Discipling our Dark Places

Through the process of Restoring Your Heart, I’m coming to the conclusion that I am NOT a whole person. Meaning, there are large chunks of my identity, my history, who I am that I have quietly tucked away, protected in the sickly warm incubator of shame. So while I learn and grow and receive love as a friend, a husband, a leader, and a church-goer, that darker part of me goes on unloved, unknown, and undiscipled. This may be heresy, but it feels as though a part of me has not yet met Jesus or been pinned down by His grace.

The other day, I decided to be extremely honest with a group of men about my unlovable dark parts... maybe more honest than I’ve ever been. I shared that stuff not with a flood of cathartic weeping but with a cold, cringing decisiveness and vulnerability... Like grinding, oil-less gears, I lurched into the process of exposing myself, eyes fixed on the floor. If anyone knew what lurked within, who could love me? Could God even love me?

When people experience God’s heart, his love is overwhelming, embarrassing, and aggressive. We let it penetrate beneath our skin and heal the loop-tape lies that plague us.

Or not.

At every new level, God’s love stands toe-to-toe against our shame and offers us a choice: will I let Him win? Will I dare to embrace the terrifying hope He offers? Or will I tuck away the unsavory bits (or acres) of my being believing that God could never love me if I were that thing. That’s called shame: that resilient belief that something about me (my thoughts, my history, my wiring, my darker parts) disqualifies me as a human being worthy of love and acceptance. I understand why people, why I use shame to defend myself against God’s love in one area, even while embracing it on another. Love comes with an enormous cost: I have to dismantle my defenses. I have to be... defenseless.

When I looked up from my unflattering confession, I saw in the faces of those men affirmation and pride, not rejection. They were proud of my truth-telling and exuded grace in the face of my shame. They accepted me: my dark and my redeemed parts together. One man wrapped his arms around me and said, “I just love you for being honest.”

The next morning I took a long walk, feeling sick about the night before. As I processed it with God, I felt from Him a quiet, steady acceptance. And though I knew I wasn’t quite ready to fully throw my open the gates to his love, I also knew that transparency with him and with others was weakening my defenses. Hope is beginning to seep in, slowly, painfully.

If you’re in this boat with me, I’d say exposure (confession)—both with God and with emotionally safe and mature people—has been the most useful tool against shame so far. Vulnerability (not just honesty, but the kind of real vulnerability that hurts when you open your mouth) opens the door to experience the truth of love: the love of God and the love of others experientially heals the wounds dealt through our experiences. Then we begin to grow as whole, integrated people. Jesus makes disciples even of our dark places.

Here’s what Brene Brown has to say about shame in her book, Daring Greatly:

“Shame derives its power from being unspeakable. That’s why it loves perfectionists—it’s so easy to keep us quiet. If we cultivate enough awareness about shame to name it and speak to it, we’ve basically cut it off at the knees. Shame hates having words wrapped around it. If we speak shame, it begins to wither. Just the exposure to light was deadly for the gremlins, language and story bring light to shame and destroy it.”

Juniper's Birth Story (part 2)

After I posted the blog yesterday from Starbucks, I got a text from Debra: “Come back ASAP! Pushing is starting!” So I soccer-mom-speed-walked to the delivery room and found the nurses and midwife bustling around preparing to deliver a baby. The epidural was just wearing off and Debra started feeling the pain and the urge to push. A few minutes later, the midwife said she could try a “practice push”. I kept sitting then standing then sitting again... oscillating between giddy and faint. After 3 or 4 pushes, a head emerged... I hadn’t felt excitement like that with the other two babies (who were both delivered by cesarean). We had both been through hell the last few days and the first sight of Juniper brought unbridled joy.

Click to see the photo album!

One more big push and out came Juniper Joy Harkness: all 10lbs 6oz of her! My heart was pounding. The midwife wiped her off and handed her to Debra, who was grinning and looking completely exhausted after 56 hours of labor. Juniper immediately started sucking her thumb. Then transitioned quickly to nursing like a pro. She took a few minutes to go from purple to pink and they ended up suctioning some thick mucus from her lungs. Besides that, she was (and is) perfect. Her skull was 14” (blissfully small compared to Levi’s 15.5” orange-on-a-toothpick noggin) and was dwarfed by her enormous red marshmallow cheeks.

