curious, open, and compassionate. I have treated my amygdala (which is me, a part of myself, my body) like an enemy for so many years that it is challenging for me to befriend it. It’s always trying to save me and protect me; it’s just a little too hyper-vigilant.

Self-compassion has taught me to be kind to myself, my body, my mind, my amygdala. I am consistently kind and forgiving towards others, but I can be extremely harsh towards myself. Meditation helps me practice unconditional friendliness towards myself.

Viktor Frankl famously stated: “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” The neuroscience of meditation has shown that mindfulness practice expands the space between stimulus and response (neuro.Wharton.UPenn.edu).

So I have been sitting with my old enemy—my amygdala—and making a new friend. We’ve been having chats and listening to each other. It’s a rambunctious child with good intentions trying to protect me, and for that I am grateful. It calms down after a while and I am able to see the world, and circumstances, through a new lens of gratitude.

By the way, after I had gone through the hassle of canceling my credit cards, ordering new cards, and going to the DMV for a new drivers license, I found my wallet. It fell out of my pocket at home after class and slid under the bathroom shower curtain. False alarm. My wallet was never lost. Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think? (A nod to the universe and Alanis.)

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Mountainfilm Festival

Listen: “Superposition” by Young the Giant

May of 2023 turned out to be super busy month culminating with a trip back to the San Juan Mountains of Colorado to do some writing on my memoir and hang out with some new friends at the Mountainfilm Festival in Telluride, Colorado over Memorial Weekend. It was an amazing weekend with Rod and Alli Colburn and several of their friends who are former Seventh Day Adventists along with one former fundamental Baptist pastor and one former Vineyard pastor (me). The Colburn’s rented a big house which overlooked the town of Telluride, and Samir Selmanovic created some of the best brunches I have ever eaten. I would have never guessed I could have so much fun with a bunch of recovering Adventists!

First of all, an update on my memoir. I spent several days before and after the Mountainfilm Festival in the beginning stages of writing my memoir at the Cimmaron Coffee & Books in Ridgway, Colorado. I have felt compelled to write my memoir, and I am working with an editor that Brian McLaren suggested. Things may change but my working title is Becoming a Prodigal Pastor. Currently, I am thinking it will have three parts: Part 1–Southern Baptist Fred; Part 2–Vineyard Fred; and Part 3–Prodigal Pastor Fred.

As I was shaping up the outline for the memoir, I remembered seeing a movie on the life of Bob Dylan called “I’m Not There,” in which six different actors depict different facets of Dylan’s public personas. It got me thinking about how we grow, deconstruct, and evolve over a lifetime—navigating change, episodes of darkness, transitions, and new beginnings. I’m hoping to have it out by next year.

Secondly, a brief description of the festival. The Mountainfilm Festival has been running since 1979. I first heard about it years ago because some of my favorite rock climbing, mountaineering, and outdoor adventure documentaries have been released at Mountianfilm. It’s the longest running documentary film festival in the country and focuses on outdoor adventure, environmentalism, social justice, and culture.

I loved it. There were times when I was crying due to a featured social injustice or an environmental crisis; there were times when I was crying due to inspirational stories of the indomitable human spirit exhibiting love, courage, and beauty.

Here are my top picks. I would encourage you to watch these documentaries when they get released.

Wild Life. Jimmy Chin and his wife, Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi, are hands down my favorite outdoor adventure filmmakers. From Meru to Free Solo, Jimmy is not only one of the best climbers in the world, but also one of the best filmmaker. Wild Life is a tribute to Doug Tompkins, who is founder of The North Face who spent most of his wealth buying up over a million acres in Patagonia to preserve nature, re-wild, and create National Parks.

By the way, if you are not familiar with the story of the friendship between Yvon Chouinard, founder of Patagonia & Black Diamond, and Doug Tompkins, founder of The North Face, then you need to check out two documentaries: 180 Degrees South (2010) and the newly released Wild Life (2023). Their friendship and life work is an American treasure and truly inspirational on multiple levels.

It was so fun to see Jimmy Chin introduce his new documentary, Wild Life, and then do a Q & A afterwards, which was a highlight for me. I have admired Jimmy from a distance, so it was a joy to see him up close and in-person.

The Grab. This one was sobering and disturbing from filmmaker Gabriela Cowperthwaite. The Grab is a global thriller that takes you from Arizona, Zambia, China, and Russia and follows investigative journalists as they uncover how governments, private investors, and mercenaries are seizing food and water resources at the expense of entire populations.

Patrol. Another sobering documentary which uncovers the threat to the last remaining rainforests of Central America due to the illegal activity of cattle ranchers who steal acreage and raze large swaths of rainforest to graze their herds. Brad Allgood and Camilo De Castro Belli have literally risked their lives to expose this illegal activity.

Bill McKibben. Not a documentary, but Bill gave the opening talk for Mountainfilm. I hope to meet Bill in the near future and do a podcast interview with him. I have always had a love for nature, outdoors, and environmentalism as a side-gig to my pastoral career. Bill’s main gig and life work is as an American environmentalist, author, and journalist who has written extensively on the impact of global warming. I wish all of you could have heard his thirty minute talk—a sober evaluation of the current state of our planet mixed with some hope if we act boldly. If you care about our planet and are over the age of sixty, check out his most recent project, Third Act, which organizes people over the age of sixty to work on climate and racial justice.

I was only able to view a small number of the feature documentaries and missed out on all the shorts, but I hope to go again. I came away from the event with a sense of renewed purpose around my lifelong love for nature, mountain biking, rock climbing, and the Rocky Mountains.

Nature is a source of inspiration and spiritual renewal. It’s good for what ails us. Make sure you get a regular dose of immersion into the beauty of nature, and let’s do what we can to heal and save our planet.

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Post Traumatic Growth

Listen: “Elastic Heart” by Sia

I am a bit of a sci-fi fan whether I’m reading a good novel by Ray Bradbury or Philip K. Dick or watching a movie like Blade Runner. In my journal I have frequently describe my life after my three-quarter life crises like “post-apocalyptic” living, feeling like I was emotionally hovering somewhere between Mad Max and The Book of Eli. It felt like a bomb went off and destroyed the foundations of my life built around faith, marriage, community, and career.

Extreme darkness, doubts, questions, and disbelief haunted my existence and the ghosts still linger with me today. Thankfully, I didn’t try to forge through the dystopia alone. My family and some long-time friends loved me through it. I found new support and friends through recovery groups, faith leaders, and therapy.

At some point in my ongoing recovery, I realized I was dealing with personal and religious trauma—some self-inflicted and some inflicted by others. A few years ago I came across some of the research around Post Traumatic Growth and found it helpful. (See “Growth after Trauma” by Lorna Collier, apa.org, November 2016, Vol 47.)

Some psychologists distinguish between resiliency and Post Traumatic Growth. Resiliency is a characteristic which helps us bounce back from adversity. Trauma, however, is not something people bounce back from quickly. Trauma wrecks havoc on our fundamental foundations and belief systems making it extremely difficult to bounce back.

Post Traumatic Growth does not deny deep pain; it processes deep pain in healing and generative ways. Through therapy, recovery groups, and deep friendships, Post Traumatic Growth can coexist and begin to emerge alongside PTSD. Some of the signs of Post Traumatic Growth are:

• A deeper appreciation of life

• Stronger relationships with loved ones and survivors

• Recognition of new opportunities and possibilities

• Inner strength as a survivor

• Spirituality changes and evolves

This kind of growth does not happen quickly or easily. We have to do the work. There is a saying in the Twelve-step community: “It works if you work it.” Growth is not a solo process; it’s a community process. We need loving, safe people to connect with us at our deepest experiences of pain. Alcoholics connecting with alcoholics. Abuse survivors connecting with abuse survivors. We heal in safe spaces with safe people who have developed empathy and found hope.

I recently reread all of the resurrection appearances of Jesus reported in the four gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. After the crucifixion of Jesus, the disciples were doing some “post-apocalyptic” living. They had witnessed the brutal torture of their beloved leader. Their world was blown apart and they were filled with doubts, questions, and disbelief.

