The most consistent thing that people have said to me over the past year is that I need to move on! What they mean by this of course is that they do not care for the way that I’ve handled things. They want me to be the way that they want me to be; to do things differently from the way that I’ve chosen to do them. To hell with how I feel or that healing needs to occur! Move on!
This isn’t to say that all of these folks don’t care about me. I know that many of them do. Some love me dearly. That isn’t to say that they collectively give bad advice. You have to listen to yourself first. Then you can listen to others.
Back in the days when I was a professional Christian I worked for Baptist Corporate Headquarters though I was unexplainably in charge of a rag tag congregation in the inner city. I worked for was Russell Bennett and he took us all on a retreat one time in Kentucky. There were perhaps twelve of us (no comparisons to Apostles at all!) and we were in this gorgeous park. I remember driving over with my James Furr and we listened to Eddy Murphy’s first comedy album on the drive laughing our asses off.
When we arrived the afternoon was free so James, Steve and I decided to explore the park. Soon we stumbled upon a cave and decided to go spelunking. Somehow we had two flashlights between the three of us. So we enter the dark cave and made our way until we came to a place where it grew narrow. A sign was posted that said “No further entry.”
Of course I said, “Let’s go on in!”
And we did. As I’ve explained we were not Apostles. As we made our way deeper into the forbidden area the cave grew narrower, we began to wade in water and it was darker than I’ve ever seen dark. We were literally on our knees in the mountain stream when one of the flashlights went out. I had the only one that remained shinning.
Steve panicked and started ordering that we retreat. He was a Southern Baptist minister so he was quite loud and demanding about it. So to shut him up I unscrewed the top of the flashlight and we were in complete darkness. He shut up. Well, he actually mumbled the most holiest of prayers … “My God.”
He was standing beside me so I grabbed his arm and groped my way to his hand. I placed the flashlight batteries in them.
“When you calm down,” I told him, “we can start again.
He called me many names for a bit but then he grew quiet. “Hand me the flashlight,” he finally said.
“Say please,” I told him.
“Please,” he replied.
So I did and he led us out of the cave. Once outside he resumed calling me names.
A few years later we were together again on another forced retreat. And we were all sitting in a circle and we were all supposed to share something about ourselves that no one else knew. When it came Steve’s turn he looked sheepishly at me. Then he looked at James.
“The most exciting thing that I’ve ever done in my life,” he said staring at the floor, “was a couple of years ago. When I broke a rule with some friends and we went deeper into a place where we weren’t supposed to go. It is most alive I’ve ever felt in life!”
I jumped up and gave him a hug. James followed suit and the three of us stood there embracing one another in front of Baptist Corporate leadership who do not believe in hugging, the poor, speaking in tongues, or good music. I think that they thought we were dancing. They were all speechless and looked uncomfortably in other directions.
So I’m moving on in my own way; at my own pace. I’ve been through the darkest part of my life. Sometimes there was no light at all. I sit here staring at Fran’s thousands shades of green with the sunlight shinning through them and the wind making them dance. I feel myself being raised from the dead.
