Sympathy for the Devil
Here I am again, wondering why I’m being criticized and ostracized by the very people I seek to serve. What is it about vulnerable transparency that causes a feeding frenzy of anger and vitriol? Why is it that those most likely to rise up as leaders towards a greater vision, are often the ones to pull others into a mob of insults?
Seven years ago I found myself being criticized by the core leadership. In my attempts to stand my ground, my family soon found ourselves homeless and unemployed. Now, for the past three years, as we’ve struggled to pull ourselves from the pit of destruction, doing our best to hang onto sanity and normalcy (whatever that is?), and doing our best to survive the financial, social, and spiritual pressures of reality, it seems as if those most likely to be supportive — are not.
Seven years ago we struggled to overcome the stress of a cross-country move, a new baby, and some severe postpartum depression. Instead of finding empathy and support, we felt pressure to conform and put family on hold. There was pressure to abandon the values and principles of our calling, and to settle into a subservient role under the employ of those we were supposed to lead.
I left there angry, dejected, spiritually broken, and bitter. I was confused, discouraged, and barely able to keep my head above water. The next six years are a blur of change, struggle, and fear as we relied upon God to pull us through the valley of the shadow of death. I am amazed to be alive today.
Just a couple of years ago, hope arrived in the form of a real job — one that seems tailor-made for my skills, gifts, and calling. There was a catch though. In addition to learning a new craft, working full-time, and making just above poverty wages, I’d have to go to school half-time and earn a masters degree. Never one to back down from a challenge, I charged forward.
The learning curve for being an academic professor was more challenging than I expected. It wasn’t the teaching that was difficult, but deciphering the culture, expectations, and bureaucracy was challenging. It was as if I’d been transported to a small town in the past where everyone knew everyone else and what was expected. I, however, was an outsider who barely knew the language — let alone what was going on around me.
In addition, the obligation of doing my graduate studies weighed heavily on my shoulders. It wasn’t that the homework or reading was difficult, though time consuming, but that it was a constant nag of unfinished business. After two and a half years, the stress of being pulled in three directions was taking a serious toll on this 57 year old soul.
My family will always come first, but as a working man it is difficult to manifest that in our culture. There are many distractions to keep men from putting their families first. There are solid social norms that work overtime trying to get Dads to buy into the lie of busyness and financial success. And there are plenty of issues that draw husbands and fathers deeper into their urgent, but less important roles.
Obviously, an employee needs to devote time and attention to his work. I’ve always been a 110% kind of guy, but with age, wisdom, and better values, I’ve learned that I have to parse my time and energy in ways that will draw criticism. Everyone wants a piece of us, and everyone wants 110%. However, I’ve finally learned that I don’t have 110% to give in every aspect of my life. And interestingly, as I look around, I see many coasting and doing just fine — their saving grace is often their jovial attitude and long-standing relationships. Neither of which I currently possess.
This semester, as I looked at my schedule, I knew I had to scale my efforts to match my energy level. I knew I wouldn’t be able to give my employer 60 hours a week, but I was going to still have to devote 20 hours a week to my graduate studies. The sooner I finished the degree, the sooner I can get a raise that will bring me into a more survivable financial arrangement. And yet, I still have kids that need time with their Dad, a wife struggling with a chronic illness, and all of us still recovering from our days of being homeless and unemployed. Something has to give.
Naively, I believed that if I shared these challenges with my students, they would appreciate the transparent authenticity and be empathetic supporters of my efforts to pull out of the pit of destruction. Sadly, it looks as if I accidentally spilled blood into the shark tank instead. Rather than understanding, I got scrutiny. Instead of empathy, selfishness was revealed. Instead of support, I was attacked — but never face-to-face, always behind my back.
This is what I experienced in Oregon.
Last night, as I lay on my bed feeling really sorry for myself, I was reminded of Jesus during His crucifixion weekend. The very people He came to love, lead, and help are the very people who turned on Him. The very people most empowered to help lead the people out of their desperate situations, the leaders of the community, are the very people who turned the crowd against Him.
Instead of being thanked for all His work, all the miraculous healings (physical, emotional, and spiritual), He was mocked, beaten, and killed. And yet, through it all He remained sympathetic to their needs and brokenness.
Last night, as I lay on my bed, I found my anger being replaced by sympathy. These men, who could have been a force for good, instead chose to be instigators of dissatisfaction, criticism, and unfaithfulness.
Like the Israelites during the first advent, they had expectations which weren’t met. They expected Jesus to rescue them from Roman rule, deliver a product, and meet all of their felt needs. They did not expect Jesus to break their misconceptions, seek to inspire their curiosity, and reawaken their spiritual dormancy. They didn’t want to work for their salvation, they wanted it handed to them.
One thing I’ve learned in life is to not enable people — but when the dysfunctional don’t get their enabling fix, they get angry. They lash out.
My job has to be one of sympathetic compassion and a love that transcends critical and angry tribes. Like the hens pecking at the rooster when their food runs out, people are fickle and they want what they want — and they want it now.
If I’ve learned anything in the last seven years it is to not lash out at my accusers. I now feel sympathy for those who missed valuable opportunities with us. It is good to skip over those years of pain and disdain, and continue to love the clueless men of today.
I am not going to surrender my serenity just because someone else wants me to.