Peter had consistently pledged his loyalty to Jesus and was ready to fight and die for Jesus, but in the darkness of night when Jesus was arrested, fear overtook him and he denied ever knowing Jesus three times. His epic failure resulted in deep depression. There’s a scene in John’s gospel in which Jesus appears to Peter and recommissions him three times. At the place of deepest failure, Peter is loved, forgiven, affirmed, and recommissioned.

Richard Rohr says, “If we do not transform pain, we will most assuredly transmit it—usually to those closest to us: our family, our neighbors, our co-workers, and, invariably, the most vulnerable, our children” (Richard Rohr, “Transforming Pain,” cac.org).

Healing from trauma is a slow community process, but there is hope. People do heal—together!

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Forgiveness

Listen: “All Apologies” by Nirvana

Forgiveness sounds like a great idea. Most people believe the world would be a better place with more forgiveness. Most people love to receive forgiveness from God or others for any harm they have caused. But, forgiveness gets exponentially more complicated when it comes to actually forgiving someone else (or even ourselves) for hurting us deeply.

One complication is that we love to be right. There is a saying: “The world is divided into people who think they are right.” End of quote. Sometimes we can feel hurt simply because someone disagrees with our views on politics, religion, or fashion. For some people, being right is more important than love, and they can quickly slip into blaming other people who are wrong (everybody but themselves) for their own problems and the problems in the world.

But there is a deeper complication with forgiveness. How do we forgive ourselves when we hate ourselves? How do we forgive someone who has wounded, betrayed, or abused us? Forgiveness is not always easy. Forgiveness does not always feel safe. If we forgive our abuser, does that open us up to further abuse? If we forgive our betrayer, does that make them right and us wrong? What about justice? Shouldn’t they suffer for what they have done?

Over the course of my life, I would consider myself as someone who was always “quick to forgive.” Quick to forgive others for sure. Sometimes I would “beat myself up” emotionally before I forgave myself. Certainly, I was harder on myself than others, but I valued forgiveness and lived without resentments. In addition, I can’t count the number of sermons I delivered on forgiveness.

That all changed a few years ago when I went through an emotional hell on earth. My heart was filled with anger, humiliation, and shame. Forgiveness seemed impossible.

Forgiveness of self. I was filled with anger, first and foremost, towards myself. I had failed to live up to my own standards. I had a personal meltdown due to a mixture of insomnia, ministry burnout, addiction, and an unhappy marriage. My personal failures were broadcast publicly around the world, and I wanted to disappear or die. I hated myself.

Fortunately, I had some close friends and family who loved me through it. I had preached God’s forgiveness my whole life, but in my darkest moments I felt abandoned by God. I started sharing my deepest, darkest failures with my therapist, close friends, and new friends I found in recovery groups. Shame had engulfed me; but, as I shared with my sponsor, my therapist, and my friends, they loved me despite my failures.

They modeled God’s love for me. They modeled forgiveness for me. Sharing my shame with loving people helped me regain confidence in forgiveness and compassion for my own self. A couple of bad years didn’t have to define the rest of my life. Forgiveness, I found, is best experienced in a loving community of forgiving people.

Forgiveness of others. Anger and resentment can feel like protective armor. It can protect us (we think) from future hurt, future abuse, or future powerlessness. Anger certainly needs to be heard, understood, and processed with safe people (like a therapist, sponsor, or close friend); but anger and resentment is not the cure for a wounded heart.

In the recovery world, resentment is a danger to sobriety and spiritual health. “Resentment is the ‘number one’ offender. It destroys more alcoholics than anything else. From it stem all forms of spiritual disease, for we have been not only mentally and physically ill, we have been spiritually sick. When the spiritual malady is overcome, we straighten out mentally and physically” (Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 64).

An old adage: “Resentment is like swallowing rat poison and hoping the rat will die.” Forgiveness frees our heart from the damaging affects of resentment and bitterness. In some ways, forgiveness is simply letting go of what the other person owes us. It doesn’t mean the other person is right. It doesn’t mean you become a doormat and let someone abuse you again. Forgiveness can be accompanied by healthy boundaries and tough love.

Forgiveness of God, the Universe, and Reality. This may sound odd to some people, but I think it is important. Shit happens. At times it feels like God or the Universe has conspired against us. Forgiveness of almost everything seems to be in order if we are going to press into love, beauty, creativity, and social justice—forgiveness of God, the Universe, Circumstances, Accidents, Injuries, Genocides, Tornadoes, Diseases, and Pandemics. Not to live in passivity and inaction, but to move forward in life with the grace of acceptance without the burden of resentment. It’s a way of making peace with Reality—What Is—dealing with life on life’s terms.

Richard Rohr reflects: “Our first forgiveness is not toward a particular sin or offense. Our first forgiveness, it seems to me, is toward reality itself: to forgive it for being so broken, a mixture of good and bad. First that paradox has to be overcome inside of us. Then, when we allow God to hold together the opposites within us, it becomes possible to do it over there in our neighbor and even our enemy” (“Including Everything,” can.org, August 31, 2017).

Forgiveness is a process. It’s a commitment to a lifestyle of forgiveness. Forgiveness is central to wholeness, health, and spiritual wellbeing. It is essential for healing nations, families, and individuals. As Jesus taught us to pray: “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us” (Matthew 6:12).

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Community of Loving Doubters

Listen: “Ulysses” by Josh Garrels

I’ve been meditating on the Easter theme of death and resurrection over the forty days of Lent and Holy Week of 2023 largely because I was teaching a series on Holy Week in a church for the first time in five years. After delivering Easter Sunday messages for over three decades, I took a five year unplanned hiatus—more like a personal crash course in death and hoped-for resurrection.

It’s been a bit surreal. For the first time in my life, I was preaching Easter after a major life meltdown, a trip to rehab, a divorce, a loss of career, a financial collapse, and a serious bout with deep doubt and darkness in which I questioned everything I had ever believed. For the first time in my life, I felt more at home with dark Friday and Saturday of Holy Week than I did with Resurrection Sunday. Jesus’ words from the cross when he quoted Psalm 22–“My God, My God, why have you forsaken me”—were more than just a reference in history for me now. I had felt those words, prayed those words, even screamed those words. And I wasn’t sure if anyone was listening.

This Easter season I was speaking from a place of—to borrow a title from one of Brian McLaren’s books—Faith after (and with) Doubt.

I took comfort in one of the resurrection appearances in Matthew’s gospel because it says: “The the eleven disciples left for Galilee, going to the mountain where Jesus told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him—but some of them doubted” (Matthew 28:16-17; NLT). The disciples had abandoned Jesus in his darkest moment, but now they are being reassembled in their brokenness and doubt—a loving, broken, humble, vulnerable community of doubters.

In the course of these last five years between Easter 2018 and Easter 2023, I have sat in groups with alcoholics and addicts of all sorts, with people who have lost their faith, with people who never had much faith, with people who have found faith, and with people who still struggle with faith. I have also met one-on-one with hundreds of people who have done a hard exit on church and any type of organized religion.

A couple of things stand out to me. Most people still desire to nurture their spirituality in some type of authentic community which practices honesty, humility, and vulnerability; where dogmas and judgments are diminished; and where doubts, questions, and disbelief are valued as part of the spiritual journey.

As I prepared for my messages on Holy Week for the first time in five years, I did a deep dive with a first century historian/Jesus scholar, John Dominic Crossan, by reading two of his books—The Last Week: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus’s Final Days in Jerusalem and Resurrecting Easter: How the West Lost and the East Kept the Original Easter Vision. I found myself wishing I would read these books when they were first published.

In Resurrecting Easter, Crossan demonstrates how the Western church tradition (Catholic/Protestant) has most always depicted the resurrection of Jesus as a solo flight into heaven. (Throughout most of church history, most people could not read or write. Theology was expressed through paintings, called icons. Icons functioned like movies before the printing press, radio, television, movies, and social media existed.) However, the Eastern church tradition (Eastern Orthodox) has always depicted the resurrection of Jesus as a community event on earth. The East paintings of Jesus’ resurrection depict Jesus grasping the hand of Adam and Eve, who represent humanity, as he comes out of the grave. In the East, resurrection is always a community event, not a solo event.

