Disappointed

 A memory surfaced in my mind of my childhood this morning. It was Christmas morning. I was the first one up like I was every Christmas. I went to bed dreaming about the bike I asked for. A bike with shocks that resembled a motorcycle. I rounded the corner to the den where brightly colored presents surrounded the tree. To the side stood a brand-new shiny bicycle. The Christmas lights reflected on the shiny metal. Instead of excitement, I felt disappointed. It was not the bike I asked for. I did look something like a motorcycle, but it was not the bike I had gone to bed dreaming about. I rode it anyway later than morning and for much of my childhood. I still felt disappointed. 

Fast forward to another Christmas morning. I was the first one up again. I rounded that same corner peering into our den seeing all the presents. All I remember wanting that year was a Dallas Cowboys football uniform with a helmet. I passed many a Sunday afternoon mesmerized by that shining star and heroes like Roger Stauback, Tony Dorsett, Drew Peason, Harvey Martin, Ed "to tall" Jones, and Robert Newhouse. I could not believe my eyes. There was a football uniform with a shiny helmet. It did not have a blue star on it. It had a Redskin warrior on the side of it. I received the hated rivals to the Dallas Cowboys with a Washington Redskin uniform and the most despised Joe Theisman jersey. Disappointed again.

There is another Christmas memory. This time I wanted a Mr. Quarterback. This was machine with mechanical arm that threw you passes with a set timer. None of my family or friends loved football like I did. They had other interests. Mr. Quarterback would solve the problem of needing someone to throw passes to me. There it stood. Just like I asked. I could not contain my enthusiasm. It was around 3:00 am. I could not possibly wait to go outside when it was daylight for my first pass. I pulled the mechanical arm back and set the ball carefully in the cradle. I prepared to run through the house for my first official pass. It never worked. I pulled the arm back too far and broke it before ever getting a pass thrown. Disappointed. 

Thinking back over the years, disappointment became a constant theme in my life. I stunk at baseball while my friends excelled. I recall going to try outs. Parents surrounded the field cheering their sons on. Nobody was there for me. My single mother had to work. I rode with a friend. I missed the pop fly sent to me as well as the grounder. I struck out batting. The sting of that disappointment still haunts me. 

Football was my life. I stunk at baseball, but I thrived in football. It was the natural place to unleash my pent up rage from sexual and physical abuse I kept silent about. I took it out on the grid iron. I wanted two things in high school. I wanted to go to the playoffs and make the all district honors team. We did not make playoffs. To my disappointment again, I only achieved second team all district. I felt humiliated and not good enough. 

Disappointment followed me into the ministry. In my illustrious career, I have successfully killed two church plants and nearly killed a one-hundred-year old church, I broke a promise at another church whom I told I would not leave but I did, and I drug my family away from a great church to follow a wild dream that ended in disaster. All disappointments. Added to that was the guilt I felt for making things so hard for Brenda and our sons. 

Disappointments followed when two of our sons had five ACL reconstruction surgeries between them in high school. The pain in the gut on those nights is indescribable. I tried to be strong and stoic for them in the moment. The truth is I crumbled on the inside. I wept many private tears away from Brenda and the boys. I felt disappointed when God did not protect them when we prayed for that time each week. 

I have not only been disappointed in life. I have disappointed others. Namely, Brenda, Taylor, Tanner, Tucker, and Turner. I was harsh. Angry. Demanding. There were pleasant times. It seemed at other times the slightest thing could set me off. The turbulence of disappointment stirred beneath the surface constantly. Like a volcano, I erupted at times turning our tranquil home into war zone. Not something I am proud of. 

Brenda has been the second greatest gift in my life next to salvation through Jesus. Right behind her are my four sons. I made those sons my priority. I spent special time with them. Taught them things that I never had a father teach me. I showed up for field trips, class parties, and coached their teams. I tried to tell them every day that I loved them. I repeatedly told them I was proud of them. I taught them about Jesus. Hugged them. Held their hands walking into stores and restaurants. They grew up so fast. I live with the regrets of the times I disappointed them. 