We had a few quiet hours together after all the poking and prodding ended. Debra felt great, but was famished and ate about 3 meals in 3 hours! Later in the day, her parents brought Annabel and Levi. Annabel slowly warmed up to Juniper and was finally willing to hold her in her lap. True to form, she treated it as the most sobering responsibility ever entrusted to her. Levi didn’t seem that interested in the new usurper. But by the ended, he was gently patting her head cooing, “bye bye baby!” 

After everyone left, we indulged in our major-life-transition tradition: Star Trek. It was Next Generation during our honeymoon, Deep Space 9 with Annabel, Voyager with Levi. This time, we laughed/yawned our way through an episode of the original series in which Spok spent the hour battling giant spear-throwing apes on a forsaken planet while debating the merits of logic with his over-emotional crewmates... and all this on a $50 budget!

We all slept fitfully between feedings and diaper changes. At one point, Juniper offloaded a full dose of meconium onto her pajamas mid-diaper-change. At another point, I got scolded by the nurse for napping with the baby. We laid low all today and head home tomorrow morning.

It's been a heck of a ride and I'm in a blur. I'm already sick of changing diapers, sleeping on a hide-a-bed, fetching ice water, and choosing between Blimpie's and Chick-fil-a. I'll be excited to get home tomorrow. But I'm happy. I'm loving our family of five.

Presence: What I Learned From Contractions

There’s nothing harder for a fixer than to be emotionally present with someone you love someone experiencing pain as intense, natural, and unfixable as childbirth. After almost 48 hours of contractions, I was at my wits end. I had already raked my mind for every birth-coaching nugget I could remember from TV and the stories of friends. It all felt paltry and shallow.

Believe it or not, saying, “breathe baby. Just breathe,” over and over doesn’t go over so well in real life! You can’t promise that the pain will end soon. It won’t. When I tried giving her space, she felt alone. It felt patronizing to keep saying, “you’re amazing, you’ve so got this, you can do it!” Even when I soothed, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she assured me, “It’s NOT okay!”

The only thing that seemed to help was when I stood next to her during every contraction, holding her hand and simply saying, “I’m here. I’m with you.” That’s what we did for the better part of yesterday. It felt like the kindest thing I could do under the circumstances.

But the labor has been traumatic so far. I’ve never seen pain like it and by the time we finally opted for an epidural last night, I was crying and nearly blacking out from the stress.

Me after 48 hours. Yoiks!

We have a “short list” of people we can text day or night and I did... One wrote back, “I feel so helpless.” And the sentiment was nice. I felt helpless too. But the best thing she did for us throughout those 48 hours was just being present, saying, “I’m here. I’m with you guys.”

Again, it got me thinking about the way God interacts with people in pain. He could be like the rude young anesthetist last night poking, prodding, and eventually numbing the pain. Instead, he chooses to be more like the kind midwife, putting a hand on our shoulder, looking us in the eyes, monitoring and guiding the process gently, but mostly just being there, assuring us that we’re not alone.

Something I’m learning is that God’s presence is the best gift possible. I get so focused on the fear of pain and failure. But happiness and success aren’t the point. God is. Not in some heady, esoteric way, but in a real nuts-and-bolts way.

Since I got back from Ghana, everything in my life has felt different: permeated by a sense of purpose, expectancy, awe, and a hearty does of pain... Kind of like being pregnant! I’m aware of God’s mysterious and breathtaking beauty in the intricate cogs of my life (everything from the Fulani to my music to living in Georgia). I’m also aware of His intimate and personal presence. That feeling of being caught up in something bigger than me, yet being known and loved by a present and personal God... it delivers tremendous comfort and peace.

At the same time, I’ve been staring down the gullet of my life’s deepest hurts through an emotional healing group I lead every week. And unlike before, it’s not that scary. Excruciating. But not scary. I feel the weight of grief more closely than before. But I’m really comfortable with that feeling because I also carry this sense that God is with me. Not fixing, not even carrying the burden, just walking next to me saying “I’m here. I’m with you.” And right now, that’s more than enough.

PS- After the trauma of the epidural last night, we both collapsed and slept from 1-6:30. Debra’s labor is now progressing more swiftly... and she’s having the best sleep of her life. I’m at Starbucks, excited to meet little Juniper Joy Harkness and experience the beauty of her life in contrast to the crappiness of the last couple days. It feels like the last couple days have been a dying wilderness... ushering in a new season of life with Juniper. Stay tuned!

