The Invisible Man

Three days after my 46th birthday, I became invisible. The man on the outside appeared only as a stuffed garment and the man on the inside disappeared, simply faded away.

How did I become invisible? You ask.

I took my supper that night, at the Best Western Hotel with a Mr. Youngblood. It was the eve of the seventh anniversary of my wife and I moving to this small midwestern city. He invited us to meet him for a quick bite, it was scheduled only 45 minutes before we had to leave to get to a meeting where Doug was speaking.

He asked me to think about his proposal, which was for me to lay down my life, in order to save a bride, and we left for the meeting. After some consideration, I accepted the cup he offered and drank it to the dregs. After all it was an honorable thing to do to save a bride from certain death. I did not want her blood on my hands!

It took 27 days for the drink to take effect but in the end I was quite invisible, and have remained so from that day until this. From all outward appearances I hadn’t changed much, as long as I wore the uniform, but on the inside, I disappeared.

In order to move about without the staring eyes and horrified faces, the invisible man had to shed his clothing which left him exposed to the elements even though he did not appear naked to others. I too had to shed my mantle and leave it all behind in order to escape the gawkers. I left my mantle that day and have not functioned in my calling here since. But when I go other places it seems to come back to me when I need it.

Once I became invisible, the sons and daughters I had been mentoring for five years became as strangers to me; and I became a stranger to them. I was assured by Mr. Youngblood and his team that all my ‘children’ would be properly cared for, during the time I remained indisposed. But instead they were scattered to the four winds.

My greatest trial was to watch that process and to discover that no one was remotely interested in gathering them again. I was constrained by drinking the cup, and could not gather them, myself. I now had to trust God to take care of them, in whatever places they had been scattered to.

Casual friends and acquaintances, couldn’t see me at all anymore. Gradually, one by one, they dropped away. Most of them never came back, “strike the shepherd and the sheep are scattered.”

I had placed my life into the hands of a few close friends. I did not see that I was walking into a process that would sever me from all prior relationships. Becoming invisible, has altered even my closest relationships right up to this very day. No one knows the tenacity required, for me to stay in the process.

The two most painful separations for me, were the long term relationships with Phil and Linda. I had poured my life into these two, cried, laughed and co-labored with them. But since the day I became invisible, they have approached me with reservation; It seemed there was a lurking suspicion in the background. Perhaps a thought, that I must have done something really wrong, or I would not have been asked to drink this cup. Even now they approach me like an wounded soldier, they act and speak carefully around me as though I am bothered by the memories. Yet they exhort me to be more involved, to be more outspoken, to be more cheerful, more happy*. I guess one cannot expect one's children to understand the depths of the shadows of one's deepest trials.

Someone recently quoted Psalm 137:1-6 and it spoke to me

1 By the rivers of Babylon,
There we sat down, yea, we wept
When we remembered Zion.
2 We hung our harps (stringed instruments)
Upon the willows in the midst of it.
3 For there those who carried us away captive asked of us a song,
And those who plundered us requested mirth, Saying, "Sing us one of the songs of Zion!"
4 How shall we sing the Lord's song In a foreign land?
5 If I forget you, O Jerusalem, Let my right hand forget its skill!
6 If I do not remember you,
Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth
If I do not exalt Jerusalem Above my chief joy.

At first it must have been the fear of crossing a line, that kept my friends from action…
1. What would happen if I …. ?
2. Then it became, how do I relate during the transition?
3. Uncertainty caused them to remain at a safe distance.

Yes their lives were temporarily disrupted by the closure of JRC but my life as I knew it came to an abrupt halt. I lost both my job, my circle of friends, and my spiritual moorings in a community of people.

There was once a story told of two close friends; the chicken and the pig.

The chicken and the pig were discussing a letter they both received from the farmer. The letter requested that each of them make a contribution to a breakfast to be served to the farmer and his friends who had come from far away.

After contemplating the request of the letter in silence for a long time, the chicken said cheerfully I think we should do it! The pig turned to his friend and said “Chicken friend this is not such a big deal for you! Your gift will only cost you a day’s labor, but for me this is much more critical… this gift will cost me everything!


People wonder where I am, how I am doing. “we haven’t seen you” They say. "HOW ARE YOU?????", They ask.

To those who have walked through a process like this, no words are necessary
To those who have not walked through this trial, no words are adequate.

Late summer (2006) will mark the completion of six years of silence, and I continue to wait. I find myself wondering, is this all going to take care of itself in another four months at the beginning of the seventh year? (There is an old Hebrew tradition, all debts are forgiven, all slaves released).

There are only a few old friends that can still see the real me, and that only on rare occasions. Because I have tended to fade away under the bright lights, recently acquired acquaintances think I am ill or in need of consolation. I am just behind this veil. I have buried my mantle, my gift, my calling. I am still invisible to others but much more substantive on the inside.

I had naively believed for a restoration on the other side, perhaps in six months to a year, but it would take seven long years, before I would see the first signs of spring and even then it would come back in fits and starts.

Stay tuned for "The Problem with Superman!"