Top Shelf Blues

Last night I knelt to pray and began to repent of sins of the past, I'm talking years ago which I'm sure I had already asked forgiveness for but just to make sure... As I prayed, I began to relive those mistakes I made, and then self-condemnation began to set in. In my soul, I began to panic a little. I was supposed to be spending time in God's presence but it seemed my mind jumped in a time machine that hurled me back to those uncomfortable scenarios. I called out to God, asking Him to assure me of His company and His love for me. Then He brought to mind what had happened just that afternoon with my son.
     In the past, Max has climbed up on his toy box and then on to his dresser to get an item off the shelf that is not necessarily meant to be played with. I've caught him doing this and he was punished for it. I don't want those shelves to come falling down on him, so he needed to understand this is not acceptable. I told him if I ever caught him again, he would be (severely punished).
     Yesterday I heard a crash in his room, but it sounded like toys falling out of his closet so I didn't investigate immediately. A couple minutes went by and there had been this consistent scraping against the wall sound. Fearing the paint being scratched, I called out, "Max, what are you doing?" His answer was a cry of desperation. I walked in to find him standing on his toy box trying with all his might not to drop one of the shelves he had been forbidden to touch that was teetering in his failing grip. When he saw me,  a look of sheer terror came over him and he began to cry, still trying to hold up the shelf. I stood there looking at him not knowing what course of action to take because I remembered what I told him would happen if I caught him up there again, and his reaction told me he remembered it too. As I wondered what I should do, my anguished son looked at me desperately wanting some help but realizing he was also staring at his rightful disciplinarian. Marty walked in and immediately went to his aid. Then he had a time out while Marty and I discussed his consequence. The girls were going to a costume party, but Max would not be going for disobeying and knocking the shelf off the wall. It wasn't what I originally guaranteed him, but it would have to do.
     Marty left with the girls and Max and I stayed home. I asked him if he was ever going to do that again and he convincingly shook his head no. I asked him if he was sorry and he said yes. I couldn't get the look on his face when I walked in on him out of my head. He knew he blew it big time and he expected me to react a lot more strongly than I did, because I said I would. But I love him. I felt bad for him.
     We watched some videos together while we had "just the boys" time and the night ended pretty normally, except for the last several nights, Max has wanted Marty to put him to bed. Not last night. For some reason, he wanted me to tuck him in, which I was happy to do, complete with a story, some tickling, a little rough housing and pillow fighting before lights out.
     This whole scenario came to mind as I knelt before God that night in fear of being scorned for my way past sins. I know a good father disciplines his kids, but did God see the terror on my face as I prayed? He's a Father, my Father, just as I am to Max. I'm sure He looked at His boy in that moment and His heart strings were pulled because He loves me.
     After God showed me His heart for me through what happened with my son, I immediately got up and went in to Max's room to adjust his covers and stroke his head. I may be 42 years old, but I have to admit, I wouldn't mind at all, whether I was aware of it or not, if my Father came in to my room to check on me and give me some late-night love especially in light of how imperfectly I may have behaved that day.

