We are in the midst of the “mending” series at Watershed and we’ve heard amazing stories of hope and faith through the fires of pain and suffering.  As I’ve heard these heroic accounts of defeating the past, I’ve found myself reflecting on my own dark night.

In college, I experienced what my psychiatrist dubbed “intrusional thoughts” – horrific, nightmarish daydreams that I couldn’t control.  I won’t go into detail, but the doctor suggested I showed the classic signs of someone with a repressed memory who may have been sexually assaulted as a young child.  Imagine hearing that as a senior in college. Imagine dry heaving after every meal because your body physically wants to purge itself of some appalling past your mind can’t even bring to conjure up.

This is time in my life I affectionately call “The Dark Night”. To be honest, the term of endearment isn’t mine.   Tim Farrington, author of A Hell of Mercy, has explored depression as a journey, one he often refers to as the Dark Night, and for me that has a lot of traction. The idea originally comes from John of the Cross’s (a Spanish, Roman Catholic mystic and poet) writings, entitled Dark Night of the Soul.  He brilliantly relates the function of darkness in our lives to our spiritual journey. His words were profoundly illuminating:

"A deeper enlightenment and wider experience than mine is necessary to explain the dark night through which a soul journeys toward God. I am not undertaking this task because of any particular confidence in my own abilities. Rather, I am confident that the Lord will help me explain this matter…”

In the gulf of my depression, muddied by confusion and questions of a past I couldn’t hunt down, these words struck a deep chord inside of me, and they offered hope in a place I least expected it: my own depression.  I turned to other old dudes.  Isaac of Stella, some wise “man of the cloth” from the 1400’s said that depression is a “hell of mercy, not of wrath.”  It’s a funny phrase, and at first glance it seems counterintuitive, but what seems utterly incorrect is in reality acutely on target.  Depression is hell.   But it’s a hell that can actually heal. 

Depression may not be pretty, but it is merciful. I’ve experienced low, and I know what ugly on the inside feels like – but honestly, had life not been at one point as rough as it was then, I wouldn’t be where I am now.  I was stripped bare of everything – my confidence was shattered, my faith on tender hooks, and my belief subsisted on mere habit.  I hadn't turned to malicious, destructive habits, but I did abandon God and the hope that God could save me. In short, I had to rebuild myself from nothing, and it was like learning to walk again. This happened to me as a senior in college, right when the world was supposed to be opening up to me in infinite possibility. While the rest of my friends planned for job interviews, I struggled to find my footing in life again.

I was forced to face my demons, and my depression then really was a hellish place. It’s a scary thing – to face the things or people that have hurt us, to name the vices we’ve put before God, to realize how far we’ve slipped or fallen.  I was scorched by the fires of my depression, and in that dark night I let God fade into the blurry background. In this place, friends couldn’t make me happy, the things I once loved stopped offering joy.  It was painful and damaging, but it was in throes of this dark place that healing began to take root.  This is where God does some of his best work. He can fill your broken, empty vessel of a soul with so much love and warmth, it can be staggering. In the absence of happiness, in the deep end of the ocean, in the murky, crazed bewilderment that can be life sometimes, God comes in and lifts us up. We just have to be open to the possibility – and if we’ve reached the dark night and forsaken God, know this --- he’s not forsaken us.  And if we don’t feel like listening to Him, if we rather wallow in our pitiful sorrow, God will wait it out. He’s really good at waiting it out. And when we’re finally sick of being sad, when we want to take control over our depression –to own it – God will be there, holding out a hand to help you climb back into the glorious light.

So when wise old men say depression is a hell of mercy, I believe them. I can cast out the old, flawed parts of myself and find new life in Christ. I can wrestle with the beast and shatter the shackles that keep me down. I can aspire to better, and let me be clear this new, better place isn’t devoid of mistakes, but it is a place that’s more loving, tolerant, and forgiving. With Christ, we can learn to forgive ourselves and love ourselves, as we are – beautifully broken.  A poet at heart, I love imagery and metaphor, and the story of the phoenix, which I’m sure you’ve heard the story of, has always held inspiration for me. A mythical bird who literally rises from his own ashes, born again.  Christ, whose resurrection offers us new hope. The imagery isn’t lost on me.

