Turning the Page

It can be so debilitating to be told ‘you need to have boundaries,’ but as you grow the heart, a new empowered strength slowly builds within.

‘You really need to have boundaries’

How many times have you heard this said or even said it yourself?

I always feel a little cringe when I hear these words. There is just something about it that sounds legalistic, mechanical, rules bound, and policy-driven.

Nothing of the heart or any internal depth to it.

This is why I prefer ‘Lines of love of respect.’ It seems to connect better to something that is of heart value. Something that is evolving.

It also sounds condemning.

You know you need boundaries, but you don’t know how to get there. It’s like there is a lack of internal strength even to define a boundary, express it and potentially enforce it.

Condemning because it’s yet another mountain too high to climb.

Perhaps this boundary stuff is an inside-out evolution.

Evolution of the heart

The unfurling of a fern frond is something that has captured my imagination for many years. It’s part of the logo for Turning the Page.

Here in New Zealand, we call it the Koru ((Māori for ‘loop or coil’) and is the spiral shape based on the appearance of a new unfurling silver fern frond.

There is a natural energy that pours through the fern to unfold its inner beauty and strength. It’s an evolution.

There is a movement from the inside out.

An unfolding of its God-designed deep inner beauty and purpose.

I believe that we are much like this uncurling frond. If you try to force the process, you will break it. It’s got to happen in its own time and its own way.

Some words to consider.

Volution – A turn or twist about a center; a spiral.

Evolution – the gradual development of something. An unspiraling.

Beautiful Birthing

The most beautiful birthings I have given witness to are when someone has done the hard inside-out work. They have gone deep into the core of who they are and the beliefs they have held.

Toxic negative beliefs about themselves have been gently replaced by life-giving truth. The birth was not easy (never is), but it resulted from something growing within.

The heart is issuing, or giving out, a newness of life.

Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it spring the issues of life. Proverbs 4:23

The heart has grown from within. It hasn’t been forced or manipulated; it’s been a natural outcome of doing the work.

Often part of the process is to examine the toxic waste that has gathered around the heart and poisoned its true beauty and purpose.

Shedding the toxic waste

There is a toxic waste that often gets revealed through the conversations we have. The little put-downs, controlling attitudes, self-condemnation we say to ourselves and others.

Our heart speaks out both good and bad in our words and actions.

The heart overflows in the words a person speaks; your words reveal what’s within your heart. Luke 6:45

If we are aware of the toxin, we try to hide it, but so often, we may not even know we have some toxic, poisoned, stinky – thinky going on in our hearts.

Perhaps the groupings and relationships we have, develop and maintain the waste line. I wonder how many in Churches are trapped in groupthink.

Toxic theologies abound. You can read some of them here.

To Heal You Just Need to ‘Forget What Lies Behind’

Are you Praying Against Yourself? The Abusive Art of Self-Deprecation

Your Faith has Made you Unwell  

Does ‘Turning the other cheek’ mean I have to keep taking abuse?

Growing your heart

There is such a gentleness to this heart evolution that it’s hard to define. But it’s all enveloped in love. Love from others and a growing love and respect for the self.

That Koru of unfolding fern wouldn’t stand a chance out in the desert. Rather it needs the protection and nourishment of a sun filtred forest.

Discovering your truest value and worth is not self-centered narcissism; it’s more coming in line with the way you were always intended to be. The healed heart can issue out life-givi

Dreams, visions, and revelations are part of our lives, but what do we do with them? We can treasure them and find their help.

Each night as I am about to sleep, I pray a simple two-word prayer – ‘Spirit come.’ I then emotionally see myself being cocooned inside wide and welcoming arms like a little child that needs deep love and assurance.

I have puzzled over why these are the two words I pray, and I think it’s the desire to enter my new day within the embrace of Spirit (Holy).

See more about entering your day by going to sleep here.

I generally drift off in this prayerful embrace, but a few nights ago, I met a crocodile.

The Crocodile and The Christ

I was going to sleep, well I was trying to go to sleep, but my heart was anxious. Deep thoughts of worry and fear were bubbling around.