A friend of mine from the recovery community made a comment after reading my previous blog entitled “Resurrecting Faith.” He said, “Fred, we have been brought back from hell and sure death to give back what we got in the rooms of AA.” I thought, how true. That’s the deep truth of the Easter message of death and resurrection.

Our sorrows, failures, pains, sufferings, doubts, and darkness must be shared in a loving community of humble doubters who have gone through hell and been brought back from the dead. We can’t do it alone. Resurrection does not happen as a solo flight. The West got it wrong. You are never alone in your deepest episode of darkness if you allow yourself to be “broken open” in honesty, humility, and vulnerability in community, with other people who have wrestled with the same type of darkness and sorrow. It’s in community that we find hope. We are brought back from hell and sure death together.

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Resurrecting Faith

Listen: “Doubting Thomas” by Nickel Creek

A careful reading of Holy Week in the gospel accounts of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John reveals that Holy Week is filled with disbelief. Holy Week is not “Perfect Faith Week;” it’s “Failure/Slow Progress/Not Perfection Week.” Holy Week, as it relates to faith, is full of questions, doubts, disbelief, denials, betrayals, anguish, disillusionment, suffering, shattered dreams, and death. Even Jesus wrestled with faith and felt forsaken by God.

Faith doesn’t always come easy. We have to have faith in some things or people just to navigate our way through life—faith in certain people and certain institutions just to get an education, find a job, make a living, pay our bills, and engage with family. We have blind faith in certain physical laws like gravity, electromagnetism, and weak/strong nuclear forces. But faith in God or a Higher Power or Jesus is not easy for many people. On the one hand, evil and suffering in the world or in our personal lives does not inspire easy belief in the concept of an all-loving, all-powerful God (not the only viable concept of God but the most common); on the other hand, the evolutionary nature of our 15 billion year old universe is another formidable challenge to faith in ancient concepts of God.

If faith doesn’t come easy for you, you are not alone. My new mantra is: questions, doubts, and disbelief are a normal, even valuable, part of an authentic faith journey. I have spent my entire late teen and adult life studying, teaching, and earning advanced degrees in theology and the Bible, and I may have more questions now than I have ever had. I am less certain and more open than I have ever been, and I am comfortable with this perspective. In fact, I don’t think we learn and grow spiritually without doubt and good questions. Doubt is necessary for growth. (For an excellent discussion, read Faith After Doubt: Why Your Beliefs Stopped Working and What to Do About It by Brian McLaren.)

For those of you who value the Bible, this should not be surprising. Most all of the characters mentioned in the Bible wrestled with doubts, questions, and disbelief—Adam, Eve, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, David, Solomon, Job, Ruth, Esther, The Twelve Disciples, and even Jesus.

Even after the resurrection appearances of Jesus, the disciples still had doubts, confusion, and disbelief. Think about that. Those who were present during the crucifixion and resurrection appearances of Jesus still wrestled with faith. Matthew’s gospel reports concerning the eleven disciples (minus Judas) who witnessed the resurrection appearance in Galilee: “…but some of them still doubted” (Matthew 28:17). In Luke’s gospel when Jesus appeared to the disciples, it states that the disciples were “startled, frightened, and still filled with doubts and disbelief” (Luke 24:37-38, 41). John’s gospel tells the story of doubting Thomas with no condemnation of his doubt (John 20:26-29).

There’s a resurrection appearance mentioned in Luke’s gospel in which two men were walking on the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus on Easter Sunday—Cleopas and an unnamed man. Jesus appeared to them as they were walking, but they don’t recognize him. Jesus taught from scripture as they walked, and when they arrived at their evening destination they “broke bread” together. The way in which the sharing of bread was described was reminiscent of the Last Supper: Jesus took the bread, blessed, broke, and gave it to the two men. It’s symbolic of Jesus’ own life being “broken open” in vulnerability on the cross. It’s at this moment that the men recognized Jesus and then Jesus vanished. Perhaps our failing faith awakens when we break bread together in honesty, weakness, powerlessness, and vulnerability.

Through my own struggles with doubts and disbelief, I have found my own faith renewed and resurrected through rigorous honesty, vulnerability, and community. As I have sat in recovery groups of addicts and alcoholics, and people allowed themselves to be “broken open” through honesty and vulnerability, something beautiful happens. Call it what you want, but the “spirit” moves. God moves through authentic human vulnerability. In human weakness. In tender doubt. In confession of powerlessness. In utter brokenness. God moves. Fragile faith, with wobbly legs, begins to emerge. Maybe in these moments of loving vulnerability and community, we experience a deeper love, a bigger magic. Perhaps, if we allow ourselves to be “broken open” in loving community, our feeble faith may find some resurrection hope and fall into a Big Love.

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Dark Saturday of Holy Week

Listen: “Flood” by Jars of Clay

In Holy Week, Friday bleeds into Saturday. Darkness descends like a gloomy, thick London fog. On Friday, Mark’s gospel records: “At noon, darkness fell across the whole land until three o’clock. Then at three o’clock Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means “My God, My God, why have you abandoned me?” (Mark 15:33-34; NLT). On Saturday, Jesus was in the grave.

It was easy to get crucified in the first century by the oppressive domination system of Rome for alleged sedition. As Jesus hung on the cross for his non-violent resistance, he quoted from a Psalm of David, one of the darkest Psalms of lament in the entire Psalter: “My God, My God, why have you abandoned me? Why are you so far away when I groan for help? Every day I call to you, my God, but you do not answer. Every night I lift my voice, but I find no relief” (Psalm 22:1-2; NLT).

When you have walked with God as your closest friend, and then feel abandoned by God in your darkest hour (like Jesus), you are not alone. Questions, doubts, and disbelief are par for the course on any authentic spiritual journey.

I think Job plunged deeply into the darkness when he cursed the day he was born:

Let the day of my birth be erased,
   and the night I was conceived.
Let the day be turned to darkness.
   Let it be lost even to God on high,
   and let no light shine on it.
Let the darkness and utter gloom claim
      that day for its own.
   Let a black cloud overshadow it,
   and let the darkness terrify it.
Let that night be blotted off the calendar,
   never again to be counted among the
      days of the year,
   never again to appear among the months.
Let that night be childless.
   Let it have no joy.
Let those who are experts at cursing—
   whose cursing could rouse Leviathan—

curse that day.
Let its morning stars remain dark.
   Let it hope for light, but in vain;
   may it never see the morning light.
Curse that day for failing to shut my
      mother’s womb,
   for letting me be born to see all this trouble.
   (Job 3:1-10; NLT)

Notice how Job exhausts the Hebrew language (Job’s language) for synonyms and metaphors of darkness: erased, night, darkness, lost, gloom, black cloud, overshadow, terrify, blotted out, childless, no joy, failing, trouble. Finally, Job just curses so loud (I’m guessing Job is really the “expert curser”) that he rouses a mythological creature from the deep dark—The Leviathan!

I can relate. Sometimes I just curse at the dark. Thank God I live alone. I’ve roused a few monsters myself! Sober!

The story of the Hebrew Bible is the story of ancient Israel navigating the darkness. Israel endured 430 years of slavery in Egypt. Then, after escaping Egypt, they wandered in the wilderness for forty years. Once the “glory” years of David and Solomon faded, the Southern Kingdom of Judah was defeated by the Babylonians. David and Solomon’s temple in Jerusalem was destroyed, the people were taken captive, and the seventy year Babylonian exile began. Once again, Israel found herself living in captivity.

Happy songs are hard to sing when you are in the depths of despair and darkness. Gratitude lists don’t come easy. Encouragements by well intended people to “get your praise on” inspire nausea. You feel like cursing or crying. Psalm 137 reflects on the emotions of captivity:

Beside the rivers of Babylon,
   we sat and wept
   as we thought of Jerusalem.
We put away our harps,
   hanging them on the branches of poplar trees.
For our captors demanded a song from us.
   Our tormentors insisted on a joyful hymn:
   “Sing us one of those songs of Jerusalem!”
But how can we sing the songs of the LORD
   while in a pagan land?
(Psalm 137:1-4; NLT)

Maybe you’ve endured deep darkness. Maybe your in the middle of it now. Darkness comes in many forms. Your child is murdered in a mass school shooting. A natural disaster destroys your home. Your loved one is killed in a senseless war. A disease ravages your system and pain courses through your body every minute. A freak accident disables you. Addiction overwhelms you. Your career comes crashing down. You wind up in divorce court.

