The Difficulties Of Writing

I've always loved writing. Ever since I wrote an extremely short story in first grade called "George Washington and the Purple Polka Dotted Measles," I learned that writing was in my blood. My mother wrote a lot and was published. She wasn't nationally known by any means, but she did it for the enjoyment and to help others.

She encouraged my writing and as long as I can remember I've had pen to paper at some point in my life doing some project, whether it be fiction, non-fiction, theological, or just plain silly. We write about what we know, it seems. In seminary, I was forced to write a lot about what I didn't know, but I think I faked it pretty well.

I love reading Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and Douglas Preston. I have no idea where they come up with their ideas. I'd suggest King's "On Writing," strongly, even if you have no ambition to write.

In that book, he discusses his addiction problems early in his career and how he doesn't even remember writing several books.

It's hard to write sometimes. Many authors struggle with addiction, depression, anxiety and the like. I don't always think it's because they're suffering from writer's block, either. I think when we write we are baring our soul for everyone to see. Even if fiction is being written, some part of us is being dredged up and being dealt with by our conscious mind.

I've been blogging about my fall since March, I think. And there have been times I just had to take a break from it. Rethinking the whole thing and dealing with the issues around it hurt sometimes. There have been times when I relive moments of pain and hurt that were done to me. But for the most part, I realize how much I hurt others and I just have to stop for a while.

I wrote recently that I've been pounding out a book. I'm writing now about the death of my mother. It's been two years since she died. I thought I'd get through it without much difficulty. I was wrong. Thinking about the moments and the day she died bring back strong memories, smells, sights and things I had tucked away in a dark corner of my mind.

When you write about something like that, it effects your soul, your mood, your mind and how you treat other people. But then again, writing is also very good therapy, I think. If we're honest when we write, we can show ourselves where we lack and how we can get better. We can help others in their struggles. If we can be truly transparent, others might see themselves in some part of the story and be truly helped.

That's why Mom wrote and it helped people. She also suffered from deep depression. At the same time, writing helped her depression. Go figure.

Now, back to writing. And the dark confines of my soul. Say a prayer if you get a chance.

Common Traits Of The Fallen Pastor, Part 4: Tough Times

As this is part four in this series, make sure you start with part one, if you haven't read it already.

I had someone ask me on this blog recently about what my spiritual life was like leading up to my fall. It was terrible, thank you very much. Shallow, disgraceful, and going nowhere. How's that for honesty? I'm not proud of it at all.

I wasn't looking to fall. I wasn't looking to hook up with the first woman who showed interest in me. That wasn't the case.

Was I weak spiritually? Yeah. But don't think I was led into temptation by someone either. I knew exactly what I was doing.

But when I talk to other fallen pastors, their lives were similar. Their spiritual lives were weak and they were dealing with some very difficult circumstances as well.

Now, hear me. Once again. Difficult circumstances don't give anyone a license to sin. They are a part of our story, however. And we need to recognize when we are vulnerable to sin.

I've blogged about the circumstances leading to my fall before, but not all at once. Let me see if I can give a bird's eye view of how they led to the intense breaking point in my life. I've never been to a moment like that in my life and hope to never be there again. But there are many people suffering because of circumstances. They need to be reached out to and they need help. It might be your friend, your neighbor, your pastor - but it would help them if we recognized that they need support. They need support before disaster strikes, not after.

You know how it is. When bad things happen, they don't ever just happen nice and tidy. They don't happen in ones. They happen in horrible bunches.

The church was arguing about some inane, ridiculous thing. I take that back. It was ridiculous to me. It wasn't ridiculous to the five people who kept stringing it out for five stinking months. It was about the deacon who wouldn't give to the cooperative program. The music minister had resigned over the whole ordeal. A few other members had left. The deacons were ignoring the issue. I was still getting phone calls. I had a church member challenge me to a fight over it in the parking lot between Sunday School and church. It was on my mind every second of the day. It was a major church crisis. The deacon finally left the church under duress. It was a terrible, terrible situation. One I will always second guess myself on.

A month later, my mother died in a car accident. My father had died just a year before. It was a horrible moment. We buried her at Angel Falls Baptist. I was the executor of her estate. I had to be strong during the whole time whether I wanted to or not. Some of you know how that is. I was only allowed offered one week off to grieve and was right back to work. Her death, even today effects me.

Two months after, Angelica and I found out about the friend of her family that had molested several children. It was terrible for her. I had been in the middle of my grieving process and now I stopped to help her in her shock.

The world had stopped for us. For me.

And in the midst of this, Angelica and I had been having serious marriage issues for years. We had seen a marriage counselor at least twice. A Christian marriage counselor. One who suggested we get separated.

Don't ever think that people just go out and decide to sin. Do I blame my circumstances? No. It was all me. But yes, I was under horrible pressure and pain. It was an awful time. I couldn't think straight. Maybe I should have done like John Piper and taken a sabbatical. But I didn't. I thought I was strong enough to move on.

Life was throwing curveball after curveball at me and I was whiffing all of them. But week after week I stood in that pulpit and acted like I was the strongest man alive.

But I wasn't.

Only now do I freely admit that I am weak. That I am fallen and sinful. But I thank God that even though I fell, He can redeem the weakest and most sinful. Not for my glory, but for His.

If you know someone at church who asks for prayer, or a friend who asks for prayer, or someone going through a tough time, don't just offer to pray for them. Reach out to them. Give them some of your time. Give them the gift of your love. Let them know in a real and meaningful way that you care.

Those moments that you give may save them. And in the process, you'll learn a lot about yourself and become a better person.