That’s when I saw the crocodile. It was kind of a vision, a pulling back of the curtain and seeing beyond what I would not normally see.

It was sitting in a swamp some way off, and then it saw me. It turned and slowly began crawling towards me. I couldn’t move as if I was mesmerized by it.

It was now racing towards me. Mud flying everywhere. That large tail was swishing and smashing everything in its path.

I was filled with panic and fear. I was going to be mauled by this huge beast.

I cried out, ‘Jesus, help me.

In an instant, there was a strong right foot standing on the crocodile’s head, pushing it into the mud. It writhed back and forth but couldn’t get free. Meanwhile, the foot remained steady, strong, and seemingly effortless in its action.

I looked up to see who this was. My heart knew at once. Hearts have a way of recognizing true friends.

It was the Christ. By the way, Christ is not a surname; it’s a title, a designation, a certainty. It means ‘anointed.’

This was the Christ that I think John saw when he wrote his Revelation.

But in my vision, he was tall, thin, and had the appearance of what I have seen in many icons—stoic, authority, strong.

It was the Christ who had been there done that. He wasn’t all macho and superhero; he knew his authority without having to parade it. There was a kind of Clint Eastwood stanch – ‘Go ahead punk (crocodile), make my day.’

I looked again at that crocodile, and it was still writhing and wrestling, but the foot just kept it there. Steady and strong, firm and weighty.

Then I looked at the Christ, and he was holding a scepter in his hand. It wasn’t a fancy one with gold and diamonds, more so it was a plain stick. It was worn and ancient old. But it carried the authority that all scepters hold. It’s was the one scepter to rule them all as such.

Jesus, the Christ, had won it all.

He was not going to allow anything to attack me. All I had to do was cry out.

I felt secure that I was known and held, that nothing could consume me.

This was the Christ of the now. The one who has risen and was ruling.

Dreams, visions, and revelations.

I think it’s important to take notice of your dreams, visions, and revelations.

Those moments where seemingly the curtain is pulled back, and we get a glimpse into something beyond the here and now.

I’ve not had many experiences as vivid as the Crocodile and the Christ, but I’ve had enough to know that they should be taken notice of. To hold them and listen to the emotional message they carry.

As I reflected on the vision, there were emotional components that needed to be taken in deeply. Fear met with overwhelming assurance. Vulnerability is embraced with being known.

The Bible is full of dreams, visions, and revelations. It seems to be a method God uses to cut through the clutter of our rational thinking. Starving Cows, full cows, fiery wheels, spinning stars, all pointing us to something beyond our ‘this present moment’ understanding.

One of my favorites is the eye-opening experience of Gehazi, the servant of Elisha.

Early in the morning a servant of the Holy Man got up and went out. Surprise! Horses and chariots surrounding the city! The young man exclaimed, “Oh, mas

For many, God can be like a drill sergeant, demanding and harsh, but that is a flawed understanding of God. When we look closely at the diamond, we can see other facets.

If you follow the rules and commands, then everything will be ok. Step out of line and watch out.

I’ve talked with many people about their understanding of what God is like, and after much discussion, we often hone the description down to being one of God being like a Drill Sergeant.

It’s a heart description; it’s how they feel about God. They may have an intellectual knowledge of God being love and compassion etc., but when you get down to a metaphor to describe God, it’s something akin to being like a drill sergeant.

That drill sergeant is going to push you. Shouting at you until you get it perfectly right. There are rules, and you need to keep them.

A drill sergeant is going to break down any personal disobedience in you until you become a machine. They issue a command, and you follow with absolute automation. The army swivels on a single command.

When I was a child, I was taught songs with titles such as ‘I’m in the Lord’s army’ and hymns such as ‘Onward Christian Soldiers.’

All very military orientated. Orderly, displaying God as a commander in chief.

When God is both commander in chief and drill sergeant, then you better follow the rules. No room for humanity or compassion.

Your parents, your church

Probably the most dominant influencing factors on our earliest beliefs about God come from our parental figures. Stern fathers and mothers. Punishment for breaking the rules.