Your impulse is to isolate and go it alone in the darkness. Shame and fear descend like a fog. Resist it! Share with a friend, a sponsor, a therapist, or a support group. You will find you are not alone. In fact, vulnerability is the doorway to authentic, deep connection.

The only hope is that darkness may give way, eventually, to a sliver of light. That God or some beautiful imperfection may emerge out of or be found in the chaos. That you will find true friends on this dark path. “…That in God’s hands, the dark past [or present] is the greatest possession you have—the key to life and happiness for others” (Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 124).

That Saturday morphs into Sunday.

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Leaning Into the Darkness

Listen: “The Sound of Silence” by Simon & Garfunkel

“Hello darkness, my old—or new—friend?” “Friend” might be way too strong of a description for my experience with darkness. Maybe a reluctant acquaintance to whom I am warming up. Darkness would not have described my life experience for the best part of five decades, but in 2019 I had my first true experience with darkness and it almost took me out. For days, weeks, and months, I had no desire to wake up and face the daylight. I didn’t care if I lived or died. Death felt like a better option.

The darkness doesn’t cut so deeply today, but I am still haunted by the darkest of those days. They still rise up on occasion and visit me. I am grateful for two books I read in 2019 which challenged me to lean into the darkness. In effect, listen to the darkness; learn from it; and embrace it. (The two books were Falling Upward by Richard Rohr and Let Your Life Speak by Parker Palmer.)

Parker Palmer describes a season of deep darkness and depression in which he felt his true self stalked him: “When I was finally able to turn around and ask, ‘What do you want?’ The answer was clear: I want you to embrace this descent into hell as a journey toward selfhood—and a journey toward God.” This concept struck me deeply. It was enormously scary. It felt like the darkness would engulf me and snuff me out. But I tried it. I started leaning into the darkness, not isolated and alone, but through therapy, recovery groups, reading, journaling, and meditation.

I started hunting down other resources for exploring the darkness from a philosophical and theological perspective. I found Walter Brueggemann’s work on the “Hiddenness of Yahweh” and the Psalms of Lament (Theology of the Old Testament, The Message of the Psalms, and Spirituality of the Psalms), Matthew Fox’s chapters on “Befriending Darkness” (Original Blessing), Jurgen Moltmann’s The Crucified God, and Dante’s legendary midlife crises in the Inferno to be trustworthy guides.

I have by no means mastered the art of embracing the darkness. Sometimes I just curse at it. But I am learning and growing. Recently, I was in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado, and I did some cross country snow skiing at Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. After a few hours of skiing, I browsed the bookstore in the Visitor Center. I ran across a section of books dealing with the topic of “Dark Sky.” I’m a book junkie, so I was mesmerized. They had an assortment of books for children and adults teaching people to cherish the darkness of the night sky: Wild Nights Out, The End of Night, and Let There Be Night are a few of the titles.

I love nature and have spent countless nights falling asleep in my goose down sleeping bag starring at the stars in the high Rocky Mountains. It’s spectacular. But I never realized that there is a nonprofit organization which strives to educate and protect the night skies until my recent trip to the Visitor Center at Black Canyon of the Gunnison.

It’s called the International Dark-Sky Association (IDA; darksky.org). The website speaks of how artificial light at night has revolutionized the way we live and work outdoors, but it has come at a price. “When used indiscriminately, outdoor lighting can disrupt wildlife, impact human health, waste money and energy, contribute to climate change, and block our view of the universe.” Since 1988, IDA has led a movement to protect night from light pollution.

Light pollution. I’ve heard the term. I’ve flown around the planet at night and seen the patches of artificial city lights which bespeckle the earth. I have also enjoyed seeing the brilliance of the night sky while sleeping under the stars at 10,000 feet elevation far away from artificial light—a night sky which is alive with shooting stars, constellations, and galaxies.

The dark sky collection of books got me thinking about my own experience with emotional darkness. It’s easy to be afraid of the dark, but it can be exhilarating to explore the dark as well. I can think of hikes I have done in the dark with only the secondary light of a full moon. It’s beautiful. Then I got to thinking about “light pollution.” How much of our emotional landscape is polluted by artificial light in the form of fear, anxiety, avoidance, addiction, numbing, false identities, and illusions? How attached have we become to artificial light? Maybe we need the darkness to speak to us. Maybe that’s why there is a Saturday in Holy Week. What does the darkness of the grave say to us? What does it reveal to us about who we are in this vast universe of light and darkness?

Sometimes descent is the way to God. Dante’s epic, mythical journey began with the darkness of midlife crisis:

Midway on our life’s journey, I found myself
In dark woods, the right road lost. To tell
About the woods is hard—so tangled and rough

And savage that thinking of it now, I feel
The old fear stirring: death is hardly more bitter
And yet, to treat the good I found there as well

I’ll tell you what I saw…

(From the Inferno of Dante, Robert Pinsky trans.)

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Feelings

Listen: “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac

One of the skills I have worked on in therapy and in meditation is the art of sitting with my emotions long enough to listen to them and name them. I am learning to be curious, kind, and compassionate to my own emotions. This does not come easy for me because I spent a lifetime trying to battle, suppress, or conquer my emotions. Studies like Marc Brackett’s, Permission to Feel, show that Americans are woefully under-skilled in emotional intelligence. Especially when it comes to negative emotions. According to Brackett, the simple skill of naming and reflecting on your own emotions is a step towards healthy processing of emotions.

Over the past month, I have had a barrage of emotions sweep over me. This all relates to the rebuilding of my career since my public meltdown. For the first time in over four years, I am pastoring a brick and mortar church again. It’s a part-time position as Lead Pastor of Living Water Christian Church. I have been flooded with emotions as I step into this new adventure. I am adding the role of Lead Pastor to my ongoing work with Spirituality Adventures.

To say the last four years has been difficult is a gross understatement, especially as it relates to my pastoral career and calling. I have been a pastor my entire adult career, but, in the wake of my meltdown, my pastoral career and sense of calling was shattered. It’s been a slow rebuilding process. Over two years ago, I emerged publicly on social media doing Spirituality Adventures. My goal was/is to ignite spiritual growth through blogs, podcasts, events, groups, pastoral care, and teaching. I have been working full-time, but only getting paid part-time through a small core team of faithful donors who support Spirituality Adventures.

I love the work I do with Spirituality Adventures. We have touched thousands of people through social media and hundreds through personal pastoral care and support groups. I have really enjoyed the work I do with a large number of people who are not in the Christian church world. This would include people I have met in the recovery world, people who have left the church due to religious trauma or deconstruction, or people who have never been in the church world.

So, stepping back into the church world again after a four year “forced sabbatical” has been a huge step of faith for me. And it has been accompanied with a range of emotions. Here are a few of them:

Surreal. Even though I tried to leave the pastor role behind, it never left me. Even when I was struggling with my recovery and questioning everything I had believed, I would still find myself connecting with people pastorally. I never stopped caring for people and their spiritual life. At the same time, the church I founded and pastored for almost thirty years never left my heart. I have always loved the people of Vineyard Church and sought to make amends whenever I could. Stepping into a different church after all I have gone through feels like a weird dream sequence.

Fear. What if I fail again? For most of my pastoral career, things looked great from the outside. I was pastoring a growing church and trying to manage all the expectations that came with it. I would have bet money against myself failing the way in which I failed. Such a major public failure like I went through shook my confidence. Also, I feel overwhelmed because a small church does not have the resources to which I had become accustomed. Can I start over again with limited resources, be faithful to my calling, and be authentic to whom I am becoming?

Grateful. I am grateful to the people of Living Water Christian Church who decided to believe in me. I am grateful to God for a new opportunity. I am grateful for family and friends who have walked through my darkest moments and continued to love me.