PPS- more on the name "Juniper Joy" here!

FAT Christians???

“I’m looking for FAT Christians who want a spiritual 6-pack!” The young Campus Crusade representative looked me in the eye when I asked about his approach to discipleship. He walked me through the familiar mnemonic: “They need to be FAT: Faithful, Available, Teachable.” Then, pulling out a pamphlet, he showed me a list of 6 spiritual attributes that become the goal of his disciple making. It looked like pretty good stuff (though I inwardly reel anytime someone puts a pamphlet between themselves and the person they are speaking with).

But the more I watch Jesus make disciples, the less I subscribe to the FAT acronym. Because when I look at the disciples, the only attribute they consistently displayed was “available”. And maybe even THAT’S going too far. Perhaps all we can say of the disciples is that they were “chosen”.

Mark records their reaction to Jesus walking on water: “They were completely amazed, for they had not understood about the loaves [feeding the 5,000]; for their hearts were hardened.” I walk away from that with a couple thoughts...

1.) Jesus could have chosen any number of bright young boys from the rabbinical schools who would deftly and eagerly grasp the spiritual and theological reality of his coming. Instead he chose jaded, washed-out fishermen and tax-collectors with mixed motives and hard hearts. Why? Not because they were easier, but because that’s the upside-down kingdom: God brings his weight to bear by defying all expectations. If those fisherman and tax-collectors can become love-shaped leaders of a fledgling church, then the credit goes to God and not to someone “living up to his potential.”

2.) In his disciple making, not even Jesus could unharden someone’s heart. Beliefs and motivations run very very deep in us. I’d love to tell you there’s some zinger of a trick that forces people to buy in to your ideas and beliefs. But if Jesus couldn’t do it using all the miracles recorded in the gospels, then I’m telling you, we can’t either. Only God himself can soften a heart and that’s the point: the credit can only go to Him.

So what’s the point in trying? Why waste all our time investing in the growth of others if we can’t actually affect change?

1. Jesus did it, and he commands us to do the same. He uses farming analogies to remind us that only God can make a plant grow, but he has given us an important job in planting and cultivating.
2. God kinda has this thing about people: he loves them and enjoys softening and growing them. So it’s not like we’re alone in the effort! In fact Jesus is so confidant in God’s involvement in the discipleship process, that he commands the 12 to “make disciples”... not to “kinda sorta hope that disciples are made”.

Jesus wasn’t working with spiritual FATsos. He related, taught, prayed, listened, and then picked. And what an unlikely bunch it was! But when they finally got it, not only did God get the credit, but they became a force to be reckoned with. They were the guys preaching at Pentecost, taking the gospel to India, healing the sick, casting out demons, managing disputes, and guiding the church with unnatural wisdom.

So if you decide to invest in the lives of others, remember that it’s not about finding the person with the most “potential”. It’s not about anything that we (or our “disciples”*) naturally are or do. It’s about being intentionally obedient to “make disciples” while giving the credit to God for doing what He loves to do: bringing freedom, growth, softening, healing, and obedience to His authority. He loves it when we invest in “lost causes” because that’s where He gets the most credit. That’s where we find ourselves pushed on by the strange wind of His upside-down kingdom.


Here’s one tool I like:

I find it helpful to think about discipleship as involving equal parts of the following (credit to WDA for this one):

Relationship: a deep, intentional friendship with those we disciple
Content: the “stuff” we teach and model
Accountability: our willingness to confront wrong beliefs and hold people to their commitments
Prayer: our commitment to regularly pray with and for our disciples.
Situations: Organic and intentional situations we find ourselves in with our disciples that can be harnessed to encourage growth.

See? R-CAPS: It’s an acronym. Yay! Just remember that if you put “Content” before “Relationship”, it spells CRAPS!



*I use the term “our disciples” to indicate people in whom we are intentionally spiritually invested. It sometimes feels arrogant to talk about “my disciples” but I’m reminded that Paul told the Corinthians to, “follow me as I follow Christ.” Our goal with discipleship is to encourage others to submit to Christ as we ourselves have submitted. So the question is... how deep does our obedience go?