Black and white. You’re in, or you’re out.

Then Church (read organized religion) comes with its set of dogmas and rules on living a ‘godly life.  We like certainty and direction, so we listen to the preacher and the Sunday school teacher warning us about the perils of stepping out of rank.

I remember from childhood days seeing pictures of people being thrown into Hell’s fires and multi-horned beasts. Some highly creative artists had drawn Revelation’s book into a weekly digest useful for scaring small children!

We’re all looking for someone.

I suppose we are all looking for someone to tell us what to do.

We all want someone to give us the command of what to do next. Do I pivot right, left, stand to attention, or be at ease.

Certainty, please, not a mystery.

In our hearts, maybe, we are looking for a Drill sergeant—a kind one.

And that is the real need: kindness and compassion.

Someone who will say

‘I see you’re struggling with the push-ups. Here, let me do them with you. And if you can’t do them, I will do them perfectly on your behalf.

Actually, I already have done them, but I know that doing the push-ups will help you grow in my likeness.

Let’s do them together at a grace/ pace you can handle.’

Every effort you make to try and impress the Drill Sergeant God is rather laughable.

He’s already done it for you on your behalf and in perfect formation. No more medals to be earned or brownie points to be gained.

It’s all about love and grace now.

Facets of a diamond

A metaphor that helps me understand what God is like is that of a beautifully cut diamond.

It has many facets or edges cut to give a face for light to both bounce off and penetrate and radiate out of.

Every facet has a different quality, but it is all part of the same diamond. It’s a part of a whole.

Yes, there is an element of God being like a drill sergeant, but if that is all that has captured our attention, then we are missing the whole beauty of the diamond.

I want to enjoy the whole diamond: every facet, every face. I don’t want to be enchanted and mesmerized by only one. Give me the whole of the diamond.

Yes, there are spiritual disciplines that can help my formation, but if the discipline becomes the object of worship, I have truly lost the alluring power and delight of God’s beauty.

Maybe another facet of God is that of a lover alluring us to be with them.

“Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lea

Being formed like a little child is something Jesus wants us to do, but how are we to do this as adults? Perhaps it’s by surrender to the potter’s hand.

Probably the most joyous gift to our family over recent years has been the addition of a new family member. Twenty-two months ago – in May 2019, my daughter gave birth to a beautiful little girl called Eliza.

We have so delighted to see her grow and develop as a beautiful little child.

She is being formed.

I see her quite often, and every time I see changes that have happened since the last Poppa time. New words, expressions, confidences, likes, and dislikes.

It’s like she is a sponge soaking up everything her world has to offer.

If we were to look into her brain, we would see incredible neurological growth.

New learnings require new pathways, and even now, at this early age, old ways that once served her well are being disregarded with the ways that serve her better. For a brief time, it was crawling, but now that has been superseded by walking. Soon she will be running!

It’s no wonder that little children need to sleep so much. All that brain activity and change going on. The brain needs to catch up and settle things into place.

I have also found that adults going through times of change, and perhaps deep therapy, also get tired. There is so much unlearning and relearning going on that it takes time and energy.

Becoming like a child

There is a difference between knowledge and knowing.

I have met many people I would say have a great deal of knowledge but very little knowing. In talking about God, they can quote this theologian, that book, history, and philosophy, but there is little intimate childlike knowing of God.

Limited awareness of coming to God like a loving Papa or Mama.

Jesus found this all the time. Even with his closest followers.

They wanted to know who is the world champion of spirituality. Was it Abraham? Perhaps Moses?

Today we might ask if it was one of our own personal faith superheroes – C.S. Lewis, Dallas Willard, name your favorite here.

Typical Jesus threw them a curveball.

At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” 

He called a child, whom he put among them, and said, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 

Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.Matthew 18:1-5

Two words spring to my attention. Change and become.

Those early listeners would have heard ‘strephó’ and ‘ginomai.’

strephó – to turn (transition); (figuratively) to convert by changing (switching) direction, i.e., go the other way (an “about-face”); taking an opposite or divergent course.

ginomai – to emerge, become, transitioning from one point (realm, condition) to another.

