Lent Day 39: Ghosts That We Knew
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In the eighth Harry Potter movie (seventh book), our merry band of heroes are hunting horcuxes. Those are places where Voldemort hid shards of his soul to let him live forever. Awesome. Anywho. When the crew found a horcrux, they had to destroy it. One of the items was found, and Ron was about to do the deed. Harry warned him that whatever comes out of it is going to be vile and vicious. It was. It was monstrous and cruel, saying awful things about Ron. He had to ignore all of that to be able to get rid of the item. That picture came to mind as I processed the things I confronted this week. Revisiting the experiences and memories of my past caused a whole slew of awful things to be unearthed. The problem was that I wasn’t as successful as ignoring those specters.
Back in 2020, in the height of the pandemic, a viral story made the rounds that got a major discussion going. You know that modern phenomenon? Like are they saying Yanny or Laurel? Is the dress blue and black or gold and white, and why should I care? This story was that some people don’t have an inner monologue - although to those people, finding out some people DO have an inner monologue. When I read about that, I couldn’t believe some people didn’t have a constant stream of noise running through their heads. And I couldn’t have envied anyone more. I have a full theater troupe going through my head all the time. Or maybe it is just my voice, but I am really good at imitating other voices. Either way, I detest this never-ending commentary. The meanest and harshest things people have said run on a perpetual loop - like Hell’s Spotify list of rudeness. “Did you enjoy feeling useless just then? Maybe you’ll enjoy this comment from ninth grade debate club!” There are some voices that are very loud. They are always the cruel ones. It is really frustrating how the insults are ten times more powerful than the compliments. Maybe a hundred times more powerful. I could have - I DO have - dozens of positive comments from my classes. But the one piece of negative feedback I get will override all of those. I’ll have a plethora of pleasant responses to something I write. The one troll will make me quit. Over time, the comments from my mom, my dad, and my brother have quieted some. Sure, they still come back at times, but they have been largely been drowned out by other voices. These newer voices have seized onto themes that I’ve heard most of my life; they’ve just intensified the sentiments, finding new and harsher ways to deliver pain. As a result, I’ve kind of pushed the OG voices down. Over the last week, after digging around, they have come roaring back. Which is why I’ve felt like I have been fighting off ghosts. People who are gone still holding too much sway.
The brunt of the forgiveness sermon series was over last week. Today is Palm Sunday, the start of Holy Week. This is the day when Jesus arrived in Jerusalem with his disciples. He rode into the city on the back of a donkey. The crowds threw palm branches (hence the name) and their robes (could have been Robe Sunday) onto the ground in front of the donkey. The crowds cheered Jesus’ arrival. Less than a week later, those same crowds would be chanting for Jesus to be crucified. After 40+ years in the church, many of those working in the church world, I have heard a LOT of sermons. There are certain weeks during the year - Easter, Christmas, Pledge Drive Week - where there isn’t a lot of creativity in the messages. So I’ve heard the standard Palm Sunday sermon many many many times. Instead, the Scripture reading in preparation for the sermon was Luke 14:25-33. Oh goodie. Going back to my lengthy history in church, there are some passages that I have heard sermons on quite a bit that I have grown to hate. Hate the sermons, hate the passages. Maybe the passages are from the parts of the Bible that are reeeaaallly hard to stomach. Maybe it is from passages that I believe are being misinterpreted (Malachi 3, looking in your general direction). Often, though, it is a passage that has been turned into a guilt-trip, emotional terrorism, a bludgeon. Luke 14:25-33 falls into that last category.
Going to our New King David Version, Jesus is on his World Tour. He’s going around, doing awesome miracles. He’s healing people. He’s telling amazing stories. He’s dropping dis tracks on the Pharisees, tweaking them at every opportunity. The people are responding like Kevin Harlan in the Furman / Virginia NCAA Tournament game. “Did he? Oh no he didn’t!” As a result, Jesus is gaining a lot of popularity from the average people. Who wouldn’t be game to watch a wizard work? He’s magical. He’s creating magic everywhere he goes. People like magic. The Pharisees don’t. They’re like the guy at the magic show trying to find the strings and trap doors. But the crowds that are following Jesus aren’t really getting what is going or what is being said. They like seeing the Pharisees get roasted. They like the stage show. They like that Jesus seems to be siding with them. But they don’t understand that this isn’t a traveling carnival. Jesus isn’t a wizard. There isn’t smoke and mirrors. This is really important stuff. So in what could be described as one of the worst marketing campaigns ever, Jesus tells these crowds of people just what it will cost them to follow him long term. He starts off with this: “If anyone comes to Me and does not hate his father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters—yes, even his own life—he cannot be My disciple. And whoever does not carry his cross and follow Me cannot be My disciple.”
