My Testimony

I am currently helping our church (Vineyard Community Church Pomona/Claremont) to start a new Celebrate Recovery program. We have been meeting as a group of leaders for several months and had a "soft launch" in June. Our "hard launch" is scheduled for 2 weeks from today. I am very excited to see the depth of commitment to recovery in our leaders and to hear the significant transformation in so many lives. Tonight I will get to share my own testimony. So, I thought I would write it out briefly here.

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.

Slow to Anger

We recently got a new German Shepherd puppy named Zena. She is as cute as a button, but a bundle of energy. She's teething, so she is constantly nipping at things around her, including my hand. Despite a pile of chew-toys to chews from (yuck, yuck), she keeps latching on with her mouth to everything else in her sphere of influence, including the edges of furniture, area rugs and my shoes.

I just spent 7 months sleeping downstairs on the sofa, attending to our last dog, Kyra, who was getting so arthritic that I needed to be her nurse-maid through the night. We had to make the decision a couple months ago to "put her to sleep." I have to admit that I was not really ready to raise a puppy again (this will be our 5th German Shepherd). But here we are doing it one more time.

Why do I bring this up? Because I have been experiencing some moments of intense anger. You see, puppies need a lot of correction. They don't understand what it is you are telling them to do. Remember what the Peanuts cartoon characters heard when adults talked to them? The sound of a muted trumpet, "Whah, whah, whah..."

So when I want some "me" time and Zena wants to pee on the rug, or chew on my pant leg, or do any number of puppyish things, I find myself more than annoyed. My anger is palpable. And the anger in my correcting "Off!" or "No!" is a little more intense than might be normal. And I yank her leash a little harder than is necessary.

Where does all that anger come from? She is just a puppy being a puppy. She doesn't deserve to be yelled at. She doesn't deserve such a strong yank on her leash.

As James says, "My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires" (Jas. 1:19-20).

Anger is perhaps one of the most commonly felt emotions. Yet, we are often not equipped to deal with it. James is not saying, "Don't be angry." That would be impossible. He is saying that we are called to be like God Himself, who is often described throughout the Old Testament as "slow to anger" as when He revealed Himself to Moses, "and he passed in front of him proclaiming, 'Yahweh, Yahweh, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness'" (Ex. 34:6).

Anger is what I call a "secondary" emotion. That is, it is usually masking an underlying vulnerable emotion. For instance, when the puppy ignores me and does her thing, I feel powerless and weak. Anger then jumps up to give me the power, through the release of adrenaline in my body, to act. It is called the "fight or flight mechanism." I like to add the word, "freeze." Adrenaline gives me the power to fight the thing that is making me feel weak, to run away, or I may actually freeze in place.

So, since I can't run away, I feel the "fight" mechanism get released. As a result, I raise my voice or yank on the leash.

Jesus felt angry too. You see, even though He is fully divine, He is also fully human. But Jesus did not hurt others when He felt angry. For instance, when the Pharisees showed the hardness of their hearts in the synagogue, "[Jesus] looked around at them in anger and, deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts, said to the man, 'Stretch out your hand.' He stretched it out, and his hand was completely restored" (Mark 3:5). Jesus' anger resulted in healing the man with the withered hand.

The goal of Christian transformation is to become more and more like Jesus, the Son of God. He is "slow to anger." That is, His anger does not lash out capriciously to hurt others. God's anger burns against the sin of mankind, which is really a rejection of His love and grace. Yet, mankind is not destroyed. God is slow to express that anger. Instead, He reserved it for the day that Jesus was nailed to the cross. Then the righteous wrath of God was poured out on Him.

God is right now offering forgiveness for sin because Jesus took the wrath upon Himself on the cross. Our part is to respond by placing our faith, our trust, in Him.

And when we feel angry with others in the body of Christ, Paul tells us to work as soon as possible to resolve it. Unresolved anger leaves a foothold for the enemy to sew discord in the body. "Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body. 'In your anger do not sin:' Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold" (Eph. 4:25-27).

Are you struggling with inappropriate bursts of anger? Or are you harboring anger against your brothers or sisters? Let Jesus into those vulnerable places in order to be healed. Receive His patience and His attribute of being slow to anger. Speak the truth to your neighbor and resolve the anger before it becomes an entry-point for the enemy into your relationships and into the church.

Addiction and Recovery

"My people have committed two sins:
They have forsaken me,
the spring of living water,
and have dug their own cisterns,
broken cisterns that cannot hold water"
(Jer. 2: 13).

Jeremiah's prophecy to Israel was directed at their constant temptation towards idolatry and away from total dependence on Yahweh, the God of Israel. The false idols of the surrounding pagan world were broken cisterns. And this problem describes perfectly the issues that lie at the heart of addiction, and indeed, the problem of sin itself.

A cistern was a kind of well. Essentially a huge jar was buried in the ground and filled with water to be used as an oasis and source of water in arid climates.

Imagine that you have been traveling in the desert and arrive at a cistern to water your flocks and take a long drink yourself--only to find that the cistern is broken and all the water has leaked out of it. The thing that promised to be a source of life may actually kill you since you now have to try to find another source of water. Will you make it to another cistern in time?

Gerald G. May, M.D. wrote a wonderful book, Addiction and Grace. In this book, he notes that we are all made by our Creator with a desire to attach to Him and that, ultimately, all of our other desires will be fulfilled only through that attachment. Addiction is the forming of an attachment to a substance or behavior in the hopes that it will "scratch the itch" that naturally exists whenever we are not connected to God. The substance or behavior is a broken cistern that cannot hold water. But we keep going to it, ignoring the source of true living water, in hopes that our thirst will be quenched.

