I Feel So Break Up, I Want to Go Home

In 1927, the American Poet Carl Sandburg included a poem called "The John B. Sails" in his compilation of folk songs The American Songbag.  A little over 20 years later, the poem was recorded as a song.  But it wasn't recorded by the group you might be thinking of.  It was first recorded by a group known as The Weavers.  Over the ensuing years, others recorded the song, including Johnny Cash and Dwight Yoakum.  But the most famous recording is probably the one The Beach Boys released in 1966.

The poem (and later the song) tells the story of a sloop named the John B.  According to legend, a Welshman named John Bethel lived in the Colonial Bahamas in the mid 1600's.  His sloop, the John B, later wrecked near Florida.  The wreck of the John B became somewhat famous in the area which inspired the lyrics of the song.

We come on the sloop John B

My grandfather and me

Around Nassau town we do roam

Drinking all night, got into a fight

I feel so break up, I want go to home

Hoist up the John B's sail

See how the mainsail sets

Call for the Captain ashore

Let me go home, let me go home

I want to go home, why won't you let me go home?

I feel so break up, I want to go home

The first mate got drunk

Broke up the people's trunk

The constable had to come and take him away

Sheriff John Stone, why don't you leave me alone?

I feel so break up, I want to go home

Hoist up the John B's sail

See how the mainsail sets

Call for the Captain ashore

Let me go home, let me go home

I want to go home, let me go home

Why don't you let me go home?

I feel so break up, I want to go home

The cook, yeah, he caught the fits

He threw away all my grits

And then he came and he ate up all of my corn

Let me go home, why won't you let me go home?

This is the worst trip since I have been born

So hoist up the John B's sail

See how the mainsail sets

Call for the Captain ashore

Let me go home, let me go home

I want to go home, why don't you let me go home?

I feel so break up, I want to go home. 

Well, folks, this song sums up perfectly my voyage with Covid.  On Sunday, January 9th, my 22 month winning streak of not getting the dreaded disease came to an end.  About 3:30 that afternoon, my throat became scratchy.  As the afternoon wore on, I felt worse and worse.  When Myranda got home that afternoon from seeing patients, I told her of my symptoms.  I'm pretty sure we both knew in the back of our minds what was next.

I made myself a lair in Palynn's bedroom since it is isolated from the rest of the house and has a bathroom near it that everyone else could avoid.  Palynn moved in with Emma.  When I woke up Monday morning, I was much worse.  After a several hours long trek throughout Abilene, we finally were able to get a home test.  As soon as I put the drops on the test strip, two lines lit up.  The last time I saw lines like that on a test strip, it was good news.  It meant that we were positive for a baby.  This time, not so much.

By Monday night, I was absolutely miserable.  Chills, check.  Fever, check.  Sore throat, check.  Headache, check.  Cough and congestion, check and check.  Awaking on Tuesday, I had high hopes.  But alas, no.  I was still miserable.  Now, new symptoms had appeared.  Muscle aches so severe I thought I would die.  My eyes felt swollen with pain.  A flash of burning agony shot up from my jaw into my inner ear.  And the strangest prickle would randomly come alive in my nostrils.  I suffered through Tuesday lying on the bed like a lump of illformed clay that would never be useful again.

Wednesday morning, there was a miracle.  I felt better; not worse.  I still had a lot of fatigue, but I was able to sit up.  I made some calls, checked in with the Aldersgate staff, and sent out some texts.  I was even able to enjoy a meal.  Last night when I went to bed, I was so glad that the journey was coming to an end.  Then I woke up this morning.

As soon as I did, I knew things weren't better.  The Covid headache was back.  In fact, it's still with me even as a write.  But the symptom that I've dreaded the most, the one symptom I hadn't had and didn't want to get, it was waiting silently in the wings.  I had made myself a steaming cup of strong coffee and a delicate slice of perfectly seasoned cinnamon toast.  At the time, I didn't notice that the aroma of cinnamon wafting from the oven was missing.  I sat down to enjoy a leisurely breakfast.  I took my first sip of coffee.  My first thought was, "This coffee sure isn't very strong.  It must be getting old.  I'll ask Myranda to get some more when she is out today."

