Forgiveness: Introduction To A Tough Topic

There are a lot of different streams that run into my story that I want to take time to deal with. One of these is more of a raging river than a stream. It's the topic of forgiveness.

As a former pastor, one of my last sermon topics was on forgiveness. I was dealing with letting go of the bad relationship I had with my father and also trying to help Angelica deal with her friend back home who had committed a sin. I searched Scripture to find out what was the right thing to do and the steps to take toward forgiveness.

Now, I'm living a life that needs forgiveness from others, one that has been granted forgiveness by God, and one that still holds onto the need to forgive a few people in my life.

One of my favorite phrases to use when writing this blog is, "I'll be honest." Usually, when I say that, I'm about to share something that comes from deep within me. Blogging anonymously gives me the ability to write about something I'm thinking but wouldn't tell some of my closest friends. It enables me to tell you things I would have never told people when I was a pastor. So here I go.

I'll be honest, I'm having a hard time with forgiveness right now. Especially in how others deal with it.

Now, let me be very, very clear. Ultra clear. Crystal clear. Cancun/Gulf of Mexico clear before the oil spill hit. I sinned. I hurt a lot of people. Do I stand here feeling like those people owe me something? Not really. But let me say it this way - there are a ton of relationships that I and my sin destroyed overnight and I hold out hope that they can be restored.

Do I believe they can be restored? Absolutely. The Bible tells me nothing less. Angelica has already reached out to me in forgiveness. I've had a couple of former church members reach out to me and tell me they don't hold anything against me.

Here's where I am today after talking to a bunch of fallen pastors. Please bear with me. Churches get hurt badly - very badly, by fallen pastors. I've seen it first hand and I've seen it through stories others have told me. It's awful. Their spiritual leader betrays them and they typically (or at least in my case) are disillusioned and lash out often in hurt. That hurt turns into bitterness, anger, and sometimes outright meanness.

I see that. I get it. That's how they feel. I've been hurt before. I've been angry before. I've lashed out before for a long period of time.

But you know what? I was wrong to do it.

Let me put it another way. When a church endures the fall of a pastor, they're typically hurt for a long time. Most of the fallen pastors I've talked to get pushed out the door and hide in shame for some period of time (don't hear me trying to get your pity, I'm not. You should know me by now if you read this blog at all, I'm just stating how things are). After that time of shame, a lot of them write a letter to the church of repentance (if they already haven't in their resignation).

What I find and what I've experienced is that their former church members don't want to have anything to do with them. Some have been out for 10-20 years and have heard nothing from former church members, despite attempting to reach out. One online article I read said that the pastor had been gone for 30 years and members were still holding on to their anger.

Guess what? Hurt takes time. Every fallen pastor and non-fallen pastor has told me the same thing. They tell me, "Most of them will never come around. They probably will never speak to you again. But give them time, maybe one or two of them will."

I understand all of that. I had my own father hurt me and it took me two full years to get back to where I'd talk to him. Was it right? No. I was unforgiving and sinful in my actions toward him. But even if I had been moving toward forgiveness, it would have taken me time to reconcile. So yes, I'm human, I get it.

I'm going to ask three questions right now and ponder them a little that I hope to answer in the next few blog posts. But they trouble me.

How long should people go before waiting to forgive? In that waiting, what does Scripture say about how long we should wait? And just because the typical pattern is 20-30 years (or never) to wait for forgiveness, does that make it right?

How is hurt tied to forgiveness? We don't forget like God does. Forgiving doesn't mean we're saying that what the person did was okay. But is it possible that our hurt keeps us from forgiveness? In that same vein, is forgiveness a legal transaction while hurt is an emotional response to what happened?

My final question for thought is one that makes me think. When two people have an issue between them that needs to be dealt with and forgiven, is it enough for one of them to say, "I've forgiven them in my heart. But I don't need to speak to them ever again." What good does it do to forgive someone if that isn't shared? Is it Scriptural?

I've got a lot going on in my anonymous brain and I hope to hammer some of it out with your help. God bless.

Guest Blog: After The Fall

I've been asking a few people to write guest blogs. My wife Cynthia wrote one the other day. I'm hoping to get Reforming Baptist, Geekpreacher, Carl and others to do the same for me if they'd be willing.