I’m sure the disciples were wincing. I still wince when I read it because it is so extreme. I’ve heard this sermon preached where the speaker says that Jesus was saying your love for Him should be so strong that your love for anyone else looks like hate. Nice sentiment, kind of illogical. I’ve also heard people say that hate means hate. That we should be so devoted that - in the words of the great theologians Metallica - nothing else matters. I grew up in a house with one parent who pretty much subscribed to those beliefs. I can’t believe that is what Jesus meant - what with all of the messages about loving people. Also, this kind of leads into that whole mindset of “too heavenly minded to do any earthly good.” But it sure is a great way to preach this sermon to keep your congregation in line! It gives the pastor plenty of opportunity to bluster and scream (lots of pastors love the screaming). They can harp on how people aren’t devoted enough. There was one time a guy preached this sermon at a church where I was on staff. He was a traveling evangelist. That’s a guy who spends most of his career visiting churches and throwing hand grenades into them, scampering off where he doesn't have to deal with the damage. No, I had to deal with the damage. My students were so distraught after the sermon that I had to hold an impromptu get-together just to calm them down. That’s how extreme this joker was. Needless to say, I’m a bit hesitant about how this passage is going to be preached.
So today I see Lucas, my good buddy Lucas, stepping up and starting with this passage, my first thought was “awwwwwdammit.” I wasn’t in a great place mentally or emotionally. I had been reading into everything everyone was doing, getting myself worked up about stuff. I was feeling like people were getting tired of me … again. And now THIS!?! I would rather just hear the standard plain vanilla Palm Sunday sermon than this one. But this is what I love Lucas. Once again, he went in a different direction than I could have expected. Honestly, what he said was kind of a callback to The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F***. We should be clear about what we are doing. We should have our purpose in sight and not allow things to distract us, even family. Then he talked about how if a small girl wanted to study the ocean, she would take a bucket and pull some water out of the giant ocean to look at it. But if she became a marine biologist, she would need to study something more like the Georgia Aquarium. She can’t fit all of what she needs to study in her bucket. You’ve heard of Elf on a Shelf, now there is Whale in a Pail. You can’t fit a whale in a pail! If you want to study a whale shark, you have to go somewhere that can fit a whale shark. The water was a metaphor for God’s love, His presence, His essence. When we are younger, we can handle the tiny version of God that comes from kids’ church. But when we are older, for us to continue to grow and do what we are called to do, we have to move on. We outgrow the previous container.
What does this have to do with my ghost battles? Lucas made a valuable point: it is okay to move on. It is okay to move past those places, those PEOPLE. He even went so far as to say as a parent, we should WANT our kids to move past us - especially if we aren’t doing the things we should. It was especially poignant because his two sons were there today being baptized. So he said that if his sons were to see him doing something that goes against Jesus, they should choose Jesus. If they hear him cursing someone out on I-26, they should choose Jesus over him. If they hear him wishing someone would take Caitlin Clark out Tonya Harding style during the Final Four, they should choose Jesus over him. (Okay, maybe that was me.) Once again, Lucas delivering exactly what I needed. That’s the message about those ghosts. I outgrew them. I outgrew them a long time ago. I have often felt guilty - been made to feel guilty - for moving away and staying away from my home. But I had to. I could never have become the man I am without doing that. And it is why there have been times where Heather and I had to decide to move. When she graduated from medical school, we had to face the dreaded residency match. It’s a convoluted process whereby the hundreds of graduating med school students are paired with their residency location and program. We were living in Orlando - the city where we had a church, had friends, were close to family. And we entered the interview process with the full intentions of ranking Orlando first and staying there for good. Only… There was this spark of something when she interviewed in Columbia. We talked and prayed, and we felt that it was best for all of us to move away. It wasn’t easy at ALL. It was lonely. It was stressful. It set us on a road where we ended up in Texas - further away from everyone - and permanently back in Columbia. But it was what we all needed. I needed to be away, on my own, in order to become what I needed to become. I’ve gone through a lot of growth over the last ten years, and I don’t think it would have happened if I was still in the city where I went to college. There is an Avett Brothers line from the song “The Perfect Space” that has always resonated with me: “I wanna have friends, that I can trust. That love me for the man I’ve become, not the man that I was.”
Those voices, those memories I had to dig up - what they said probably wasn’t true back then. But they sure aren’t true now. The ones that said I was an angry person. I wasn't an angry person; I was someone who didn't know how to handle being overwhelmed and out of control, so I lashed out. And now? I am definitely not an angry person. Our house doesn’t have yelling and screaming. I don’t resort to explosions any more. The voices that said I was overly negative. I may have been, but how would I have been anything else at that point? That’s what was modeled consistently, and life was kind of a shit show. Now? One of my most defining character traits is being an encourager, a cheerleader. I do it for my wife (evenwearing the little skirt - what!?!), for my kids, for my kids’ friends, for my students, for my friends. That’s not negative. The voices that said I was lazy. Yeah, I could be prone to laziness. But I was a kid and a teenager. (Not at the same time.) Name a kid who isn’t lazy when they can be. I have undisposed of trash on the kitchen counter to make that demonstration clear. I keep up with our house, work part time, drive people all over the place, keep everything running for our clan - all while suffering from Rheumatoid Arthritis. That isn’t lazy. The point is, those people didn’t really understand me then, and they sure as hell don’t understand me now. There voices were dismissive and harmful and … wrong. And today they are talking about someone who never existed and doesn’t exist. And it is okay for me to move past them. That’s the answer I kind of got last week but wasn’t ready to hear yet. I needed to dig those bodies up and face them one more time, so I could say goodbye. I’ll always love them (Dolly FTW!), but I need to be moving on.
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