Then my world came crashing down.  I bit into my lovingly prepared toast...and nothing.  I lifted my coffee cup to my nose and took a huge whiff.  Nothing.  Quickly I grabbed my bottle of Lip Medex and inhaled a giant sized breath.  Nothing.  Filled with the deepest of darknesses, I crammed the whole piece of toast into my mouth.  I swallowed as quickly as possible.  Then I chugged my coffee.  Covid had struck again.

That's when the Sloop John B came to mind.  Throughout the voyage, the protagonist encounters one pitiful experience on top of another.  All he can think about is going home.  He wanted things to go back to normal.  Yet, he was still on his journey.  He had to suffer through before he could get back home.  I suspect that even after he got home, it wasn't the way it was before.

On my Covid journey, one symptom after another keeps cropping up.  I cry out to Covid, "I want to go home, why don't you let me go home? I feel so break up, I want to go home."  But Covid just laughs at me and has another plan.  So I sit adrift in the sea.  I wait to see what fresh new hell Covid will bring.  But in the meantime, I choose to sing and laugh at myself.  

Paint the Beauty

In the fall of 2021, a couple of people recommended a podcast to me.  Usually the podcasts I listen to are focused on comedy, true crime, or the supernatural.  I intentionally try to stay away from religious based things.  After all, it can become too consuming.  And I do have a life outside of the church.  But the podcast intrigued me.  It's called 'The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill' produced by "Christianity Today."

If you're not familiar with Mars Hill, it was a church planted by Mark Driscoll (and others) in Seattle in the mid-1990's.  At the time, it was a bold move on the part of the church planters.  Seattle is known to be one of the least religious cities in the United States and most people agreed at the time that a conservative church plant would never succeed.  But they were wrong.  Mars Hill did succeed.  Not only did it stick, but it actually flourished.

But this post isn't about Mars Hill.  There are hundreds of blogs about that if you're interested.  It's not a post about Mark Driscoll.  I don't know him.  It's a post about my experience of listening to the podcast.  As I reluctantly hit play on the first episode, I really wasn't expecting to get into the story as quickly as I did.  As I listened, I did get into it.  There was just something about the story telling that intrigued me.  By the time I got through the second episode I realized what the intrigue was.  I felt as thought the Holy Spirit was holding a mirror in front of me.  He was convicting me to examine my own pastoral leadership through the lens of what happened with Driscoll and Mars Hill.

Throughout Driscoll's tenure at Mars Hill, he manipulated the system to his benefit.  He refused to be held accountable by anyone.  If someone disagreed with him, he would angrily dismiss the person.  In fact he famously stated, "There is a pile of dead bodies behind the Mars Hill bus, and by God's grace, it'll be a mountain by the time we're done."  Instead of lamenting about the carnage he was causing, Driscoll celebrated it.

As the Spirit of God held the mirror up in front of me episode after episode I reflected back on my years in pastoral leadership.  How many people had I run over with a bus?  Was there a pile of bodies in my wake? How often have I used the system to benefit me?  These questions, and hundreds like them, continued to swirl through my mind.  With a repentant spirit, I listened.  Many times I dreaded the story that the next episode would reveal.  I was sorry partly for the Mars Hill people it happened to.  But I was also sorry for the things I had said and done in my own past that caused pain in people.

When I finished the podcast this week, two important things have remained with me.  First, is a question that's asked at the end.  "What gospel was Mars Hill preaching?"  I can't answer that question.  But I can explore the question of "What gospel do I preach?"  My hope is that I consistently preach the good news of Jesus Christ.  But what I preach and what people hear me preach could very well be two different gospels. So I'm being more intentional in my sermon preparation.  I'm intentionally seeking to balance righteousness with mercy and grace with justice built on the foundation of love.  If I fail to do that then I've failed to preach the gospel of Jesus.

