Skeletons.

Maybe Eminem was on to something.

Yes… THAT Eminem.
So, tonight, I’m cleaning out my closet.

The content of his music isn’t exactly what anyone would consider “family friendly.”
But for now, I can’t seem to get around that basic idea of cleaning out my own closet.
Airing out dirty laundry, so-to-speak.

Authenticity and transparency is what is needed in ministry.
Too many ministry leaders and pastors put up a facade that they have it together because they believe in Jesus.
And those that do acknowledge struggle tends to be a surface-level, not-that-big-of-a-deal kind of issue.
No one wants their junk exposed, and I can certainly understand why.

The culture of the Church seems not to be as much about acceptance and support, but condemnation and judgment.
And how can you share your heart with someone you don’t trust with it?

Example: I don’t remember what the thing was, only that it was a conversation that had taken place between myself and the pastor of a church.
Then I remember months later being asked about whatever the thing was by his wife…
Do you think I would have the trust to go to him with anything deeply troubling my heart?
Unlikely.

That is why the broken try to find healing in things that will ultimately bring more pain.
And I really believe that is why most people who are hurting tend to turn a cold shoulder to the Church.
They are tired of cliches, one-size-fits-all answers, and being gossiped about under the guise of “prayer requests.”
I know that’s why I never sought help from the Church.

Because somewhere along the way, the attitude of the church parted ways with the heart of Jesus.

Somehow we came to a place where the sight of Jesus – that is, seeing as Jesus sees – has become rare in the Church.
There is a striking blindness to the hurt and the needs in the world today.

Check out how the religious people, the Pharisees, responded when Jesus healed the blind man.
And then for Jesus to point out their own blindness?!

Jesus still gives sight to the blind.

So where is our compassion?
When brothers and sisters come to us hurting and broken, why do we feel so compelled to provide answers and less compelled to share in their grief?
To bear their burdens, and share in their tears.

So many times, God would choose to show His love through His people.
Let us be the physical arms to represent His everlasting arms.
Often that’s all I’ve needed: a hug and someone to cry with.

But the FEAR of condemnation kept me from confessing to my brothers.

There should be no fear in community, in the Church.
Fear is NOT of God!

This past Thursday night, I was blessed enough to be asked to wrap up the youth VBS at my home church.
I had been there Sunday night to watch the movie on which their studies would be based: To Save a Life.

As I watched the movie with these kids, I could see the hurt in their eyes.
And I could feel it in my heart.

As I was preparing to speak to them, God kept prompting me:
Tell them.  Tell them everything.  They need to know they are not alone.
I definitely did not want to do that.
I’d never told anyone that I recall.
Not even my closest friends.
And here I am speaking to a group of kids at my home church and the adult leaders who taught me as a youth…really?!

Not now, God.

But as I read more of the Word in preparation, the more I prayed, the more it became clear.
Tell them.  Tell them everything.  They need to know they are not alone.

So Thursday night before time for me to speak, there was kind of an ice-breaker activity.
Not anything like I’d ever seen before.
It wasn’t a fun game like the old toothpick -lifesaver relay, or drinking soda through a dirty sock.

The honesty required of these kids…not top level stuff, but deep struggles.  Wow.

Each youth wrote down something they didn’t like about themselves and taped it to the front of their shirts, and then everyone else wrote something positive about that person on their backs.
Some of these kids have heartbreaking stories, and they laid it on the line to show their insecurities to one another.
Whether it was not feeling very pretty, not feeling wanted, tendencies to become addicted, or just fearful or doubtful about what the future holds…
I’m not sure I would have been that honest at that stage in my life.
I’m not always so sure I can be that honest now.

But seeing their honesty is what prompted me to seriously follow through with telling my own story.
Tell them.  Tell them everything.  They needed to know they are not alone.

So I told them how I’ve fought my own addictions, and to some degree, will always fight them.

I told them how in college, particularly the first half of my second year, I had a problem with alcohol.
I wasn’t what you’d think of as an alcoholic, someone who had to have it.
I’ve never even really been just fall-down drunk.
I was pretty tipsy a few times, but I remember everything.
It wasn’t that kind of addiction.

It was more of a convenience thing when I was working at the radio station.
We’d host concerts sponsored by a beer company, so guess what – free beer!
I didn’t even like beer.  Ugh.
But it was free, and I was a broke college student.
That’s good enough justification, right?

Then I started keeping liquors and malts around for hard days.
I’d come in from an exam that I was sure dominated me (usually in my business classes), I’d mix a strong one and go to bed.

I told them how, even after turning my life over to Christ, that I fought, and often lost, an addiction to pornography.
What a killer that is.
It is a downward spiral of circular logic.
Am I sad and alone because I watch porn, or do I watch porn because I am sad and alone?

It infiltrates your life in ways you wouldn’t imagine and wrecks your relationships.
It would be easy to shut down, but as a friend of mine once said in a discussion on the topic, it’s hard to fight urges and find self control.
When you find yourself with a Bible in one hand and a laptop in the other with the conflicting thought, “I like Jesus, but I like boobies, too,” which one do you think will win out?

To be completely honest, this is the main reason I had the internet cut off at my house, and never had it turned on after moving to Huntsville.
Removing temptation is best whenever possible.
As an extra precaution, I’ve got software installed from XXX Church that sends a biweekly email report to an accountability partner that details the date/time of any visits to “questionable” sites.

But, the problem with pornography is that it doesn’t stop there.
The thoughts of your mind becomes manifest in actions.

Which is why I will never be able to tell my future bride that she is my only one.

It’s kind of a weird thing.
When I’m in a relationship with someone, I want to fight for that.
Protect that.
In keeping with that, sex is not even an option.
Not negotiable.

The relationships weren’t the problem for me.
For me, the problem came with the heartbreak.

Fighting the conflicting ideologies of being told by ladies what a great catch I am…
And then finding myself having been thrown back.

Needing validation of my own worth…
Needing to know someone cares…
Needing a physical touch…

To borrow a phrase from a friend, finding myself falling into the arms of another instead of the arms of Christ.
Each time, it was the same story.
Each time, it ended with shame and regret.

And each time it fed into the one thing that I still struggle with more than anything.
Well, more than anything than perhaps worry…

Depression.
What a sucker punch.

For a kid who had everything he ever needed, what is the problem?
Maybe it was because I was picked on as a kid.  A lot.
And for the most part, I never felt like it was the “we pick on you because we love you” kind of picking.
Probably because I never had anything that resembled friendship with those doing the majority of the picking.
I even ended up in *Alternative School* for a few days because of it.

*Note: Do not start fights with kids bigger than you.  It does not end well, and you will both be in trouble.

Or maybe it was because I had two older brothers that I never really felt close to until only a few years ago.
Granted, they were much older than me and out of the house during many of my formative years.

For whatever reason, it lingered into college and pushed me to a point that I needed to be medicated.
There were a couple prescriptions that I had to take on a daily basis.
And as an added bonus, one of them caused me to put on a lot of weight.
Like, 50 lbs between November and February.

That helps with the depression… Not.

I was taken off of one prescription shortly thereafter.
And eventually the other one was dropped too.

But the depression remained.
Remains.
I suppose that is my thorn.
The thing that God has thus far refused to take away from me suggesting that His grace is sufficient for me.

My biggest regret from all of this, though, is that I have hid all of these struggles away.
Not allowing my own shortfalls to be exposed that that the glory of God would be illuminated, putting up my own facade.
A mask impressive enough that when I shared this with one friend, they were shocked because I’m such a “goody goody.”
No one ever would have guessed.

So, obviously, it’s easy to see why I didn’t particularly want to share any of this at my home church.

In front of the people that taught me about the love and grace of God.
In front of the people that encouraged me through the early stages of my salvation and call into ministry.
In front of the people that gave me the opportunity to teach adults, even as a college student.
In front of the people that oversaw my ordination and sent me out to continue to learn and do the will of God.

What a failure I have been.
What a disappointment to them.

But, no matter.
God said:
Tell them.  Tell them everything.  They need to know they are not alone.
My life is not meant to be lived for their approval, or for any man’s approval.

But that isn’t exactly what happened afterward.
One of the youth leaders came to me and thanked me for sharing my story.
And that I’ve never disappointed them.
And that he didn’t think I was a failure.
And that he was proud of me.

To hear those words from someone at my home church…
That was an immediate beginning to the healing I’ve long sought after.

What holds you captive, keeping you from the healing Jesus wants to give?
Have you shared your fight with anyone?

You don’t have to answer that here.
But seriously consider it for yourself.

Share your story with someone you trust.
Tell them.  Tell them everything.  They need to know they are not alone!

Peace and love.