Hangover. Ugh.

This morning I awoke with what I can only call a ministry hangover.

I woke up after a long, exhausting, but richly rewarding weekend we spent at my home church for a missions conference. I had shared my heart with a whole church. I had cast a vision and seen lots of fruit: both in hearts blessed and friends made. I led worship on Sunday and helped facilitate an altar call that brought several folks forward with a new sense of direction and purpose in their lives. I gained new supporters and greater sense of community with my home church. I was by all accounts successful.

But this morning, I woke up with a stunning grief that genuinely surprised me and left me bawling in front of my wife. I discovered today that in spite of my successes, and all the awesome God encounters because of my line of work… I carry with me a deep sorrow and disappointment about my life.

What could I have to be disappointed about? All my needs are met. A recent inheritance and a big tax return has just put me out of all but school debt for the first time in years. Someone snuck $200 into my car yesterday just because. My parents are proud of me. My friends are loyal. My wife is supportive. Even when I do zany weird things, people approve of me (all the more in fact). I live with purpose, I walk by faith, I see miracles, I do what I love, and my daughter likes to snuggle in the hammock.

Yet here I am… crushed by the weight of grief. Crying like a little kid. And worse, my disappointment has been spawning hideous little judgments, stress, and criticisms all year toward myself and those closest to me. Guess who feels it the most? My wife. Poor Debra… that’s totally unfair to her.

I’m still too proud (or private) to admit my specific disappointments to you. And I’m sure some of it is spiritual backlash, demonic discouragement, whatever. But I think a lot of it just has to do with my expectations. I expect too much (or just the wrong stuff) out of people, situations, God, life in general. I’m not talking about faith. I’m talking about unhealthy and unfounded beliefs about what will be true of life. It’s one of my hardest habits to kick. Just ask my friends.

A couple years ago I joined WDA and I felt I had glimpsed the Promised Land.  I saw a near future in which many of my dreams would come true. So I began to imagine scenarios in which all my dreams came true and envisioned all the specific things that would lead up to them coming true. Metaphorically, I saw the land of milk and honey, and I started to draw maps, make invasion plans, and list my 5-year goals… all relating to things I hadn’t seen.

So here I am almost two years later. And in my estimation, I’m only halfway down the mountain. I have no stinkin’ clue how close I am to the Promised Land. And if I’m honest, I’ll admit the view from the mountaintop was a bit hazy to begin with. So I’m not totally sure what to expect out of this nutty adventure called life. I don’t know when or if I’m going to Atlanta. I don’t know if I’ll do all the things I want to do in Africa. I don’t know how long I’ll be in this line of work. I don’t know if I’ll change the world. I don’t know I’ll ever amount much of ANYTHING.

I’m painfully tempted to end with a positive spin (hmm… where did I get that?) but I’ll try to avoid that and risk everybody giving me advice (Hey! That’s MY job!). But I will say two nice-sounding things. And I think they are genuine sources of comfort and solace for me:

1.     Crying is cathartic. I want to do it more. Mission accomplished.

2.     As obstinate as I am, I’ve found that utter humiliation is an effective and often necessary tool in my discipleship.