Down, Peacock Feathers

A miserable marriage. A mentally ill wife. Divorce. Preaching credentials surrendered. Teenage son’s suicide. Remarriage. Re-marriage trauma. A change in denominations. Result? “Down, Peacock Feathers. Down.” I was knocked off my pedestal of visions of grandeur. (I had been told by a parishioner that I was the most arrogant young preacher she’d ever seen.)

The overconfidence didn’t last long as I began to experience some significant life trauma, beginning with a wife who was delusional and hallucinative. She had multiple court-ordered stays in psychiatric institutions with countless electric shock treatments. She’d level out, come home and refuse to take her medication. After much emotional abuse to our son and to myself, I felt the only way to resolve the situation was divorce. One result, my 12-year old son began to thrive.

Another result wasn’t so kind. My denomination didn’t take kindly to preachers getting a divorce. What a painful occurrence when I had to give up pastoring in the church in which I had grown up and loved dearly.

Then my 18-year-old son’s suicide! WE had adopted him at nine weeks of age. His biological mother and father at 16 years of age wanted to place Sam (not his real name) up for adoption. The grandparents fought them on it, so at a young age he was torn. His stress was expressed in grabbing his knees and rocking himself to sleep. This behavior stayed with him into teen age years. Besides the rocking, he was found putting on female under garments. We didn’t realize the extent of his emotional vulnerability.

A hurtful situation arose when he wanted to contact his biological mother. It began so productively. Contact was made. He felt accepted by her. She sent him a birthday present. But that was it. Nothing thereafter – no contact. Sam was devastated. His fragile ego was destroyed. I later talked to her and she said that she couldn’t see him any more because it would destroy her family.

He had moved out of the home as a senior in high school because he didn’t want to keep the rules of the house. He lived with a friend of ours, going to school and working two jobs. It looked as though he was doing well except for some social timidity. He had cooked a dinner for a girl that he liked. The dinner went well, but she didn’t want to see him again after that meal. The following day a call came at midnight, “Your son has shot himself in the head. He’s dead.” I can’t express sufficiently the emotional upheaval I experienced. The pain was overwhelming and I had no one with whom to share it. It nearly killed me. I bottled it up. It is painful recalling it now, 40 years later.

The final peacock feather was removed when my second wife and I went through severe relational trauma, since we both felt we played a part in the loss of our son. We’re doing well now.

What has been the gain through all this loss?
1. I’ve gone through severe breaking process. A breaking of pride, self-sufficiency, and the desire to have a big name denominationally.
2. I’m much more sensitive to hurting people as I pastor and counsel now.
3. I have a personal understanding of family problems that face me in the counseling office regularly.
4. I’m a wiser counselor/pastor.
5. My preaching is filled with God’s grace and not condemnation or judgment.
6. I know a depth of real life that most folks haven’t tasted and through it all I have a deeply grounded peace and victory.
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