Secondly, this podcast opened a wound within me that I've desperately tried to let scar over.  That scar is a result of the pending split of The United Methodist Church.  The opening theme of the podcast is a song written and performed by Kings Kaleidoscope, a band formed at Mars Hill.  The song's title is "Sticks and Stones."  Here are the lyrics:

Did I pledge my allegiance

For the purpose of progress

To a priest or a prophet

Playing god in the process?

Was I chasing convenience

In a wave of disaster

Where the captain's a captor

And I'm a puppet to pastor?

A worthless war

A curtain torn

To take control of this ship

A nail of shame

A broken vein

To write redemption a script

A truth-less gun

A dying Son

To turn the tables we flipped

Turn the tables we flipped

Paint the beauty we split

Paint the beauty we split

Paint the beauty we split

Paint the beauty we split

Nah nah nah, nah

They don't get it, I don't get it

We're committed to sticks and stones

What's a vision if it's driven to imprison?

I don't know

They don't get it, I don't get it

We're committed to sticks and stones

Undecided, but I'm trying still divided

So it goes

A worthless war

A curtain torn

To take control of this ship

A nail of shame

A broken vein

To write redemption a script

A truth-less gun

A dying Son

To turn the tables we flipped

Turn the tables we flipped

Paint the beauty we split

Paint the beauty we split

Paint the beauty we split

Paint the beauty we split

Turn the tables we flipped (Nah nah nah, nah)

Paint the beauty we split

Take control of this ship

Paint the beauty we split

Write redemption a script

Paint the beauty we split

Turn the tables we flipped

Paint the beauty we split

Nah nah nah, nah

Show me a man, an honest mission

I'm willing to hope beyond suspicion

Show me the race, I'll run the distance

Longing to give and taste forgiveness

Dying to live a pure religion

Settle the rush to chase submission

Open my eyes and soul to listen

This song was originally written as the band processed their part of the Mars Hill story.  But it is much larger than that.  When I hear it, I hear the story of The United Methodist Church.  Both sides of our church have pledged their allegiance to the purpose of progress to a priest or a prophet.  We have allowed ourselves to be puppets to whichever leader is in control of our faction of the church.  We have been committed to sticks and stones.  We have flipped the tables and in the process we have piled up the bodies behind the United Methodist bus.  

After I finished listening to the final podcast, I immediately listened to this song.  I wept.  When I allow myself to think about it, I weep again.  I'm tired of the posturing.  I'm tired of the table flipping.  I'm tired of the split.  So where do I go from here?  I don't know.  I'm disenfranchised from both sides of my church.  There is no place for me or my voice in the post-split church.  For now, I wait.  The hope I have is that Jesus will paint the beauty we split.  Somewhere in that painted beauty maybe I'll find my way.

Staffsgiving

The other day, someone I used to work with (and I greatly admire) posted the following on her social media page, "Y'all ever miss co-workers from past jobs?  I've met some really good people over the years."  And it got me to thinking, "I really have worked with some of the best people in my life."  So many times these women and men have seen me through some tough times.  They've celebrated the birth of my girls, they've laughed at my lame jokes, and they've listened to me vent about all the things life throws my way.

I've come to understand that as time drifts by, co-workers come and go.  One thing that Covid did that was totally unexpected on my part was to force us to re-evaluate who we are and what we want out of life.  That self-reflection took three people from the Aldersgate staff and moved them in a new direction.  As much work as hiring new people can be, it also gives me an opportunity to meet new people.  These new people bring a fresh outlook on the ministry we do, they bring excitement to our team, and they bring themselves into my life.

So today I celebrate my co-workers.  Each one of them challenges me in their own way.  Each one gives me a perspective on ministry and on life that I wouldn't have without them.  And each one brings to the table so many gifts and graces for ministry that fills the gap.  I love these people not for what they do, what they give, or even for how they help me.  I love each one of them just for being who they are.