The other interesting word is the word for children – paidíon

paidíon – a child under training

This ‘child under training’ is going to be doing the twist and turn in its becoming.

You’re being formed, informed, reformed, transformed.

I keep thinking of a clay pot being formed on a potter’s wheel.

Around and around it goes. A little water is added here and there. The fingers work into the pot, and the pot responds.

I like to think of myself as being on that spinning wheel. Slowly moving and turning, I feel the influence of the master craftsman against my earthy life.

They have a vision of who and what I will become.

It’s a lifetime artwork for them. They press against my clay, and I respond. I push back, they pull back, they move in, and I move out.

I suppose it’s a kind of a dance.

Something both beautiful and functional is being crafted. I am being formed. I am like a child open to their movement and form.

O Lord, you are our Father.    We are the clay, and you are the potter.    We all are formed by your hand. Isaiah 64:8

The invite

The invite as adults is to become like ‘children in training.

It was a time to pivot, change, alter course. Dr. Larry Crabb met me at the junction. Larry went to be with his Papa, Jesus, and Spirit on Sunday, February 28, 2021.

There are times I believe that God brings people across our path that have a long-lasting impact on our journey.

I had just begun my pastoral ministry in 1998. I had the role of being a Community Chaplain in a large church where my focus was to provide pastoral care for those in our local area that had significant Mental Illnesses and disabilities.

I was to develop a church community where people could come and feel at home. Teaching, pastoral care, and support that was specifically focused on the needs of this community.

Prior to this, I had been a support worker helping people with serious Mental Illnesses with their daily lives.

Over and over again, I would see them try to be part of Church communities only to see them not truly connect.

Some church people would rescue them, preach at them, moralize them, and tell them to ‘try harder.’

In the end, Churches and the people in them weren’t safe.

I was then handed a book by a former student of Dr. Larry Crabb. The book was Connecting. Healing Ourselves and Our Relationships. 

In this book, Larry also talks about a pivot in this thinking. A subtle shift away from psychology to what he would later call Soul Care.

In recent days, I have made a shift. I am now working toward the day when communities of God’s people, ordinary Christians whose lives regularly intersect, will accomplish most of the good that we now depend on mental health professionals to provide. And they will do it by connecting with each other in ways that only the gospel makes possible.

I envision a community of people who intentionally mingle in settings where these nutrients are passed back and forth, where I pour into you the healing resources within me and you pour into me what God has put in you.

But that’s not what I’m doing. I have strong reason to suspect that Christians sitting dutifully in church congregations, for whom “going to church” means doing a variety of spiritual activities, have been given resources that if released could powerfully heal broken hearts, overcome the damage done by abusive backgrounds, encourage the depressed to courageously move forward, stimulate the lonely to reach out, revitalize discouraged teens and children with new and holy energy, and introduce hope into the lives of the countless people who feel rejected, alone, and useless.

Maybe “going to church,” more than anything else, means relating to several people in your life differently. Maybe the center of Christian community is connecting with a few.

Beneath what our culture calls psychological disorder is a soul crying out for what only community can provide. There is no “disorder” requiring “treatment.” And, contrary to hard-line moralism, there is more to our struggles than a stubborn will needing firm admonishment. Beneath all our problems, there are desperately hurting souls that must find the nourishment only community can provide—or die.

We must do something other than train professional experts to fix damaged psyches. Damaged psyches aren’t the problem.

The problem beneath our struggles is a disconnected soul. And we must do something more than exhort people to do what’s right and then hold them accountable. Groups tend to emphasize accountability when they don’t know how to relate. Better behavior through exhortation isn’t the solution, though it sometimes is part of it. Rather than fixing psyches or scolding sinners, we must provide nourishment for the disconnected soul that only a community of connected people can offer.

The crisis of care in modern culture, especially in the Western church, will not be resolved by training more therapists.

We do not need a counseling center on every corner.

