Tight Spot: How God Comes to Your Rescue

Years ago I sang with two other young men in a group we called The Brotherhood. We sang and gave our testimonies at churches, prisons, army bases, and college campuses. The gymnasium for tonight’s concert was in an older part of St. Louis, Missouri. The crowd of several hundred people were seating themselves.

An hour into the concert I noticed the pastor who had invited us walking hurriedly toward the stage. He appeared agitated and had a frown on his face. At this point Rick was doing a solo and John stood next to him, his head bowed in prayer. The pastor motioned to me. I stepped down to the side of the stage.

“Dan,” the pastor said, “we've got big trouble. A youth gang is gathering outside the gym right now. They've been very violent around here the past few months. Their leader's been jailed for assault. We’ve got to end the concert and get people safely to their cars before things get out of hand.”

My heart started pounding. I remembered my days as a violent teenager before I came to Jesus. I knew all too well the feeling of a fight brewing. John glanced quizzically my way. Rick continued playing the piano and singing. I looked out at the audience and felt a lump in my throat. 

How can all this be ruined? I wondered. Do something, God! I prayed. Can You please handle the gang?

“Dan,” the pastor said, grabbing my arm, “we don't have much time. Get up on the stage and call it quits.”

At that moment I felt propelled forward. “I’ll be right back,” I found myself saying to the pastor. I walked right past him and out the front door. I stepped into the moonlit night and came face-to-face with about twenty young men who stood there, silently staring at me. They had red bandanas tied around their foreheads, and wore an odd assortment of army fatigues and leather jackets. 

 

I felt guided to walk straight up to the leader, a big guy standing out in front. He wore a black leather vest,  showing nothing underneath but big pectorals. His piercing eyes locked onto mine. The gang formed a curtain around us both, cutting off my exit.

“Hi,” I said.

He grunted.

“I'm Dan,” I said. “We're having a great time inside the gym. Why don't you and your friends come inside and sit up front?”

Looking at me like I was from another planet, the gang leader flexed his biceps, and grinned incredulously at his buddies.

“We come to bust up yo' party.  What you doin' invitin' us in?” he challenged.

I ran out of words. Lord! I shouted from inside myself. Help!  

A moment later a calmness poured through me as though the Holy Spirit was clothing Himself in my skin. I stepped forward and gave the gang leader a big hug.  

He stood there frozen for a few seconds. