I like being around people and at the same moment dislike being around them. It's a strange personality type but I have always enjoyed the company of others and enjoy my quiet times. According to my Big-5 Personality Traits, I hover between extrovert and introvert; and if I am not careful, one trait will dominate the other. Usually, it is my introverted side that will dominate and without my extroverted side, and my extroverted wife and extroverted son, I would be content wandering through the woods and never get out.
When my introverted side kicks in, it can be very unhealthy. I end up shutting down and shutting out others. It gets a little dangerous because it leads me into a bit of depression; which means if I have shut myself off for longer than a day or two, you would be right to guess that I am in the midst of a wrestling match with my inner self. Now, I know myself really well and I am not usually surprised by my emotions or my own struggles. I do a pretty good job of seeing the storms roll in and know how to brace myself. The struggle is that when these clouds roll in, I can become too self reflective and in my depressed state I can easily get lost in the woods of Mirkwood. I lose sight of the path in front of me and, like the dwarfs on their way to the Misty Mountians, think there is no end in sight or think nothing good is happening.
When those days come, I am thankful for people who can help shine a light on the path and show me where in fact some good has happened. As I tread along in the woods of my soul, I am thankful to be a part of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship Fellows partnership. I am thankful for this partnership, not only because I get to walk along side 24 other ministers, I am being provided mentors and coaches to help shine a light when needed. I would be lost inside my own forest if were not for my ministry coach to point out the good that has happened because I became too focused on getting to the end of the forest. I forget to see the roses growing off to my left because my gaze is towards the horizon of never-ending trees.
The beauty of the partnership is not only the assistance to help me see the light; it is also provides me with people who are willing to bear my burdens for just a little while so that my shoulders can rest. They do not seek to remove the burden completely from me, like parents do, or seek to agree with me or commiserate with me like other colleagues do, nor do they seek to fix me, like seminaries do. Their goal is not to practice their pastoral care skills, as some do when listening to friends, instead they seek to help me become healthy and well. Their goal is to create a sacred space for me to grow into my true-self, and welcome in my faults, struggles, and my wandering in the dark forests of Mirkwood.
It reminds me of a story:
One day, a wild and willful lassie named Gwen, had a terrible accident which crippled her for life. She became very rebelious and angry. In her murmuring state she was visited by the Sky Pilot, as the missionary among the mountaineers was termed. He told her a parable of the canyon.
"At first there were no canyons, but only the broad, open prairie. One day the Master of the Prairie, walking over his great lawns, where were only grasses, asked the Prairie, "Where are your flowers?" and the Prairie said, "Master I have no seeds."
Then he spoke to the birds, and they carried seeds of every kind of flower and strewed them far and wide, and soon the prairie bloomed with crocuses and roses and buffalo beans and the yellow crowfoot and the wild sunflowers and the red lilies all summer long. Then the Master came and was well pleased; but he missed the flowers he loved best of all, and he said to the Prairie: "Where are the clematis and the columbine, the sweet violets and wind-flowers, and all the ferns and flowering shrubs?"
And again he spoke to the birds, and again they carried all the seeds and scattered them far and wide. But, again when the Master came he could not find the flowers he loved best of all, and he said, "Where are those my sweetest flowers?" and the Prairie cried sorrowfully:
"Oh, Master, I cannot keep the flowers, for the winds sweep fiercely, and the sun beats upon my breast, and they wither up and fly away."
Then the Master spoke to the Lightning, and with one swift blow the Lightning cleft the Prairie to the heart. And the Prairie rocked and groaned in agony, and for many a day moaned bitterly over the black, jagged, gaping wound.
But the river poured its waters through the cleft, and carried down deep black mould, and once more the birds carried seeds and strewed them in the canyon. And after a long time the rough rocks were decked out with soft mosses and trailing vines, and all the nooks were hung with cleamatis and columbine, and great elms lifted their huge tops high up in the sunlight, and down about their feet clustered the low cedars and balsams, and everywhere the violets and wind-flower and maiden-hair grew and bloomed, till the canyon became the Master's favorite place for rest and peace and joy."
Then the Sky Pilot read to her: "The fruit--I'll read flowers--of the spirit are love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness--and some of these grow only in the canyon."
"Which are the canyon flowers?" asked Gwen softly, and the Pilot answered, "Gentleness, meekness, longsuffering; but though the others, love, joy, peace, bloom in the open, yet never with so rich a bloom and so sweet a perfume as in the canyons."
For a long time Gwen lay quite still, and then said wistfully, while her lips trembled, "There are no flowers in my canyon but only ragged rocks."
"Some day they will bloom, Gwen dear; the Master will find them, and we, too, shall see them." (Mrs. Charles E. Cowman, Streams in the Desert, pg 85-86).
I am thankful for those who point to the flowers that grow in the Mirkwood when we, ministers, are too self absorbed to see.
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