Today's blog is from a very dear friend, David, who writes a blog of his own, Surviving 2 Thriving. I'll let him talk about himself in his guest blog post. He's become a very dear friend to me. Despite the fact that we've not yet met face to face, I know he'd do anything for me and I would do anything for him. I thank God for putting him in my path and love him dearly.

The lot of the fallen pastor is different.

A moral failure by a pastor has little in common with similar offences by others, including those in the world’s highest office. For example, when President Bill Clinton was discovered, he suffered some big time problems and embarrassment to be sure. But, he was re-elected to another term and is now paid well as an in-demand public speaker.

Or, I can only imagine the fall of Tiger Woods has been phenomenally hard. The public scrutiny of his affairs has been nothing short of extraordinary. How many of us could bear it? Although his marriage is in ruins and he will probably never regain his pre-discovery stature, he apologized and stepped back on the first tee at the Masters to the applause and well wishes of the media and his fans.

After my fall, not only was my marriage in ruins, and not only did I forever lose my pre-discovery stature, I went to work in a retail store for three years. With one colossal poor decision, I threw away my ministry and all the years I spent in higher education preparing for it. (Outside of work in the ministry, an M. Div. isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.)

Please know that except for other fallen pastors like Arthur, no one could possibly understand what I’ve been through. No one. So I don’t even try to explain it to people. This post and the blog I’ve recently started (surviving2thriving.net) are the closest I’ve come to trying to get a handle on it and put some of it into words for others to read—and it took several years for me to get to this point.

Unlike Arthur, I don’t offer the details of those last days (which makes for fascinating reading, I admit). Instead, my blog is about the aftermath, my struggle to regain a sense of hope and purpose. My desire is that it will be a ministry to others who are trying to survive painful experiences.

I found Arthur’s blog by accident. I identified with him immediately and completely. His story and mine are remarkably similar. But I think the stories of most fallen pastors are probably similar.

Most pastors are not prone to spur-of-the-moment adulterous behavior, so there is usually a very complex combination of personal and professional issues that trigger the events leading to a fall. Perhaps that’s true in most affairs, but it is certainly true for pastors.

The months following the crash of my ministry were times of anger for me. I was angry at myself, angry at God, angry at the church, and pretty much angry at everything. True, the event that led to the fall was of my own doing to be sure, but my behavior didn’t happen in a vacuum.

I felt that somehow God had let me down. Let me explain. I had poured much of my adult life into sacrificially serving him, and I felt that I was being “rewarded” with pain. He could have, after all, delivered me by giving me just a little more strength. Just a little. Just get me over the hill one more time. I can do all things through Christ… But instead, he watched me fall.

When I drove away on that fateful day, not only were the town and church in my rear view mirror, so was my wife, virtually all of my friends, fifteen years of ministry, seven years of higher education, and virtually everything that made me who I was.

At that point, there was no hope and no future. Life became all about survival.

In my anger (and guilt), I went on an extended period of rebellion. I got divorced and distanced myself from anything having to do with the life I had known. The idea of any kind of ministry, present or future, was dismissed outright.

But through it all, I never stopped believing. I even believed that somehow God wasn’t through with me, but for a long time I didn’t much care. That’s one of the incredible things we need to grasp in our pain. God is there. He is always there. He doesn’t get angry or pout. That’s what we do. And when we have worn ourselves out kicking everything around us, he is still there waiting for us.

In time things began to turn.

The hard survival instincts of my senses started to soften and my desire to have hope and purpose was rekindled. There were many factors to this, but mostly I met a woman. I met her in church.

On that day we met, she requested prayer, telling the group that she had been diagnosed with cancer.

My connection with her was instantaneous, which I later attributed directly to God. At first, it wasn’t a romantic thing. But instead, I actually felt compassion. I hurt for her.

Would I have been so moved in any other context? If I had met her at the grocery store or in some pool hall would I have been touched? I’ll never know. But of this I am sure, it was part of God’s plan, his new hope for me, and I was certainly in the right place to be open to it.

She and I almost immediately sensed that our relationship was a gift from God. We were both pretty beaten up by life, and like two shipwrecked survivors clinging to a life raft, we were holding on to what God had sent us.

As we encouraged one another, this verse of Scripture came to mind for both of us: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11)

On any given day, that verse might not have moved either one of us in any extraordinary way. But for a divorced woman with a serious form of cancer and a divorced down-and-out preacher it seemed to be God telling us why we were together. We got married.

