It’s a cold January morning, snowflakes falling gently like God’s dandruff from the heavens. Pastor Javier Sánchez looks into his bedroom mirror as he puts on his clericool collar. He moves his hand down his black beard to give it that last straightening and moves his black curls around his head once more to look presentable.
He suddenly recalls when he was on vicarage, and an old lady commented on his curls, “Did you brush your hair this morning, Vicar?”
He had said with a smile, “Yes, it’s just Puerto Rican.”
She had looked confused. Poor woman has probably never seen a Hispanic in that small German-American town she’s lived in her entire life.
Satisfied with his hair, he walks over to his coat rack beside the front door and puts his maroon coat on, which always brings out his brown skin. He exits the parsonage and walks to his study at St. John Lutheran Church next door.
The first thing he does, according to his daily ritual, is turn on the Keurig machine to get his morning coffee. Today’s Monday, which means the first thing on his to-do list is to begin the prep work for Sunday’s sermon. He should be able to spend the entire morning on it, maybe even finish it in one day, because there aren’t any meetings today.
The Keurig signals it’s finished pouring his coffee with a sound that always sounds to him like diarrhea, and he puts in his preferred amount of creamer and sugar. He takes his first sip of coffee for the day, gives a joyful sigh with a grin, and walks over to his study.
He sits at his desk, opens his “Sermon Prep Template” Word document, and begins reading the Gospel text for Sunday in his journaling Lutheran Study Bible. This Sunday is the feast day for The Baptism of Our Lord, the text being Luke 3:15-22. After he finishes reading it, he sees that he wrote notes on verses 21-22 several years before. He struggled to read his tiny cursive (he pedantically writes small in the journaling margins so there’s more space for more notes): To say our Baptism does nothing (that it’s a symbol) is to say Christ’s Baptism did nothing—that the opening of the heavens and the descent of the Holy Spirit were merely metaphorical speaking and didn’t actually happen, because our Baptism is a participation in the Baptism of Christ (as well as little Pentecosts). How else would we receive the Holy Spirit if the heavens likewise do not open and descend upon us (cf. LC IV, 21)? The devil is the one who wanders throughout the earth like a vagabond (Job 1:7; 1 Peter 5:8), not the Holy Spirit; He comes from Heaven. See note on Matthew 3:15-17.
He turns to his notes on the Matthew text: If Jesus was sinless, why was He baptized? To make our baptism His Baptism—that through it, we become sons of God with whom He is well-pleased because of Christ’s perfect obedience. He types these notes into the Word document.
Just as he opens his Book of Concord to the Large Catechism portion referenced in his journaled note, he hears two hesitant knocks on the door.
“Pastor Javi?” came a quiet, reserved voice.
Javi turns around in his chair to see one of the young men of his congregation, Erik. Erik is a bright young man, and very pious. He’s one of the most theologically well-read members of the congregation, faithfully attending Javi’s Bible studies when he is able. He is also a talented artist whose medium is watercolor. His works are so beautiful that Javi is sometimes envious of his artistic ability, not to mention his aptitude for putting personal computers together. It was Erik who helped him put his gaming PC together. He also has two beautiful children and a wonderful wife who is pregnant with their third.
Javi stands up and shakes Erik’s hand with a warm smile, “Hey, Erik! Come on in, sit down.” He motions toward a chair next to a small coffee table with an ESV Bible on it. Javi closes his office door and sits in the chair opposite Erik.
“How can I help you?” Javi asks candidly.
Erik clenches his fingers together, fidgeting with them, and looking down at them. He’s tense. Nervous, Javi notices.
“Well, Pastor,” Erik finally says, “I’m kind of embarrassed to admit this.”
“Okay,” Javi says. “Do you trust me, Erik?”
Erik looks up, surprised by the question. “Of course! I remember what you’ve taught us about the seal of confession—that anything I say to you is strictly confidential and in your ordination vows, you took an oath never to divulge what we confess to you. It’s just… it’s hard to say it out loud.”
“I understand. Take your time.”
A few silent moments pass between them before Erik finally says, “It embarrasses me to say this, but I’ve been seeing a therapist for about a year and a half now.”
