There will be bacon and eggs and poor kids for breakfast this morning. I’m speaking to a city-wide multi-denominational men’s breakfast this morning in Burlington, North Carolina and I’m going to do my best to get what’s supposed to be 1000 men to sponsor every kid on my Compassion table.
There are four “sermons” I give routinely when I talk about Compassion. This morning I’m trying a new one on significance. Remember when I wrote significance here? (Part 1, 2, 3) I’m talking about that stuff this morning and then wrapping things up by showing how the Good News (the kingdom is here) meets a man’s need for significance.
I’m more than a little foggy on how to transition between parts, how to begin and end, but I’m confident this is what I’m supposed to talk about – perhaps for myself as much or more than the guys showing up this morning.
I’ve struggled my whole life with intense feelings of insignificance. I’ve found a great deal of meaning and value for my work and existence in recent years by representing Compassion and remembering how God thinks about me, but there are still times when I forget and the critic’s voice, Mrs. Marshall’s voice, drowns out all the others.
When I was in the fifth grade I was a class clown who was no good at school. I finally pushed Mrs. Marshall over the edge one day – toppled over a whole row of desks (long story) – and she chewed me out in front of the class. The kid who would later be my college room mate and best man in my wedding still remembers that day. He’s a doctor in Nashville now and every once in a while he’ll encourage me out of the blue with “Mrs. Marshall was wrong.”
What she said to me that day left a mark. She said I’d never amount to anything but a clown and she told the class I’d never make it through high school with them. And part of me still believes her.
I feel like too much of my life has been wasted, ill-motivated, trying to gain significance, value, esteem, by proving her wrong, by achieving and doing my best to be the best at whatever I do. It’s fed my perfectionism. It makes me allergic to a specific type of criticism. It leaves me vulnerable to deflation by a prickly negative opinion, and paranoid it will get spread to people I’ve worked hard to impress. I don’t trust folks who are negative for fear that they’ll turn on me. I don’t like slackers because I loathe the slacker I still see in myself. Even when most secure I’m always looking over my shoulder afraid of the next failure, the next flaw to be noticed, the next botched joke or offended blog reader. Mrs. Marshall is always lurking nearby.
I usually teach from a place of strength and mastery. I talk about stuff I learned and applied long ago. It’s easy. But this morning I’m talking about stuff I’m still wrestling to the ground, still trying to make fit in the broken places. I’m telling men they matter, they’re valuable and essential and why. I believe it and I’m hoping teaching it will help my unbelief.
Shaun,
I have to say this blog entry has resonated with me to an amplitude you cant’t imagine!!! I relate to this 100% for I’ve had the same thing happen to me. Everything that you described about yourself is EXACTLY the way I act, see things, react to & view others. It is both a curse and a blessing. That’s the way I look at it. Unbelievable!!! I’m glad to know there’s other successful, asertive, good-willed people out there (i.e. yourself) that I can relate to & know that I’m not a failure nor does God think that I am either!!
Thanx for an eye-opening moment Shaun!!
Chicago Joe
I guess a lot of how we are doing is a matter of perspective. An old friend from high school that I have only spoken to once since school made a comment that stuck w/ me. It was a nothing comment and he was by no means trying to be critical. He was shocked that I was a family man working a regular job doing all the family stuff. He (among many others) expected me to be a career military man crawling through mud and taking out bad guys w/ my teeth. “Man, I thought YOU of all people would be the guy to pull up at a reunion on a harley with a bunch of stories you couldn’t tell us about unless you killed us!” He sounded almost disappointed and like I let him down. It really made me/makes me look at who I am. Not what I am.
I’ve said to Kim that I’m jealous of you and Brian at times. You both have something that you are passionate about that changes people’s lives. Sometimes I sit back and wonder where my passion is and I miss it…..
Thanks for sharing about Mrs. Marshall; mine was Mrs. Underwood, my algebra teacher. She humiliated me in front of the entire class when I couldn’t explain how I did a problem on the board. It just happens that I don’t have the math gene and got really flustered when I tried to explain it to 20 people.
Though the consequences have been lasting, Mrs. Underwood only crushed me in one area – numbers. To this day they freak me out.
I have to wonder though – if Mrs. Marshall could see you now … the amazing work you are doing for Christ – how foolish would she feel?
Shaun,
You are amazing. Thank you for being at our church for the Men’s breakfast! I have heard from many guys that went this weekend that you have given them an eye opening. And yes, I even sucked it up and grew a little more in my faith walk, and even adopted a little boy from the philipines off the compassion table! My wife and I are very excited that God is going to work through us to make this boys life a little bit easier.
May God keep blessing you and continue to work through you as you travel the world with messages like this one!