Witness to Withness

The Plot Thickens

Psalm 23:4 "Yea even if I was through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me."

Out of the family raised up
longing at a future time to have a family of one's own
I watch for a sign, raised up from what
the plot thickens

Sometimes pursuits of dreams can lead us to places of fervent rest. Other times we find ourselves in the midst of nightmares that we hope will soon end. High School is one of those places where we grow to learn what it means to go from childhood to adulthood. One illustration of this was the way my grandfather came to identify me as my voice was changing. He could no longer call me boy; he was faced with seeing me as man.

Dreaming of Better Things to Come


         My years in high school were a harbinger of things to come. I ran on the cross country team and played tennis. I was hoping that participating in these sports would take my mind off my brother’s mental illness. Kurt was the sprinter who could run quicker than me, but I could always outlast him. I enjoyed opportunity to run and the connection it afforded me. I also ran track. In one meet I was timed running the two mile in eleven minutes. Coach Kelly was all excited for me until he realized I had not run the last lap.
         Kurt and I played tennis. He usually beat me. I had fun learning how to play with others who were trying to learn and that kept me from excelling and becoming good at the sport. Tennis was a sport that was low on the list of activities to letter in, so that I looked forward to the results of my effort. I could not figure out how to serve early on. We did not have a very good team and went on to lose all eighteen matches and a lot of them were not close. The second year was different. We were twelve and six and would have gone to State, but coach Horkey decided there was no point going. His decision was based on a loss we had at Bridgewater. At that match Gary Criswal and I lost the deciding match in doubles. I took a large bucket of balls and kept serving the balls until I was exhausted. It was frustrating not being able to go to state after having a good year of playing tennis. My heroes in those days were Jimmy Connors and John McEnroe. I loved their spunk and energy. So what if they were not well behaved? I often walked five miles so that I could be with others who loved the game as much as I did. It was the one place where I felt normal and safe from the crazy person that lay dormant inside of me.
         I was very introverted. I was curious about girls and even dared to talk to a few. I did not date at all. I was considered a nerd, who did not quite fit in. There was no prom for a person like me even if I spent a lot of time fantasizing about the one girl in high school that might like me. I was very confused about male and female issues of puberty and apart from the required sexual education classes was not finding/wanting anyone to talk with. Seeing my parents at battle did not make this adventure seem very appealing. It would be a long wait before I even dared asked a girl to date and I am sure this is what created opportunity for crisis later on.
         During my junior year in High School we were given a project that was to be worth three fourths of our grade. I decided to research whether to believe in God or not. I was in an honors history class and figured what the heck? I kept the project a secret until the last day. I came to the conclusion that God did exist and used resources like the Summa Theologica by Aquinas to prove my point. I had pretty much decided I believed in God before I did the project, yet I determined to show my teacher, myself and others why. The teacher could have failed me. It was not exactly historical in the sense everyone else understood it. Instead he applauded my effort and encouraged me and another high school student to go to seminary. Both of us would eventually become pastors.

         It was during my last year in high school that I got “saved”. Church became one of those places where I could escape the stress that was ever present at home. I sat with and Elder in the church who took a genuine interest in me. I would take communion with him and his family until one day my mother got a call from a leader from church and was questioned about my doing this without being baptized. I was this tall gangly teenager who determined to be different. I was a non-conformist who wanted to find his own way. and was not afraid of entering a pastor’s class to figure out if God really wanted anything to do with me. I came in off the street into the class. Most youth went to the class because of encouragement from home or a Sunday school teacher. I walked up to the baptismal as the only boy of my age. There were four little girls about twelve years old who were enlisted into the same class I was in. I had to be different. I knew in my heart that I would join the church eventually through the ordinance of Baptism. I was tired of trying to fix my brother by myself in the context of a family that seemed too busy to care. I decided to let my faith in God and church family offer a new way of seeing crisis resolution. God was calling to use my faith to help people like my brother who were going through rough times, to know God who was an eternal friend and helper.
         I preached my first sermon during my last year in High school. I wrote down all my adventures with God. Who would have known you could have known God without joining the church? The pastor had all kinds of ideas about how I could preach. He saw my script and decided to go with that. Needless to say, Mom was impressed with the story I had written about my spiritual life behind closed doors. She shared my written story with everyone she met and thought to herself "maybe he could even get it published in Reader’s Digest. I took on the identity of one who could teach others about God. They never knew what I had gone through so much to know God. It was a journey worth waiting for. I was ready to accept God's call to go wherever it would take me.

         I had friends like me on the outside looking in trying to figure out what it meant to be normal. Brian was one of my closest friends. He saw me depressed invited me to be a part of his "gang". We played all kinds of sports together. I was given the name “goober” and it kind of stuck. “What a goober”. I heard it quite a lot and liked it. It meant I could be funny and have fun. When I did something extraordinary like eating an ice cream sandwich in two bites or scored a winning touchdown I heard it over and over again. To him I was a “somebody” in this world even if I felt like an outcast to others.

