Confronting My Abusive Former Pastor: The Hollow Man

Well, I did it.  I confronted my abusive former pastor, and I did it afraid.  But I think he was more afraid than I, and that's what actually enabled me to speak life-giving words to him.  I pulled no punches, though, because I knew that it was the God-ordained opportunity of a lifetime to tell him how his abuse has impacted my life on every level.  With my husband on my left and my advocate on my right, I soldiered on through our "round table" discussion (part of what is called a Just Resolution).  I was concise and compassionate.  I had prayerfully decided before the meeting to give any bitterness to God - an act of the will, if you will.  He teared up often, but I've seen all that before so am unmoved by his tears.  Yet my residual emotion post-meeting is pity.  I see him for the pitiful person - the hollow man -  that he really is.  

 I have left this abusive pastor to God.  I am done.

Strained Chords

Today in church we sang a hymn with a refrain that included the words "strained chords."  I've seen those terms together many times, but today they just sort of jumped out at me.  I began thinking about the dynamics of music-making and how stringed instruments must be plucked, picked, scraped by a bow, or, in the case of a piano, banged by a hammer.  Strings must be acted upon rather violently before they do what they were designed to do, when you think about it.  They "strain" under the pick, bow or hammer in order to make what we hear as music.  They must constantly be tuned - another violent act, if you will - to give them the best possible opportunity to do what they are designed to do.  And they are most often played together in chords - and in the case of today's hymn, in "strained" chords.  


As a follower of Jesus, I so often feel like those strings.  When out of tune, I must trust the musician to make the proper adjustments.  Before I can release the sounds that make music, I am plucked, picked, scraped, or banged.  The musician determines the strength of his touch on the string.  The process of making music, if you are a string, must be painful at times.  


The process of making disciples must be painful at times, too.  


I keep telling myself that my song is coming, and when it does, it will be beautiful.  I know this because I trust the Musician.