It will be worsened by moralists who never reach deeply into the hearts of people in their efforts to impose their standards of beh

I need a nest that I can call home. Actually, digging down a little further, I need a grouping of relationships that know me, love me, and have compassion and kindness when I get things wrong.

The other day I was pruning a vine and there high above my head was a nest. It had long been vacated. I’m not sure what type of bird built this elaborate structure to raise its young, but as I looked closer, there was an intricate architecture to the design.

Twigs, grasses, moss, lichen all gathered and foraged from around the garden and woven into a home.

Here are some pictures of the nest.

  

With the ancient wisdom that had somehow been passed on from bird to bird, there was divine craftsmanship taking place here.  Every little fiber had been laid down for one purpose – to nurture the growth of the fragile.

Our Nest

We all have a nest around us. We may not realize it, but there are people all around us that provide some twig of support. It could be the professionals such as Doctors, nurses, therapists, etc., but most likely, the ones who provide the greatest influence are those that we come into contact with the most—our family, friends, workmates.

It’s a nest, a community. Oh, and yes, we are part of others’ support structures, their nest. It’s the ‘and next to them’ feature we see coming through from the rebuild of a broken wall in the story of Nehemiah.

I remember a counselor once contacting me about one of his clients that needed a nest. It wasn’t a physical nest but more a social-relational type of nest.

His client needed different people with different skills, wisdom, and life experiences to help his client to heal.

He had already assembled people such as a doctor, psychiatrist, and other mental health professionals. Still, he felt his client also needed a pastor and church community that understood the complexities of mental illness and recovery—real people living real lives.

So, over time, other people were added.

People with similar interests and hobbies. Some had backgrounds related to Mental Health, but many did not.

Some would go out for a coffee and have fun with them.

There was a kind of divine creativity going on to the building of their nest.

What surprised them was that they had something to contribute to the nest of others. From their lived wisdom, they were able to add strength to the growth of others.

A Road, a Ditch, an Inn

Jesus once told the story of a man that the brutality of robbers had dehumanized. They saw him only for what he had, not for who he was.

“There was once a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. On the way he was attacked by robbers. They took his clothes, beat him up, and went off leaving him half-dead. Luckily, a priest was on his way down the same road, but when he saw him he angled across to the other side. Then a Levite religious man showed up; he also avoided the injured man.

“A Samaritan traveling the road came on him. When he saw the man’s condition, his heart went out to him. He gave him first aid, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. Then he lifted him onto his donkey, led him to an inn, and made him comfortable. In the morning he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take good care of him. If it costs any more, put it on my bill—I’ll pay you on my way back.’

“What do you think? Which of the three became a neighbor to the man attacked by robbers?”

“The one who treated him kindly,” the religion scholar responded.

Jesus said, “Go and do the same.” Luke 10:25-37

There are many observations we could take from this wonderful parable. You can read more by reading an essay I wrote many years ago called ‘The Dehumanising Effects of Sexual Abuse.’ 

Nest principles

 1.There are some you don’t want in your nest. 

In the story, we see the Priest and Levite walking past.

Avoiding, not wanting to touch, and come close. For them, it was all about following the rules, the codes of moral and religious conduct. It was to be seen as holy and pure, but not t

There is a gentle approach to how the heart and mind can change. Instead of the force of a flood, it’s a refreshing rain. Let’s learn to absorb the goodness.

There is something very special to me about a nice soft rain shower in the middle of a dry summer. It soaks in, and the soil receives it as a gift of gentleness.

I have been involved in land-based businesses for many years. Gardening, horticulture, and farming. It’s those sweet, gentle summer rains that bring such refreshment.

Being like a sponge, the soil soaks up every drop. Then the microbes, fungi, bacteria, worms, and all the unseen world beneath our feet are replenished. Seeds germinate, trees flush with newness, and the land feels like it has been gently washed.

But it’s the downpours you have to watch for. Torrents of rain so heavy that they wash off the land, scouring hills, blocking drains, and flooding houses.

Learning and changing can be much like that.

Have you ever done a course of learning where it has been super intensive? That week-long course or maybe over a weekend.