I’ve never known my wife without cancer. Not one single day. She had it the day I met her. She was going into her first cancer surgery the day I proposed to her. She had surgery the week we returned from our honeymoon. She had brain surgery the Monday before our first Christmas. And she has had multiple surgeries and treatments ever since.

Even though our lives to a great extent have been about surviving cancer, she encourages me and supports me. She believes God isn’t through with me. We hope that together we will one day have a ministry of some kind.

Yet, we all know it can never be the same. I won’t get re-elected or tee it up again like nothing ever happened.

Something did happen—something that transcends even the mistakes of presidents and sports superstars… because it touches eternity. And that is something a fallen pastor carries around inside the rest of his life.

And so here is the lot of the fallen pastor: though life goes on and we can find faith, hope, love and happiness after The Fall… we never stop paying the price. Not in this life.

Epilogue - "Series Finale"

I was so angry with the way LOST ended last night that I figured I'd write up my own epilogue to my own story. That doesn't mean I'm done with my blog, by any means. I have a lot of back story to write and tales to tell. But I do want to tell you how all of this has ended up.

If you haven't read the story, please read it. It'll take some time, but I hope you find it worth it.

As of today, Angelica is dating again. She called me two months ago and said she forgave me for my sin. Two weeks later, she called me and said she was seeing someone. Good for her. It didn't take her long, I suppose, but it didn't take me long either, did it? I pray for her that her life is lived out to its fullest. For her and my daughter's sake.

I'm paying her more child support and alimony that the state ever required - and I don't say that to brag. I say that so that you dead beat dads out there will hear this: Paying child support should be an HONOR. It's not a duty or a responsibility. It's an honor. They are your children. Get on the stick. Take care of them and love them. Paying money is just one way to do it. I don't care if you feel like it or not. I don't care if your wife remarries or not. Take care of your kids. Money is temporary. Give them your love and attention too.

If you ever get a raise or a new job that pays you more, self-report yourself to the state and pay more child support. Yeah, it's more money out of your pocket, but it's for your kids. It doesn't matter what your ex-wife does with it. That's her problem. It's for your kids. They're a treasure and deserve your best. Always. When you do the right thing - or make an attempt to do the right thing - you can stand up as a man and be proud of it.

Angelica and I are getting along better today than we ever did as a married couple. I hear divorced couples say that on occasion. We have a great agreement about seeing the kids. She drops them off here when she has to work or when she needs child care for them. I'm glad we have that type of arrangement. She's moved on. I've moved on. Thank God for His grace.

Will she ever get over the hurt I caused her? Probably not 100%. But at least we're in a place where we can talk. Where we can have some sort of relationship that is good for the kids. And I thank God for that.

Angel Falls isn't much different. I wish it was. I posted a quote recently that the church acts like a scorned wife when the pastor leaves because of moral failure. After talking to other fallen pastors, I've realized this is the gospel truth. I hurt a lot of people, all at once. I wish there was something I could do to salve that quickly, but there's not.

I wrote a letter a couple of months ago to each individual member. I got one response back which was positive. I understand if I ever get another response back, it will take time.

The one serious problem I have is with Phillip Townsend, the head deacon. He did respond in a way that was unscriptural. Who am I to throw stones? No one. I lied to them, cheated on my wife and made them look stupid. He told me on several occasions I was like a son to him. As soon as I told him what I had done, he told me to never come back and threatened to kick the s*** out of me. I had hoped that he would have at least reached out to me as a man.

To be honest with you, I'm in the process of writing him a letter and plan to mail it this week. I had a terrible relationship with my own father, and in a lot of ways, he was like a father to me. Pray for things to go well. I'm doing the best I can. I tore down a lot of relationships with my sin and I'm trying. It's not easy when we sin. It's even harder to try to get people to understand that we're trying to do the right thing after we sin.

My kids are doing wonderful. They still ask questions on occasion about the whole thing and I answer them honestly. I think one of the best things we can do is let our kids know that their parents aren't perfect. My girls are "daddy's girls." They love on me a lot. We spend quality time together at home, outdoors, and at church.

I tell them bedtime stories, play games with them, cook them meals, and love on them every second I can. I talk to them every day on the phone I don't get to see them. They are precious to me. Even though my sin created an interrupted relationship, they don't act like it. They treat me like daddy every day they see me. And I thank God for that.