Conflicted. I am hoping that I can continue to expand my work with Spirituality Adventures and Living Water Christian Church. I love working with people outside the church, and I want to continue to provide safe spaces for people to learn, grow, question, doubt, and discover new spiritual awakenings. I feel I have gained two precious communities of people over the last four years which have enriched my life—the recovery community and the mindfulness meditation community. I realize these communities may overlap for some people like myself, but I also realize that each community is unique with a special calling apart from each other. I hope I can be faithful to the unique calling of each community—church, recovery, meditation.

Love. One of the things that convinced me to serve Living Water Christian Church as Lead Pastor was their desire to practice hospitality to everyone. It is a church which radically accepts and welcomes everyone. I have always been big on God’s love and grace. I would say now, I am more radically committed to God’s love and grace. It’s more vast than we can ever grasp. I want to serve with a community of people who are committed to walking out God’s radical love and grace in a broken and divided world.

Hope. I feel hope percolating in my heart. The last four years have been the most challenging years of my life. I have doubted, questioned, cursed, cried, screamed, laughed, anguished, believed, prayed, meditated, connected, learned, forgiven, relearned, discovered, and surrendered. Sometimes all in the same moment it feels. I’ve wondered where my new path would lead me. So I have some hope bubbling up, and for that I am thankful. I hope to see you soon. Thanks for reading.

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Blizzards

Listen: “After the Storm” by Mumford & Sons

During the two weeks I stayed in a beautiful cabin in the San Juan Mountains, I experienced three blizzards. I have traveled to the Rocky Mountains every year for over forty years, but I am usually in the mountains in the summer months. So I haven’t been in very many mountain blizzards. I enjoy it.

I was tucked away safely in the mountain cabin while the winds howled and the snows rushed and swirled sideways. I ventured out on a walk in the blizzard a few times just to feel the harshness of the environment. It would be hard to survive a high mountain blizzard without shelter. The winds feel like they cut through the clothing layers straight to the bone. The wildlife disappears. The trees bend and snap. The mountains stand in silent witness as the winds and snows seem determined to destroy life. It feels like nature is in a rage against itself.

Once the storm quiets and the sun comes out, you see beauty all around. As the snow absorbs the sounds, the silence feels majestic, serene, and alive. As the snows melt, creeks and streams begin to carve their way into rivers. The San Juan Mountains are host to the headwaters of several regal rivers: the Uncompahgre River, the Dolores River, the Animas River, the San Miguel River,  and the San Juan River, which all eventually flow into the Colorado River and down into Mexico. The Rio Grande River also starts in the San Juan Mountains, which flows to eventually form a portion of the US and Mexico boarder.

The harshness of a mountain blizzard transforms into the life-giving flow of rivers abundant with living water for drinking, flora, fauna, agriculture, and recreation. These rivers sustain the life and economy of ecosystems, towns, cities, states, and nations.

Up in the midst of the mountain blizzards I was experiencing, I was meditating on the blizzard of my own life over the past few years. The harshness of the blizzard winds and snows felt like death. I wasn’t sure if I would survive the storm, wasn’t sure if I cared to survive.

How do we respond creatively to adversity? Nature is always creating. Creation begets creation. Perhaps any storm can be transformed into life-giving water. Here are a few of my reflections on storm transformation:

Posture of radical acceptance. It’s a type of surrender to the reality of what is, what we can not change. We can always wish that it wasn’t so, or we can live with regrets, but the more noble path is to accept life on life’s terms. Radical acceptance of what is is the first step towards adapting creatively with love, beauty, and forgiveness.

Posture of learning. We can always learn. Trauma and adversity can lead to new growth. Post-traumatic growth has melted into life-giving streams of water for the abused, the addicted, the disabled, the marginalized, the oppressed, and the diseased. Think of all the foundations and nonprofit services which have emerged out of adversity in order to bring life and hope to those who suffer.

Posture of community. We can’t do it alone. And the good news is: We are not alone! There is a support community for every type of storm that humans encounter. Don’t do it alone. Isolation kills.

Posture of forgiveness. On some level, we must forgive everything (including ourselves) in order to move forward with grace, love, creativity, and beauty. I resonate with these thoughts from Richard Rohr:

Our first forgiveness is not toward a particular sin or offense. Our first forgiveness, it seems to me, is toward reality itself: to forgive it for being so broken, a mixture of good and bad. First that paradox has to be overcome inside of us. Then, when we allow God to hold together the opposites within us, it becomes possible to do it over there in our neighbor and even our enemy (“Including Everything,” cac.org, August 31, 2017).

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Spiritual Reflection, Meditation, and Prayer

Listen: “Zen” by X Ambassadors, K. Flay, grandson

I’ve had the blessing of hanging out in the Rocky Mountains near Ouray, Colorado for a couple of weeks, which is one of the top meccas for ice climbing in America. I’m staying in a mountain hideaway which a friend of mine owns, and he offered it to me as a retreat/vacation space. (Thank you Rod!) I took him up on it, and I have used the opportunity to do several things: (1) I met up with a group of climbers from Kansas City who were in Ouray to do some ice climbing, and I did some ice climbing for the first time in my life; (2) I have done some cross country skiing at Black Canyon of the Gunnison and Top of the Pines; (3) I am working with an editor and have started writing a memoir; and (4) I am doing a six day silent meditation retreat.

I am spending most of my time reading, writing, journaling, praying, and meditating. Spending time in prayer and meditation is not a new practice for me. I have reflected back on when I first started spending time in prayer, spiritual reading, and meditation. As a young teenager I was doing sports and recreational drugs and was not very interested in formal religion. I loved nature and the outdoors. My dad forced me to go to a church youth camp after my sophomore year in high school, and I ended up having a dramatic spiritual experience. I committed my life to following Jesus at the age of sixteen, and two months later I felt called to become a pastor.

My youth pastor started mentoring me, and he encouraged me to have a morning “quiet time.” He encouraged me to get up early, set aside some time for prayer, scripture reading, and journaling. It probably fit well with my more introverted, reflective personality because I ended up developing the practice of a quiet time which stuck with me most of my life. While still in high school I would get up at 4:45am, shower, and have a quiet time from 5:15-6:15am, then catch my bus at 6:30am.

I think the only time in my life during which I didn’t have a morning quiet time was the last year of my Xanax/alcohol addiction (which was a two and a half year failed attempt to deal with my insomnia). During the last year of my addiction, I lost touch with myself, God, and my calling. In the aftermath of my meltdown, I started attending therapy sessions, twelve step recovery meetings, and mindfulness meditation sessions.

What is interesting to me: Each of these communities have encouraged some form of “quiet time,” whether reflection, reading, devotion, prayer, journaling, or meditation. The great spiritual traditions of healing, recovery, and spirituality encourage people to practice various forms of daily spiritual reflection. Socrates was on to something when he said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”

In the twelve step tradition, Step Eleven reads: “Sought through payer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.” I have heard old timers in the program encourage their sponsees to begin their day on their knees in prayer with “please” and end their day in the same fashion with “thank you.” I have heard sponsors in the program encourage people to read AA literature such as the Big Book or Daily Reflections on a daily basis, keep a journal, and develop a morning to devotion to start off their day.

In the mindfulness meditation tradition, people are encouraged to have a daily practice of meditation, maybe twenty or thirty minutes of sitting, standing, or walking in silence, either indoors or outdoors. The time of day is not important, but the daily practice is. Many meditation teachers also encourage their students to keep a journal and write down thoughts, feelings, and experiences which arise during the practice of meditation.

I have always been an early riser and have practiced my quiet time in the early morning hours, but I usually practice spontaneous prayer and meditation throughout the day. My typical morning begins with making coffee and journaling. I usually just do an emotional brain dump when I journal. I just write out what is on my mind and what I am feeling and then write out some prayers. Then I move into a time of spiritual reading for reflection and prayer such as recovery literature, meditation literature, and scripture. Finally, I usually end my quiet time with silent meditation for ten to thirty minutes.