The Shock

     I grew up in what seemed like a typical family. Mom was a "homemaker," Dad drove big rig trucks to bring home the bacon and I had three older siblings, 2 sisters and a brother. This was life as I knew it, until one day around the age of 10 my dad called me and my brother into my parents' bedroom. I racked my brain trying to recall if I had done anything worthy of being punished, but drew a blank so I had no idea why were having this private and ominous meeting. My dad began to explain to us that he and Mom thought it was time that my brother and I knew something. Prior to marrying each other, he and Mom had both been married before and my sisters were not his biological daughters, instantly making them my half sisters in theory. We were shocked. One of us started crying (I think it was my brother. He was always more sensitive than I was). This news could not be grasped. It was disillusioning, painful, and... well, shocking. Things were not as they seemed and I walked out of their bedroom in a fog.
     I remember walking across the street to a friend's house trying to wrap my mind around this bombshell and realizing there was nothing I could do to change this newly revealed truth about our family. And as life went on, things didn't really change among the Couch members. The fact that my sisters were technically my half sisters remained just that, a fact, and never had any bearing on our relationship even to this day.
     A couple posts ago, I guess I dropped a bombshell. "I Was a Two-Faced Pastor" has become my most visited posting on my blog, greatly surpassing all others. And even though I wrote it so it might possibly help others who are struggling, I didn't anticipate the shock value it would have on those who thought things were one way but are now different in their eyes. To those who may be disillusioned or hurt by it, I can understand.
     The book of Nehemiah tells the account of Nehemiah hearing the news that Jerusalem's walls have been burned down and the city is in ruins making it a mockery in the land. Nehemiah was compelled to do something about it so he returned to the city, organized a working crew and watchmen on the walls to protect them as they built, and even endured threats and plots against his life if he continued with his mission. My soul was like that city. I was broken down. The enemy was laughing at me as I lived in shame and embarrassment over my shambles of sin. But the Lord graciously sent people my way to help me rebuild. He blessed me with a wife who chose to forgive me and work with me through the laborious process and is now willing to stand beside me and minister to others who may be suffering just as we were.
     I know there are people sitting in the pews at church silently struggling in similar ways as I did, I know marriages have dried up because of addiction issues, I know there are pastors who are in the same kinds of chains that I was in, and because I know this to be true, I want to help rebuild. That's why I was so candid 2 posts ago. If I hadn't been so honest, I never would have talked to yet another soul this week battered by the effects of pornography addiction. I have to hold out hope. And when people see that I was struggling just as they are because I shared out of my brokenness, they finally see that there is hope.
     So, sorry for "The Shock." In time, I hope these newly revealed facts about my life can be just that, facts, and I hope it won't have any bearing on our relationship... because we are still brothers and sisters.  
  
  

Keeping Your Closet Happy

I was bidding on Ebay and the description of the item  explained that it was unused and from an estate sale. I could tell that the seller wasn't even a relative of the deceased which provided quite the revelation. The former owner never used the item I was bidding on and didn't have anyone to pass it on to for their enjoyment. This was very sad to me. It was purchased, then put away, then sold by someone who had no use for it or emotional attachment to it, to a complete stranger. I then realized I had such things in my closet and in boxes in the garage that I had been holding on to for years, even decades, but what for? To keep my closet happy? I was an Archie Comic Book fan as a kid. In college, someone had some old Betty and Veronica stationary that they had from childhood and they gave it to me. The nostalgia factor was off the charts. The box was stylin' with 70's designs and the word "groovy" was even printed on it. Though I wasn't about to send any of my close buddies a letter on Betty and Veronica paper, I kept it. The stationary moved with me to addresses in Cupertino, Sunnyvale, back to Cupertino, and finally to my current residence in Santa Clara. After the Ebay bid, I came across the groovy stationary and decided it's days in my closet were numbered. My girls started getting into Archie Comics so I sent each one of them a letter on the stationary so they can keep them and have them when they're older (I'm holding on to them to make sure of that). I happened across an old greeting card I bought in the 80's just because it has a bunch of Motown lyrics printed on it.  I sent it to Marty as her "card of the week" (for those of you who know that about me, yes, I still send my wife a card a week and have since we were dating). I was holding on to these Burger King Disney Collector cups from the mid 90's, still in their boxes, which also moved from address to address until I finally realized these would make perfect drinking glasses for our family. Even today, I was going through a box from my office filled with pez dispensers and superhero toys and Peanuts paraphernalia that I had collected over the years, and I gave it all to my kids. It was like Christmas to them. They were so happy, and I thought, Why would I keep this stuff hidden away in a box when it brought such joy to my children?

     I don't want to die and have a bunch of unused stuff in boxes. I want to see these items enjoyed today while I'm still here. So I say, use 'em or lose 'em.