You have had a downpour of information, and you come away exhausted by the amount you have been exposed to.

Your brain is at maximum capacity, and perhaps you wonder how much you actually took in. All those new learning bridges take energy and focus.

Gentle rain on the heart and mind

There is a gentleness on offer to help us in our need.

Slowly read and absorb these words that God speaks about how they provide wisdom for us.

Give ear, O heavens, and I will speak;    let the earth hear the words of my mouth.May my teaching drop like the rain,    my speech condense like the dew;like gentle rain on grass,    like showers on new growth.Deuteronomy 32:1, 2

It’s gentle and kind—washing and cleansing with kindness.

It’s not the volume that matters; instead, it’s the quiet presence of refreshment.

The droplet, not the drowning.

You’re soaking in it

Back in the 1980s here in New Zealand, there was a T.V. advertisement for Palmolive dishwashing liquid. The idea was that as you washed your dishes, the dishwashing liquid was also kind on your hands.

The one-liner from the ad was ‘You’re soaking in it.’

I want to be soaked in God’s kindness and wisdom. To be receptive to the gentleness of Spirit brings me the wisdom my heart and mind are thirsty for.

I want to hear and soak in the unforced rhythms of grace.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest.

Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it.

Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” Matthew 11:28-30

The walk

Can I walk with you? I have some questions about what has happened and need to talk them over.

So we headed off to our little town. Questions opened our hearts to new ways of thinking and believing. All the events of the last few days were puzzling, to say the least.

Then another traveler joined us. He gave us some explanations and asked us questions. It was like fresh encouragement filling our dried-out souls. We had a meal with him and soaked up his kindness and love. It felt like a burning warmth in our hearts. Luke 24:13-35

Why aren’t we there yet?

We are quite a demanding people, aren’t we. We want change, and we want it on our terms.

In our minds, there is a timeline of expectation.

How many times do those providing therapy, spiritual direction, pastoral ministry, etc., hear these words.

‘I’ve been coming to you for so many sessions, and nothing seems to have changed.’ Why aren’t things better!’

Perhaps also you have made the recovery process a job, a work, a demand.

Absorbing the milliliter

Much of the deep work that we so desperately need does not come with a flood. We couldn’t handle it if it did. Instead, it comes as a trickle, a droplet, a milliliter of goodness.

It might be a little word that meditatively sp

When you’re in a dark hole, it can feel like there is a loss of hope, but you can dig yourself out with some wisdom and encouragement.

It was a hole that I had fallen into. I was in a deep dark hole where the sun didn’t seem to reach.

That is what a mental illness can be like—All-consuming, overwhelming, and a  ‘blocking out’ of the reality of anything possibly being different. The fog bank is all-consuming.

I was in a hole, but I was not alone. Alongside though were bible characters who had also been in a similar place. Elijah, Moses, David, Jonah, Jeremiah, Job, Naomi, Paul, Peter, Judas, to name the ones that we know of that had emotional struggles. Even Jesus struggled with his dark night of anguish and a time when the sun refused to shine.

God handed me a spade and encouraged me to start digging.

The Anonymous Hole Dweller

One of the interesting observations I have made from blogging for many years now is that there are many people that I would call ‘Anonymous Hole Dwellers’. They know they are struggling; they want help but don’t want others to know about it.

It’s a privacy thing.

I’ll solve this on my own, D.I.Y. (Do It Yourself), and there is a fear of what others will think and how they will react.

So they reach out to find help on the internet. They Google search their pain-filled questions, see a page or two here on Turning the Page, spend some reading, and then they are gone.

They remain anonymous – unknown.

I want to give them a spade and encourage them to dig. Perhaps Turning the Page can offer a couple of footholds for their journey up and out.

The spade

To me, a spade represents hard manual labor. I’ve used a spade many times. In fact, I own about six of them. Each of them slightly different and suited for various tasks.

I have dug so many holes and drains that I know the feel of a good spade.

It’s dirty work: sweat, mud, and tired muscles. You cut the turf, push the steel into the soil and wedge the dirt out. Then you do it again and again.