I have encouraged people to practice a daily quiet time for years. Experiment with the time of day and the location. If you are not a morning person, find a time of day or night that works for you. Also, experiment with the location—indoors, outdoors, a coffee shop, a library—find a time and place that works for you. It’s a healthy habit which nurtures awareness and connection with self, others, and something greater.

Pliny the Elder said, “Home is where the heart is.” Jesus said, “The kingdom of God is within you.” I’ll leave you with a verse from The Radiance Sutras:

There is a place in the heart where everything meets.
Go there if you want to find me.
Mind, senses, soul, eternity, all are there.
Are you there?
Enter the bowl of vastness that is the heart.
Give yourself to it with total abandon…
Once you know the way
   the nature of attention
   will call you to return, again and again

   and be saturated with knowing,
‘I belong here. I am at home here.’

Who Is My Neighbor?

Listen: “When It Don’t Come Easy” by Patty Griffin

One of my favorite independent films is called Love Song for Bobby Long which was written and directed by Shainee Gabel, based on the novel Off Magazine Street by Ronald Everett Capps. Its world premiere was at the 61st Venice International Film Festival on September 2, 2004. It stars John Travolta as a brilliant, aging alcoholic who was once a famous English professor, and a young Scarlett Johansson as a headstrong woman who returns to New Orleans after the death of her estranged mother. The film features a collection of misfits who form a community of love and acceptance despite the tragic flaws of each person. This grace-based community of misfits offers surprising elements of redemption to each other. The soundtrack is one of my favorite movie soundtracks to date.

After watching the film, I went down a rabbit hole. I ordered the book upon which it was based: Off Magazine Street. I found the book even more enchanting, and the author, Ronald Everett Capps, was a big fan of playwright Tennessee Williams. After reading Capps novel, I started reading Williams’ plays, and I fell in love with Tennessee Williams’ plays. Williams is best know for plays like A Street Car Named Desire, Cat On a Hot Tin Roof, The Glass Menagerie, and The Night of the Iguana. His characters are beautifully flawed, both tragic and resilient. Williams says, “My chief aim in playwriting is the creation of character. I have always had a deep feeling for the mystery in life, and essentially my plays have been an effort to explore the beauty and meaning in the confusion of living.” In my view, Tennessee Williams displays an ability to capture redemptive notes in tragically flawed human beings—a gospel for misfits as I see it. “What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it’s curved like a road through mountains” said Blanche DuBois in A Street Car Named Desire.  Blanche, in her desperately dignified resilience, utters a famous line at the end of the play: “Whoever you are—I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”

In another context in the Middle East a couple of thousand years ago, a progressive Rabbi told a story to challenge our concept of neighbor—that is, who we love and care for—which is called The Good Samaritan. Throughout most of the history tribes, peoples, and nations have focused on who is in and who is out. If a person is a part of our tribe, our group, our friends, our community, our religion, or our political persuasion, then we attempt to love them and try to care for them. But if they are not in our group, then our tribe is quick to label them as “The Enemy,” and we don’t listen to them, care for them, love them, or seek to understand them. Instead, we cancel them. After all, they are “The Enemy.”

Jesus challenged this approach by telling a powerful story. A religious expert in Jesus’ day, challenged Jesus with a question. “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus responded, “What does the Torah say?” The man probably quoted something which he had heard Jesus say in another context. He cited two commands in the Torah, Deuteronomy 6:4 and Leviticus 19:18. In summary, love God with all your heart, and love your neighbor as yourself. Jesus said, “You have answered correctly. Do this and you will live!” The religious expert followed with another question: “And who is my neighbor?”

So Jesus answered the question by telling a story. A Jewish man was on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. He was attacked by bandits, stripped, and left for dead. Without clothing or the ability to speak, no one would have been able to identify his ethnic identity. A priest passed by and decided not to help. The priest could not discern whether he was Jewish and whether or not he was dead or alive. The priest was probably in a hurry to get to Jericho, and didn’t want to go through the inconvenience of committing time and money to help the beaten man. Especially if he wasn’t Jewish. If he touched the man and he was dead, the priest would become ceremonially unclean (which required an inconvenient week of ritual cleansing). If the beaten man was not Jewish, then the priest was technically not obligated to help him because he wouldn’t have qualified as a neighbor. The beaten man might not be in the same tribe as the priest. He might be “The Enemy.” So the priest passed by and a temple assistant also passed by on the other side.

Next, a Samaritan enters the scene. A despised Samaritan. Samaritans were descendants from the hostile Northern Kingdom of Israel. They had fought and separated from the pure Jews of the Southern Kingdom, had interbred with the pagan Assyrians, and developed a corrupted place and practice of worship. The Samaritans were “The Enemy.”

The Samaritan showed compassion to the beaten man. He treated his wounds with oil and wine and bandaged him. He transported him by donkey to an inn in Jericho. Because he was Samaritan, he risked his life when he carried a dead Jewish man into a Jewish city. The Samaritan could have been lynched as “The Enemy” by the inhabitants of Jericho. The Samaritan then spent his own money to put the man up in the inn for two weeks. The Samaritan devoted his time, his money, and his resources to care for the Jewish man in addition to risking his own life by entering into the hostile territory of Jericho.

After telling the story, Jesus then asks the religious expert a question: “Now which of these three would you say was a neighbor to the man who was attacked by bandits?” The religious expert gags a bit; he doesn’t want to say “The Samaritan.” He says, “The one who showed him mercy.” Then Jesus said, “Yes, now go and do the same” (Luke 11:25-37).

I think The Good Samaritan is channeling the heart of God’s love for every human being. Every human being is our neighbor, our family, and our tribe. We are all loved by God; we are God’s children; and we have a responsibility to every person. According to the responsibility statement in the AA community: “I am responsible, when anyone, anywhere, reaches out for help. I want the hand of AA always to be there, and for that I am responsible.” We are not alone. We are called to practice radical inclusion through communities of love.

Someone asked Mother Teresa once, “How do you do great things for God?” She responded, “You can’t do great things for God, only small things done with great love.” We are called to a life of service and love to our neighbors. We are called to show God’s love in practical ways with no strings attached. We are called be Good Samaritans. So, who is your neighbor?

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Prodigal God, Prodigal Pastor

Listen: “Lost” by Coldplay ft. Jay-Z

A couple of year ago I wrote my first blog entitled “What is a Prodigal Pastor?” (https://spiritualityadventures.com/blog/what-is-a-prodigal-pastor). At the time, it had been two years since I had resigned from Vineyard Church; I had been in recovery for two years; and I was not pastoring a brick and mortar church. I had been hanging out in twelve-step halls, attending a black church, and living in the Northland of Kansas City where I had founded and pastored one of the largest churches in the city for twenty-eight years. Even though I had had a very public meltdown at the end of 2018 and lost my career, I bumped into people everyday who called me “Pastor Fred” and continued to relate to me as their pastor.

The awkward thing for me, besides feeling humiliated, was the fact that I wasn’t sure what I believed anymore. I had gone through a “dark night of the soul” and didn’t have any sense of God’s presence in my life (in 2019). I felt like an atheist even though I have never identified intellectually as an atheist.

So I was thinking to myself with much angst: “What kind of a pastor am I?” I decided to call myself a “Prodigal Pastor.” I googled the title (in November of 2020) and found one short article that someone had written using that title.

So, it’s not an officially recognized title. It’s just a title I made up for myself which seemed to fit. It still resonates with me today. The definition of “prodigal” has two nuances: (1) it is the reckless or wasteful use of resources—extravagant waste, and (2) it is the giving of something on an extravagant scale—extravagant generosity or love. The Bible contains a classic story which has been called the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32).  It’s about a son in the ancient Near Eastern culture who asks for his inheritance early (very offensive to the father) and spends his inheritance on wild living. He winds up losing all his money and feeding pigs to make money and eat(about as low as you can go in Jewish culture). He finally decides to return home, plead for mercy, and hope he could work off his debt as a servant. His father sees him, runs to him, embraces him, and throws a party for him (extravagant and shocking for social norms of the period); however, the prodigal son’s older brother is disgruntled. The older brother has obeyed all the rules and his father has never thrown a party for him. He resents his brother and he resents his father. The story is a classic because it reveals how love and forgiveness can restore a wayward life; it reveals the extravagant love of a father (who represents God) towards his wayward children; and it reveals how the “rule-followers” are wayward in their anger, resentment, and self-righteousness. (See Prodigal God by Tim Keller.) Both “wild living” and “rule following” can result in different types of alienation.