I Was a Two-Faced Pastor

I'm going to be bold. I'm going to be real. I'm going to be honest. I've learned that as I share out of my brokenness, it connects with other people's pain and they can relate and hopefully start to heal. But I want to start with a positive and don't forget this: I am a better husband, father, and minister now more than I've ever been with still lots of room to grow, but the road to today was not easy for me or my wife. Pastors aren't perfect. They're actually human, FALLIBLE beings that sometimes screw up. They struggle with sin issues and temptation, and sometimes they even give in, perhaps a lot. I was in that boat and I didn't know how to get out. From adolescence my fantasy world was an escape from the pain I experienced as an awkward teenager and from the dysfunction of my family. The problem was, my fantasy world came with me into adulthood and even into my marriage. Though I was a virgin when I got married, the guest stars in my mind didn't think I was. Oh, I tried to live a pure life. I had an accountability partner and everything. That's all you need, right? It wasn't enough because I kept returning to the sexual scenarios I came up with in my brain. And when a computer entered our home, pornography eventually did too.

     So there I was, a pastor who would preach about sexual purity but struggled remaining pure himself. I tried. I made promises, I made vows to God, I would have streaks of success whether they were weeks or months, but eventually I always seemed to return to my vomit continuing the cycle of pre-ocupation to temptation, to acting on it to repentance and shame.  And it was in that time of repentance that I would feel I could go on with my ministry because everybody sins, right? And God forgives, right? Finally I couldn't take it any longer...
     Several years ago, circumstances in my ministry and personal life made me come to grips with my hypocrisy. I could not live like this any longer. I confessed everything to my wife that I had been in denial about for years and we began, together, the long hard road of recovery. Coincidentally, Marty had just got a new position at a counseling center in San Jose and started seeing clients dealing with sexual addiction. She soon asked me if I thought I was an addict. Of course I wasn't! Addicts do this and act like that and need this and look like that. Then why couldn't I stop a behavior that was killing my spirit and drying up my marriage? Why was I living in direct contrast to my own morals and ethics?
     After seeing a therapist, joining an SA group and working the 12 steps, I realized I was an addict. That's what my brokenness looks like. We're all broken, and this is my area. As mentioned, its been a long, hard road, one that I'm still on with my wife by my side. We've had to work separately, but most importantly, together on finding healing and restoring our marriage. And we are burdened for those who are still silently struggling with similar issues. Thus, this new chapter of our ministry, "Missionaries to Ministers."
     So I end as I began: Today, I am a better husband, father and minister than I've ever been. Don't think of me as the pastor who's a sex addict, think of me as the guy who's finally walking in freedom.
    

    

A Recovering Wimpy Kid

My name is Shane and I'm a recovering wimpy kid. "Hi, Shane." Okay, so I wasn't the most athletic or the most popular in junior high, but my smokin' hot wife and adorable kids don't care, and I don't care, either (excuse me for a moment while I speed dial my therapist). So when I first saw a book entitled "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" as I wandered through Target, I was compelled to peruse. And after reading the first few books, I thought, "This guy has captured my adolescent days!" and, "Dang, why didn't I write this first. This guy's a millionaire now." Then along came the best book in the series, the "Diary of a Wimpy Kid Do-It-Yourself-Book." Yeah, so what? I'm 40 something and I bought it. And I not only bought it, I did it myself, and I finished it, including the journal portion in the back! I filled out the "Practice Your Signature" and "List Your Injuries" pages.  I attached my photo wherever it said "Attach your photo here." I got signatures from my friends and family on the "Autographs" pages. So what, who cares? I even named one of my "Make Your Own Comics" strips, "So What, Who Cares?" Some of my other comic strips were named "The Couch Kids," ""Life with Catwoman," "Butch, the Bible Boy," (based on a real-life kid from Junior High who brought his Bible to school every day), and "My Funny Dad," a charming strip where a young girl asks her dad for a bedtime story and he responds with, "Once upon a time, there was a little girl who was so tired she didn't need a story. The End," (Based on real events in our home). I have been questioned if this was the best use of my time. When my kids pick up my wimpy book and ask if I've done anything new and ask for their own and already have ideas and plans to fill it out, then I think it's been very productive. Sometimes it pays to be a wimpy kid... FORMER wimpy kid.

