Leave A Legacy

Our Need for Resolving Good and Bad

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 14 Apr 2007 16:52:00 +0000

By Dr John Townsend

"I JUST KNOW he's out there waiting for me," Carol said hopefully. She
was recovering from a depression that had led to a suicide attempt after
the failure of her second marriage. The "he" Carol was referring to was
her "prince." the ideal man who would be everything her first two
husbands hadn't been.

Carol's ex-husbands had been "intolerable." The first husband had been
"insensitive, cold, and uncaring." The second had been more emotionally
connectable, but was "weak and needy." Both relationships had been
extremely fast-paced and infatuational: Carol had married each man
within months of meeting him.

In both marriages, however, Carol had experienced a sense of gradual
letdown and disappointment: "They weren't who I thought they were."
Time after time, they would show themselves to be flawed, inconsiderate,
incompetent, and so on. And as their imperfections and shortcomings
became clearer to her, all hope of the special marriage she'd longed
for grew dimmer.

The same problem was happening in her work. Carol found herself
changing careers every couple of years. At first each job promised
success, fulfillment, and financial security. But within a few months,
the problems in each company would surface, leaving Carol feeling
betrayed. She would quit the job in a flurry and quickly reengage
in a new position with the "perfect' organization.

Carol's deep sense of disappointment in her husbands and careers led
to a sense of resentment toward God for "not being fair" to her. All
this was  aggravated by the fact that now, in her early forties, the
hopes and dreams of the special family and job were much more elusive
than when she was in her twenties. She was no closer to the ideal
life than when she was younger.

Carol's hope moved to despair. As the Bible says. "Hope deferred
makes the heart sick" (Proverbs 13:12).


THE CLASH OF REAL AND IDEAL

Carol's conflict illustrates our third developmental need: We must
learn to live with the tension of a fallen world, of knowing that
the universe, like us, is sinful, marred, and imperfect. It is less
than ideal, sometimes hostile, and yet it's the only one we have to
live in. As Woody Allen said, it's not great, but it's still the
best place to get a good steak.

Why is the conflict between the real and the ideal a problem?
Actually, there would be no problem, had there been no Fall. We
weren't created to experience or handle evil. In fact, the plan
for you and me was just the  opposite. We were to have a life of
unbroken connection and purposeful activity. However, for a
variety of reasons, this ideal life for us was not to be.

If you've ever seen a child hurt by another child for the first
time, you get a picture of how jolting the experience of badness
is, I watched the face of a one-year-old girl as she was pushed
down by another child during a get-together of families. The
first emotion that registered was surprise-she didn't have a
place in her understanding for aggression by another. There
was no framework for it. The second emotion was a sense of
betrayal and withdrawal. The third was rage. At that point,
the parents had to separate them.

Of course, we experience evil inside as well as outside us. The
ravages of the Fall, in the form of sin, loss, and injustice,
are hard on us Living with imperfection is destructive to us.
Look at the skin of an infant, then put it up against the
weathered hands of an eighty-year-old. The world takes its toll.
That's why Paul's vivid picture of the world wrestling in the
throes of childbirth has such impact on us: "For we know that
the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth
together until now" (Romans 8:22). This pain surrounds us
all in one form or another.

But that isn't the only problem. Not only is living in a fallen
world wearing on us, but it's worsened by the fact that we know
good and evil-that is, we have an idea of what the ideal,
perfect world would be. The contrast is brutally difficult
to swallow.

Most of us have experienced serendipitous moments a few times in
our lives-unexpected times of deep, tender, genuine joy in a
loving relationship, or of satisfaction in a day's work. when
"the day was good, dinner's on the barbeque. God's on His throne,
and all's well with the world." Unanticipated pleasures or
satisfaction don't seem to overcome the failures, losses, and
pain of the real world, however. Comparing them is often a
genuine letdown.

This comparison should never have been. That's why God was so
concerned that in all the freedom Adam was to have, there should
be only one limit: And the Lord God commanded the man, saving,
"From any tree of the garden you may eat freely: but from the
tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for
in the day that you eat from it you shall surely die."
(Genesis 2: 16-17)

God never wanted us to be able to make moral judgments of good
and evil. The reason seems to be simply because He wanted to
spare us the experience of evil. It was for our benefit. It
was to save us from something that would hurt us terribly,
and it did.

