For many years, I viewed my childhood through rose-colored glasses. That is, until I took a class called "Personal Growth" at the Anaheim Vineyard in about 1986. It was taught by then-intern John Mumford. (John now heads the International Consortium of Vineyard Churches).
John encouraged us to think about our relationships with authority figures. It was then I realized that I really didn't have relationships with anyone in authority. I went through University avoiding meeting professors. I would have the impulse to just go up and meet them after a lecture. But as a line of students formed, I would have an internal script play that sounded something like this: "He's too busy for me. I don't really have anything important to say. Maybe next week."
Julianne and I would also visit churches and, after the sermon, I wanted to meet the pastor, but then I would have the same script play inside of me: "He's too busy for me. I don't really have anything important to talk about." It never occurred to me that they would want to actually just meet me--little old me.
I realized that my relationship with my own father had affected how I related to authority figures. And this even spilled over into my relationship with God. He felt distant and not really that interested in my day-to-day life. My prayer life was affected.
My dad had not gotten what he needed when he was little. You see, my grandfather had died when my father was only 4 1/2 years old. So, he felt rather distant from everything "family" compared to my mother's side. So, my own father did not really have the tools to initiate relationship with me, or to tell me he loved me, or to include me in fatherly things around the house, like working on the car. And being a kid, I didn't conclude that my father had "stuff" to work on. Instead, I concluded that there must be something wrong with me. I was not worthy of dad's time and attention.
That is a basic "shame" message. And I learned it very well.
So, I compensated for that core shame by becoming an achiever. I got good grades. I became president of clubs at school. I starred in theater productions and loved the attention and the applause. I felt good for about 5 minutes after the applause died down. Then I started to wonder if I was really good, after all.
And I found out that when I was feeling sad or anxious or bad about myself, I could use sweets to comfort myself. And they were very effective for a short period of time. And they had the unintended effect of packing on weight. I have lost thousands of pounds in my life on diets (the same pounds again and again).
Then, in 1989, as I was helping Julianne teach a group that became "Christian Adults in Recovery" (CAIR), I realized that I had all of the traits of codependency. And I realized that I needed to spend time recovering from what I now call "subtle neglect." It seems that it is much easier to realize we are broken when we can point to overt abuse in our childhood. But it is much harder to realize the painful and damaging affects of neglect.
Pain results from getting what we didn't need--or from not getting what we did need. And I experienced much more of the latter.
So, my recovery has been focused much more on getting in touch with the pain of neglect and the dysfunctional ways that I compensated for that pain. For me, it has been overeating and codependency, or what I call "approval addiction."
And when I became a pastor, my "stuff" seemed to become amplified as I began to be the recipient of other peoples' authority-figure expectations. My need for recovery became even more acute as I entered the ministry. And I knew that I had to face my issues so that I did not end up working out my stuff on the very people who were coming to me as a pastor. I have not done that perfectly and I have probably hurt people (for that I apologize).
And for all of this, God has provided the body of Christ for our healing. "Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed" (Jas. 5:16).
Healing happens as we get together with other hurting people in safe and confidential groups and we share honestly about our past and what is really happening on the inside. The guidelines for small group sharing should be designed so that, in response, we receive unconditional love, acceptance and positive regard.
As my longtime friend, Linda Salladin, used to say: "Go where the love is; not where it should be."
Are you needing a safe place to work on your stuff? Check out a Celebrate Recovery program near you or get something going in your faith community. Or attend any one of thousands of support groups. Or do what I also did, pay for good therapy. It will all help build a life of wholeness, maturity and wisdom. And then begin to give it away to others who are hurting. You won't regret it.