“Oh,” Javi says with a slight surprise in his tone, wondering why he finds this embarrassing. There’s no shame in receiving counseling. “May I ask what you’re seeing them for?”
“Yeah… I’m seeing him for depression. I was diagnosed with major depression.” Erik is having difficulty making eye contact with Javi.
“I see,” Javi says softly. “I’m so sorry to hear that you’re suffering so horribly… Tell me, why do you say it’s embarrassing to admit this?”
Erik shoots his head up with a slight expression of anger on his face, but not directed at Javi. It’s directed at himself. “Because I’m a man!” he shouts as if the answer is obvious. “What kind of man gets depressed?” Then inquisitively, “Could you tell I’ve been depressed lately?” Javi could tell Erik was hopeful that he hadn’t noticed. After all, men don’t get depressed, according to the myth.
“To be honest, no. I’m a little shocked. But I’m sure as you know from your own experience, and maybe your therapist has told you this as well, people with depression are really adept at hiding it.”
Erik leans back into his chair, comfortable after the admission of his “guilt.”
“Yeah,” he says, “we have talked about that a little bit.”
There is a brief moment of silence before Javi says, “Is there anything I can do to help you during this time?”
“If you could just pray for me, I’d greatly appreciate it.”
“Certainly.”
“But don’t add me to the prayers on the bulletin,” Erik says quickly. “I don’t want people to know.”
“No problem, I’ll just add you to my private list of daily prayer.”
“Thank you, Pastor. Mostly, I just wanted to let you know what I’ve been going through.”
“I appreciate you trusting me with this. And I will pray for you until the Lord brings you healing, Lord willing… Is there anything you wish to confess to me? I don’t mean a sin, necessarily, because depression is not sinful. I sense there might be something else you’d like to get off your chest.”
Erik raises his hand to his chin and thinks for a moment. “Well… mostly I suffer with worthlessness. My therapist has helped me realize that this comes from the emotional abuse I suffered as a child, especially during my parents’ divorce when I was a teenager. My mother weaponized me against my father to make him out to be the villain. My own dad thought I hated him! I suppose I thought I did, but when I saw my dad’s tears confessing to me that’s what he thought, I realized I didn’t hate him!”
“Tell me more about that,” Javi says.
“As I’ve investigated these things as an adult now, I’ve realized my dad was never the bad guy; he was just the victim of no-fault divorce. He did everything in his power to stay married to my mom, but because of the laws of Michigan, they permitted her to divorce him at no fault, and she got full custody of me and my siblings whereas my dad got the short end of the stick. He only got to see us every two weeks. To make it worse, she lied to me and the courts that she never had an affair, but she had three of them! Yet still, my dad wanted to work things out, but the no-fault divorce gave him no say in the matter.
“My mom… she’s afraid of people not loving her, especially her kids, which I can understand because of her upbringing, and I’ve forgiven her for what she did, but still, it hurts…” Javi remains silent to give him room to speak. “Anyway, my therapist helped me realize I was not allowed to grieve my loss at such a young age. When my mom was supposed to be the one giving me emotional support during such an emotional trauma, instead I was forced to grow up at sixteen and give her the emotional support… And there are other ways in which she emotionally manipulated me…”
Estimating he was finished, Javi says softly, “Wow. I’m so sorry you went through all that.” And he truly was sorry, even if saying something so simple might sound phony. “May I ask why all this has made you feel worthless to this day?”
“Well,” Erik begins, “as I’ve worked through my therapist with this, this all started my vain attempts to be perfect. I had to be perfect for my mom. I couldn’t let her down through this tough time. But I couldn’t be the perfect emotional support she needed. And now, I try to be the perfect Christian, the perfect dad, and the perfect husband, but whenever I fail at any of these—and I fail often—I can’t help but feel so freakin’ worthless all the damn time—pardon my language. I mean, the Ten Commandments teach us to be perfect, don’t they? But I keep breaking them! If I can’t be good enough for Rachel and the kids, how can I ever be good enough for God? Even though I always strive to be perfect, deep down I know I’m not, and I never can be. This is what makes me so depressed, I think. I’m not the perfect person God and my wife and kids need me to be. I’m worthless. I’m just a stupid, little insignificant person.”