Over time you make progress. You gain a sense of satisfaction at the progress made. It’s tangible and real.

But I don’t know of anybody that gets excited about digging.

It’s much like what this quote says about opportunity.

The reason most people do not recognize an opportunity when they meet it is because it usually goes around wearing overalls and looking like Hard Work. Thomas Edison?

Most people I have found don’t want to wear overalls and pick up the spade and do the work. Some people have become so used to their hole that they have made it their home. Decorating the walls with internalized victim stories, they live in an echo chamber of past events. Critical voices keep them from looking up.

When God hands you a spade

Let’s go back to that dark hole.

You are at the base of a deep dark hole, and the only way out is up.

So a spade is in your hand. You grasp that spade, and you start to chip and dig away at the walls of the hole.

After a little while, you have dug out a small hole big enough to put your foot in.

Then you dig another hole in the wall for your hand to grasp on to. You do this over and over again until you have dug a ladder, as such, out of the hole.

You climb a little, and you dig a little. Dirt is filling in the hole under you. You are sensing the light above filling your senses. Hope is beginning to rise in you.

You dig a millimeter more. You slip now and then, but because it’s your hole and it’s you that is doing the digging, you progress on.

With every successful notch made and elevation gained, something is changing in your brain. The electrical pathways are becoming more positive.

The way you used to think becomes a distant memory.

There is a new you that is emerging. Stronger, deeper, and more centered.

There is a resilience to your nature so that when the winds and storms of life blow, you don’t buckle. You bend and move with the flow.

It’s a millimeter foothold.

I like to think of recovery as millimeter ministry. It’s small enough to m

Why you get so angry can give a clear direction about who you truly are. It’s a matter of the heart. Your anger can indicate what you hold most dear.

As they became more whole, the anger started to simmer, then boil, and then it flowed over the containment of their life. It was, in a frightening way, beautiful and needed to happen.

Anger can be highly destructive. But flowing out without constraint can damage and burn. We all have this capacity to pour out our emotions of being hurt, mistreated, abused.

Some of the deepest hurts come from those we are in the closest relationship to. Those who we would hope and expect to know our hearts are often the ones who will not listen and show love and respect to our tender places.

I think of the patterns we set up so young to defend that tender heart. A little bruise, and a little slight, and we begin to build a fortress.

‘No one is ever going to hurt me again like that.’ 

And if that tender small inner child ever gets a poke or a prod, then out comes the angry army.

I get angry. I get hurt. But I don’t want my anger to overflow and burn up the relationships I hold dear.

Yes, those close to me may trigger an unbearable feeling, and I want to lash out in response, but I, as an adult, have to take responsibility for myself. My response is my responsibility.

What is it under the fury and fire of your anger that is causing you to explode?

Perhaps if we look at gender differences, we might find a clue.

An angry man

The chief fear of a man is that he is weightless, that there is nothing substantial or powerful about him.

That he is not going to make much difference in his world, in his relationships, particularly with women, with the children he has, and with his friends.

The lies he says to himself are ‘I’m useless,’ ‘I never do anything right,’ ‘Everything I do, I fail in.’

Every angry man I have talked with has a common theme—a loss of respect.

They want it from those they care about, but when it is not given, they demand, cajole, and try harder to win approval.

They want someone to see and acknowledge their purpose even though they may dismiss it themselves.

The question to ask is, ‘How has their purpose been dismissed’?

Read more about men here.

An angry woman

The chief fear of a woman is undesirability. At the core of a women’s being, they ask – ‘Is there anything desirable about me.

If a man really saw me, would he want me? Would he find me desirable, not just as a sex partner, but would he find me desirable at all.’

The lies they say to themselves are ‘I am ugly, both externally and internally,’ ‘No one loves me,’ ‘I have no beauty.’

Every angry woman I have talked with has a common theme—a loss of love.

They want to have it from those they care about, but when it is not given, they demand, cajole, and try harder to win love.

They want someone to see and acknowledge their inner beauty even though they may dismiss it themselves.

The question to ask is, ‘How has their beauty been tarnished’?