written by Shawn Buxton

I’ve been fascinated by the tiny tent village that was once set up on the lawn of old City Hall. I’d drive by, often on my way to Transit, and secretly wish I could join the solidarity of the Occupy Wall Street movement.  What began in September last year has now spread to over 100 cities across the United States.  It seems people are willing to take a stand against the corruption of colossal banks and multinational corporations, angry at the amount of power these companies so irresponsibly wield.  It got me thinking…

What do we stand for?  It seems (collectively as a nation at least) we stand against corporate greed.  But what about hunger? Upwards of 40 million people go hungry in America daily.  And what about slavery? There are more slaves around the globe today than there were during the times when owning a slave was legal. North Carolina alone ranks as the 8^th most likely state in the nation where human trafficking takes place. I don’t see organized protests demanding these horrible grievances be remedied. 

Why are we willing to stand up against Wall Street, but silent when it comes to the human rights of others?  Is it because we feel the pinch of corporate greed in our wallets, but since our own bellies stay full we remain distanced from the real need of hunger?  Is it because slavery is such an antiquated idea we can’t even fathom what it looks like in the modern world?

It gets me thinking…

What am I willing to occupy?  My answer should be a pursuit to bring the Kingdom of God to earth. Instead of being angry about what the 1% of the rich do with their money, I should be angry about the injustices of poverty and gross violations of freedoms rampant around the world.  And I am enraged, but what do I do about it?  I quietly donate cans of food and I sign petitions, but where is the passion that gets people to live in tents outside government buildings?  Where is the collective outrage that creates a united front to send the message, “we will not stand for this!” I should be shouting from the mountaintops. But I am not.

Jesus occupied with radical love, telling us to not just love our neighbors, but to love our enemies, too.  How can we ever hope to get there when we can’t even love and care for our brothers and sisters who daily suffer?  We don’t bring the Kingdom when we think it is someone else’s problem, or when we think to give only when there is excess to donate.

This Lenten season, I made a change in my annual ritual of sacrificing something; this year, instead of foregoing dessert or soda, I decided to take something on.  I want to occupy my life with the fruits of the spirit: kindness, gentleness, joy, peace, love, and generosity (Galatians 5:22). I want to embrace the message of Jesus, love with radical faith and servitude, and occupy the Kingdom here on earth.  

Written by Shawn Buxton. Sources to facts are linked in story.

Source

So many of our Watershed families have taken the wonderful step to adopt, and each story has its own unique journey.  Yet, no matter how different the paths may have been, what's central to all these stories is love, Christ, and faith. I asked Billy and Tracy Strickland to share their experience adopting, and I'll share the story in multiple posts as answers to questions.  Below begins their tale:

How did you come to adopt?

Parker was about 16 months old, I think.  I remember asking myself if we wanted another child?  Ironically, my wife, Tracy and I had felt all along we'd be a one child family.  Parker was awesome and sweet and our joy. The thought of another child was almost weird for us.  I'm sure other parents go through this --  "Do I have enough love?"  Seriously, we asked that.

We decided we did.  We were going to have another child and we would try to get "preggers" in the fall of 2009.  At the end of the conversation, Tracy asked me if we'd ever contemplate adoption. We had the adoption conversation in the past, but nothing was set in stone.  Just wouldn't it be nice?  or where would we adopt from?  I answered Tracy's question with a pragmatic answer: "I don't know.  I don't think so.  The economy is bad.  I have my own business and I think I'm too busy to go through that process."  Tracy looked disappointed in my answer, which was odd to me, because not too long ago we had decided (I thought) that we were a one child family,  so I added, "If God wants us to adopt, he will make it abundantly clear."  No Joke!  

Flash forward three days.  A friend of mine who I worked with, and who attended Watershed occasionally, was recently separated from her husband.  She had two teenage daughters, and while she was living in Charlotte, her family were living about 45 minutes away in a small town.  She called with a unique request. That weekend she had found out that her younger daughter was pregnant.  Her daughter had spent the weekend with her in Charlotte which included a visit to Watershed, and after the service her daughter decided that she wanted to go through with her pregnancy and find a family at Watershed who couldn't have a baby adopt her child.  Her mom was calling me to ask me to spread the word and help her find this special family.  "Yes, of course," I replied.   

