A year of humility

If the twelve months between August 2008 and August 2009 were the year of accomplishment, the same period since then has been the year of humility. I came out of seminary full of confidence that I had found the path to which God had been calling me, and that I had been well equipped with the tools with which to follow it. I suppose the confidence I’m on the right track still exists, but today I have a much higher awareness of how unprepared I am to carry out day-to-day tasks on this trail marked with tripping roots and scratching thorns.

Many of you know that I have been working for the past year as an intensive in-home family therapist for an organization that primarily serves the poor and underserved. It is as much a struggle to serve this population as it is a thrill, knowing that a key part of Jesus’ ministry was living with forgotten and disparaged people, going into their homes and loving them on a daily basis. It is the chance to experience this aspect of the life of Christ that makes this work a spiritual experience like I’ve never known. But my sin is exposed at new levels on a regular basis, and if there is anything with which I struggle, it is knowing the truth about myself. It may be even more difficult for me to tell the truth about myself.

But the truth is I am arrogant. The truth is I have lived a privileged life, and I have little sympathy or patience for those who have lived otherwise. They’re where they are as a result of their own choices, after all. If they didn’t want to face the difficulties of parenting, maybe they just shouldn’t have had children; shoot, maybe they just shouldn’t have had sex. Those were choices I made and continue to make. Therefore, they have no excuse. Therefore my frustration, my impatience, my disdain for them is justified.

By God’s grace alone, I am learning more from the families with whom I work than they are learning from me.

I am particularly troubled these days by a recent event in which my carelessness probably led to deeper trust wounds for a local mom. Due to confidentiality, I cannot write openly about the details, however, I believe I can say it involves my use of language that could easily be interpreted as condescending, it involves my subversiveness and general lack of transparency for my motivations, it involves my inattention to who received messages intended for another.

An artist I respect, Derek Webb, has been recorded saying, “The best thing that can happen to you is that your sin is broadcast on the five o’clock news.” Well, mine was broadcast closer to the noon report, but I was blatantly exposed all the same. And you know, I’m glad. Despite the shame, despite my subsequent discomfort (for which I have yet had relief), my lack of discretion motivated Mom to respond appropriately to the threat I imposed on her family’s emotions and trust. My guilt helped open my eyes to my limits, and my grief has driven me back to the Cross.

Thank God for his sovereignty! Do you think he didn’t know my error was coming? Do you think it is a coincidence that I have been reading James’ letter this week? He knows who, when, where and how he will redeem those whom he has chosen, and he has known it from the beginning. “Oh wretched man that I am,” I am utterly dependent on him, whether I recognize it or not.

I also have found God’s providence in positive work I have done with another family. Some words that came out of my mouth this week with another mom sounded something like, “When you run into a task that you find too hard, ask for help.” These are boom-a-rang instructions for me.

Needless to say, this has been a season of growth for me full of growing pains. I have spent a lot of time over the past year complaining about this job. It is unstable, with long periods of low work availability and an apparently fickle funding source. It often feels futile; where do you start with a family with one mom, three children under 6, by three different men, a one-room basement for shelter, no job, no education and no other supports? And I have another organization, through the Church no less, that has little, if any, capacity for serving the poor on a consistent basis at present, and therefore presents fewer challenges to my sin of partiality and lack of trust in my maker. At the beginning of this month, I was so bold as to declare that my intentions were to go full time with that organization as soon as possible, hopefully before the end of the year and maybe before the end of August.

I am starting to wonder if that statement was just evidence I was looking to avoid taking the present steps of my calling. God shows me my path with a lamp unto my feet, and I didn’t like what little I was seeing.

Before the summer started, one of my supervisors, who happens to be one of the founders of our organization’s theoretical framework for family therapy, took a 30 second blink at a tape I was presenting before a group. He said nothing about my technique or my intervention. He said, “You need more humility.” I protested and looked for help from another supervisor as if to say, “This guy can’t be serious, right?” The supervisor did not relent, and even increased the intensity, saying I didn’t need to be the leader on the case, but a secondary counselor on the treatment team. I was shattered, and at the time, confused. I wasn’t expecting to hear such a direct critique.

Three months later, I’m still picking up the pieces of truth, and I’m only starting to understand that it is from this place of brokenness that I must come if I am, and those with whom I come in contact are, to heal.