Sunday, October 05, 2003

I once believed I had a missional calling. I was a fixer. (probably still am -- try not to be...) I think this is a terrible thing to be. Really. The sure-fire cure for a fixer is to be surrounded by other fixers. (That's a funny thing to see -- a room full of fixers chasing their tails. Everyone looking for some imperfection in each other, some need that could be addressed by our own brand of expertise. Looking for someone to need us. Some fixers will even go to the length of damaging someone just so they can fix them later -- (sort of like denting cans so you can get them at a discount...) Yep, I've been on both sides of this dysfunction and I've got to tell you it isn't pretty on either side.) I think most of my phobias about the church these days are from too much exposure to the fixers. At least it helped me see it in myself. Dysfunctions aren't entirely bad for that matter. I know from experience that God uses our dysfunctions to get us where he wants us to be. No matter what our personal agenda, God has His own plan working out in our lives.

This leads me to a story I simply know I have to write down. It isn't entirely mine to tell, but I can't keep it inside of me -- and it changed me. So I guess it is partially mine to tell after all.

It all started with guilt. I can't tell you why, but I tend to feel guilty about anything good in my life. If I did well in school, I felt bad for those that didn't. If I got positive attention, I felt bad for the person who didn't. Don't get me wrong, I WANTED the attention or the good grades, but I was aware from a young age that how much we might want something didn't equate to whether or not we would get it. How much we DESERVED something never really seemed to enter into the equation either. If I won the race, I couldn't stand the pain of the children who lost. They tried just as hard. They wanted it just as badly (sometimes worse...). (I am aware that this is weird and dysfunctional, by the way. But I also know I am not alone in this kind of thinking.) I am an advocate of the underdog. As long as the underdog is not me.

There is an arrogance inherent in this kind of thinking. It is subtle, but it is there. If I feel guilty for getting good grades, that implies that I believe I had an advantage over the other competitors. I FEEL superior, even though I also feel negatively about all of this. I see this type of dynamic built into the "Affirmative Action" programs. Here-- you are incapable of doing this on your own merit, let me help you..." (yuck). (I see the other side of this, too -- the inability to receive help when it is needed -- that is another story for another day...)

So what did I do with all of this guilt and superiority? I went into Social Work, of course. I was a Christian, after all. I was sure to find plenty of "fish" to "clean" in the "system". They needed me, I told myself. And God could use me there. And maybe He did. But mostly He used the system on me.


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