There’s always been a secret life of Jim.
Whether it was the kid suffering in silence as he watched his mother self-destruct by alcohol; or the codependent adult who abandoned himself to make others happy; or the Christian leader who quietly questioned Christian orthodoxy; or the appropriate and sensible guy, secretly waiting to extend his tribal tat from his shoulder all the way down his torso; or the life coach who would probably scare his clients if he revealed the tornado of volatile feelings that happen inside him each day… there has always been a side to me I’ve hid from people.
Maybe this secret life of Jim meant something was wrong with me; maybe it meant I was an orphan in the world; maybe it meant I would never belong; maybe it meant no one would ever love me – this is what I feared.
For many years as a Christian I operated on the premise of needing to be more like Jesus. This seemed to be the ticket for gaining the acceptance of God, whoever exactly that was. I certainly knew I’d never attain acceptance from anyone, especially God, by being me. I was as shocked as anyone to discover during my year of being Jesus that Jesus never wanted me to be him but wanted me to be me. Me???”