A couple of weeks ago, some of the team had an opportunity to attend a one day conference on mental health and addiction. It was organized by a church based group who work with and try to educate church people on these issues and the people living with them.
I went to two 'breakouts' - Addiction, and Spiritual Care of the Mentally Ill. Both very good and very helpful.
The Spiritual Care session started with the speaker asking us all to define the word "spiritual". The responses were really interesting.
"Being like Jesus". "Following God". "Showing kindness".
I whispered to my friend in the next chair, "Aren't these all kind of Sunday School answers?"
She frowned a bit and nodded.
The word "spiritual" doesn't mean to the rest of the world what it means to the church. We need to work on that. You can't meet people where they are, if you think they're someplace else.
During the session on addiction, there was some really interesting discussion. People sharing their experiences and their uncertainties.
How do you, as a follower of Jesus, relate to the addicted? The self destructive, trapped, deluded. The ones who hurt everybody around them by hurting themselves.
One woman, who works as a nurse in a neo-natal ICU described sitting for hours rocking and rocking and rocking a screaming baby who can't sleep because he was born addicted to crack and isn't getting any anymore. The pain she felt, the helplessness, the frustration. The disgust.
The question she asked was, "How can I love the parents of this baby? The Bible says we're to love everyone, but they come in, all worried and upset and all 'Oh my poor baby, I love him.' And I just want to tell them, 'Well you didn't love him enough to stop using while you were pregnant. Why should I feel sorry for you?' I know I should love them, but I can't. I just can't."
Powerful question.
How can I love them when I can't?
I was talking to somebody today and the name of a particular person came up. A person who used to be in a position of authority at the Motel. Who used that authority to manipulate and threaten and control and frighten. I won't get into all the details, but this is one extremely nasty piece of work. Who calls himself a Christian, but treats vulnerable people like bits of play dough he just scraped up out of the carpet.
I don't like him and can barely tolerate him. And I certainly can't love him.
I'm not sure I want to.
After all he's done to the people I care about, the harm he's done to them, the disrepute he's brought to the name of Jesus, the wedge he's driven between the Kingdom of Heaven and the poor in spirit.
I can't and I don't want to.
The closest I've been able to bring myself to anything approaching love for this man is a sort of unconvinced pity.
I suppose, I guess, maybe he's pathetic. Probably lonely, definitely in for a nasty surprise some day.
But, for the foreseeable future, that's it.
So I appreciated the answer that was given to the woman at the addiction seminar.
The instructor told her, "Then don't love those parents. If you can't, don't. That's not why you're there. You're there to love those babies. That's your passion. That's your calling. Do that."
For now, I'll take it.
r
I went to two 'breakouts' - Addiction, and Spiritual Care of the Mentally Ill. Both very good and very helpful.
The Spiritual Care session started with the speaker asking us all to define the word "spiritual". The responses were really interesting.
"Being like Jesus". "Following God". "Showing kindness".
I whispered to my friend in the next chair, "Aren't these all kind of Sunday School answers?"
She frowned a bit and nodded.
The word "spiritual" doesn't mean to the rest of the world what it means to the church. We need to work on that. You can't meet people where they are, if you think they're someplace else.
During the session on addiction, there was some really interesting discussion. People sharing their experiences and their uncertainties.
How do you, as a follower of Jesus, relate to the addicted? The self destructive, trapped, deluded. The ones who hurt everybody around them by hurting themselves.
One woman, who works as a nurse in a neo-natal ICU described sitting for hours rocking and rocking and rocking a screaming baby who can't sleep because he was born addicted to crack and isn't getting any anymore. The pain she felt, the helplessness, the frustration. The disgust.
The question she asked was, "How can I love the parents of this baby? The Bible says we're to love everyone, but they come in, all worried and upset and all 'Oh my poor baby, I love him.' And I just want to tell them, 'Well you didn't love him enough to stop using while you were pregnant. Why should I feel sorry for you?' I know I should love them, but I can't. I just can't."
Powerful question.
How can I love them when I can't?
I was talking to somebody today and the name of a particular person came up. A person who used to be in a position of authority at the Motel. Who used that authority to manipulate and threaten and control and frighten. I won't get into all the details, but this is one extremely nasty piece of work. Who calls himself a Christian, but treats vulnerable people like bits of play dough he just scraped up out of the carpet.
I don't like him and can barely tolerate him. And I certainly can't love him.
I'm not sure I want to.
After all he's done to the people I care about, the harm he's done to them, the disrepute he's brought to the name of Jesus, the wedge he's driven between the Kingdom of Heaven and the poor in spirit.
I can't and I don't want to.
The closest I've been able to bring myself to anything approaching love for this man is a sort of unconvinced pity.
I suppose, I guess, maybe he's pathetic. Probably lonely, definitely in for a nasty surprise some day.
But, for the foreseeable future, that's it.
So I appreciated the answer that was given to the woman at the addiction seminar.
The instructor told her, "Then don't love those parents. If you can't, don't. That's not why you're there. You're there to love those babies. That's your passion. That's your calling. Do that."
For now, I'll take it.
r
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