Addiction itself is a perfect picture of sin and how it works to undermine our attachment to God. God stands by, the true source of living water. As Jesus said, "If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him" (John 7: 37-38). But instead, we keep going to alcohol, drugs, food, work, TV, gambling, exercise, approval, etc. hoping to find our desire fulfilled. All of these things are broken cisterns.

This reveals the brilliance of the first three steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. First we must acknowledge our desperate helplessness to save ourselves. Then we must acknowledge that God exists and has the power to rescue us. Finally, we must surrender to Him, rather than struggle against the addiction. It is only in surrendering to God that we get in touch with the source of true living water that will satisfy our deepest desires.

Are you struggling with an unhealthy attachment to a "broken cistern?" Why not admit your powerlessness, acknowledge God's ability to meet your needs and surrender to Him today? It would also be helpful to get connected in a community of recovery people and lovers of Jesus who can help keep you coming to the spring of living water.

Beyond Fear

For many years, I thought that I was not a very fearful person.

But as I got in touch with my codependency, I realized that I was really afraid of what people thought of me. Did they think I was a good person? I was afraid of being judged inadequate, irresponsible and insensitive. A lot of my emotional energy was spent trying to please people. In fact, I came to realize that fear was probably the biggest debilitating issue in my life.

One of my early spiritual fathers, Dr. Albert Grimes, once said to me, "You must get healed from 'fear of people' because it will ruin your ministry."

Even now, after years of working on the underlying issues, I find that my own fears and anxieties, when left unchecked, are often at the root of some of my worst decisions.

That's one of the reasons I love Timothy so much. Evidently he struggled with fear in his ministry.


Timothy was Paul's young protege, the lead elder over the church in Ephesus. No minor assignment. And Paul wrote two of his most personally moving letters at the end of his ministry to his "son in the faith." Timothy had traveled with Paul and experienced his bold preaching and power ministry first-hand. But evidently, Timothy exhibited a kind of timidity when it came to preaching the gospel.


"For God did not give us the spirit of timidity (fear, cowardice), but a spirit of power, of love, and of self-discipline. So do not be ashamed to testify about our Lord, or ashamed of me his prisoner. But join with me in suffering for the gospel, by the power of God..." (2 Tim. 1: 7-8).

One of the key issues underlying fear is shame. Shame is the painful feeling that is evoked when my vulnerable and imperfect self is exposed for others to see. Shame can be one of the most intense and riveting emotions. Shyness and fear of public speaking are both
primarily about shame.

So, how did Paul encourage Timothy to get beyond his shame-based fear. Essentially, he encouraged him to turn from focusing on himself and what he might suffer--to God, his Spirit, and how He can empower us. From God's Spirit, we receive power, love and self-discipline.

Paul, himself, had found the freedom to serve God without giving in to fear.

"I am not ashamed of the Gospel, for it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes..." (Rom. 1: 16).

"I am convinced that [nothing in all creation]...will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Rom. 8: 38-39).

What are your fears? In what ways have you been timid about sharing the gospel?

How about asking God to fill you with his power, his love and his self-discipline?

Newtown, Longfellow and Christmas

On Friday, a young man in Newtown, Connecticut, shot his mother, leaving her dead. Then he took his mother's guns and proceeded to Sandy Hook Elementary School where she had worked and shot and killed 20 young students and 6 adults. Finally, he turned the gun on himself.

A shocked nation reacted with increasing anguish over a weekend of non-stop news coverage. And this week, each day, there are multiple funeral services with undersized coffins and grieving parents who will never get to see their precious innocent children bloom into firemen and teachers and business owners and pastors and parents themselves.

Perhaps making the grief more severe is the fact that we are so close to Christmas. The holiday that promises to lift our spirits and to help us bond to our extended families. Most of us feel compassion and empathy for the families for whom the season will probably just be a reminder of what they are missing.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, one of the greatest American poets, experienced incredible pain in his life. His first wife died when he was young, leaving him to grieve for the next seven years. His next wife bore him five children. But in 1861, she was tragically burned to death. Longfellow hated the Civil War that followed shortly thereafter. His oldest son enlisted and was seriously wounded in battle and sent home to recover.

Tending to his son's injuries and seeing so many other wounded soldiers, he began to anguish over the tragedy of the war. It was on Christmas Day, 1863, that he listened to the church bells of Cambridge ringing. He asked the question, "Where is the promise of 'Peace on earth' that was announced by the angels on the first Christmas?"

And so he wrote a wonderful poem that explored that very question. In the midst of National grief, violence and tragedy, where is the peace that God promised? When it was set to music almost ten years later, it was hugely popular in both America and Europe (omitting the 4th and 5th verses specific to the Civil War--but included here):

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, goodwill to men.

I thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along th'unbroken song
Of peace on earth, goodwill to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, goodwill to men."

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound the carols drowned
Of peace on earth, goodwill to men.

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn, the households born
Of peace on earth, goodwill to men.

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, goodwill to men."

Till ringing, singing on its way
The world revolved from night to day--
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime
Of peace on earth, goodwill to men!

No matter what you encounter during this season, "God is not dead, nor doth he sleep; The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, so--Peace on Earth; Goodwill to Men!"