Read more here Men and Women are different.

Embracing the heart

What is it about the heart, that seat of the emotions, which is crucial to our wellbeing?

We sing about it, draw ‘heart-shaped’ images, give flowers, and so desire for it to be touched in delicate meaningful ways.

I wonder what your heart is like? What shaped its tenderness or toughness? What is it like for your heart to be known, explored, discovered, and touched?

Perhaps the fire of anger could be the signal that something of that little child within wants attention. As you explore yourself, an awareness of injustice is growing and needs to be acknowledged and heard.

You begin to see that the heart could have been treated with love and respect, but it wasn’t. The injustice of it all is like kindling to a fire waiting for a spark.

What would it be like to have your heart listened to without judgment?

With no parent figure dismissing your feelings or telling you to ‘Shut up.’

Then one comes, and a gift of empathy is offered.

Can anything good come out of that time, place, or person? Only if we take a risk and explore. We are invited to ‘come and see.’ 

I was raised on a farm near a small town called Wellsford. In fact, my ancestors settled there in the 1860s, migrating from England. Through this town and the middle of our farm, a very busy road ran, taking traffic to one of the poorer areas of New Zealand, Northland.

It was also the route to some of the most beautiful beaches and summer holiday spots we have.

My little town was a place you mostly went through or stopped off for refreshments (amusingly, that’s how it’s still referred to on tourism websites).

It was also a place where many decided to leave. If you wanted to advance and get a better education or work, then you had to leave.

It’s like many towns. Functional, average, and a place to say you’ve been through but didn’t stay.

Some places have a reputation. Some people have a reputation, and unless you truly get to know them, the reputation stays undisputed.

You’ve heard all the news stories, the biased opinions, and you wonder if anything good can come from this town, this person, this experience.

Maybe you’re the one with the ‘reputation,’ and others have made a judgment about you that nothing good can come from you.

Perhaps you have made that judgment yourself. Maybe it’s something that has happened to you, and you believe that nothing good will come out of it.

Can anything good come out of Nazareth?

Think of one of the smallest towns you know. One that is way off the main road.

People may know about it but have never been there. And in never knowing more than the name, it remains unknown.

The little hamlet of Nazareth doesn’t even make a mention in the Old Testament. Nothing until we find Joseph and Mary returning to their home in Nazareth.

That is the town where Jesus was raised. Home town to a few families eking out a living including carpenter Joesph, wife Mary, and ‘chip off the old block’ Jesus.

Talk about keeping a low profile. God was living in Hicksville, but maybe that’s the way God likes it.

When Jesus comes on the scene, makes his debut into the world, more than a few were surprised to hear of his background.

Does this Jesus have credibility?

Nathanael was one of them.

Philip found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.” John 1:45, 46

Place yourself in the sandals of those in the conversation.

Phillip – passionate and excitedNathanael – dubious and dismissive.

Both in the playground of the discount.

The Discount.

You see them all the time.

The enthusiastic salesperson (Phillip or Phylis) is shouting and celebrating this wonderful offer. You wonder if this could be true.

The invite is to come, see and buy. Exchange something of value – your time and money – for the opportunity to be part of something.

But you wonder, is this credible? Is it really that good? Wasnt it made in Nazareth?

You dis-count it. You take some of the value off it.

It can’t be that good. But it’s only until you ‘come and see’ and experience it yourself that you make the connection.

We so often discount what needs to be ‘marked-up.’

There is a beautiful gem, a treasure, but it’s been devalued by those who don’t have eyes to see.

So you’re from Nazareth.

All of us have a Nazareth. It is a place, a time, a narrative that we can so easily dismiss and consider nothing good coming out of it.

It could be the town we were raised in. Maybe the parents or lack of.

In your life, that story is where you say to yourself and others, ‘Nothing good came from that.’

Some of the worst Nazareth stories are those where one discounts one’s self. Self-loathing, a diminishing of one’s own abilities, qualities, story.

Come and see

Nathanael discounted Phillip’s exuberance and testimony. There was only one way to deal wi