The last few months have doled out the most difficult and painful days of my life.
Manifest Church, the once-vibrant faith community my wife and I planted eight years ago, fizzled-out and died early March—leaving me emotionally gutted, burned-out, and unsure of my future for the first time in, like, ever. Navigating burnout is more frustrating and discouraging than I thought possible. That said, in the past few days, God opened up a beautiful revelation to me that He wants me to share with you. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
At several points along this journey, I recorded what I was feeling as vividly as possible. It wasn’t pretty.
When Shauna and I made the decision to accept the Lord’s leading in closing Manifest, I wrote:
“I am waiting for the incoming train of inevitability, rumbling towards me, perhaps to kill me, perhaps to pass me by, perhaps to derail as it reaches me and crush me in the carnage of forces I cannot control or stop from reaching me.”
After the public announcement was made, I wrote:
“I try thinking about what’s happened and what remains, mulling the details over and over, as though perhaps this time through, I’ll find something, anything—an insight or justification or truth or strength to face the future or box up the past, to put enough of the shattered pieces together that it kind of, sort of, might feel like something I can work with tomorrow, the next day, and the next… Sometimes I dare to pick up a shard, turning it over carefully to consider in my trembling hands, wary that it, too, might draw more of my blood. I cannot give any more. My soul leaks its essence from countless open wounds, leaving my heart weak from the strain of trying to maintain some kind of internal stasis.”
Just the other day, I found myself feeling utterly alone as I went about my daily tasks—grocery shopping, some basic chores:
“I felt dangerously small, insignificant, forgotten… as though the unfathomable hugeness of the world might swallow me up like a fleck of plankton, or inadvertently crush me while it turned to speak to someone else.”
I share these painful confessions with you for two reasons.
First, you have probably felt something similar at some point in your life. Maybe if I share this, you won’t feel so alone in your journey.
Second, I want to point out the power of expressing what we’re feeling as clearly as possible. Notice the visceral metaphors I employed in my venting. If you’re a creative, you can use your creative power to give your emotions a voice, a shape, a kind of body. Why? Once you name and express them, four important things are made possible:
- Venting releases some internal pressure.
- Our feelings take on a kind of life outside us. Our emotions feel all-consuming, but they are not all-defining.
- Naming is power, so we can now consider our feelings with some objectivity.
- Most importantly, we can offer our imagery to God, and use it to talk to Him about what we’re feeling.
Remember what I wrote about feeling alone? I felt dangerously small, insignificant, forgotten… as though the unfathomable hugeness of the world might swallow me up like a fleck of plankton, or inadvertently crush me while it turned to speak to someone else. Whew! But when I offered this imagery to God, He revealed a beautiful, unexpected picture to me. If you’re a believer in Jesus and you’ve been struggling with feeling insignificant, invisible, alone, or rejected lately, these words are for you, too. If you’re not a believer in Jesus, let’s talk:
In my mind’s eye, I clearly saw myself as I imagined myself that day, a tiny speck moving about anonymously through grocery stores, driving alone along the road. But this time above me, I saw God the Father, watching me excitedly, gathering angels to His side. “That’s him,” He said, grinning proudly. “That’s Brad. That’s my son. I love him so much and I’m so proud of him.” As angels gathered to see, He pointed me out again. “There. See? That’s him. Right there. That’s him.”
Why is this powerful? Well, as the onion-layers have been stripped away, revealing my core angst, I’ve come to see my central struggle since my life bottomed-out is this: Do I still matter? That’s a big, important question. And because I took the time to articulate precisely what I was feeling, painting a picture with vivid metaphors, the Holy Spirit used that to reveal the heart of the Father to me in life-changing ways.
After this revelation a few days ago, I’ve felt so much life returning to me—energy, creativity, peace, joy. A long (and sometimes dark) road of recovery may still lie ahead, shrouded in mystery—but I’m so thankful for the breaking dawn of Christ’s faithful light along the way.
Hey Brad,
My sincerest condolences on the ending of Manifest Church for you. I know that you would have felt gutted an empty after putting in that amount of time, effort and love, building something for God and for people and to not have it succeed is heart wrenching. I saw your post on fb and thought I would touch base with you. I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster myself for the past seven years – with my wife who has been my constant emotional anchor and support – since my mother died. My father immediately started seeing a woman who became my mother’s “best friend” while she was dying, and both my father and this woman were lying about it. Short story is that I caught my father in another lie and he has spent the better part of those past seven years lying to me and Ruthanna, but worse – lying about us to other people.
Soon after this was brought to light after my mother died, God met me in my mourning and pain and let me know things would be a little rocky for a while, but everything was going to be alright. He would restore to me what was lost, and bless us in ways we didn’t understand at the time. We did finally find a church home here in the Calgary area at the Foothills Mennonite Church and started attending there before my father’s revelations came to light. I got to know Doug Klassen who pastored there at the time very well and we hit it off. Four months after we started going there, my father revealed his intentions to me and it became obvious why we – I – needed Foothills. The community there was what we were looking for and have sustained us through some trying times over the past seven years. I’m sorry we didn’t find that at Dalhousie, or try Manifest, but there was always something for me that felt alien about the MB world. I’m at home in the Mennonite Church, and have deepened my faith in the Lord in ways I didn’t know possible before going there. I now have my own faith and a direct relationship with Christ, not being interpreted by my father or other people.
This period of time affected my professional life as I bounced from one position to another, unable to concentrate for any period of time. I look back on it now and know that God was working in me, and keeping us afloat until I was ready to break out of the mindset I was raised to believe. I’m on the cusp of starting up a company that will have a large impact in the green energy field with my best friend from university. There will be many opportunities that come from this but we have been building the business for the past three years and will start converting it to serious revenue this year.
When I read about your trials recently, I thought about the time when I grew up in Santa Barbara, California when I was a junior in high school and your grandparents came to visit us. My mother had known them for many years and they came to spend a weekend with us. We had a great time with them, and it was very apparent that your grandfather was called to the ministry (this was the first and only time I got to him) – he had a clarity of purpose, complete positivity and magnetic presence of God shining through him that was rare. You have that too, and although you have gone through some difficulties, make no mistake that God is with you all the way and will lead you to your next opportunity to contribute to His glory and the community’s good. What I have learned is that destinations are fleeting, the experiences come in the journey and who you take those journeys with. You – like me – will be fine and probably better that you know in the future, because God loves us.
We still live in Airdrie, so if you have some time in the next little while to get together for coffee or lunch or something, let me know, I’d love to catch up.
Eric
Hey Eric. Thanks for reaching out and for your kind words. I’m so sorry for the difficult road you’ve had to walk with your mom, and then also your dad. It’s cool to hear how God has led you into renewed faith and direction for your life. Love it. Bless you brother!