We'll Have Nun of That

A few weeks ago I made a hasty retreat to the Carmelite Monastery on Benton Street here in Santa Clara. I just needed to go and be with God and this is a beautiful, tucked away place that is so quiet and picturesque (so I also brought my camera). I was open to hearing from God. I could use some divine direction. Not opposed at all to God writing on the wall or splitting the skies open to communicate with me. I kind of prefer the obvious. So I headed for the chapel, a beautiful sanctuary that is very ornate, much like the churches I've seen in Italy, only smaller. I brought my friend iPod along to add to my prayer and worship experience. I turned the volume up just enough so it was almost background music because I wanted to sing along and utilize the incredible acoustics in that room. I joined in with the first song rather quietly, yet worshipping, but realized this place was made to be filled with the praises of our God, or so I thought. I put on an old worship classic, "I Stand in Awe," and I decided I was going to let it rip! I sang my brains out and listened to the mix of the music in my ears and my voice reverberating off the walls and ceiling. It was quite the audio experience. I was putting on my own private concert for God and I was digging the sound effects. Who knows how long I would have stayed there singing, but in walks a little old nun, sweet as can be, approaching me with just a little trepidation, and informs me that the sisters were going to be starting their prayers soon, so could I pray quietly to myself. "... but you have a beautiful voice!" she added as she clasped her hands to her chest. Uh, thanks. So I sat down and wondered if I should be embarrassed just a little. Nah. It isn't everyday you get complimented and shut down by a nun in the same conversation.

Don't Forget the Wisdom

Some have said the TV show "Don't Forget the Lyrics" was created for me. I would agree. So when I saw there was a chance to audition, I got really excited. I have a friend who is a casting director and she was looking for people to audition for this very show. I contacted her and she guaranteed me a spot to try out. I just had to drive down to L.A. The thought of it, singing random songs on national TV and a chance to win some moolah, and hanging with Wayne Brady!...  I was getting pumped. Couple hurdles to jump through, the trek to the Burbank area, finding a place to stay for the night, getting my wife's blessing! When I pitched it to her, she said I could go. Once in a lifetime thing, right? Just crazy enough, gotta try, you never know, what if...?
    For family church, the girls wanted to learn about King Solomon so I taught them about his request of God for wisdom instead of riches. I added that God promises to give us wisdom when we ask for it (James 1). That night, as I prayed with Marty before bedtime, wisdom came walking into our room right in the middle of my prayer and interrupted. I had one of those "checks" people tend to get. As I anticipated the audition, I started thinking of the bigger picture. I'd be leaving my wife to take care of all three kids by herself, which is a lot to ask of her in this season of life. And what if I made it on the show and I had to sing "Pour Some Sugar On Me"? I'm a pastor, and though some may say "Lighten up! It's just for fun," I realized I did not want to contradict what I teach and believe by singing some song lyric. As wisdom sat on our bed listening in on our prayers, I said to Marty I decided not to go to the audition. And I have not one iota of regret about it.
     Even when all lights are green and every door is open, don't forget the wisdom.

Waiting for Dad

     I'm not working right now, as in getting a paycheck for services rendered. There's laundry to do and a house to clean and kids to care for, so there is work, but the rewards that accompany that kind of labor aren't reported on my tax returns. And since I'm unemployed (there, I said it), my kids see me a lot. They're not used to not seeing me. The other night I was out practicing for a gig I had coming up. I got home at an hour when my children are usually sound asleep. Marty said Julia, my 7 year old, was waiting up for me. I entered the girls' room and looked upon my kindergartner, Ella, zonked out, and Julia, semi-upright in her bed anticipating my arrival.
     "Hi, Daddy."
     "Hi, Babe. What are you doing?"
     "Nothing."
     "Were you waiting for me?"
     "Yes."
     "Okay. Good night."
     "Good night."
     After a bedtime smooch, she turned over and fell fast asleep.
     That morning I had read Psalm 101. "I am finding my way down the road of right living, but how long before you show up?" (The Message). After tucking my daughter in, I discovered in this season of unemployment, I am just a kid trying to do the right things and now I am  semi-upright in my bed, patiently waiting for Dad. I'm reading, I'm praying, I'm talking to people who can give me insight into my future career, I'm finding my way, but how long before my Father shows up? And I don't really need Him to walk in the room and answer all my questions and hand me a job on a silver platter. I just need HIM, His presence, His assurance. I just need my Father to come home and tuck me in so I can turn over and sleep peacefully. Yet, as soon as I am aware of His presence, He is home...  and I can rest.

