Yep, weird. It’s not really a secret.
I pastor a church of alcoholics and drug addicts. But I’ve never been drunk or high.
I counsel lots of people addicted to porn. That’s never been my thing.
God has led hundreds of sexual abuse survivors my way. My own abuse? Hardly seems worth mentioning, really.
Weird.
Prostitutes, both male and female, have been in my care. Nope, never been one of those either.
Lesbians, gays and trans folks have sought me out for help—even those who know I disagree with them theologically about the nature of their struggles. Yeah, that seems really weird.
But it’s been a wonderful weird. God has used me to help a lot of hurting people. A true honor.
The usual pattern is that people become passionate to help those who battle the same monkeys as their own. Alcoholics and addicts often aspire to work in the field of recovery. And it is extremely fulfilling to see God’s healing grace flow out of their own wounds to help others.
A few years ago, Robert, my spiritual director, was probing a bit, trying to find out what makes me tick.
“Of all the work you do, what brings you the most joy?” he asked.
Without hesitation, I replied, “When I am praying with a victim of abuse and they finally find God’s healing and freedom.”
Robert paused, then said, “You know, Mark, that is rather unusual.” That may have been the moment when I saw a new facet to my weirdness.
People who love the thrill of landing a big fish, can’t understand why people like me don’t find impaling worms with hooks and staring at water for hours on end isn’t exciting.
And in the same way, I’ve observed over the years that few others find work with the abused to be so fulfilling. And actually, my own passion for this caught me by surprise as well.
In 2001, after my first four-day doctoral class in Formational Prayer, God started leading victims of abuse to me. It was bizarre—wonderfully so. It was almost as if he was holding them back, waiting for me to be trained, and then said, “OK, go to Mark!”
A month after my training, I was preaching at a friend’s church, explaining how the traumas and distortions of our past can cripple our emotional and spiritual well-being. When I gave an invitation for prayer, the altar was flooded with a dozen people.
One lady looked to be over 70. Before I prayed for her, she said, “God told me two weeks ago that he would heal me tonight from the incest I experienced in my teens.” Trying not to look surprised, I said, “OK, then let’s pray.” And God met her powerfully. Wow.
Over the next six months, God led half a dozen more people to me for a variety of issues: addiction, eating disorders, same-sex attraction and others. But when we sought God’s direction, every single one had been sexually abused. And every single one found healing for that abuse! Incredible.
Other things in ministry bring me joy as well. Pastoring my unusual church of addicts is one. Teaching as an adjunct at Ashland Seminary for four years was a kick. Walking with troubled parishioners through seasons of loss is also deeply meaningful.
And writing. That becomes more fulfilling with each passing year.
Yes, I will admit that I hope this blog will be “discovered” and that thousands of inspired folks will subscribe. Uh, 160 so far . . .
My first book? I envisioned truckloads of copies being sent all over the world, padding my pension with royalties. Didn’t happen. People just aren’t passionate about the Church being equipped to help the sexually addicted, abused and confused. Again, my weirdness.
But if blogposts and books bring healing to a few wounded folks, hallelujah. It will be worth every drop of sweat and ink.
Into the Light: Healing Sexuality in Today’s Church has had an impact on a few. One lady down south said that her pastor read a paragraph from it in his sermon, and she found herself in tears. She bought the book, devoured it, and found it helped make sense of all her sexual sorrows.
An amazing Christian worker in inner city DC bought a copy from me at a retreat. A few months later, she wrote:
I’ve been reading your book. I’ve made it through the first three chapters and first I must say... wow!
I have gleaned so very much. Again, wow. There are probably things it brought up that I’ll need to process at a future date with a caregiver; but, I wanted to share with you something that God showed me . . . . In the 3rd chapter you give the analogy of a vandalized windshield when describing the effects of abuse. You used Allender’s statement that the person can’t see that they are angry at the one who can heal them because of the cracks in the windshield. I think that helped me understand some of my resistance to God and even to others who have reached out in the past.
People have reviewed my book at Seedbed.com, Amazon, and elsewhere, describing how God has touched their hearts. A few, anyway.
Years ago, I was expressing my disappointment to a longtime counselee who had been abused by a church leader. “If only I could see more lives transformed the way that yours has been!”
Wisely, he said, “It’s that starfish story, you know? The little boy who throws a stranded starfish back into the ocean?”
Yeah, I remembered. The dad said to him, “Hey, it’s pointless. There are thousands all along the beach.” But the boy replied, “Yep, but it matters to at least one!’”
That wise counselee eventually sent me a thank you card with this little reminder:
My heart longs to see a movement of Spirit-led people equipped to minister effectively to the sexually addicted, abused and confused.
Sadly, that makes me a bit weird.
Are you a bit weird too? Reply to this email me and let me know.
Weirdos, unite! Let's get out there and spread the weirdness! I'm glad for people like you who are not afraid to go to those places that are a little too out there for most. I've learned well from you and I can go to those place now too.