I asked her to call Tracy and tell her the same story and then I waited for Tracy to call me.  The conversation with Tracy was weird, amazing, and tearful.  I told Tracy to understand we were not going to adopt this baby.  The teen mom was looking for someone who could not have children, and we had a beautiful little girl, but we would help.  That plan lasted for about a day.  We knew we had to share with them the conversation we had had just a few days earlier. It went something like this: 

 "We want you to know that Tracy and have considered adoption and we would be willing to adopt the baby if you can't find the family you are looking for."

"YES!"  The birth mom responded. "I want my baby to have Parker as a big sister."  The birth mom had babysat Parker in the past and they knew each other.

 I think the question we asked each other, Tracy and I, was "What just happened?"  God made it abundantly clear. It makes me smile to think of the road we traveled to find Riley.

Of course, that's not all to this story, and I hope you come back for the continuing passages of this miraculous narrative.  Billy and Tracy's story is a fascinating illustration of the power of God's work in our lives -- He orchestrates such beautiful blessings when we let go of our need to control life. And sometimes, he even gently nudges us in the right direction, regardless of where we think we are going. 

Written by Billy Strickland and Shawn Buxton. 

Adam is the plaid wearing-dude on the left.

It hasn’t been too terribly long since Watershed finished another year of their Playlist series, one of the community’s more popular yearly series. Late in each summer, the Watershed band puts in some seriously long hours (the biggest of shout-outs to Matt Shaughnessy and Taryn Hofert for their even longer hours) to provide several weeks of music-heavy Sunday mornings. I think I speak for most of us when I say that it’s the greatest time of the year to be a member of the Watershed band. And thanks to the community’s love of Playlist, many of us are given an opportunity to give a glimpse into what makes us tick by sharing songs that are so important to us.

 Personally, I can’t look back to times in my life that haven’t been steeped in music. If you were to ask my parents, you’d hear stories that always end, “And that’s when we knew he’d be a drummer.” Sure enough, and maybe sometimes to their dismay, I did just that as soon as I was old enough**. Somewhere along the way, I just became obsessed with music and all it had to offer. Music has given me some of my most treasured memories, and a few of my best friends. Music has made me weep, but has also made me feel more confident and brave than I ever could be without it. It’s oftentimes unreal how many memories in my head have as distinct a soundtrack as a time or place.

 And it was initially music that brought me to Watershed. I met Matt Shaughnessy through a coworker who just so happened to be Matt’s wife (also, the biggest of congratulations to Matt and Rachael on the birth of their little guy, Owen!). Once Matt found out I was a drummer, he insisted I come play at Watershed, which was just about a year old at that point. Albeit hesitantly, I accepted, and the rest (as they say) is history.

 I often wonder if my love (and expression thereof) of music is ever tiresome for my friends and peers. I’ll never say that I’m sorry for that, though. It’s a daily influence on my life; it’s a rare occasion that I’ll go longer than a few minutes without music somewhere. It gives me peace, and I hope I can reflect that peace on those around me. It helps me stay grounded and realize the beautiful stuff about life and the world. I hope that we, as the Watershed band, have reflected some of that passion; it would be all for naught if we didn’t have a community to sing with us. Don’t ever stop singing, and as always, thanks for listening.

Written by Adam Phillips

 **If they’re reading this, I have to give a very special thanks to my parents for their unwavering support. Whether it was my first drumset, a ride to my first lesson, or putting up with the noise of countless band practices (and my first band was pretty awful), I’m forever indebted to your love and your support. I’d be nowhere without it. Much love.

I struggled most of my life with religion and my only experiences revolved around scary misinformation that was given/forced on me by my dad. I love him and got along great with him when I was young, but he had some very interesting thoughts and beliefs when it came to God. After really feeling lost and unvalued in life, I found a support system of amazing people who changed my life. They happen to be Christians and in so in some way, I started to make connections about God based on these people. My childhood consisted of some traumatic events, but in general, I had a fairly normal life and was not really battling some major issue like drugs or depression, but when I was low and started to see things turn around I realized that God could be the missing link in my life. I was skeptical about baptism at first; I didn’t have some great story of how I was headed down a horrible path and then everything changed in an instant, but then I realized it didn’t matter.

