Thursday, April 18, 2013

Collecting Stories Hidden In Smoke

                When people ask me what type of writing I do, I tell them that I collect stories. Which is true. I’ve spent the last 6 years or so sitting on my back porch surrounded by a cloud of smoke, sharing thoughts with my friends. The truth is, I don’t have many original thoughts in my head. But I suppose that I’ve always been a good listener which counts for something.

                The trouble with what I do is that it seems easy. It’s not at all difficult to sit behind a laptop punching buttons marked with letters to form words and sentences. It’s usually pretty simple to recount the things that have been told to me over the years. Sure there is a small amount of effort involved. Plus there is the time spent and the effort of turning off the television long enough to form coherent thoughts. I sure do look like I know what I’m doing.

                Do you want to know the truth? Honestly?

The reality of my situation is that I live in a constant state of anxiety and fear. I sometimes wonder why I believe some of the things that I do.  I worry that every thought I’ve ever had will amount to nothing at all. I ask questions but sometimes don’t want to know the answers. I don’t live up to expectations.

I’m afraid that I may have gotten it all wrong.

I suppose it would not be a stretch to assume someone could read my words and think that I speak from a position of authority. It would be equally as likely for someone to assume I’m full of it. But I think we often project an image onto people based on their position. Politicians, celebrities, pastors. It comes up more often in churches and religious institutions. We think that because someone is a pastor or worship leader that they have it all figured out. Their lives must be pretty great. The reality is that most of the time they are more screwed up than the rest of us. And I would know. I’ve talked with a lot of them.

I don’t mean to be critical of anyone. I simply want to take a few moments to examine myself in a way that may be constructive for others. Because I don’t have it figured out. I have conversations with a lot of people who are lost, confused, and downright pissed off with the way things are in churches or their own lives. What always stands out to me though is that many of them think there is something wrong with them when they have these thoughts. They think that they should have the answers. Not have doubts. Not be afraid.

Well, I’m here to tell you that you are not alone. I ask the hard questions all the time. Because I do not know the answers. I have doubts. I am afraid. Most of the time, I am depressed and feel a deep sense of pain in regards to where I am in life. You may be feeling some of these thoughts yourself. And that is ok.

My friend Charlie told me, “Knowing that you’re ignorant is the first step to finding something out. Ignorance of ignorance is the real problem.” I am comforted in a strange way by the fact that I am not as smart as I may come across sometimes. I think that admitting that we have a lot to learn opens us up to learning more. Especially about God. If we knew everything about God then He probably wouldn’t be that interesting. The more we question ourselves and humble ourselves, the more He can show us. And I like that idea.
 
When all is said and done, I only write with any kind of authority because I have listened to people’s stories. I have paid attention when my friends have told me the questions that they have had the courage to ask. I have been told of failures and the lessons learned from those experiences. I also have learned the lessons of my own failures. Hopefully, we can keep asking the difficult questions. I want to turn my own anxieties into something constructive and stop being afraid of what I don’t know. If you are looking for answers, I probably don’t have them. But I will keep telling stories and maybe we can find answers together.
 

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