After scrolling through my many drafts of 'unpublished thoughts', this one called to me to let it loose. I have changed a lot from this post written over two years ago, but still have a long journey ahead. Written originally on 2/14/19 at 11:23 p.m. Enjoy.
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My heart broke to read her text to please pray.
Everything in me wanted to jump in my car and hurry to the hospital just to be present with her, give her a hug and pray with her. But between a Wednesday afternoon class and my Wednesday night program my hands were tied until late that evening.
Finally, my chance came. Kids had been picked up, classrooms cleaned, offices locked, car loaded - now I was off to the hospital at 9:30 at night. A quick zoom down the freeway toward Fresno Community Hospital and my heart was pounding to give my friend a hug and reassure her of God's presence with her.
Quickly, I found a parking spot and began walking toward the emergency room doors when suddenly I froze. My feet literally stopped moving and my heart sunk within me.
My anxiousness to approach the door wasn't because of the armed guard in front of the door so much as the question that always proceed hospital visits.
Being in my fifth year as a pastor I should be calloused to the question - but I'm not. Even worse, the question itself drives a knife already lodged within my spirit even deeper causing me greater pain. I wondered if I could handle the pain today. Do I have the courage and the strength of identity to walk to the guard and ask to go in.
The person who was moved in her spirit just a few hours ago by the grief-filled text of a friend, responded and rushed to the hospital. But in the approach of the door that same woman froze. She couldn't respond to the Spirit's movement because of the limitations (even though just implied) put upon her.
Has your identity ever been so striped that you can no longer even speak it aloud? Or has the constant questioning of your identity gone on for so long that it forces you to begin questioning your true-self too?
The simple scenario that made me so anxious goes something like this:
"Good evening. Can I help you?"
"Yes, I'm here to visit a friend. I'm her pastor and would like to pray with her."
"You're her pastor?"
You know that smirk people get when they don't believe what you're saying? That smirk and accusative question is the one that hurts the most. Sometimes my skin is tough enough I endure the smirk and go on in to pray. But other times I simply am not strong enough.
This particular evening I just didn't have it in me.
Perhaps my energy level was just too low to be able to handle the pain that comes when my identity, value, and honesty are questioned. Perhaps the wound in my heart from this topic is too raw for me to have the ability to endure another twist of the knife. Or perhaps I just didn't want to be reminded, once again, that I'm operating in a role in which I'm not respected or appreciated.
Whatever the case may be, my friend who was just behind the emergency walls, didn't get a hug and prayer from me on this night (at least not physically).
I drove home pondering the scenario. I had just driven twenty minutes to be with a friend at a time of crisis in her life. But I couldn't get past the questioning guard at the door. Even worse, I didn't even ask because I couldn't stomach the potential rejection. The guard may have even willingly let me in with a smile without the accusatory questioning--I'll never know.
Driving home I was reminded of Galatians 5:1, "It was for freedom that Christ set us free, therefore keep standing firm and do not be subject again to the yoke of slavery."
When I'm operating in Christ, I am allowed to live in full freedom as a fellow image bearer who loves Jesus in all that she is and all that she does. But when I operate under human leadership I have limits put upon me - I am once again enslaved.
Everything in me wanted to jump in my car and hurry to the hospital just to be present with her, give her a hug and pray with her. But between a Wednesday afternoon class and my Wednesday night program my hands were tied until late that evening.
Finally, my chance came. Kids had been picked up, classrooms cleaned, offices locked, car loaded - now I was off to the hospital at 9:30 at night. A quick zoom down the freeway toward Fresno Community Hospital and my heart was pounding to give my friend a hug and reassure her of God's presence with her.
Quickly, I found a parking spot and began walking toward the emergency room doors when suddenly I froze. My feet literally stopped moving and my heart sunk within me.
My anxiousness to approach the door wasn't because of the armed guard in front of the door so much as the question that always proceed hospital visits.
Being in my fifth year as a pastor I should be calloused to the question - but I'm not. Even worse, the question itself drives a knife already lodged within my spirit even deeper causing me greater pain. I wondered if I could handle the pain today. Do I have the courage and the strength of identity to walk to the guard and ask to go in.
The person who was moved in her spirit just a few hours ago by the grief-filled text of a friend, responded and rushed to the hospital. But in the approach of the door that same woman froze. She couldn't respond to the Spirit's movement because of the limitations (even though just implied) put upon her.
Has your identity ever been so striped that you can no longer even speak it aloud? Or has the constant questioning of your identity gone on for so long that it forces you to begin questioning your true-self too?
The simple scenario that made me so anxious goes something like this:
"Good evening. Can I help you?"
"Yes, I'm here to visit a friend. I'm her pastor and would like to pray with her."
"You're her pastor?"
You know that smirk people get when they don't believe what you're saying? That smirk and accusative question is the one that hurts the most. Sometimes my skin is tough enough I endure the smirk and go on in to pray. But other times I simply am not strong enough.
This particular evening I just didn't have it in me.
Perhaps my energy level was just too low to be able to handle the pain that comes when my identity, value, and honesty are questioned. Perhaps the wound in my heart from this topic is too raw for me to have the ability to endure another twist of the knife. Or perhaps I just didn't want to be reminded, once again, that I'm operating in a role in which I'm not respected or appreciated.
Whatever the case may be, my friend who was just behind the emergency walls, didn't get a hug and prayer from me on this night (at least not physically).
I drove home pondering the scenario. I had just driven twenty minutes to be with a friend at a time of crisis in her life. But I couldn't get past the questioning guard at the door. Even worse, I didn't even ask because I couldn't stomach the potential rejection. The guard may have even willingly let me in with a smile without the accusatory questioning--I'll never know.
Driving home I was reminded of Galatians 5:1, "It was for freedom that Christ set us free, therefore keep standing firm and do not be subject again to the yoke of slavery."
When I'm operating in Christ, I am allowed to live in full freedom as a fellow image bearer who loves Jesus in all that she is and all that she does. But when I operate under human leadership I have limits put upon me - I am once again enslaved.