+Grace and Peace,

Dustin

The Goodness of God

For the last several years I've been dealing with anxiety.  I really can't pinpoint exactly when if first showed up.  But I do know I first began dealing with it while I was in seminary.  Several things worried me.  I had a family to take care of, I wanted to do well in school, I wanted to learn as much as possible, I didn't want to let down my local church, I missed my family back in Texas, and the list just goes on and on.  At that time, I just dealt with it.  I kept telling myself that all I had to do was get through school and then everything would be ok.  But it didn't work out that way.

After I graduated and received my first church, I couldn't have asked for a better place to start out in ministry.  So many of the people there accepted me and my family.  They loved us, cared for us, and invited us into their lives.  But for some reason, the anxiety that I felt continued to build.  I pushed myself to preach better sermons, come up with new ideas, and do better than the best I could do in order to make my people proud of having me as their pastor.  After three great years, we moved from that church to another in a different state.  I again hoped that with a fresh start, the anxiety would melt away.  And once again, it just stuck around like a bad dream.

So I countered the anxiety by pouring myself into that church.  I did everything I could think of to keep my mind and body busy.  I started new ministries, conducted a capital campaign, worked hard to renovate an aging structure, merged churches, established relationships, and loved the people.  And when the anxiety continued to build, I ignored it and tried to improve myself by going back to school.  In the midst of all of that, the anxiety was kept at bay, mainly because I kept myself so busy that I could ignore it.  After five years of ministry at that place, I was homesick enough that I knew I needed to return to Texas.  By the grace of God, I was brought to a church that genuinely seems to fit me and my family.  I can't explain why, but we just all seem to fit together.  So you would think at this point I would be able to tell you that the anxious feelings I have ignored would now be dissipating.  But no.  They are still here.

I didn't realize how bad it was getting until Covid hit back in March.  I don't know exactly why, but since then it has been much worse than before.  I don't know if it was the downtime of shutdowns and non-pressing schedules, or if it is because of the uncertainty of what church will look like post-Covid, or it's because my denomination is facing an ever more likely split, but over the last several months the anxiety has continued to build.  

There are days that it seems absolutely unbearable.  Today was one of those days.  I have heart palpitations, I feel nervous, I get sharp pains that suddenly appear, and my mind has a hard time remaining focused.  My therapist has taught me a breathing exercise that helps calm me down to a reasonable level.  But I know that it's just a matter of time until it builds again and I will have to start all over with my focused breathing.  I don't like to live this way, but I also know that there's not a magic pill I can swallow that will erase this problem.

At the end of days like today, I am relieved that the darkness of night has flooded across the land.  I am relieved that it's almost time for bed.  I'm grateful that I have a wife who holds my hand.  I don't know what tomorrow will bring.  Perhaps the anxiety will be less.  Perhaps it will be overwhelming.  But regardless of what tomorrow brings, I'm going to do my best to remember the goodness of God.  After all Jesus is my only hope.  And while that sounds silly to some people, it's all I've got.  And the reality is that for me, clinging to the truth that Jesus is my only hope makes my anxiety at least bearable one more time.

+Grace and Peace

Dustin

Follow the Leader

One of my favorite games when I was a kid was Follow the Leader.  I'm sure y'all played it too.  One person would be the leader and then everyone would line up behind him or her.  Then the leader would walk, hop, skip, run, etc.  Everything that the leader did, everyone in line had to do.  It really was a lot of fun.  Especially if you were the leader!

But being the leader isn't nearly as much fun as an adult as it was as a kid.  A few years ago I read a book by Bob Farr called Renovate or Die.  The main theme of the book is to help churches get refocused on their mission.  One of the main things that Farr points out is that the pastor really is responsible for getting the renovation done.  And it's not always a fun thing to do.  One particular quote has stuck with me.  He says, "If you lead, you bleed."  I have discovered that to be true.

I used to think that leadership could be learned.  But I'm not so sure about that anymore.  Leadership is a lot more about making decisions that may or may not be popular with the crowd.  It's about weighing as many of your options as you can before acting.  It's about listening carefully to as many ideas, opinions, and voices as you can so that you can weigh your options.  Leadership is about doing the best you can to do what's in the best interest of everyone.  Leadership isn't about popularity.  And so leadership is hard.