The knowledge of evil is so contaminating that God alone can
deal with it without becoming evil Himself. Our creatureliness
makes us susceptible to its power. This is why I believe God's
eviction of us from Eden was actually a blessing in disguise.
Had Adam stayed, he might have eaten from the tree of life,
become immortal, and been imprisoned in his isolation from
God and others forever: Then the LORD God said. "Behold,
the man has become like one of Us, knowing good and evil:
and now, lest he stretch out his hand, and take also from
the tree of life, and eat, and live forever" - therefore
the LORD God sent him out from the garden of Eden, to
cultivate the ground from which he was taken. (Genesis 3:22-23)

In a way, the Garden is always with us. Our memories of good
moments, and our wishes for ourselves and others to be better,
keep the image of the ideal in our hearts. At times this
encourages us, and at others it torments us, such as when we
have thoughts like, "I shouldn't have made that error-I knew
better. Why did I let it happen again?"

So the jolting experience of imperfection and the knowledge of
good and evil land a one-two punch on most of us, and a dilemma
is born. It can be stated this way: I'd like to be the ideal me-
living in an ideal world. I can even imagine it. What then do I
do with the badness in myself and in the world? How do I coexist
with injustice? Failure? Imperfection? Disappointment?

The reason this is such a monumental issue for some of us, such
as the perfectionist or the frustrated idealist, is that the
kernel of the problem is a fear that bad will overwhelm and
contaminate good. The one bad apple spoils a lifetime, thinks
the idealist. This is a sign of a developmental inability to
trust that the good can coexist with the bad.

A friend of mine had one of the most beautiful weddings I've ever
seen. From opening song to final dance at the reception, it was a
testimony to God and a great party for the friends of the couple.
Yet she confided that for several months afterward, she'd been
unable to reflect on and enjoy the warm memories. The "culprit"
was one isolated incident lodged permanently in her memory: a
tense argument between her future mother-in-law and the church
hostess over how quickly the bride was to walk down the aisle
- an argument which no one but the bride noticed. She couldn't
enjoy a great wedding because of her inability to see past one
"bad" moment. Her perfectionism would not allow her to.

Carol, the woman who was chasing the "ideal" husband, family,
and job, was in the middle of a similar dilemma. Unable to accept
mediocrity and flaws in her life, she embarked on a lifelong
journey to a sort of land of Oz, where she'd never have to be
disappointed again in love or work. Good enough wasn't good
enough for Carol's idealistic dream.


A DEVELOPMENTAL VIEW

The same difficulty occurs in early child development. After gaining a
sense of attachment (the first stage), and a sense of separateness, (the
second stage), the infant becomes aware of a new issue in life: the
existence of good and bad. It's normal to see a cooing, satisfied baby
feeding in his mother's arms switch instantly to rage when she puts him
in his playpen-then right back to bliss when the anxious mother quickly
retrieves him!

The mind of the infant isn't yet sophisticated enough to understand his
mother's actions. He only knows that Mother was "good" when he was
held. When he was put down, all the good left. He now had a "bad" mother
who frustrated his wish. But that was okay, because "good mother" returned
in a  few seconds and rescued him. The infant hasn't yet developed the
understanding that the loving mother who hugs him is the same one who
sometimes withholds things from him.

Infants can't resolve the conflict of people whom they love being the
same ones at whom they rage. This is because, since the Fall, we're born
into the sinful state: without grace, unloved, and unloving. We have
emptiness, terror, and anger in our hearts from the womb. At this point
there is no antidote to "badness," because babies haven't yet received
enough grace to forgive badness.

Solving the baby's state of gracelessness requires a great deal of time
with Mother. Along with providing a sense of constancy and a framework
of love for the infant, she also needs to give him enough that he doesn't
lose his emotional memory of her goodness when he encounters delays of
gratification.

At some point, he is able to remember that the same "mean person" who
gave him a bath is the wonderful woman who played with him that night.
The good doesn't leave with the presence of the bad.