 I had this moment one day in the pool by myself early in the morning. I was thinking about all the chaotic messy stuff I had going on in my life, as well as negative people and the lack of meaningful engagement. I distinctly remember the feeling of going under the water and when I emerged that morning sun was in my eyes and it was kind of weird because it felt like cleansing in a way and I felt God. I think for a while I had God WITH me, but I didn’t have God IN me. He was not the root or core of me that guided decisions and the way I lived, but he needed to be. I knew life could not just be better, but be amazing beyond my wildest belief if I could make some shifts in my priorities and beliefs. This feeling was way too similar in my mind to a baptism, being in the water, feeling renewed, and feeling God in me. I realized right then that I could get baptized and declare the importance of God in my life……. and then I could hold on for the awesome ride that was coming.

I decided to be baptized and wanted one of my major supports and probably the most valuable abd integral person in terms of my faith formation to be the one to baptize me…Jess Surles. She helped me realize what it means to live well and with God in mind. She made me a better teacher, friend, and person. I believe that God uses relationships to make an impact and to convey his message .  Jess was/is in my life for a reason. She baptized me on April 24th, 2007 and though I thought it felt great that day (the pictures and video are evidence enough), my life has continued to change. I didn’t realize that day that two soon-to-be close friends were in the water right beside me and through all of this I have met the most amazing people, traveled to amazing places while helping  both spirit-filled and spiritless people. On a daily basis I feel safe, loved, comforted, energized, motivated, passionate, and called to love on people. Of course I have bad days, but those days aren’t too many and I have a different definition of bad these days. I owe everything in my life to God and wish nothing more than for everyone to experience the same greatness, wholeness, happiness that is possible with God.

Jess baptizing me was a momentous part of my life and she will always hold a special place in my heart for all she does and continues to do. I know that many people have their own “Jess” in their life or they are the “Jess”. I believe that’s one way that God works, through people. Either way, it’s one piece in the puzzle to getting together with God. You can be the one to make a change or help someone else to make the change, both are of great value. Rock on God!!!! Keep filling people up!

Written by Rachelle Fink. Photo by Lauren Rosenau Photography.

Come to the water.
God's gonna settle the water,
so the old gospel hymn goes.
Let the holy waters come, let them settle in the soul.
 
Let the water do what it does best:
wash away old guilts, sins we've carried
for far too long, they begin to feel like a noose.
 
Let the water do what it does best:
cleanse us from the deep within,
that fountain of holy only God can provide.
 
Let the water do what it does best:
sustain us,
give us new breath,
send us out again
to take our first steps. 

If you are considering baptism, or know some who might be ready to take this step, please fill out the interest form here.

Poem by Shawn  Buxton

It has been over a year since our return from Malawi back to the Queen City. A year! A year since I have seen the dozens of Malawian faces that I had come to admire, love on, laugh with, cry for and miss now. During my time in Malawi, the third poorest country in the world, I found myself in the unexpected role as the Interim Director for the Hope for AIDS project, which meant that I was to take care of all the financials for the orphan daycare centers and secondary school scholarships along with the AIDS peer prevention groups and AIDS home-based care groups.  Each of these areas worked out in the villages where medical, financial, and educational resources are non-existant. After a few months in, I realized the 360 degrees I had taken from sitting in Watershed’s transit service to sitting in a small, hot office in Malawi…that I literally was watching Watershed’s resources go through my hands to help feed the poor, give vitamins to the malnourished, give hope through paid school fees for students and give children, whose parents were HIV victims, an education that they probably wouldn’t have had otherwise.

