Courage Revisted

 

Last year as summer ended and the school year began,

I wrote about courage.

 

Quoting a Celine Dion song, I wrote:

 

“Courage, don’t you dare fail me now

I need you to keep away the doubts

I’m staring in the face of something new

You’re all I’ve got to hold on to

So, courage, don’t you dare fail me now.”

 

I went on to write:

 

Courage: the ability to do something that frightens you.

 

Courage: the mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty

 

Courage: the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, new things, etc., without fear; bravery.

 

Courage: being a public-school teacher in a society that constantly tries to undermine the importance of diversity, equality, accessibility, experience, and education.

 

I add this year:

 

Courage: starting again in new, smaller space and trying to figure out how to make it work.

 

Oh God: Shed light on this new year and grant me the courage to face the year with steadiness, hope, and belief in the work that I do. Help me to stand boldly for what is good and right and help me to educate my students’ whole selves. Grant courage to my colleagues as well, and grant courage to my students to face the year with an openness for growth and learning that results in healthy and whole human beings. Help us all to navigate through the fears, doubts, and worries that are setting in as a new school year begins, and help us to land on the possibilities of what can be when we face the year with You.

 

Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. Do everything in love. (1 Corinthians 16: 13-14)

 

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Deuteronomy 31:6)

 

Amen.

One Of The Best Humans I Know

6.3.19—One Of The Best Humans I Know

I received a text today that surprised me. It said:

“You are one of the best humans I know.”

I won’t lie. Reading those words made me feel good. Knowing all of the not-so-good things that I think, say, and do, I have a hard time believing the statement. And yet, it feels good to know that someone thinks so highly of me that she has labeled me one of the best.

But that’s not all. The very next text said, “Top 3.”

Naturally, I wondered who the other two Top 3 people were, so I inquired to find out. When I did, I was truly humbled to be part of such a group.

On Saturday, three of the best humans that I know encouraged me to return to a place that changed me. For years, my dream was to work there and make its ministry my life. A few years ago, however, because of theological differences, I was asked to step away from my involvement with the ministry. The organization’s leader at the time told me, “It only takes one person to ruin an entire organization.” Evidently, that person was me, and so I was asked to leave. I did. But ever since, there has been a hole in my heart and a part of my spirit that has forgotten how to dream.

So going back Saturday was a big deal. Part of me wanted to go. The other part of me was afraid. Words are powerful weapons, and those weapons from years ago often still wound me. But I’m so glad that I went. Thanks to good humans, I was able to reconnect with old friends and walk sacred grounds where I once felt God’s presence more powerfully than anywhere in the world. Thanks to good humans, I was able to take one more step toward healing and letting go.

Who are the good humans in your life? Do you categorize them as such because of what they have done for you, because of the positive things they do for humanity, because of their nature and character, because of their faith, because of something else? If you had to make a list of your Top 3 “best” humans, then who would be on the list and why? Would you need to divide your list into periods of life—or increase it to 5, 10, or more?

I suppose that none of that really matters…as long as you’re simply thinking about the good humans in your life—as long as you’re remembering people who have made an impact on your existence—who still do—who have changed you for the better in some way—who have been God’s light to you in times of darkness. It’s easy to think about the “bad” humans—the ones who frustrate us—the ones who have hurt us—the ones who have squelched our dreams with their words. The “bad” people tend to often be topics of conversation in our lives. But what about the good ones? The ones who are best?

I want to challenge you to give your people a call this week, or, if you’re like me and don’t really like to talk on the phone, then send a text, or Facebook message, or, better yet, a real card/letter in the mail. Surprise them with the words that surprised me today: “You are one of the best humans I know,” and then tell them why. There is so much negativity in this world. So much hurt. So many differences that wound and separate. So much anger waiting to explode.

Yet just as three of the best humans I know encouraged me to take steps toward positive healing on Saturday, you, too, can encourage the people in your life with positive words. If it only takes one person to ruin an organization, then it only takes one person to change a life. Be that life-changer today. Be one of the best humans that you know.

It's Time To Start Writing Again

For the past few weeks, I’ve had the privilege of worshipping with someone whom I’ve considered a mentor for many years. Mrs. Kathy is not only an elementary music teacher but also the minister of music at a local church, and she is the music teacher and minister that I strive to be. I admire her talent, her spirit, her humility, her shoes, and her heart for God…so to have the opportunity to make music with and learn from her has been an absolute privilege.

Yesterday, on a very rare Sunday, Mrs. Kathy was out of town. She trusted me to lead worship for her, and I’m so glad that she did. Yesterday’s sermon really spoke to me. Yesterday’s sermon is why I’m writing this note today.

The pastor said, “There are some of you here today who need to stop something. There are others of you who need to start something. Whatever it is that you need to stop or start, you need to do it right now.”

Well, friends. I was the “some of you” that fit into both categories. I needed to stop making excuses and start writing again—not for fame or fortune—but for me—for you—for anyone who might read whatever it is that pours from the fingers of my heart.

For years, I wrote every Monday and Thursday. No matter where I was. No matter what I was doing. No matter if I had internet access or not. I wrote. It was a discipline. And it left me with page upon page of stories, memories, struggles, and joys that I otherwise would have forgotten. But then I started graduate school and my writing fell out of rhythm. And that was two years ago.

There is no good reason that I didn’t start writing again after I finished my degree. I’ve thought about it many times—more times than I care to admit. I’ve convinced myself of the merits of the discipline and supported others who have desired to write. I just haven’t made myself sit down and write…because…well…I haven’t felt like I’ve had anything to say.

