"Nope, It Is Not Personal" Heart Therapy #8

     A few things stand out in my memory of my high school graduation ceremony. There was a part when our principal announced all the colleges students were moving on to. We had a few for MIT, Brown, and other Ivy League institutions, and we even had someone go to West Point that year. Then there was that awkward moment when "Zion Bible College" was read over the sound system. Instead of clapping or whistling, there was quiet chatter in the crowd. We, the graduates, were seated on the football field, but could hear a little bit of the surrounding conversations. But, I heard loud and clear one of my classmates laugh and say, "That's Merks! He joined a cult!" And, then another guy pointed at me and called me "Father Merks" while he genuflected. A few seats next to me was a kid "Mike P", who had known me since elementary school. Right then, he said that he'd like to make a bet with me that in 20 years from then I'd never even want to mention Jesus. He said he was sure "it was just a phase" I was going through. Then, someone backed him up on that prediction, and they both confidently told me to "just wait". I was so uncomfortable. This was mostly because it felt like everyone on the field and in the bleachers were focusing on me. Maybe it was less than a minute, but because "Zion" was last on the alphabetical list, it seemed like there was the most time afterwards for those reactions. I'm sure I was flush red in the face. Obviously, since I still remember it 20 years later, it had a big impact.

     It wasn't the students getting laughs at my expense that really bugged me. I played football, so I was used to the stupid antics of teenagers. In fact, during my freshman year, I was forced to wear a headband that said "SCHMUCK" for the whole week of football camp. That was actually one of the nicest things done to all the freshmen! There were unspeakable things done with Icy Hot cream or the fearful port o potty. So, I understood that testosterone causes boys to be punks. 

     Grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and family friends gathered at our home for a celebration afterwards. They shook my hand, wished me luck, and said all the usual cliches. I'm sure I received some generous gifts. And I'm sure people felt like something good had been accomplished. 

     I didn't want any part of it. I really wanted to go to some far, far away place. 

     I was feeling completely misunderstood. Following Jesus was a new thing for me at that time, but it was revolutionary for me. God rescued me. Holy Spirit stripped the blindness from my eyes to see; to see that I was actually lovable and valuable. That was not an intuitive realization for me. Everybody in my school knew that I was the kid arrested the year before for stealing all those sneakers from Footlocker. They all saw the cop cars surrounding my van in the school parking lot. They all heard the whispers throughout the hallways of "grand larceny". Very few acts of shame had been done like that in my town. So it was common knowledge. It makes sense that people assumed I was reaching for anything else to grab on to. And those guys who were placing bets about me weren't doing it unfounded.  

     I was an unstable being, like a kite so easily directed by wandering winds. 

     A Navy recruiter met me shortly after my arrest, and knew all the promises to lure me in. I scored high enough on the ASVAB to be invited into the nuclear engineering program, which was supposed to be exclusive and elite. I was part of "delayed enlistment" which meant that I could finish my senior year of high school before going full-time duty. We just did basic drills and weekend trips to bases. But, my identity was being repaired. Military life has its advertised attributes of honor, respect, and the like. It was exactly what I needed, so I fully immersed myself into the culture. I wore Navy clothing, covered my locker and books with Navy stickers, and even earned the nickname "Nuke". 

     Before the Navy, there was athletics, and before that it was heavy metal, and I guess before that it was BMX.  Whatever was important to me at a particular time period became my entire life. I had no idea who I really was. I would gladly go anywhere or do anything for clarity. There were no consistent descriptors of me. 

     But, that was actually the consistent reality. Every single year of my life, I wanted to know just what it was really all about. 

     Back at the graduation party, I was so frustrated because it seemed like nobody else wanted to know. Nobody asked me why I was going to Bible college, or why I quit the Navy. There were no personal questions. Nobody wanted to defend what people may have been saying at the ceremony. Just handshakes and congratulations. Assumptions seemed welcome, and lies tolerated. Maybe they were all just relieved I wasn't in trouble for something that day. 

     At some point, I couldn't fake it anymore, and I hid upstairs in my bedroom. I sat on the edge of my bed and cried. When I realized that a long time had gone by, I cried even deeper. I cried those hot tears that give headaches. Those tears that shake your shoulders and stutter your breathing. 

     When I had my head buried in my hands, there suddenly came something like a firm, but loving grip on my shoulders. Words were spoken to me. Promises. Assurances. I am positive of what was said, but I could never begin to explain the process.

     This reminds me of that scene from the movie Evan Almighty, when the senator has to confess that "God spoke to him". Well, God doesn't speak to me like that. Not face to face. But, supernaturally, the distance between the spiritual realm and earthly realm shrink. And in those special places, we can discern the invisible.

     Jesus simply reminded me that I belonged to Him. I didn't look for God to be the new answer for my life. Quite the opposite! I figured God wouldn't waste time on someone like me. I wasn't going to go bother His pursuit of better candidates. Thankfully, Jesus doesn't tolerate lies like that. He draws near to the lowly, and lifts them up. That is what happened to me. I had heard Him running after me, so to speak. I saw the signs. But, it has actually been one surprise after another. 

     And on that graduation night, when I felt like everyone would rather dismiss this power, He reminded me that my identity was surrendered to Him. He is faithful and true. He would never lose me, leave me, deny me, ignore me, be embarrassed or ashamed of me.  All those searches for love or belonging, which led me into disappointment or shame, had all been allowed by God to help me tell the difference. Jesus has done that repeatedly in my life ever since. Whenever I attempt to satisfy my heart with temporary pieces of Earth, God calls me home from the prodigal lands. He reveals afresh how incomparable everlasting love is.  I heard promises on that bedside which have been kept relentlessly ever since. God comforted me then, and still does today. 

     I vividly remember all those details about that day in 1992. God drew near to me, proving to me that every detail is significant. No tear goes unknown to the Father. That just compels me to love and worship. 

     So, that is what really was hurting me in the immature laughing and mocking. I'll always be the first to admit to being an idiot. I own my choices, no matter what. What bothered me so much was that the fingers were pointed the wrong direction. It's never been about me. When people wrongly attribute whatever good has become of my life to my control, they miss out completely. It makes me so sad. I was lucky enough to get caught in the pursuit of counterfeit happiness. Many others are not so lucky, and have to pretend. They pretend so well at times, that they just shake their heads at people like me. But it's not personal. 

     I am kind of lucky to that I saw how screwed up I was before could pretend better. And I'm blessed that God is way more faithful to that truth than I am. There have been plenty of humbling interventions since those days. People could call it whimsical phases, I suppose. They could probably predict quite accurately that I'm going to make other mistakes, even while I proclaim to follow Jesus. I'm fine with that. I'm the easy target. But, seriously, it's not personal. Jesus promised me that He'd finish the restoration process that He began all those years ago. 

     That's the safer bet, with the best odds.