Desperation to Lightness

100 years ago a man left his job in desperation, depression and on the cusp of complete breakdown. He had made a name for himself running a boys house in the slums of Philadelphia as a young seminary graduate. He grew up in a family of hotel managers and he placed a premium on hospitality. The work demonstrated success over the years and the man worked tirelessly to transform the boys from street kids into young men with prospects. The house thrived.

A few years in, his six directors set out to cut the budget. They levied a difficult demand on the young man, cut major provisions including the daily food allowance for each boy. The news crushed him. It would alter his entire style and he despaired. Eventually, he couldn’t make amends with the decision and took leave for Europe, hoping that a six-week cruise would refresh him and lighten the burden.

Underneath the Mediterranean sun, he sank further into a quagmire of resentment and failure. The spring air floated over the stunning sea, but nothing could pull him from the bitterness he held towards the directors. He hated them and he was miserable for it.

At his final stop in Keswick, England, he stopped into a small Methodist chapel to hear a sermon. Following the message, he came to realization. He too had been wrong. The directors weren’t right, but the ill-will that he held towards them perpetuated the situation and he had become as much a part of the problem as them. Dead-set on his own agenda and clouded by his own pride, he had lost his way. He wrote a letter of apology to each director, admitting his own wrong in the situation and asking for forgiveness.

I’ve been in Keswick and thinking about this story for a few days now. Trekked around Lake Derwater and skipped stones on her stillness. Climbed fresh green hills to view the vibrant valleys below. Soaked up late spring rain. Basked in patches of intermittent sunshine. Asking: What’s to be gained from this story.

I’ve reached a few conclusions.

For one, I’ve come across a pretty radical idea here. Forgiveness I get. I believe it to be perhaps the most transformational force around. I’ve seen it completely change a person’s life. (If you want to read a great book on this you should pick up Forgiveness by Michael Henderson.)

That said, I think its one thing to ask for forgiveness when I’ve wronged somebody directly, but for holding resentment? I’m not so sure. I mean, doesn’t everyone carry a feeling like that in their heart towards someone they feel mistreated them. I’m not much for grudges, but I’ve definitely bumped into a few people that I’ve harbored some mess against. Seems a big step to ask forgiveness for that.

Still, here’s the trick, right. The resentment blocked this guy bad. Pancake block. His bad blood completely took him out of his element, kept him from doing his work and just about ruined career and life. Something had to intercede here. Forgiveness unlocked the chains that weighed him down and restricted him. Freedom.

The second point has to do with letting go of the pride and ego he carried around. I resonate with this. He was convicted about his work. He believed in his ability to do it well. It just reached a point where that got maligned. His own desires were admirable, but selfish. His ambitions were good intentioned, but self-absorbed.

I find his departure from the weight of ego encouraging. He understood the importance of his own skills, perspective and identity, but abandoned his self-deification.

Another saint, right? I don’t think so. The point of the story is the struggle. Its not the big enlightenment where he never again snaps up the last piece of cake without asking or sleeps in instead of going to volunteer on Saturday morning or gives all his money away. No, the beaut of this story is the process.

That’s where I connect with it. I can feel the weight of my own self-interest; I’ve actually traced it to be the source of almost all of my unhappiness. Still, I don’t think it can be all tabled at once and I’m happy to be encouraged by his step. Again, movement towards liberation.

Years later in his life, he used this image:

“I seek to hang my life on the line like an old shirt and let the wind of the spirit blow through it.”

Light. Secure. Available.