I was a prodigal teenager experimenting with recreational drugs when, at sixteen, I encountered Jesus and felt called to be a pastor. I never imagined I would find myself in a second prodigal story in my fifties, but I did. As a pastor of a progressive Evangelical mega-church, I always had a heart for people outside the church regardless of lifestyle or belief systems. I never felt superior to anyone, but I did feel like I had something to offer anyone—specifically a faith community centered around Jesus.

By late 2018, I was a mega-church pastor of a growing faith community and yet I felt lost. By lost, I mean I felt disconnected from God, my vocational calling, and myself. This came about gradually over a period of three years (2016-18). For a second time in my life, I felt like a prodigal son.

In the aftermath of my private meltdown which was made public, I was questioning and doubting everything I had ever believed, yet I still hung on to the idea of a Prodigal God—a God of extravagant love. In the recovery community, people are challenged to turn their will and their lives over to the care of God or their Higher Power. A Higher Power is something greater than you that is loving and caring. In my darkest moments, I thought: “If there is a God, I hope he/she/it is an extravagant God of love. I need it.” In the Bible story of the Prodigal Son, the father puts aside his own ego, his own hurts, and his own pride and runs to greet his wayward son with unconditional love—beautiful no matter what your belief system. I needed some unconditional love.

I also realized that I still cared for people in a pastoral way even though I felt so broken and wounded. I was a wounded shepherd who still cared for wounded people. I was still concerned for people and their spiritual journeys towards wholeness. Maybe a prodigal pastor is similar to a wounded healer.

This brings me to my final thought (for now) about this “prodigal pastor” description. Perhaps a prodigal pastor identifies with prodigal people in need of a Prodigal God. A prodigal pastor has come to believe in an extravagant God of love and practices extravagant love—Love God. Love your neighbor. Love your enemy. Extravagant love is the main practice, not the right answer for every question. Even though I find myself with doubts and questions, as I have reread the Bible I realize that virtually every person in the Bible had doubts and questions, even Jesus. Doubts, questions, and disbelief are an important part of the spiritual journey. A prodigal pastor, in my mind, is on a spiritual adventure with other travelers, and is one who displays extravagant love towards oneself, others, and something greater.

As I have continued to connect with people I have listened to people from all walks of life and spirituality. I’ve listened to drunks and addicts and prostitutes and atheists and rabbis and pantheists and Buddhists and doctors and prisoners and homeless and LGBTQ peoples. I’ve realized that everybody is spiritual and I have been inspired by every type of person as they wrestle with the deep questions of life. I have found courage and hope in the strangest of places. So while I am less certain about many things, I am still radically committed to extravagant love. I like this idea: I am a prodigal pastor who loves prodigal people and I seek to love and serve a Prodigal God.

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Hospitality to Strangers

Listen: “Crowded Table” by The Highwomen

In 2008 I took my first trip to the Middle East to hang out with Arab Muslims. One of my close friends, Carl Medearis, had lived in Beirut, Lebanon for thirteen years building community and doing humanitarian work with Muslims. I planned my first trip with Carl in 2001 and 9/11 canceled that trip. I planned my second trip in 2005/6 and it was canceled due to the lingering effects of the Second Intifada. I finally made the trip in 2008, traveling to places like Beirut, Lebanon, Damascus, Syria, Amman, Jordan, the West Bank, Jerusalem, and Israel.

Before I left on the trip, I had many people trying to talk me out of it. Many Americans were still on edge concerning Muslims seven years after 9/11. I had many people say: “Why would you risk your life to go hang out with the enemy? The Muslims are our enemy.” My immediate thought was: “Jesus taught us to love our enemies and show hospitality to people who are considered strangers, immigrants, refugees, marginalized, prisoners, outcasts, and outsiders.” Hospitality is showing kindness and generosity to people who are not only our friends, but also to people who are different—The Other. Maybe even The Enemy.

On my 2008 trip to the Middle East, the thing that stood out to me the most was the hospitality I received from Arab Muslims. It was off the charts. My mom is from Savannah, Georgia and has always practiced southern hospitality, but this was off the hook. I was invited into people’s homes for food, conversation, and entertainment and I was always invited back. The Arab Muslim door of hospitality was opened wide for a Midwest Christian Pastor.

We live in a political and social environment which bombards us with messages aimed to stir up anger and hatred toward The Other. Algorithms in social media are actually designed to fill our feeds with content that stokes animosity toward The Enemy. We are encouraged to draw lines and hate someone who is from a different culture, a different race, a different religion, or a different political persuasion.

I think we need a radical commitment to hospitality if we are going to make the world a more loving place to live. We need to actually sit down at the dinner table with people who are different, ask some great questions, listen deeply to their stories, and hear the things that unite us as human beings. If we lead with vulnerability concerning our hurts, hang ups, and habits, then we will find out that we are not that different. Everyone has experienced hurts, fears, loss, sadness, grief, and trauma, as well as joys, loves, hopes, and dreams.

One of the highest values of the Bedouin tribes of the Arab Middle East is hospitality. In the harsh desert environment, survival often times depends on hospitality. Truth be known, the survival of our planet and the human race depends upon the gift of hospitality—an extravagant kindness and generosity which we show to the planet, humans, and all creatures.

The father of Judaism, Islam, and Christianity is Abraham, who was a nomadic traveler. Abraham depended on the hospitality of strangers when he was called to leave his home in Ur of the Chaldeans and travel to a land he had never seen. The descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob became slaves in Egypt and after hundreds of years they escaped slavery and sojourned as nomads through the wilderness as they journeyed back to the land of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, once again depending on the hospitality of strangers. Because of this, hospitality towards nomads, strangers, immigrants, refugees, and outsiders is commanded in the Torah (Deuteronomy 10:19). Jesus picked up on this and emphasized hospitality for the widow, the orphan, the naked, the prisoner, the hungry, and the stranger (Matthew 25:35-36).

In AA halls around the world, alcoholics in recovery are called upon to reach out to others who are struggling with the disease of addiction. There are over 100,000 AA groups around the world, not counting the thousands of twelve step groups dealing with drugs (NA), eating (OA), gambling (GA), sex addiction (SA), and a host of others. AA adopted a responsibility statement in 1965, which I interpret as the practice of hospitality: “I am responsible—when anyone, anywhere reaches out for help, I want the hand of AA always to be there, and for that: I am responsible.”

Jesus practiced table meals with people who were considered unclean. In a day and age when religious leaders avoided eating with certain people to avoid contamination, Jesus had the idea that love, grace, and hospitality around the fellowship of a meal (quality time) could be the healing balm that humanity needs. Love, grace, and hospitality have a cleansing, healing effect.

As I write this blog on January 15, I am reminded of the civil rights struggle for justice for which Martin Luther King, Jr. gave his life. One of my favorite MLK quotes as he advocated for love in the face of brutality, racism, and hatred: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

The hospitality challenge for this New Year: Sit down with people over coffee or a meal who are different from you. People who are not in your circle of friends and acquaintances. People with whom you may not even be comfortable. Ask some great questions and practice some listening skill. Let love begin to grow. Make the world a more loving place.

I think the country supergroup, the Highwoman, made up of Brandi Carlile, Natalie Hemby, Amanda Shires, and Maren Morris got it right in their hit song “Crowded Table:”

The door is always open
Your picture’s on my wall
Everyone’s a little broken
And everyone belongs
Yeah, everyone belongs

I want a house with a crowded table
And a place by the fire for everyone
Let us take on the world while we’re young and able
And bring us back together when the day is done

Shalom

@realfredherron, 2023

Progress Not Perfection

Listen: “Walk On” by U2

Recovery can be a slow process. Extremely slow in some cases. If you’ve ever lost a major pillar in your life, you know this is true. If you’ve gone through the death of a spouse, child, close family member, or dear friend, then you know. If you’ve gone through a divorce or lost a deeply connected community of friends, then you know. If you’ve ever lost a career, had a partnership blow up, or started a business that failed, then you know. If you’ve ever been ravaged by a devastating disease, illness, injury, or addiction, then you know. If you’ve ever felt like your faith was shattered due to religious trauma, then you know.