The frustrating thing about the last few months is the lack of focus; the lack of unity.  With social distancing and many people choosing to stay home, it's almost impossible to listen to people.  I find it interesting that a lot of people have told me how well I've lead our church through this pandemic.  But I really don't think I have.  I've made mistakes.  I've doubted decisions.  I continue to have anxiety about what Aldersgate will look like post-Covid.  So I'm not quite as confident in my leadership as others have been.  

I suppose the most I can say is that I've done what has had to be done.  Nothing more.  Maybe some day I'll learn how to be a better leader.  But I doubt it.  Because I still say that leadership can't be taught.  It's simply done.

+Grace and Peace,

Dustin

Midlife Crises Suck

I turned 45 this year.  I have always heard of having a midlife crisis, but I never thought much of it.  But at 45 you realize that you are at the peak of midlife.  And at that peak I suppose a crisis is bound to happen for many of us.  And so amidst a worldwide pandemic, amidst a devastating church split, and due to the fact that I have chosen to ignore myself for a long time, my own crisis came bubbling up out of me.  

Now I'm not going to go into any specifics right now, but suffice it to say, this crisis caused pain in my own life and in the life of someone I love dearly.  But as I've pointed out numerous times over the last several months, there's always a silver lining even on the darkest, angriest cloud.  And the silver lining to my own mid-life catastrophe happens to be a man named David Hanson.  

To anyone walking down the street, David would look like just an average man.  There's really nothing extraordinary about him.  He looks like any number of other 30-ish year old white men hanging out in the mall, at a ballgame, or even sitting in the pew at church.  But you see, David has a superpower.  And that superpower is that he listens.  He challenges.  He pushes.  He cares.  You see, David is my therapist.

I never thought that I'd be the kind of person who would go to therapy.  I come from a long line of farmers and ranchers who work hard and don't really like to ask for help.  It's ingrained in me to the deepest core that you don't talk about your issues.  You don't involve outsiders in your family business.  And you most certainly NEVER seek counseling.  So, I guess you could say that I've broken the rules.  But since I'm not really a rule follower most of the time, it shouldn't be a surprise to anyone.

David did something in our session a few weeks ago that I can't really put words to.  And if I told you exactly what he said or what he had me do, you would probably think I'm pretty weird.  Or at least if you know me very well, you would think it was weirder than normal.  Without going into all the details of what the session involved, I will tell you that at the end of the session, for the first time in my memory, I began to love.

Now I don't mean that I began to love people.  I have loved a lot of people in my life.  My earliest love was towards my parents and grandmother.  Over the years, I have loved other people too.  My wife.  My kids.  My sister and her family.  Cousins, aunts, uncles, and other family.  When I became a pastor I fell in love with church people.  And through the Holy Spirit I am learning to love people the way Jesus loves people.  It's a life long transformation, but I'm slowly getting there.

But there has been one person that I have never loved.  To me, he was unlovable.  He is mean.  He's selfish.  He's arrogant.  And personally, I just never liked hanging out with him.  But due to the way things are in my life, I never could get away from him.  Over the years, I have learned to distance myself from him emotionally.  I have learned to keep him at arm's length in order to keep my public self safe.  But David has made me engage with him.  He has made me actually talk to him.  He's making me get to know him as other people know him.  And because of that, I am learning to love him.  In case you haven't figured it out by now, the person I'm learning to love...is me.

Now I realize that I still have a long way to go before I really can love myself.  After all, falling in love does take time.  There's still a lot about me that I don't like.  There's still a lot about me that causes me pain, that causes me embarrassment.  But there's also things about me that I'm learning are ok.  I can be a good guy sometimes and I've even been known to be generous at times.  

So today, I thank God for David.  I thank God for hundreds of other therapists who are on the front lines of the mental health crisis that is plaguing our country.  I thank God for convicting me and sending me into a tailspin.  I'm not sure where this therapy road will eventually lead, but I do know that as of today, I'm doing much better than I was when I turned 45.  

