An Interesting Thought at 7am.

Monday mornings I have to be at work a half hour early.  Which means that I'm in the parking lot waiting for my boss to open the door right at or before 7am.  My normal morning routine is to listen to NPR on the way to work (about 10 minutes, tops) to catch up on news and weather.  Being that there is no news except political news right now, I have been turning the station over to my other mainstay, Life 96.5 out of Sioux Falls.  Yes, it is a bit lovey-dovey.  Yes, I do blaze the worship songs loud and sing my heart out like a 13 year old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.  I don't usually gain a whole lot of spiritual insight from the partial talks I hear on my way to work, but I'm not really looking for that anyways.

This past week is was Hotdish Week.  Hotdish week is the week where they have their Fall Fund Drive or something like it.  "Hotdish Week" is a term my father-in-law termed saying, "It's the week where they dig to the back of the fridge and throw it all together and put it on the air."  Hence, Hotdish Week.

So they wrapped this fund drive up last week, and still have a little giving on the tail end going on, which mean that the morning show hosts take a little more time to talk about how great the station is.

Well, this morning they were talking about getting bogged down in the faith.  They were going on about how, from time to time, they get in the place in their study and prayer lives that they feel bogged down and just feel that they can't connect with God.  And this happens, this I know happens, I was stuck in this place for the better part of two years.  I felt like I couldn't connect with God.  I felt that through study and prayer that I was just reading and talking to myself.  I felt that singing the songs and trying to grow in my faith through reading books by my favorite authors should catapult me back into growth.  Only to be stymied and still in need of something.

I would have loved to take a long weekend and just get away, but with a new job that required 50+ hours of work each week, not to mention a 2 year old at home, it was just not in the cards.

So what was it?  Where was God in all my searching?  Where was God in my scripture studies?  I read about him, but I didn't have a holy 2x4 type moment.  Where was God in my prayers?  I was desperately seeking and begging, crying out for God to retake my heart and heal it.  Where was God in my worship?  I would sing my voice hoarse, only to feel nothing.  Where.  Was.  God?

I was at a point where I had a fowl taste of faith.  I was jaded, skeptical about all things faith oriented.  God had apparently abandoned me after I was cut through the heart.  Was this the great healing that God brings?  Abandonment?

I all of a sudden knew first hand why so many people get cut deep and leave their faith all together.  I was two steps from packing up that part of my life and putting it in the "Wasn't that fun back when" box.

The only thing that kept me from taping that box shut was way back when I first was fired.  At one of the lowest times after being fired, I was a wreck.  I was sitting in my bed one night, crying out to God, "I am hurting!  I am broken!  Everything we've done has been undone!  I am nothing..."
I lay there, still.  Quiet.  Residing in my moment of brokenness.  Then, when the tears faded, when my mind and heart were more settled.  A small voice, barely a whisper.  It wasn't audible, but it may as well have been because it was clear as day, "I will restore you."  That was it.  It wasn't repeated.  It wasn't explained.  I was short, concise and direct.

Over the next couple of years of trying to find the path to restoration, I came up empty.  I would have given up if it weren't for that moment.  But isn't that the point?  Every attempt we make to try and restore ourselves will come up empty.  Even if it is reading the Bible or worshipping or even praying.  The thing is, God has agenda-less love for us.  If we have an agenda, whether it's seeking restoration or not, I think we short-change ourselves.  When we bring an agenda to God, we are trying to play the slot machine and win big.  We are trying to use God instead of communing with him.

So what happened?

Pastor John called me one night after work.  He asked me, "Kyle, we've received a request to have a high school guys group.  Is that something you'd be interested in?"

Now keep in mind, I've searched for God in all the ways I know how and have come up short.  So why would I want to enter into a leadership position when I am still feeling hurt and broken?  How can he ask this of me when I have been seeking restoration and he has let me fall flat?  Why would I even think to agree to this?

Because, I. will. restore. you.

I said to John, "Yeah, sure..."

Now picture this.  Here I am, feeling like the worst person in the world to lead a youth group.  Extremely unprepared.  Spiritually a mess.  What happens?

The first night with the couple guys that come we talk about stuff that I was only beginning to touch on in two years at the previous church.  The next week, we talk about stuff far deeper than I ever even hoped to get.  It was amazing!

But what did I find?  I found God again.  He was waiting there for me, for two years!  God knew that when we fall, we need to get back up.  And he was there for me.  I started feeling God's loving healing wash over me.  Worship on Sunday mornings became more meaningful.  Song would bring me to tears on the way to work in the morning.

It's been four months now and my heart is very much on the mend.  Cynicism has been on the outs.  I'm not jaded towards faith anymore.  I can stand to sit down and read a personal growth type book again.  The words in the Bible have come alive again.  My faith has been restored, and my growth is on the move again.

