Dear Friends, sorry for the long time since my last blog post. Marshall has been wild and woolly and I haven't written much more than sermons and emails for about six months. As for this month's message, some of you know this story. If you've known me 25 years you do. Longer than 25, maybe not. Shorter than 25, maybe not. Then again, this story has been on this blog two other times in one form and another.
This isn't an easy story to tell, it may not be an easy story to read. Know that the blessings are available! They are available when we know our stories well enough to share them with the world, like I do here. This is truth, even in the pain. And as I say, see you in Church.
Paul
Dear Friends in Christ,
One of the themes I’ve shared over
the past two years is knowing our faith stories. It’s when we know our stories
that our faith becomes real. When our faith is real, it matters. When our faith
matters, people want to know what makes it so important. So this is a true
story. It’s almost twenty-five years old, and it’s mine. The names have not
been changed. No one is innocent.
In the summer of 1985, I finished
grad school, a Master of Science in Student Personnel (a counselor education degree for higher ed). But as a twenty-three year old with no professional experience in
a tight economy I couldn’t find a job in my field. So, I went
back to doing what got me through grad school, I went back to work in the bars.
I worked at a club in the Westport
district of Kansas City, Missouri called Buzzard Beach. While there I met a
girl, her name was Megan. She was home in KC for a couple of semesters from the
University of Wyoming because her grandfather was dying. She was taking
education classes at the University of Missouri-Kansas City, working at a
hardware store, and playing shuffleboard at my bar. To make a long story
shorter, I was taken by her. But too soon, in January 1987, she went back to
Wyoming to go back to school and in an age long before email, we began
exchanging letters.
That summer, she came back for a
couple of weeks and when she did, she blew me off completely. I was ticked. Of
course, I didn’t say “ticked.” There are bar words and there are church words,
and I won’t use the bar words here.
After some time of hurt feelings
and a couple of more letters, I came to know that I had fallen in love with
her. I decided what I needed to do is put my cards on the table, tell her how I
felt, and let what happens happen. It was just before Thanksgiving so I decided
it would be best to do this in person instead of in a letter, but I never got
the chance. On December 13, 1987 Megan shot herself. When I got the call, I let
out a cry that made God himself shudder.
I knew I needed to be forgiven;
forgiven for being so angry with her; forgiven for not telling her how I felt;
forgiven for not taking responsibility for my feelings and my actions; or
inactions really. But I could not find forgiveness, so I ran away and hid.
I hid in work. I hid in a bottle. I
hid in plain sight. Finally, I ended up hiding in Lamar, Colorado 81052. About
two after Megan’s death, I was running a dormitory at Lamar Community College.
After a few years in Colorado I
began to hear that still small voice of the Lord, the one that told me if I was
waiting to be “good enough” before going back to church I would never be good
enough and I would never go. So one Sunday, I ended up in a pew at the First
Presbyterian Church in Lamar and began the journey that brings me to you today.
But since that’s another story I’ll finish this one first.
I attended regularly and began
reading my bible. I started to learn about grace and forgiveness. But one
thought haunted me: No matter how hard I tried to deal with my guilt, it never
went away. Truth be known, I was probably giving it away with my right hand and
taking it right back with the left.
One night, at a Presbyterian
revival service (yeah, a Presbyterian revival—it may be an oxymoron, but it’s
still a true story) the pastor spoke on forgiveness. He preached on Matthew’s
version of the Lord’s Prayer with special attention to 6:15, “but if you do not
forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”
Don’t get me wrong, I understood,
to be forgiven I would have to forgive. But what did I have to forgive her for?
She was the one who was in so much pain that she thought the only way out of it
was to kill herself. What did I possibly have to forgive her for? Then, by the
grace of God, I was given an answer: I had to forgive her for forgetting. I had
to forgive her for forgetting about her family, her friends, and I had to
forgive her for forgetting about me. I had to forgive her for leaving. I had to
forgive her. And in that moment, after nearly eight years of mourning, I did.
And at that moment, I don’t know if
you heard the angelic choir or not, but at the moment I
forgave, by the grace of God, I was forgiven too. I had held onto my mourning
and sorrow for so long, when the weight was lifted I knew I was in the presence
of God. At that moment, I was in a holy place in my life.
Wonderfully, just a few months
later, I met Marie. If I had met her any earlier I wouldn’t have been ready.
She would have known it, and life as I know it would have been without the love
I know today. Thank God I didn’t meet Marie one minute before I was ready to
meet her.
Megan’s mom came to Colorado for
our wedding. Megan’s sister Jenny caught Marie’s bouquet. During the reception
dance I thanked her for coming. And I told her that I am a better man, and will
be a better husband, for having known her daughter.
I say that this is my story, but in
truth it’s more than that. First of all, I have many more stories than this
one, but this one is important and it was once the dominant story of my life.
But more importantly, it isn’t my story, it’s God’s story. The Lord gave it to
me so that I can share a personal story of grace and forgiveness.
So, what’s your story? Some folks
have a big dramatic story like this one. I love the people whose story begins
with “I have known the Lord all my life, so I really don’t have a big dramatic
story.” Lightening moments are dramatic, but the peace that is beyond all
understanding is just as glorious.
So what is the story the Lord has
given you? When people ask how your faith shapes you these are the kind of
things they want to hear. I’ll finish with something I said on November 11: “Jesus
doesn’t want us to share the Book of Order with the world; he wants us to share
the joy of our relationship with God in three persons, the Father, the Son and
the Spirit. He wants us to share our relationship with God who is right here,
up-close and personal. He wants us to share our relationship with God who loves
the world so much he gave his only begotten son.” This can only begin when we know our stories.
See you in church,
Paul