You know how hard and slow it can be to regain your footing. You’ve taken a hard fall, almost died physically or emotionally, and it’s hard to get back on the rock, find a foothold, and start climbing again. It takes more inner strength to recover from a life-threatening fall than it did to ascend the climb in the first place. And the ascent may represent a lifetime of loving, sharing, nurturing, giving, training, planning, educating, working, and investing—and then it’s gone—the loved one, the community, the career, the health, the faith, the belief—it vanishes.

How do you start again? Life keeps on moving without you it seems. People go to work, take care of their families, and go on vacations. It seems the world around you is in “ascent mode,” but you’ve fallen and your not sure you can get back up again. Life has lost its luster. It’s hard to get up in the morning and face another grinding day of deep emotional fear, sadness, and loss.

You are not alone. There is hope. There are a few proven pathways for recovery which we can follow.

Recovery groups. Don’t allow yourself to isolate. Isolation is the enemy of recovery. There are recovery groups for every kind of loss and suffering, and you can find them online. In-person groups are best for some, but online groups are easy to find and they can save your life.

Therapy. Find a good therapist, either in-person or online. There are some very reputable online therapy groups which gained popularity during the pandemic. They are usually more affordable. You can also find free online therapy groups as well, if financial considerations are an issue.

Nature. It’s good for what ails you. Connect with nature daily. Even if its stepping outside to feel the breeze and breath some fresh air. A walk in the woods has healing power as you connect with God and nature.

Meditation. Learning the practice of mindfulness meditation is a pathway of healing, restoration, and awakening. Contact me if you are interested in learning more about this practice.

Journaling. You can combine journaling with prayer and meditation. Dump your thoughts and emotions onto the page. It’s a type of therapy which you can practice on your own.

I remember reading a poem by Rudyard Kipling when I was a teenager called “If.” I have revisited it many times throughout my life, and there is always something in it which resonates with me. Here are few lines from the poem:

If you can dream—and not make dreams

   your master;

If you can think—and not make

   thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with triumph and

   disaster

And treat those two impostors just the

   same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve

   spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for

   fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to

   broken,

And stoop and build ‘em up with

   wornout tools;

If you can force your heart and nerve and

   sinew

To serve your turn long after they are

   gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in

   you

Except the Will which says to them:

   “Hold on”;

Granted, if you read the whole poem, you realize Kipling is talking about a human being that doesn’t exist. No one goes through life as an emotional stoic. It’s not even healthy. We are far too driven by the most ancient part of our brain—the amygdala—which is the fight, flight, freeze part of our brain. We need to learn to identify and process our emotions for optimal health and healing. But the poem does hold out some virtues to which we can aspire. If we loosen our grip on our ego, let go, and fall into a Big Love, then our broken hearts can find a foothold in the harshest of conditions. We can heal. We can recover. “No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others” (Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 84).

The speed of recovery (sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly) is not the focus of recovery. Recovery is a lifestyle—a way of living which enhances our own recovery and the recovery of others. Through our deeper connection with self, others who have experienced the same kind of suffering and loss, and our higher power, we find our hope and healing. It’s progress, not perfection.

Have a blessed New Year of health and recovery!

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Blogging on New Year’s Day—2023

Listen: “New Year’s Day” by U2

I have published over 100 blogs since I started Spirituality Adventures at the end of 2020. Thank you for reading! It’s a labor of love each week to write a blog. I write it, proof read it, rewrite it, and then publish it Sunday nights through email and Monday mornings through social media. One new reader shared with me that she went back and read all my blogs and loved them. I’m so grateful.

My purpose for blogging is to ignite spiritual growth and transformation. My blogs are a mashup of spiritual devotions and reflections drawn from six major streams of influence:

1. Jesus and the Hebrew Bible

2. The Recovery tradition

3. Mindfulness meditation

4. Mental health

5. Neuroscience

6. Pop culture

I am so grateful for those of you who read, reflect, and comment on my blogs. I will continue publishing a weekly blog in 2023. I also hope to publish a book with a collection of my best blogs, and I plan to start writing a memoir for publication. I would appreciate your prayers and support.

Here are a few ways you can help make 2023 a stellar year for me:

1. Share my blogs with your friends, family, and social media connections.

2. Make comments on Facebook and Instagram.

3. Go back and read blogs you missed and share the ones you like.

4. Consider supporting the blog with monthly financial support. We have a very small but faithful team of monthly supporters. Monthly supporters receive bonus content, so check that out. For example, I do an eighteen minute audio blog commentary on every blog I write. It’s a personal glimpse into my thoughts and feelings behind the blog. (spiritualityadventures.com/support)

5. Feel free to make private comments through email or direct messages.

I just wanted to give a big thank you for reading! Have a blessed New Year!

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023

Confused and Disturbed—A Christmas Story

Listen: “Blackbird” by The Beatles

Christmas is not always easy. Our societal expectation is that Christmas should bring a steady, easy stream of emotional joy as we celebrate with family and friends. But that’s not always the reality. I have a friend who lost both his wife and mother in the three months before Christmas and will be celebrating this Christmas with cherished memories while he grieves their absence. I have a Jewish friend who is celebrating Hanukkah during the Christmas season, but he recalls how Christmas historically (ironically) has accentuated anti-Semitic persecution. Another pastor friend was preparing for Christmas weekend services and the church water main broke due to the freezing temperatures, resulting in two to three inches of water throughout the building. Christmas is not always easy.

The first Christmas was not easy. Mary was a young teenager engaged to be married. According to the Christmas story in Luke’s gospel, Mary was a virgin who received a visitation from the angel Gabriel: “Greetings, favored woman! The Lord is with you” (Luke 1:28). Mary’s response? “Confused and disturbed, Mary tried to think what the angel could mean.” Confused and disturbed. Have you ever felt that way? Maybe dazed and confused. How about that combination? Life does not always deliver good news.

Mary’s story is not an easy one. “Hey Joseph. Guess what? I have good news. I’m pregnant. The Holy Spirit did it! Isn’t that wonderful?” Joseph doesn’t agree. According to the Christmas story in Matthew’s gospel, Joseph decided to break off the engagement (Matthew 1:19). Joseph did not believe Mary’s story. It took another angel visitation in a dream to convince Joseph to continue with the engagement and marriage to Mary. The suspicion of illegitimacy surrounded the first Christmas story. Life was not going to be easy for Mary, Joseph, and their new baby boy, Jesus.

What’s fascinating is that Mary, despite her initial emotional response of confusion and turmoil, found within herself a second response. After some dialogue with Gabriel, Mary responded: “I am the Lord’s servant. May everything you have said about me come true.” This is Mary’s “YES.” Her consent to partner with God in awkward uncertainty. Her radical acceptance of what is. Mary is dealing with life on life’s terms. Radical acceptance combined with faith, hope, and love.

How does the story of a pregnant teenage mom in the remote town of Nazareth surrounded by the suspicion of illegitimacy rise from the historical ash heap to inspire the world? Maybe there’s a pattern here for all to hear. Victor Frankl, Jewish survivor of a Nazi concentration camp, says: “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

Perhaps this is a story of how to see God or your Higher Power at work in the darkest of circumstances. Christmas. Hanukkah. Jesus. A light in the darkness. A song which pierces the night sky. Angels singing “Glory to God” in the dark black night.

I was reminded of a song from the Beatles who were reflecting on the long, arduous struggle of the civil rights movement in America. The song is entitled “Blackbird.” Maybe its more of a Christmas song than we realize.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly

Into the light of a dark black night

And then there’s that other Beatles song about a mother.

When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree

There will be an answer, let it be

For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see

There will be an answer, let it be

And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me

Shinin’ until tomorrow, let it be

I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

May you have a blessed Hanukkah/Christmas season!

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2022