The Question

So it has been a while since I last blogged. Something I've realized lately is that I am overwhelmed with the question, "So, how are you doing?"

When I was in college (at Colby, go Mules!) I went through this really long drawn out phase of getting fed up with people being fake. So I decided to always be absolutely honest with how I was feeling at the exact moment someone would ask me how I was doing. It wasn't until after graduating that I realized small talk is not evil and spilling your guts to absolutely everyone is not a good idea, because of unnecessary emotional attachments or even just taking up way to much of somebody's time..."Uh, I have to actually get going, I'm late for class..."
"But what about me!? Don't you want to know how I feel!?"

But now, here I am, 25 years old, in full time ministry and I barely know how to field this question. I feel utter turmoil when someone asks me this! I want to be honest, but not too honest. I want to be concise and to the point but say enough where I'm giving this person a sincere answer especially if they care. I want my anser to be emotionally invested (in any direction, because that's who I am) but not too emotional, because crying or being extremely joyful usually makes people feel uncomfortable or, as I wrote before, could potentially open the doors to unwanted emotional attachments mostly with the opposite sex. I'm an extreme person. I experience the extremes of life. Extreme joy or laughter and extreme anger or sadness. I'm a bit of a basket case!

This is why I love God. The other night, if someone would have seen the way I was praying, with my leaping, screaming, throwing, wailing, crying, and chest thumping, they would have probably contacted the local authorities or would have been deeply disturbed or confused..."Is that Patrick? The one who's always so nice and friendly? Well, that's just not nice at all."

I have always struggled with self-hatred. You would never guess it. From the time I was very small, I remember deeply hating myself, sometimes for ridiculous things, like missing a ground ball in little league, or not making people happy. In baseball, when I struck out or got thrown out, I would actually drop to my knees and begin slamming my head into the ground as hard as my little body would allow me to, because I had failed.

As I grew up, continuing to experience the same feelings, I would stare into the mirror and punch myself in the face or slam my head into brick walls, sometimes causing electric sharp pains to shoot down my spine. I really despised myself. And it grew to be this thing where it was my reaction to anything that was going poorly until I eventually wanted to kill myself.

When I became a Christian, at 12, these emotions and feelings did not go away and continued early into college. But something happened along the way. The punching, the frustration, the mutilation, believing I was this dumb, stupid, little worthless boy, actually turned into prayers. I would begin to yell at God.

One of the lowest points of my college athletic career was when I was fighting back for a starting spot on the football team my junior year. I had been bumped down the depth chart because of a missed coverage and a few games in, I thought I was making progress. One day at practice, while the first string offense and defense were going at it, I was on the side lines with freshmen (that's how far I got bumped down!), just ready in case we were called up. That's when the head coach came up to me. Thoughts began rushing around my head, he's going to pick me, he wants me to jump in there and show him what I've got, he's going to tell me I'm starting again... then he said "Patrick, hey, could you go grab my jacket, I left it on the other end of the field."

My face was calm. My eyes steady. My hands relaxed. My brain began exploding "YOU SUCK PATRICK! You're awful! Look at how terrible you are at life AND football!" I imagined myself stripping down out of all the college issued equipment, leaving it on a pile on the field and going to the locker room to get my stuff and smash my face into a mirror.

But, I went, got his jacket, cheered on the team, went to the locker room, got showered, and waited for everyone to leave. My heart was roaring inside my chest. I then began to walk home across the field. Looking up at the moon I stopped mid way across the field and I exploded before God. I yelled and cried and swore. I exposed the nastiest parts of myself to God.

And that's what happened the other night. God, this is me, angry, frustrated, confused, tired, manic. It was like a psalm. I believe this is the best way to pray. It's not like God can't see all that's going on anyway. This is how I am doing.

This is why I'm thankful for Jesus. That I can actually come before God and tell him that I cannot even live with out him in my life. I can't function. I can't find joy. Because of Jesus dying for our sins, I'm able to come before God and God declares me "This man is not condemned!" Romans 8:1, Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. None. We're not condemned to hell, we don't have to suffer God's wrath because of our sin. We don't have to condemn ourselves for failing or screwing up.

Back to that question. How am I doing? God can actually handle the full brunt to the answer of this question. And Jesus, because we can now forgive one another because he forgave us, makes it possible for people to also handle the full brunt of the answer to that question. So now, we don't have to go this life alone. We can actually reveal this stuff to God and to others. There's so much grace, so much forgiveness, so much mercy, even when others do see the deepest craziest parts of us coming to the surface. Because of Jesus we can, not only bare these burdens, but be released of them!

So, it's not that these crazy emotions or thoughts all go away, but that I can take them to God, and trust that I will experience his peace as I follow Jesus.

I still have a tough time answering that question, but I'm glad people ask it, I'm glad I'm a part of a church that cares, and I'm glad that God cares.