Graduation to a New way of Seeing LIFE:

         Graduation from High School was a celebration that was unlike any other. I graduated high school!! Dad had often said it was the most important goal for all us kids. I was becoming a man! That did not mean I did not have a lot of loose ends that needed to be tied up. My parents leaned on my intelligence to understand mental illness. I was crazy to think I could explain to them what I did not know myself. I still had not passed driver education. I was the one person that never did or at least that was implied by the comment that everyone passed. I was still not accepted at college, even though I had several scholarships. I settled on Eastern Nazarene as my only choice since a teacher I liked went there also. Later that summer I found out I was accepted. YES!!!
         I packed my bags and began my first real adventure away from home for an extended time. My roommates were prototypical church kids. They loved doing their devotions and talking about their time at the prom. They were cool and I was not. Eventually they would leave me, thinking I was weird, because I was not like them. In their place was a recluse of sorts. The two of us were never even introduced. Who knew if we would ever get along? He was engaged to get married and not long after he was my roommate he found out she was killed in a car accident. I had no idea how to deal with this kind of issue and chose not to, even if I felt really awful that this could happen to someone. I was on needles and pins the whole time we were together. I did not know what to say and his quietness confused me. We coexisted for the rest of the year. I was told by resident assistants he was getting helped. He was in his world and I was in mine. I guess that would have to do.
         My main outlets for dealing with stress and anxiety were being on the cross country team and playing tennis. I was being by this time known by others as a loner. I never even prepared for the cross country season. In high school I ran three and now I was required to run five miles. I got through the year. The low light was coming in last place in a meet, beaten by a girl.
         My year in tennis was a reality test. I thought I would be one of the better players. This could not be further than the truth. I played a lot with a guy named Peter Brooks who was considered an odd ball. His posturing was very effeminate. Some people thought he was gay, which was not at all cool in that day. I was told by Coach Benson that I was out of control and needed to learn to be more consistent. I stayed the course and I think I improved, even if I was relegated to being a doubles player, the low man on the totem pole.
         I was visited by my family on several occasions. There were concerts by the Gaither’s and I enjoyed the times my youngest sister at the time Lisa came to visit, because it took the attention off of me. I made friends and even talked to a few other girls and tried to believe I would fit in. I decided to not tell others I was interested in being a pastor the first year. It was too risky. Neither of my parents pushed me in that direction. Dad even took occasion to tell me that pastor were bull s*** artists that were only after one’s money. Dad would pick me up to go home and be so quiet while he drove. It drove me crazy. I was so intense! I would eventually break down and try to start a conversation. I learned over time that he was not able to be available on my terms. He had visions of me making lots of money. All I wanted to do was help people.
         I can recall excelling in religion classes during my first year, after spending endless hours studying. I decided I needed to catch up to all these church kids who knew so much more than me. I was afraid of rejection. They all seemed so superior and special compared to me. Other aspirants to pastoral duty were in the evangelistic association. I was deciding to find my own way even if it meant I was on the outside looking in. I shared with others my call from God and my intent to major in religion as the first year came to an end. I was determined to share with others I was worth their spiritual investment. During all this time I was still worried about Kurt, but could not find anyone to talk with and that was just as well, because I did not want to talk about him anyway or so I thought. I found myself getting more and more preoccupied as I became more immersed in my studies. I prayed that God would be with me spiritually mentally and physically. Even if I did not connect with others in religion class, I was going to be a minister on my own terms and in my own way.

          My second year in college was uneventful compared to the others. I was on the dean’s list twice. I was keeping out of trouble. I continued to run cross country and play tennis. I became a good friend with Tim Gross. We played tennis together. He took it upon himself to move me out of a lingering depression. He loved to get me laughing. At one point he taught me to juggle. I can still juggle to some degree. Every once in a while he would mock me with his words. "Oh Gary I am so depressed." I took it in good humor. Even if I was depressed I did not have the faintest idea about what to do about it. I had a caring roommate who connected with me. He was shy and quiet just like me. He was an accountant major and loved to sing in the choir. We had talks together. I can recall one night staying up talking about all the cartoons and television shows that we grew up with. He was always the highly structured grammatical genius. I doubt he ever made grammatical errors when he wrote. I was the creative one, who threw words on paper and as he would say he loved the way the words flowed. It was a relationship that worked for both of us. I loved his steady gait, whereas he liked my dance with words into worlds unknown.


Points of Redemption:
1. Find someone to talk with. Otherwise you find that you only talk to yourself.
2. No one has all the answers. In thinking you need to know everything (figure it out), you become isolated and alone.
3. Find a counselor. It was the one thing missing in my life. People poured out concerns to me. I did not know where to go with my concerns without feeling ashamed or guilty. "I was not supposed to have problems: I was saved".
4. One of the more important matters to resolve is deciding what you are saved from. Then commit to being raised up out of the valley of death reminders to see something better.
5. Everyone is different. There is no normal, even if everyone thinks there is.