CURSED

CURSED

“… it’s a curse, a curse …” I mumbled, passionately, as I responded to the compliment.  But, as soon as I said it, I was somewhere between guilt-stricken and amusedly-perplexed about my gut reaction.  Yet, it did not come from nowhere; I had mused the idea, before, though never really verbalizing it.

At the mid-week Bible class (2Sam.16-19), we bantered with each other about “… Ziba lying, or Mephibosheth …”  (all good-natured verbal jousting) – Bible Trivia (?!) to some, but a thoughtful look into the heart of “a man after God’s own heart”.  Even after dismissal, Mike, the preacher, standing in the back of the auditorium, shaking hands and smiling, called across the room, reminding me that he was right.  I retorted with a blown raspberry and a laugh.  I then conceded the weight of his argument, but insisted on the possibility of other interpretations of the events.  We both laughed.  The other members were not too sure about us, at least, about me!

The next day, Mike and Peggy came over for a pleasant supper together.  Then we moved to more comfortable seats in the living room.  The chatter went several directions, laughing and smiling.  I brought up a new idea about retirement options, maybe making more possible working with a small church again, a part-time job with benefits that could supplement inadequate “pastor” pay.  Mike then asked a piercing question, with permission, about my fit, my suitability as a pastor!  He made an observation about my Simon-like impatient impetuousness.  (not his words, I tend to embellish)  He was referring to the McLeod in me, the impatience (his words), the stubbornness, the un-PC way I respond to some things!

I disagreed and explained, agreed and tweaked his observation.  I told stories of prophet-like head-buttings with church leaders.  I referenced movie scenes where the heroes were uncompromising and the losers were puppets.  I mentioned that John the Baptist was one of my favorites.  I concluded, after too much self-referencing, that I was in danger of discouragement, but not really of impatience.  Then, I laughed and admitted possible defensiveness?!

The wives stood to begin farewells; and we stood to summarize and finalize.  Mike asked, “… have I been helpful as a pastor …?”  to which I quickly retorted, “… I wouldn’t be there otherwise … you are sincere, simple, spiritual, …”  “…I really liked the year-long study of the Holy Spirit …”  Somewhere in this soul-searching exchange Mike humbly added, “… you are so smart …”  (I have often heard such, but usually with a left-handed qualifier, such as “… but no common sense”  or “… but such useless trivia…”)

I instinctively recoiled from the compliment.  I have spent years trying to fit in.  Eggheads are often egged?!  In junior high, two groups used and abuse me – cheaters wanting to copy test answers, and jocks.  High School graduation was an honor and a horror, getting top honors.  I have seen the results of I.Q. tests.  (and could even read them!) 

But, then I admitted, confessed, bragged, whatever, that “…God gave me a good brain…” and to this I quickly added, “… it’s a curse, a curse …”  “… it’s like being ‘beautiful’ …”  Mike laughed, “… it could be worse, could be both?! Ha!” (beautiful and brainy, and maybe throw in brawny!)  I quipped, “… no danger of that for either of us…”

I lay awake that night, rehearsing the evening.  I hate being the center of attention, monopolizing the conversation.  Self-incriminating, judgmental thoughts haunted my sleepless head,  “… was I arrogant?  … was I self-centered…”   Two days later (I can get obsessed with things?!), sipping coffee with my wife, Melanie, on a Saturday morning, the word was still rolling around in my head – “cursed…”  I could not let it go.  I had been regretting saying such a thing.  It seemed arrogant, blasphemous, self-congratulating, pseudo-humble, truthful, insightful, and more, all at the same time.

But, then to my mind came the verse, “… cursed is he who hangs on a tree …”  AHA!  Jesus gladly, proudly, humbly, gloriously, sacrificially, resolutely accepted his cursedness, all to the glory of the Father, and for the redemption of man.  He saw it as a joy, despisedly scorning the shame, like some berserker, with raised sword, charging headlong, fearlessly, into a horde of spearmen.  “… bring it on, all of Hell!”

What is your “curse”?  Do you selfishly wear it as a dandy decoration; or sacrificially bear it as a demon defeating device?  Do you bear your “curse” daily?!  I will revel in my madness and weirdness, to the glory of God!  Lord, send the musings, the insights, the visions.  Whatever I have, it is a gift from you, not a curse, or at least, it is a cursed gift!  The stones that bruise our feet are the path that leads us to you.  Thank you for the cobblestones.  Let us run the race!