My first trip out of the city where we lived was to the small village of Phingo where we had an orphan daycare center that Watershed supports. Phingo was amazing! Not only did I realize how extremely necessary it was to have a little Chichewa under my belt, but I also didn't realize how my heart would overflow with immense feelings of pure LIFE.  In a way it was a surprising feeling.  It seemed to me that poverty and death, being so blatant and unmistakable as it was, would bring feelings of hopelessness and despair.  However, what I found in Phingo was completely opposite -- the children, with their tattered shirts and dresses, facial sores, and ringworm on scalps and arms, crowded around me singing worship songs at the top of their lungs, jumping up and down and clapping their hands to the beat.  I stood there laughing with them and tried to join them in their singing.  I could feel my heart start to take over; it was like my soul just burst open with these new feelings of love, compassion, mercy, and happiness to see their smiling faces and hear their voices worshiping to God.  I could only think of the time that Jesus called the children to come to Him, and as they did He reminded the disciples that the Kingdom of Heaven belonged to those who were like the children—fearless in their faith and love!

I also accompanied the coordinator to pay the secondary school fees for the 25 students that Watershed supports in that area.  Literally it took an hour one-way off the main road, up the mountain and alongside the river to reach one school, and there was four different secondary schools to pay fees for in this region. The eternal perspective of these situations is not difficult to see and understand.  These children and students are FOREVER transformed because of Watershed's investment into their lives. It was truly humbling for me to be able to witness these things first-hand. I was able to be on both sides of these stories— one in the US where the Watershed community is giving resources weekly and another in Malawi where Watershed’s monthly support literally went through my hands to feed these children and pay for their school fees. Justice, mercy and God’s love is bringing LIFE to hundreds in Malawi because of the resources given by our Watershed community.  Thanks, Watershed! 

Written by Jamie McCollum, who along with husband Daniel, and Jonathan and Kayla George (all from our Watershed community) lived for a year in Malawi, Africa from 2009-2010.

Yeah, I said it. Sometimes, service to others can be a real inconvenience.  Let me give you the rundown on my hectic schedule. I work part-time. Everywhere. I’m an adjunct professor who also babysits, tutors, dogsits, and owns her own crafty side-business on etsy. In fact, on any given day, I’ve done all of those things. So my precious little free time, is well, precious.  So, yeah, sometimes I don’t feel like getting up an extra hour on Sunday to go teach a rambunctious, rowdy, crazed group of two- and three-year-olds for GreenHouse. I sacrifice time, but I also miss out on catching up with my friends in the lobby before and after Transit, and I miss the message, which means I have find time (remember, that’s an issue) to listen to it later on my iPod. Now, please don’t get me wrong, and don’t start calling me Debbie Downer. I love serving in GreenHouse, largely in part because of those wild kiddos in my classroom.

Some time ago, I made the connection that serving in areas of your own personal interests and gifts makes the experience much more rewarding, which is a reason why I don’t volunteer for Girls On The Run (running was never a joy; it felt more like a chore), or say donate hours to the Bicycle Recyclery (I can’t even follow the picture directions IKEA provides). So I serve in GH, because I genuinely love teaching, and I adore those kids. They’ve become just as crucial a part in my life as Transit or my Relationality Bloc has.  And here’s the thing – on that rare morning when I just want to sleep in, I get up and go, yawning the entire way there, but happy. Happy because I know the minute I walk back to my classroom area, I’ll feel joy. Spirit-led joy. Joy that erases the week’s unpleasant memories, the still unresolved problems hanging overhead, the stress that my crazy schedule creates.  Joy that comes from God, and joy that comes from knowing my students love me unconditionally because I show up ready to love and teach them about a cool dude named Jesus.  Whatever burden I carry in there melts away with the first smile I get from the kiddos. This is why I serve.

Jesus tells us we’re to love each other.  In fact, he tells us it’s the second most important commandment there is (Matthew 22:36-40). We’re charged to take care of each other, and I truly believe peace and reconciliation begin through serving those who are most needy. Jesus tells us when we serve others we serve him; active faith means volunteering, assisting, going to the places where need is greatest.  What I love about Watershed is that it provides opportunities to brush up against humanity, to love and see, as Victor Hugo puts it, the face of God.  Opportunities for in-house volunteering and service in our greater community (Catapult Project, Hope Teams, Street Soccer 945, Habitat, I can keep going...) abound, and for me, giving up some of my precious time has a big pay-off: it brings me closer to a life of purpose, and I can share the challenges and the joys that come with service with the amazing community I’ve found in Watershed.

Written by Shawn Buxton