If you don't currently see a therapist, I encourage you to at least think about it.  There's nothing shameful about it.  And in so many ways, having one is saving my life.  If you do see a therapist, I want you to do me a huge favor.  Pray for him/her.  They need strength.  They need wisdom.  And even a therapist needs to feel loved.  

Even though my own mid-life crisis is what led me to David, I still maintain that midlife crises suck.

+Grace and Peace,

Dustin

Love, Cyberspace, and Grace

I met a man this week.  We didn't meet in person; instead I met him in cyberspace.  In fact, due to the anonymity of social media, he doesn't even know that I met him.  What amazed me about this particular person was the way that he presented himself to the world.  His entire demeanor was from a place of disdain and cynicism.  As I scrolled down through his Facebook posts it became apparent to me that he is an atheist.  I honestly have no problem with people who don't believe in God.  That, of course, is their right.  A person should be able to believe whatever he or she wants to believe. However, what bothered me is that he is an anti-theist.  He is one of the people in the world who does not want others to believe in God and when he encounters someone who does, he intentionally attacks the person through hateful comments and ridiculous accusations.

But even more than that, most of his attacks (in fact all of the ones I read) were aimed at Christians.  This particular individual pointed all of his barbs and vitriolic comments at people who are Christ followers.  Again, I suppose that that does not surprise me.  After all, Jesus told us that there would be people in the world who hated us because the world hated him.  In fact, I have been personally vilified for my desire to follow the teachings of Christ.  However, usually these attacks come from people in the church and not from the world.

My initial reaction to this man's hatefulness was repulsion.  I had a hard time wrapping my mind around some of the things that he had posted.  I could sense the deep disdain that he has towards people in general and disciples of Jesus in particular.  It seemed as though every breath of his body was mustered in order to destroy instead of to build.

But then I was surprised by how I felt next.  Instead of feeling superior (pharisaic) in the way I looked at him, I began to pity him.  I wondered what had happened in his life to make him so filled with hatred.  Was he hurt by the Church...by people who claim Christ as their savior but behave more like agnostics?  Was he disappointed by Christians with their pie-in-the-sky theology that doesn't translate into actual behavior?  At some point did he believe, only to have that belief turned into disbelief as he watched churches fight over the silliest theological differences?

I suppose any or all of these scenarios could be true.  I certainly understand church politics and I see how professing Christians treat one another and their neighbors.  Gandhi once remarked to E. Stanley Jones that "I do not reject your Christ. I love your Christ. It is just that so many of you Christians are so unlike your Christ."  So my best guess is that this man, who is about my age, that I met this week has probably seen the worst in Christ's body.  For that I am truly sorry.

The other thing I realized from my encounter is that only by God's grace am I not like this man.  I have seen plenty of fighting, hatefulness, and meanness so many times that I simply want to walk away.  But something I read has kept me firmly rooted in my belief in God.  "God is love, and those who remain in love remain in God and God remains in them.  This is how love has been perfected in us, so that we can have confidence on the Judgment Day, because we are exactly the same as God is in this world.  There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear, because fear expects punishment.  The person who is afraid has not been made perfect in love.  We love because God first loved us." (1John 4:16b-19)

You see, I know where my heart was before I knew God.  If I would never have learned to love, I would be just like this poor man I met on Facebook.  But I'm not.  It is only because of God's love, God's grace, and God's mercy that I have as much love in me as I do.  I recognize that I'm not where I want to be yet.  However, I also know that as I continue to choose love over hate and as I choose forgiveness over resentfulness, then God's Spirit will continue to make me look more like Jesus.  And dear friends, looking and acting like Jesus, not going to heaven upon death, is the ultimate goal of every disciple of Christ.

So I'm going to pray for this man.  I pray that he encounters someone in person who is a true disciple.  I pray that he sees the true love of God played out in his community.  I pray that God doesn't give up on him and continues to pour grace and love into his life.  And finally, I pray, that if I ever meet him in person that I continue to love him because God does.  Until next time...

Pastor Dustin