Cynthia's daughter and I get along great too. She's a lot younger than my girls. She's adjusted well. She loves my girls and loves playing with them. She's got a lot of spirit. Cynthia has told me how she has clung to me like she's never really clung to another adult before. I love that.

What about me and Cynthia? We're in love. I've never known another soul like her. We have our days where we rub each other the wrong way, but by the end of the day, we understand each other, but those days are far and few between. I love her. I would die for her. I'm not ashamed of the love I give to her and she's not ashamed of the love she gives to me.

I've never had anyone understand my anxiety like she does. I've never had anyone understand me like she does at all. It's like I've known her for years.

Do you understand what we've been through? You can only relate to what I've written, but we had to live it. We sinned together, I was thrown out of my house and my church, we had insults thrown at us, I was hunted down, scorned publicly, hated by members of the community, have gone through severe bouts of depression, questioned God, searched for churches that would have us, been emotionally drained, and had severe relationship crises with countless people.

I don't say those things to garner pity. I don't want pity. Some of those things I deserved.

I say those things in awe of Cynthia. Despite my sin and the consequences of it, she stood by me. She saw me at my worst. And we didn't stay together because we had nowhere else to go. We stayed together because we loved each other. Because in each other we found something we had never had before.

Was that love borne out of the result of the violation of God's law? Absolutely. I will never, ever condone adultery. And if I had to do it all over again, I would have done it differently. God does not condone divorce or adultery. And I grieved Him. I broke up my marriage. I was selfish and hurt a lot of people.

But I can tell you that right now, I am the happiest I have ever been. I love my wife, Cynthia. She loves me.

Part of writing this blog has been trying to reconcile those two things. The providence of God and the free will of man.

But I can't reconcile it.

I do know this - God can make a beautiful thing out of my horrible mess. I don't know how He did it. I also know on judgment day, He's going to tell me how I messed up. And I can tell you that if you're thinking about committing adultery, don't do it. It's wrong. It's not the answer for your marriage woes. But I also know that on judgment day, He'll look at me, look at His Son and say, "you are forgiven."

But I don't deserve it. Any of it. And I'll weep.

Here is where I am today in a nutshell and what I have learned:

I'm a fallen pastor. I'm not proud of my sin. I take responsibility for what I did. I am where I am today because I'm a weak, fallen sinner.

However, I'm happy with my life today. I'm trying everyday to do what is right in the sight of God. Isn't that all we can do?

I've made some poor choices and some decent ones. In the midst of life, sometimes we're given the choice between two things - one bad choice and one worse choice. I'm not saying it's like that all the time, but it is sometimes. We live in a fallen world. And we are fallen people.

The good news is that we have a redeemer who has not turned his back on us. He loves us more than our sin can ever reach. He loves us more than we can ever imagine. We can't push ourselves down into a pit of depression that he can't find us. We can't outsin his grace. We can't outrun him, because he will pursue us.

Before my fall, none of my seminary training ever taught me about how wonderful and majestic our God truly is. Now, through practical living, I know.

I was telling someone tonight that I hope my worst mistakes are behind me. I pray that my self-righteous pride is a thing of the past. I pray that I've learned enough to help others and to now look somewhere besides myself for the answers.

God has been good to me. Better than I deserve.

Sunday School Today

I've been asked to fill in today for one of the adult Sunday School classes.

Before anyone freaks out, the deacons and several of the hierarchy at the church where Cynthia and I are attending know of our situation. They know my story and we're under good watchcare.

Anyway, I've filled in before in Sunday School and it was a good experience for me. I loved teaching and sharing with the class. I was a new man and a new teacher. I had new experiences to share.

The regular teacher handed me the book last week and said he'd be out of town. I said, "No problem." I sat back in the folding chair next to Cynthia and casually opened the Lifeway book to next week's lesson. Of course, it was on adultery.

My pastor was standing right there when I saw it. He said, "Nothing says you have to teach on that next week. Feel free to change the lesson to whatever you want."

Cynthia looked at me and nodded.

But in that moment, I thought, "You know what? It's scripture. It's not time to shrink from the absolute truth. I'll teach it. Adultery is wrong. And this class needs to hear it."

Pray for me.

But I'll also tell you that I'll interject my ideas on what needs to be done with the adulterer. That's not in the Lifeway curriculum. They only seem to deal with the sin, not the sinner.