I thought I would be much further along in life. I thought we would be more financially secure. I thought I would serve a church with larger attendance. We struggle to top 100 in worship on most Sundays. I thought I would be more successful as a writer. Boxes of books I wrote sit unread in boxes. More disappointments. 

There have been disappointments with health issues. Disappointments in relationships with people who come and go out of your life. 

You might ask yourself, where is all this coming from? What got into you Matt to write this? Let me explain. 

A few weeks ago, I had to drive Brenda to work and hang around that town until she got off. We left in such a hurry that day I left my computer and things I intended to work on. I did manage to remember to grab my journal. I took that journal in hand to the public library to spend some time alone with God. A lady greeted me at the door inviting me to come into their book sale. I told her I had thousands of books already and did not need anymore. She insisted I come and look around. I obliged. 

I looked down the biography and autobiography sections. I found books I could not pass up on. Then I strolled down the religious book section. I noticed the title by an author I had read in the past and enjoyed. I pulled the book out and saw it was the same guy. That turned out to be a providential purchase. That book only cost me 1$. 

I started it and immediately got pulled into the biographical story. I shoved it aside for a few weeks due to a heavy preaching schedule. Once things returned to normal, I returned to that book. Like a moth drawn to the flame, so was I drawn to that book. The author suffered the trauma of physical abuse, a father who committed suicide, ministry success, a son who committed suicide, and a wife who turned to alcohol to cope. His ministry success was stripped, he lost one son, and nearly lost his wife as she tried to kill herself more than once. Many of those things hit really close to home. Too close for comfort. 

I was abused. The man I was told was my father got murdered for adultery. I do not even remember his face. I chose not to go to his funeral. Growing up without a father definitely impacted me in negative ways. My maternal grandfather became a surrogate father. He was my hero. He was a former athlete and we connected deeply. I used to watch football, baseball and boxing with him. Disappointment resurfaced when he died my sophomore year. It was one of the handful of times I cried the hardest in my life. He never saw me play a down of varsity or college football. Disappointment. 

Reading that book made things surface that I forgot over the years. Unresolved things. A life of disappointments. Buried wounds. Secrets very few know about me. Like the disappointments of a few Christmas mornings. Disappointment of seldom achieving success. 

I grew up with a single mother. She lived with her parents raising three children. My little sister drowned at four years old. My supposed father beat her. She divorced him and got remarried to another abusive man. She eventually left him. She had disappointments. I blamed her for years for my growing up without a father and for other disappointments like buying the wrong bicycle and getting me a Washinton Redskin football uniform. She did the best she could. I am thankful for all her sacrifices and unconditional love. I was a difficult child to raise. 

I look back and know she did not know anything about football. She had limited finances and probably got the best deals on the bike and uniform. She is gone now. She died on Mother's Day weekend back in 1998. I am disappointed that my kids never got to know her. She died when Tanner was only three months old. She kept Taylor for the first two years of his life. He never mentions her. She never saw Tucker and Turner.

What I can now say through all the disappointments is God has been faithful. He did not abandon me as a little sullen abused boy. He watched over me through tumultuous teenage years. He introduced me to Jesus as a junior in high school. That one moment changed the trajectory of my whole life. He opened the door for me to play football in college. There I met Brenda a couple of years later. She captured my heart back then and has never let it go to this day. God united us in marriage on June 29, 1991. God watched over us in different ministry assignments. He guided us through becoming new parents with four healthy sons. He has provided for us more times than I can recount. He comforted us in deep sorrows. He strengthened us in adversity. He sustained us in times of testing. 

I have not always understood the ways and purposes of God. I have been disappointed with Him on occasion. It was because I did not understand and could not see the full picture of His plan. I declare today with as much integrity I can muster; GOD IS FAITHFUL. THROUGH IT ALL HE HAS BEEN, STILL IS, AND ALWAYS WILL BE FAITHFUL. Even in disappointment.

1 Thessalonians 5:24 (NASB)
²⁴  Faithful is He who calls you, and He also will bring it to pass.