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“When I access the foul feelings that have been stored on my insides, I am reaching into a wooded and disease area, and I’m doing surgery in my emotional body. When I release these feelings therapeutically, I am draining toxin and infection out of my body.” – Mark Nepo
For those who believe in God, it is profound to consider the places one might search to experience God. Most people think of a sacred, peaceful moment in the great outdoors or the hallowed spaces of a magnificent and ornate worship cathedral. Some think of the miracle of life unfolding in the moment of birth. These are all magical moments of inspired energy flow.
However, I would propose that one might choose to experience God in an unlikely space.
Rather than the sensational and spectacular, one might experience God in the foul feelings stored within the deep crevices of the soul. What if, in paradox to the magnificent, the experience of God is found in the Wound of your life. What is your wound, the ugly part that you want to hide, forsake, and ignore, never to be talked about?
What if that is where destiny calls you to experience God? The divorce, childhood or adult sexual abuse, even your acts of selfish perpetration that you want to avoid talking about, can be a source of experiencing God.
Though a bit radical, it encompasses the necessary components to experience God. There is overwhelming emotional and physical pain that begs for humility. There is the destitution that calls for surrender and acceptance. There is the desperation to create meaningfulness from the insanity of your wound. If you are to experience God in these spaces, the foreboding question is, how do you confront your Shadow?
A 12-step program will emphasize that you are as sick as your secrets. What do you keep in darkness? What do you hold as a secret that has a strong hold on you? For some, it will take some digging. Buried in the portals of the past are secrets that are meant to never be disturbed. They can be hidden under the smile we wear, the busy schedule we keep or our relationships in the community we live. But what if God were to be experienced in things you hide down deep in the abyss of your soul, wounds that are too painful to face?
A personal note about my own journey. Historically, I was an ordained minister for nearly 30 years. I was a veteran at helping others manage crises. Within a span of 5 years, I officiated funerals for 10 different suicide victims. One even shot himself while I was attempting to get him to calm down over the phone. At one point, one of the family members falsely accused me of being the reason their loved one killed themselves. It wasn’t my first crisis nor first false accusation. However, something changed. That night, I could not sleep, and the next few days, I walked around in a daze. Slowly, I slipped into a major clinical depression that triggered suicidal ideation and a couple of failed attempts. I lost over 40 lbs in 6 weeks. I just stopped eating. Eventually, I was hospitalized in a psychiatric ward. You can read about my experience in my book, Dare To Be Average: Finding Your Brilliance in the Common Place, on Amazon.
While in the psychiatric hospital, the staff allowed me to spend time in the exercise room. I would beat the punching bag until every stitch of clothing was drenched in sweat, and I was totally exhausted. It felt good. So, they let me do it multiple times a day.
Once, during a particular rough patch, I found myself in the proverbial padded cell. The ceiling, walls, and floors were all padded. I remember thinking that my life and career were over. I had my Bible with me, and I opened it to Psalm 91. I read the verse out loud: “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.”
I thought about all the crap that my family and I had gone through in the church, and a wave of rage came over me. There were memories of sexual abuse. I felt the shame that manacled me and all of my siblings. I thought of the complexity of everything I knew about the church and its abuse. I wanted to throw up, but I did not. Rather, I began hitting my Bible with my bare fists. I struck my Bible again and again until my knuckles were bleeding. When I finished, I was totally exhausted… not from the physical act of hitting but from tapping into all the rage, hate, and shame that had enveloped my life like a wet blanket for so many years, yet hidden down deep.
My mind began to clear just a little. I recall being aware that if I could beat the hell out of my Bible and God still loved me, then I could live. In retrospect, I don’t think I really cared whether God loved me. There have been many days that I certainly have not loved God. However, on that day, tapping into my dark shadow provided relief.
The next day, I committed to my wife that whatever it took, no matter how hard it may be, I was going to “hock my socks” if need be to get better. Slowly, I did. Over the following 30 years, I learned to manage depression. It has never left, and I deal with it to this very day. I have learned to make depression a friend that helps me to be aware of my limitations and the limitless resources I have to make meaning out of every moment in life. When I ignore my boundaries, physically or emotionally, depression reminds me and tells me something is out of balance. It is stubborn and powerful. If I do not pay attention, it will kick my ass. Yet, confronting my shadow has been and is the most spiritual experience I have ever known in all of my life encounters.
It is an illusion to think you can run away from your shadow. Embrace it! You might find God or its equivalent in the most unlikely place—your Wound!