So what did I learn?  What happens when we're bogged down and just can't get going?  Go out and serve someone.  In whatever capacity you can.  Whether it's volunteering at a soup kitchen or getting involved in a youth group or even leading worship.  Get involved.  Get going.  We can't sit around and think that by continuing to reside in our brokenness and pain we're going to magically get healed.  It doesn't happen.  It takes work.  A lot of the healing comes through action.   But brokenness festers with inaction.

Even if we think that there's no way were able to do any good, get going.  In my experience, God supplements our shortcomings when we commit to agenda-less faith and action for his glory.  Nothing requires more faith than committing to something we know we're not ready for.  But our leaning on Christ in our insufficiency leads to a deeper relationship, a deeper faith, and the best type of healing.

Be blessed, and get out there.

My $.02

-Kage

A Lot Has Happened

Well, here I am again writing another post saying, "Man, it's been a while since I posted." and "This time for sure I'm going to post more..." etc., etc.  But for the first time in a long while, I've actually been inspired to hop back on here and write.  So without further ado, let's catch up with the Galle's over the last year or so.

Labor Day 2011 Corrine and I moved into Worthington.  We basically traded gas money driving to work for rent.  It has been one of the best decisions we've made.  Not only are we closer to work/church/daycare, because of living in town it's like we've gained an hour of time each day that was previously taken up in our daily commute.

October 17, 2011.  Corrine, Melody and I welcome little Charles Dwayne into our family.  He's a hoot.  Big head, blue eyes, and out of sheer will, he's been walking for a month already.

This is Melody and Charlie in June.

March 2012.  I trade my drumset for a non-running motorcycle.  Waiting on two parts before she runs like a champ, can't wait!

June 2012.  Back in the youth ministry game.  Still working at Ag Parts, but Pastor John asked me to lead a High School guys' youth group.  I felt it was God telling me it was time to get off my duff and get back into it.  Up to this point I had felt that something was missing in my life.  Since getting back in, it's been wonderful.  It's a fairly small group, but it has been fantastic getting to know these guys.

July 2012.  Pastor John and his wife Grace decide to move down to Hot-lanta to be closer to their family.  They made it safely and are enjoying their time down there.  I miss his wisdom and guidance.

August 2012.  It's announced that Pastor Brad is going to be taking over John's role in leading Journey. Brad is a Fuller Sem. graduate that had been a pastor in a neighboring town.  He got burnt out over there and has been the county's family counselor for the past year.  They started coming to Journey about a year and a half ago.  Brad's one cool guy.  I'm really looking forward to what's in store for our community with Brad at the helm.

And that brings us to today.

Brad had asked to get together sometime and learn more about each other.  I thought it was a good idea since I knew who he was, but I didn't know anything about him except what he said in his little meet and greet at church.

We met tonight in a little, semi-trendy cafe in a town halfway between where we both live.  It was about a 30 mile dive for me, but that's alright, I like driving.  Drive time for me is a time to reflect on the day and process through the stress.

Brad was already there when I arrived.  What I thought was going to be a nice little "get to know you" type evening turned into a "Kyle-sees-a-therapist" type evening.  Ok, maybe it wasn't that bad.  But he did ask about when I worked at First Methodist.  And from then on it turned into a dish-session.  It wasn't so much a time for me to put everything out there.  But it was a time to talk through a couple of the things that have been lingering over the past two years.  I kind of amazed myself in how much I still had to say about getting fired.  To be perfectly honest it was a terrible thing to go through.  But in all reality, it was one of the best things that could have happened to me.

If I wouldn't have gotten fired, I would still be there, and I would be miserable.  I would be a burnt out pile of garbage youth pastor that would probably be in the process of getting fired.  But the bigger thing is that I wouldn't have been able to be part of the Journey community if I wouldn't have gotten fired.

Journey has been a place of healing and a place of spiritual sanctuary for me.  Without getting fired I would have never had to rely on God as much as I have in these past two years.  Before I got fired, I was floating along just trying to keep my head above water.  But then I started sinking and I needed someone to help me back to the top.

I know God doesn't heap coals onto us just to make us draw closer to him.  That's a selfish god.  But I do believe that sometimes you find yourself in hell and the only way out is to look to God.  I believe that's where I'm at right now.  I believe that I have a long ways to go, but little by little, as we rely more and more on God, we find ourselves further and further from hell.

Just remember what the Psalmist wrote, "Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning."  May we hold the hope of morning close to our hearts.  And if we wake and find ourselves in the middle of the night, hold fast to God, for he is the morning.

Death of the Matriarch?

It was the winter of 2011. I was at work. I saw that I had received a phone call from my dad. The message was, “Hey, why don't you give me a call.”