We see the same dilemma in the Apostle Paul, not turned toward his
mother, but toward himself. He suffered greatly through the reality that
sin lived within him: For that which I am doing, I do not understand:
for I am not practicing what I would like to do, but I am doing the
very thing I hate. But if I do the very thing I do not wish to do,
I agree with the Law, confessing that it is good. So now, no longer am
I the one doing it, but sin which indwells me. For I know that nothing
good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh; for the wishing is present in
me, but the doing of the good is not. For the good that I wish, I do
not do: but I practice the very evil that I do not wish.
(Romans 7:15-19)

Christians throughout the centuries have found comfort in the anguish
of this passage, saying to themselves, "He knows what I live with." The
passage could just as well be describing someone in the throes of a
compulsive behavior problem, stuck in the cycle-wanting the goodness,
yet lost in the badness. Paul felt the internal conflict - the alienation -
the destructive splitting between his goodness and badness, knowing who
he should have been, and yet also who he really was.

FALSE SOLUTIONS

People who have not received enough grace to solve the badness problem
are terrified people. They are constantly on the run from the shame of
their own sin, or the disappointment of seeing the badness of others-or
both. If a person gets a 95 on an important test and yet feels like a
failure, she may start believing the only way out is to live in a world
of l00s. This temporary solution of the tension between real and ideal
is always inadequate and involves some sort of splitting between good
and bad, keeping the two apart rather than realistically resolving them
through forgiveness from God and others.

A typical temporary solution is intolerance of our own badness. Jeff
came to therapy after his wife discovered his involvement with pornography.
The damage to his marriage was immense, as was his shame at his "badness"
being found out. What emerged after some time in therapy helped clarify
why he started.

Not only was Jeff's addiction a longstanding pattern beginning at
puberty; it also served an important purpose for him. "I was always
the star," he said. "There wasn't a place in my family for mediocrity."
Jeff's parents had needed a "star" to fill up the voids in their own
hearts, and his talents had been useful for that. Sports, leadership
and academics all came easily for him. He had the "perfect" background.

Yet Jeff had begun noticing at an early age that he often felt
strangely unreal about himself. He would lead his church youth
groups rallies brilliantly, but felt that "the real me wasn't
there-it was just this actor who looked like me." Sometimes it
felt as if he would watch himself from the sidelines, going
through his performance paces. In fact, there were several years
of his childhood and adolescence of which he had almost
no memory. "How could I remember?" he asked. "I wasn't
there-the actor was."

When Jeff had discovered pornography in his father's closet, he became
hooked on something much deeper than the sexual stimulation. The
pictures became an entrance to a fantasy world where he could be
"bad"-meaning, in Jeff's case, impulsive, needy, or sensual.
The material became a container for all the unloved, imperfect
(in the eyes of his family) parts of himself.

Fixating on goodness-while ignoring badness-can lead to an addiction
to self-admiration. It leads away from love. Love sees-and forgives-the
bad: Love "does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the
truth" (1 Corinthians 13:6). Love doesn't deny the truth, positive
or negative.

Jeff learned that he was to experience only positive truths about
himself. Feeling like a double agent, he was split down the middle.
There was his idealized perfect self, with an adoring fan club of
church friends and family. And there was his secret self, where he
felt "bad" - but alive. Even so, he hated this aspect of himself.
"All 1 ever thought about was all the people who looked up to me-
how disappointed and hurt they'd be if it came out."

Jeff's solution to his badness had been to keep it in a secret
compartment, away from the rest of his life. He was terribly
frightened of the repercussions of humiliation and disappointment
once others knew of his badness.

It was in a group situation that Jeff first opened up to several
others about his sexual struggle. Instead of receiving truckloads
of shame, Jeff found that several group members wept as they listened
to the story of how hard he'd had to work to stay "special" instead
of allowing himself to be ordinary. For the first time, he was able
to bring his "bad self" to grace. "I thought that bad part of myself
was supposed to be beat up, not loved." Over time, as Jeff gave up
the demand to be perfect, his addiction was resolved.

Did Jeff have a sin problem? Certainly. But it's important not to
confuse the fruit and the root. The addiction was the result, or
symptom, of a deeper issue of not being able to integrate his
good and bad parts. Jesus taught that the roots inside the heart
are what we need to pay attention to; we should not be misled by
the symptoms on the outside: And [Jesus] was saying, "That which
proceeds out of the man, that is what defiles the man. For from
within, out of the heart of men, proceed the evil thoughts,
fornications, thefts, murders, adulteries, deeds of coveting
and wickedness, as well as deceit, sensuality, envy, slander,
pride and foolishness. All these evil things proceed from
within and defile the man." (Mark 7:20-23)

Have you ever dealt with a well-meaning "sinbuster" Christian?
These folks spend a lot of time confronting behavioral problems
such as Jeff's without dealing with what Jesus called the
"defilement-from-within." Jeff's struggle with his own
defilement needed to be discovered, so that it could be
brought to the light and resolved.

The "sinbusters" sort of confrontation is helpful to us,
because it brings us to a place where we can admit a problem
to God and others. But to end the confrontation with a
"don't be bad anymore" handslap is to repeat the mistake of
the Pharisees- cupwashing: "Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees,
hypocrites! For you clean the outside of the cup and of the
dish, but inside they are full of robbery and self-indulgence.
You blind Pharisee, first clean the inside of the cup and of
the dish, so that the outside of it may become clean also."
(Matthew 23:25-26)

Cupwashing, or painting over the bad, never works, because the
source of the problem hasn't been dealt with. That source simply
waits, festers, feels more unloved and unforgiven, and emerges
again.

A second false or temporary solution is the problem of intolerance
of the badness in others. Carol's need to deny badness in her
search for the ideal began in a chaotic background in which her
parents fought constantly, in private and public, and included the
kids as targets in their wars. There was very little time for the
kids' needs.

To escape from the craziness of her family, Carol constructed an
"all-good" idealized fantasy world, where no one let her down, no one
criticized her. Here she was surrounded by affirming, empathic people
who understood without having to explain herself. Her fantasy job was
fulfilling, exciting, meaningful, and never drudgery. Her fantasy
marriage was to a perfect man with absolute love and caring for her
every need--no warts!

It makes sense that Carol wound up in middle age with a string of
relational and career disappointments. Encountering the blemishes
and wrinkles of those around her threw Carol back into the dark,
graceless state of her childhood. Even little reminders, such as
a friend's clumsy attempt to be encouraging, would backfire.

One day, one of Carol's closest middle-aged friends tried to
compliment her. "You're really moving into middle age gracefully;
you're an inspiration to me," she said. Carol was crushed.
At forty-four she'd never considered herself "middle-aged."
Her constant state of gracelessness, or her feelings
of unlovableness and badness, made her hypersensitive. The
hypersensitivity would then make Carol feel wounded and
misunderstood if her friends' statements weren't exactly
mirroring her feelings.

Often, denial is the only way people learn how to deal with
these unpleasant aspects of the soul. Splitting off the feelings,
thoughts, or memories from awareness helps ease the unloved
feelings and shame that seem to be part of that aspect. The
only problem is that denial doesn't work. Feelings that are
buried are always buried alive.


THE BIBLICAL SOLUTION

Since none of us is as "graced" and secure as we could be, all
of us need help in solving the tension of what to do with our
bad parts. God's solution is not perfectionism, or splitting
off our badness. It is quite the opposite. It's called forgiveness.


Love Versus Law

Biblically, the antidote to the badness in our hearts and in the
world isn't our goodness. That would be legalism, or self-salvation:
"But if [the love of God] is by grace, it is no longer on the basis
of works, otherwise grace is no longer grace" (Romans 11:6).
The antidote is love.

The uniqueness of the Cross is this: Jesus' death took morality
problems out of the arena of law, and into the arena of love.
We no longer need fear that our imperfections will rip us away
from attachment to Him and others because we're "too bad." That
is a given -we are "too bad" to reach a perfect standard of
lovability: All of us have sinned and fallen short of the glory
of God. We have been sought out and bought out of isolation by
a Father who will never break His promise of unconditional love
for us.

People who have a hard time understanding this find themselves
either (1) making up for their imperfections or (2) being in
denial about them. Their flaws are like a sword hanging over
their heads by a thread. They are terrified of an inevitability.
It's a foregone conclusion to them that at some point the thread
will finally snap and their exposed weaknesses will heap shame,
rejection, and isolation from God and people upon their
uncovered heads.

The message of the Bible, though, is that our sanctification
includes having these imperfect parts exposed to relationship.
It means our problem will be revealed to others who can care
for, forgive, and support us. This happens through the process
that the Bible calls confession.


Confession

To confess means to agree with the truth about ourselves. If
that truth is a secret compulsion, a shameful memory, or an
unloved self, we are to agree about it with God and other people:
"Therefore, confess your sins to one another, and pray for one
another, so that you may be healed" (James 5:16). Rather than
being a path to condemnation, confession to God and others is
a gateway to solving the problem. Being realistic and vulnerable
leads to healing.

Christians struggle with a great deal of confusion about the
role of confession. It is not, as some believe, so that we will
no longer be guilty.

We simply are guilty. But the guilt problem under the Law was
abolished on the cross: "by the appearing of our Savior Christ
Jesus, who abolished death, and brought life and immortality
to light through the gospel" (2 Timothy 1:10). Our former
legal guilt is an irrelevant issue, in terms of our being
attached to God. There is no condemnation for the believer.
There is no need, therefore, to confess in order to be forgiven.
It is a finished issue.

The purpose of confession, instead, is to bring the unloved,
hated, bad parts of ourselves into both the light of God's
grace and the clear direction and instruction of His truth.
It brings the parts that need forgiveness into relationship.
The toxic nature of the badness is disinfected. Therefore,
it can't contaminate the rest of us. In fact, love reduces
it to its essence: our bad part is simply a problem in
getting our needs met biblically.

When Jeff was able to talk freely about his addiction to his
group, an interesting thing happened. His tone changed. At
first, there was a deep hesitation, embarrassment, and a
great deal of tension in him when he described his habitual
patterns of acting out his addiction. Then the groups growing
attachment to him, and the honest confessions of the members,
began seeping into him. After a while, there was a
matter-of-factness-not indifference - about his sharing.
It was just another problem - a bad one, but something that
needed to be solved -just like issues of trust or
boundary conflicts in the group.

We could almost visibly see Jeff's "bad" aspects becoming
integrated into the rest of his character, where he could take
responsibility for them, and be accountable to have them loved
and understood by others.


HOW TO ATTACH THE BAD TO RELATIONSHIP

For a minute, think of a person with whom you feel very free
in your life. This person may be undisciplined. He or she may
have a lot of problems. But there is one sure thing: you know
this person loves you, good and bad. You feel forgiven;
your badness doesn't make your friend nervous, critical,
or withdrawing. It's just part of the attachment. For all
that person's weaknesses, he or she has chosen the
"good part" that Mary did: to love you.

(If we have to err on one side or another, God grant us
grace to err on the side of love.)

I'll never forget the clearest example in my life of this
principle. I went through college in the South in the early
seventies. Like some of my friends. I'd grown a pretty lengthy
head of hair, for various reasons: peer relationships,
rebelliousness, experimenting with adult decision-making,and
so forth. Back then, the South wasn't particularly fond of
long-haired kids. Though I'm sure I asked for it, I was hurt
by the reactions of some people.

One weekend home from college I paid a visit to my grandmother,
who lived in a tiny rural town. Granny was petite, not much over
five feet tall and in her seventies. She wasn't well-educated by
today's standards. She'd farmed all her life. She'd raised six
children Granny was culturally the opposite of the open- minded,
issue-sensitive adult.

After a few minutes in her home, Granny motioned to me. "Come
outside, come outside," she commanded. Perplexed, I followed her
into the front yard, where she had me stand still. Then, looking
up at me, she smiled and said,"I just wanted to see your hair in
the sunlight. The color comes out so pretty in the sunlight."

I can remember crying all the way back on my drive to the campus. A
part of me that had brought me a lot of pain had been cherished by
someone. Something that had been broken in me began healing.

That's what grace is about: not being afraid of imperfect things in
ourselves or others, because of the relationship of grace to
imperfection: there is always more grace than badness. As the
Bible says, grace can - if we let it- always triumph over sin or
evil: "And the Law came in that the transgression might increase;
but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more" (Romans 5:20).
If imperfection is a large landmass in our lives, grace is an ocean
that can swallow it up. Badness will never compete with grace.
It's not in the same league.

The acceptance that comes from grace removes the fear of loss of
love, so that we can work on our problems without the threat of
isolation. As for me, I eventually got a haircut for the right
reason: I needed a job. Consequences and responsibility were the
motivators, not fear of abandonment. No one can learn love in
that atmosphere. There's too much at stake.

As the negative parts of the soul are confessed and attached to
loving, accepting relationships, we learn to deal with them honestly
and without fear. The reason for this is that in these accepting
relationships there's no threat of impending rejection, so we can
feel safe discussing, exploring, and confessing these bad parts.

Do you need help in resolving your good/bad split? You can start
by learning several skills:

1. Confess your lacks to God and people.
The more you admit your imperfections to yourself, God, and others,
the less frightening they become. Secrecy is the power of badness.
That's why John says "the darkness did not comprehend [the light]"
(John 15). When secret badness is revealed, it can be healed.

2. Receive forgiveness.
You can become a loving person only by putting yourself in a position
of allowing someone else to accept and forgive your weaknesses.
As Jesus said, "He who is forgiven little, loves little" (Luke 7:47).
Find a support group of forgiven people. Forgiven people understand
living with imperfection.

3. Let go of the demand for the ideal.
Having ideals is good. It gives you goals to accomplish that help
you grow. But when the goal becomes a demand, it is no longer a help,
but a taskmaster Relinquish your need for perfection.

4. Accept "good enough" in yourself and others. 
"Good enough means that you are aware of problems, but the attachment
is worth it. When you're able to hold onto the good traits of a
relationship, in full awareness of the imperfections with it, or
when you can enjoy a project even with its flaws, you enter a
position of gratitude instead of envy and emptiness.

5. Make sadness your ally instead of your enemy.
God's solution for resolving your loss of relationships, dreams,
ideals, and opportunities is sadness. Rather than something to be
avoided, this sadness, or grief, allows you to let go of what you
cannot have in order to make room in your heart for what you can have.

Those who don't feel safe enough to grieve find themselves holding on
to lost hopes and relationships. Then it's difficult for them to seek
out new attachments, since the ghosts of the past still occupy their
emotional life. Solomon understood the value of grieving:
"The mind of the wise is in the house of mourning, while the
mind of fools is in the house of pleasure" (Ecclesiastes 7:4).

So it can be good to be sad, but we must not confuse sadness with
depression. The two are quite different. Depression is the inability
to process loss or rage. It's a heavy paralysis of the soul that
won't allow it to finish resolving a problem. Sadness is actually
the antidote to depression.

Depression is static and unmoving, but sadness moves toward
resolving loss. That's why David declared, "Weeping may last
for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning"
(Psalm 30:5). We see the functional, temporary nature of
sadness here. It does a job: Grieving prepares us for love.
When were ready, sadness ends. Its "season' is over, as
Solomon says: "a time to weep, and a time to laugh: a time
to mourn, and a time to dance" (Ecclesiastes 3:4). People
who try to "get through" times of loss often find that the
unprocessed feelings emerge in some form later in life.


TWO BADNESSES: A FINAL NOTE

It's important here to recognize that there are really two
types of badness.

The first refers to the actual sinful, depraved part of our
souls: All have turned aside, together they have become useless:
there is none who does good, there is not even one. Their throat
is an open grave, with their tongues they keep deceiving, the
poison of asps is under their lips; whose mouth is full of cursing
and bitterness: their feet are swift to shed blood, destruction
and misery are in their paths, and the path of peace have
they not known. (Romans 3:12-17)

This type of "badness" is that aspect of our character that refuses
our creatureliness and demands to be like God, as Satan did. It is
a movement away from meeting our needs in God's way, and toward
meeting them in Satan's counterfeit way.

Let's call die second type of badness "perceived badness." In other
words, it may or may not be an actually sinful aspect of the self.
It is, however, experienced as bad.

The isolated person experiences herself as a "bad" person. Whatever
is disconnected from relationship can't feel "good," because life
comes from attachment. When others withdraw from us because of certain
traits we have, we see those parts of ourselves as bad. Again, such
withdrawal has nothing to do with the actual sinfulness of that trait,
but we begin to see that trait as "bad."

Examples include our needs, our anger, our will, our anxiety, our
sadness, and even our exhilaration. Terri came from a family in
which self-sufficiency was the norm. Asking for help or comfort
was cause for a cold isolation. In adulthood, whenever Terri
would feel empty and lonely, this feeling would be instantly
followed by an internal tape saying something like, You're too
demanding-don't drain everyone with your problems. And she would
resort to her ministry, until her depression and burnout
necessitated counseling. "Needs" -real emotional needs, not wants
or desires-became Terri's "badness."

Whatever is unloved by us and by significant others will be seen
as "bad" - and we will begin to believe that until it becomes apart
of us.

The resolution of both badnesses is similar, however. Both our
actual and perceived bad aspects of the personality need confession
and relationship. Both need to be accepted as part of the self. The
only essential difference is that we need to take responsibility for
our actual badness, and learn from its consequences. Our perceived
badness needs to be seen as a character trait that has been perceived
by others in unbiblical ways.

Jenny was forced to deal with good and bad in her experience with two
different kinds of men in uniform. The invading soldiers appropriately
terrified her, and she learned to hide from them. She had learned a
particularly difficult lesson the first time she encountered the enemy
in the woods, and only the old oak tree saved her. In her tenor, she
spontaneously ran from the soldiers, the tree marking the spot where
she had to make the sharp turn into the protective brier patch.

Later, however, when she ran from the soldiers the second time, she
was well-prepared to hide-she'd marked all kinds of escape routes.
The problem was, Jenny had not resolved the difference between the
two kinds of soldiers.

The first soldiers were indeed "bad" and would have captured Jenny.
If she had only taken the time to discern the difference between
theirs and the other uniforms, she would have realized that it was
her perception of the soldiers that caused her to run away the second
time. The second group wanted to take her back to her recovering
parents. It would be some time before Jenny resolved the difference
between the good and bad soldiers.

Like Jenny, we sometimes go into hiding because we have not resolved
what's good and bad in our lives. Is this the case with you? Are there
incidents in your past that haunt you and cause you to perceive others
as "bad" when they aren't necessarily so? Or do you have certain
personal traits that you have decided are "bad" - but this impression
has been formed largely because if unpleasant experiences with others?
Or, more foundationally, perhaps you've never come to grips with your
own nature- in which case it may he helpful to seriously consider the
claims of Christ and His offer of forgiveness through the cross.

In any of these cases, serious reflection on your goodness and badness
is necessary. Your humanness possesses both-goodness because you are
created in the image of God, badness because you're a descendant of
Adam and Eve and you have a sinful nature. Resolving this split is
one of your most important tasks in maturing.

The last chapter in our exploration of "the hiding dilemma" focuses
on our fourth developmental need, for authority and adulthood. We'll
see how this emerging need is the culmination our needs attachment,
separateness, and the resolution of our good and bad selves.

Cab Driver's Story

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 09 Nov 2006 11:38:00 +0000

* Disclaimer : I received the following e-mail from a friend but can't guarantee's authenticity coz there isn't any names given. Anyway, I find the story interesting.

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One night I took a fare at 2:30 am, when I arrived to collect, the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, and then drive away.

But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.

So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute", answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness. "It's nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated".

"Oh, you're such a good boy", she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice".

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. "I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

"What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighbourhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now"

We drove in silence to the address she had given me.It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up.

They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse. "Nothing," I said

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers," I responded. Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said.

"Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift.

I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?

What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware --- beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance...

Be Human - Story of A Teacher

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 30 Oct 2006 19:20:00 +0000

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... He is a joy to be around.."

His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on he r wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to."

After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets.."

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference"

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

(For you that don't know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)