Lessons Before the Bell Rings

I've trumpeted the fact before, I love walking my girls to school. It is invaluable, cherished time which just got a whole lot sweeter. Deuteronomy 6 says the 10 commandments are to be impressed upon our children and encourages us to talk about them as we sit at home and as we "walk along the road." So, yesterday, I decided to to live this passage out with my daughters. I told them we were going to learn the 10 commandments as we walked to school, brilliantly beginning with number one, "you shall have no other gods before me." We repeated it as we walked and then we discussed it's meaning. Ella, my 5 year old, contributed that God is powerful. Julia, 7, brought up other Bible stories, and we chanted the commandment again. Then we prayed before I kissed my girls goodbye.

Last night I pondered our walk to school and felt such joy that I was able to literally live out the Scriptures with my kids. I want that memory to live with them forever. More importantly, I want the Word of God impressed upon their hearts and all the benefits that brings. I want them to know God and His love for them and to live out their faith in front of their friends. I want so much for them, so I walk them to school and watch them grow in so many ways right before my eyes.

As we headed out the door today, both girls immediately started in, "We have to talk about the 10 commandments!" And the best theological discussion I have ever had began...

4 in the Morning, a Sick kid, and Questioning God

My 5 year old got laid out pretty bad last week. A severe case of strep throat had her lethargic, lying on the couch and not eating... for 6 days. She was coughing, couldn't breathe easily and couldn't be understood when she spoke because her throat was so swollen. The worst part of it was noticing her weight loss as the days went on. My sweet girl was already so thin. It was worrisome. She's had strep throat before, but usually by day 2 she would be up and active with the help of her antibiotics.

On what would have been her 7th day of sickness, I woke up at 4 in the morning. Felt compelled to get up and search the scriptures for general life direction. Not two minutes later, I heard a bedroom door open and my sickly child came around the corner, sights set on my lap. As I held her, I was troubled by her very labored breathing. I began to pray for healing and read scriptures over her about sick people becoming well and Psalms that claim the Lord heals all our diseases.

Then I just flat out asked God, "Why aren't you healing my daughter? You're a dad. You know how difficult this is for me to see her suffer like this. I don't get it." I was aware that there were other more pressing prayer requests that had been offered to Him, but my concern in that moment was solely for my own child as I held her and listened to struggle to get air in and out of her lungs.

Then God stopped me in my questioning tracks and took me back a few weeks after I had experienced an uncomfortable situation, one that had drawn me to Him. As a result, I declared I needed to thank God for anything that pushes me into His presence. And my interrogation of God stopped. I changed my tune and began to thank Him for that time with my kid and I resolved to hold her as long as she needed me to, even if it meant watching the sun come up. I could sleep later. I thanked Him for the time both Ella and I were spending together in His presence. And then He took it to another level.

He allowed me to anticipate the future. My girl was going to grow up and experience other times of sickness, bad days, trials, and hardships. It comes with the territory as we age, as we live. Yet, she could always find her Father's lap in the midst of it and cuddle up to Him and He would hold her as long as she needed Him to. It doesn't mean the trying circumstance is going to just disappear, but His presence would be available for the duration. I wrote it all in a card that will be saved and given to her when she's old enough to understand.

I was so focused on my daughter's healing that I was in danger of missing Jesus in the journey. I wasn't going to stop praying for her healing, but I was reminded to focus on Christ and not just my desired outcome.

Ella got off the couch later that day, ate, played, and even laughed a couple times. Thank God He stopped me from contradicting myself and reminded me that I said with my own mouth that I needed to be thankful for anything that pushes me into His presence. If He hadn't, I would have missed out on a lot.