I was pretty sure this was the call I had been dreading to get ever since my mom's mom had been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease two years prior.

I sheepishly called him back, fully expecting to get the news.

I call, and get my mom, “Hey, what's up?”

“Grandma died this afternoon.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Oh I have my moments,” my mom said through the tears, “She asked Aaron to get her in her chair this morning because she wanted to look out the window. She hasn't been in her chair in three weeks, she's been too weak.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, Aaron then went to check on her and she was breathing real hard. He got her back to her room where she passed shortly after.”

“How's Aunt Cheryl doing? Is she a basket case?”

“Oh, she's doing alright. Grandma did a good job of preparing all of us before she left.”

“When are the services?”

“All of us kids are getting together tomorrow and I'll let you know after that.”

“Ok, I love you mom.”

“Love you too.”

I had two days of work before starting my bereavement leave. I guess it was just business as usual at work, must not have exuded a state of mourning. I was actually back-handedly accused of abusing the bereavement policy when I told my boss I was going to take the full three days even though we weren't leaving until Thursday morning. Oh well, next time I'll come to work with tears in my eyes, or act depressed, or maybe I'll just wear all black for a month so that people know I'm still mourning the loss of a loved one.

The truth of the matter is that Grandma would have never wanted people moping about over her. The very thought that someone would shed a tear over her passing would have been enough to make her live forever. Even so, I knew that the distance between home and Grandma had maybe dampened the impact of the news of her passing. And that as we got closer and closer to the wake and funeral, it would become real.

The services were the end of the next week in Grand Forks, ND. A short six hour drive on interstate from our place. It's amazing how much you can process in the span of a six hour drive. Especially a drive of that magnitude through the flat plains of eastern South Dakota and North Dakota. There's not much to look at, and if there's no ice, you can pretty much set the cruise and go. This is what we did. As Corrine and the kids slept through the drive, I did think a lot about Grandma. I thought about her and my grandpa, and how they had been married 40 years before I was even born, 46 in total before Grandpa passed in the late 80's. And then I thought about how Grandma had lived so independently for over twenty years. I thought about a woman that came from a small family in rural North Dakota. How she married my grandpa and went on to have six kids, 14 grandchildren, and a whole slew of great grandchildren. I thought about how she had to endure my uncle Jeff's sickness and passing in 2003. I thought about how hard it would be to have to bury one of my kids. I thought about when she was diagnosed with ALS and how her charisma and passion for life didn't change. I thought about how an 86 year old woman that has been diagnosed with ALS could be the strongest person I've ever known. And it's that strength and passion for life that wasn't there when I looked into the coffin at the wake.

When we got to town, we quickly changed and went over to the funeral home. I was greeted with many familiar faces, relatives I hadn't seen since the summer of 2002 at our last family reunion at the lake. Many I hadn't seen since well before that. It is unfortunate that an event like this is what brings us together, but that's life I guess.

Corrine and I took the kids up front to see Grandma. It's an interesting thing, a Raymond family wake. The family member who has passed sits in the front of the funeral home while everyone else stands in the back catching up. There's always big stories, big laughs, and big characters. As I was saying hello to everyone, I wondered if Grandma was lonely up in the front of the building. Either way, Corrine and I made our way to the front.

We saw Grandma, she was all done up. I don't know if it was the rigamortis or what, but she looked as if she was made. Her jaw looked clenched, lips a little pursed. It's like she was getting ready to raise her crooked pointer finger and give someone the business. She did look good though. But she wasn't there. It was the same feeling I felt when uncle Jeff died. Here was a person that looked like someone I knew, but was void of all life, love, laughter, and everything that made them who they were. The sparkle in their eye, the tenderness of their embrace, all gone.

It saddened me to see my grandma laying there. The choke started trickling up into my throat. I held the tears back and started to the back. As I was walking back, I started observing the rest of my family. Here were aunts and uncles that had also lost a mother and grandmother. You could tell they had sorrow in their eyes, but it was tempered with the relief that Grandma was not longer suffering. And it was through that relief that led them so quickly back to the joy and happiness that Grandma was known for. As I talked with my relatives, it was as if Grandma were there saying, “It's alright, I'm ok, now quit fussing and go on living.” It was in this moment that I realized that my Grandmother hadn't died, that she does live on. Her spirit is one of compassion, love, and joy. It's because of the foundations that she laid by living how she did, that her family can laugh at her wake and funeral.

I wonder if this is how it was in the final days before Jesus' death? And I wonder if this is the reason that Jesus came back for so long after he died? And I wonder if this is the ultimate testament to a person's life, are people crying or laughing at their funeral?

I know all of our time is limited on this planet, some more than others. But when my final day comes, I know I want people laughing.

-KaGe

Grandma Peaches and family.