About a year ago, I first heard a song called “Fear Is A Liar.” I cried. Fear is liar and it had—has—been lying to me for a long time. I’ve overcome some of fear’s lies, but other lies still hold me in their clutch—like the lie that I have nothing to say. Everyone has something to say. Everyone has a story. And everyone’s story connects to everyone else’s story in some way because we are all on this human journey together. And yet…fear lies.

It’s time for me to stop believing fear’s lies—at least about my writing…and about one more thing:

I love to lead worship. I am so grateful that Mrs. Kathy has seen this truth in me and given me an opportunity to play alongside her. I love to lead retreats. I love to help with camps. I love being “Deanna Deaton, Retreat and Worship Leader,” and I want to be that person again. She has been hiding for years. The fears of not being good enough—of being seen but misunderstood—of being rejected—of being told that I am inferior because I am a woman—have kept me from pursuing that which I love the most: Writing. Leading. Music. Personality type. Love languages. Worship. Spiritual Formation.

I don’t know what God is nudging you to stop or start, friends—although I imagine that there is something--but as for me, God is nudging me to release my grip on these damning fears once and for all. It’s time to stop believing the lies, friends. It’s time to start writing again—not for fame or fortune—but for me—for God—for you—for anyone who might read whatever pours from the fingers of our hearts.

-----

Fear Is a Liar by Zach Williams

When he told you you're not good enough
When he told you you're not right
When he told you you're not strong enough
To put up a good fight

When he told you you're not worthy
When he told you you're not loved
When he told you you're not beautiful
That you'll never be enough

When he told you were troubled
You'll forever be alone
When he told you you should run away
You'll never find a home
When he told you you were dirty
And you should be ashamed
When he told you you could be the one
That grace could never change

Fear, he is a liar
He will take your breath
Stop you in your steps
Fear he is a liar
He will rob your rest
Steal your happiness
Cast your fear in the fire
'Cause fear he is a liar

Let Your fire fall and cast out all my fears
Let Your fire fall Your love is all I feel…

Courageous Truth

Once upon a time, there was a girl. The girl had a loving family who took very good care of her.
When the girl began Kindergarten, she was nervous like most Kindergarteners. She cried when she had to leave her mother, uncertain of being separated from her mom’s love. Other kids cried, too—no big deal—until one day of crying led to a week led to a month led to many more months of deep struggle in school.

There were many opinions as to what to do about the little girl’s anxiety. Most opinions centered around the notion that the girl’s loving family was being too protective. Cut the strings. Walk away. She’ll stop crying eventually. She has to grow up sometime.

One night as the little girl was taking a bath and her mom was talking to her about places where it is and is not appropriate for people to touch, the little girl casually mentioned, “No one has touched me there this year.”

This year.

But someone had touched her the previous year. A peer. A young boy. Not in her family. But someone nonetheless. And it had scared her. It had made her feel vulnerable and insecure. And it made her not certain who outside her family she could trust. It had made her feel unsafe. And it made her not want to go to school.

Thankfully, this story has a happy ending. Once the little girl told the story of what had happened to her, and once her family got her into counseling to help her work through the issues tied to the incident, she stopped crying every day when it came time to go to school. She stopped clinging to her mom’s hand and began to have the courage to walk to class alone. She began to smile more and she began to talk.

She had told the truth. And the truth had set her free.

I recently had a deep theological conversation with a friend. As we moved from one hot topic to the next, we landed on the topic of coming out. For most, the phrase “coming out” is almost exclusively tied to the process of identifying as gay/lesbian/transgendered; but for others, the phrase “coming out” has come to be associated with a process that occurs many times over the course of one’s life. The friend that I was talking to in this conversation—a woman who had been called into ministry—had had to come out of the women in ministry closet. Another friend has had to come out of the atheist closet. Another friend has had to come out of the not-called-to-be-what-her-parents-wanted-her-to-be closet. Another friend has had to come out of a political closet. Other friends have come out of other closets. And in every instance, the process has been similar: recognition of thought or feeling, exploration, questioning, doubt, struggle, fear of rejection, declaration, and acceptance (though not always in this particular order and not at all linear in sequence). [Do you know what’s interesting about this? These are also the stages of faith development.]

If I may be so bold, then I am going to suggest, dear friends, that each of us has a closet from which we need to escape. Some of us may have a whole house of them. Like the girl who began this post, your closet could be a closet of abuse and that abuse is big and real and scary and paralyzing. Or maybe your closet is financial ruin or medical insecurity or theological doubt or political anger or helpless sadness or wanting to be seen or admission of imperfection or maybe even sexual orientation. Maybe you’ve just gone into your closet or maybe you’ve been hiding your whole life. I don’t know. But what I do know is this:

When we have the courage to speak our truth in love, and when we have the courage to hear others’ truth in love, then the truth will set us free.

I’m not talking about spewing moral absolutes and fighting ‘sin’ with right and wrong. I’m talking about courageously, honestly, openly, and vulnerably risking to share parts our story—our truths—with one another in common humanity. I’m talking about fighting fear, separation, and otherness with words and dialogue—however difficult and humbling they may be. I’m talking about discussing which zones are safe and doing something proactive when we realize that safety has been breached. I’m talking about bunkering down, getting into trust-fall position, and holding one another’s pain. Because this world shouldn’t be a closet. And kids shouldn’t fear going to school. And humanity should never be us against them...