“Hold on a minute,” Javi says as he places his right leg on top of his left, “being a ‘little insignificant person’ is a lot better than being perfect!”
Erik scoffs, “Yeah, right.”
“No, it is. Look, up there in Heaven is a God who thinks you’re awesome. Not because you’re a perfect man, but because you’re simply human. And He came down to this earth in the person of Jesus Christ to be the perfect man you can’t be for God, your wife, and your kids. You’re just a human, and this might make you insignificant especially because you can’t be perfect and how small our earth is compared to the rest of the universe, but you’re His. Isaiah forty-three verse one is one of my favorite verses, especially the part where God says, ‘You are MINE.'”
Erik looks down at the floor. “But why would God want me?”
“Why would God want you?! Look at you! You’re Erik! Look at all you can do! You make amazing works of art! You’re really good with computers! I can’t do any of that! And you have a beautiful wife with two children and another one on the way! Let me read you a psalm.” Javi grabs the Bible from the coffee table and reads from Psalm 127:3-5, “‘Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb are a reward! Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth! Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate!’ Dude, you are awesome! And God knows it, and He loves you, and you are His! In fact, do you remember the day you were baptized?”
“Yeah. Just eight days after I was born, October 18, 1996.”
“Then you know that you belong to God! You are His! God’s name has been placed on you in your Baptism. You belong to Him!” Javi suddenly thinks of something. “Hey, one of your kids is adopted, aren’t they?”
Erik smirks as he says, “Yeah. Ezra.”
“Do you ever think of him as not being your son since he’s not blood-related?”
Again, that surprised look. “No! He is ours. We consider him our own.”
“What if he disobeys you? What if he fails to be your perfect son? Do you take your family name away from him?”
Javi could tell a lightbulb went off in Erik’s head as he says with a grin, “No. He’s still our son. We would never take our family name away from him.”
“Does he have to do anything to earn your love back?”
“Earn it back? No, because our love never went anywhere. It doesn’t matter he can’t be good enough because he’s our son. It’s not even a question whether he’s good enough! He’s our son. We love him, so to us he’s always perfect.”
“Right there, Erik. Right there is the key. Think of what you just said. ‘Because our love never went anywhere. It doesn’t matter he can’t be good enough because he’s our son. It’s not even a question whether he’s good enough. He’s our son. We love him.’ Now, if we dare to be so bold, put those words in God’s mouth concerning you. Think of God saying, ‘My love never went anywhere. It doesn’t matter you can’t be good enough, Erik, because you are My son. It doesn’t even factor into the equation. I love you. You are Mine.'”
Tears start to form in Erik’s eyes.
Javi continues, slowly, “Erik, you are baptised in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. His family name! if you will. Just as you placed your family name upon Ezra when you adopted him, so God has placed His name upon you when He adopted you as His son in your Baptism. Sure, you’re not perfect, and you never will be. Don’t kid yourself. But Christ is perfect, and it is into His name that you are baptised so that God sees His perfect Son in you. You’re not perfect, and I’ll let you in on a little secret: Neither am I.” They both chuckle at this. “But you are God’s son through Jesus Christ, so you are perfect to Him.“
Javi grabs a tissue off from his desk as Erik’s tears began to run down more.
He gives it to him as Erik sniffs and says, “Pastor, I’ve been in therapy for over a year, and although my therapist has been extremely helpful to me, not once has he spoken of my worth in God’s eyes. We’ve talked a lot about inherent human worth, but for the life of me I just could not see why my life was of any worth until now.”
“Keep seeing your therapist, Erik. He’s been helpful to you. But never hesitate to walk through these doors like you did today if ever you need to be reminded of God’s boundless love for you.”
“Thanks, Pastor.” A pause as Erik says shyly, “Hey, Pastor?”
“Yes?”
“Can I hug you?”
Javi smiles and says, “Absolutely.”
The two men stand as they embrace. Nothing more needs to be said, because Erik knows that through his spiritual father, Pastor Javi, he is feeling the warm embrace of his Father in Heaven.
The Lutheran Column 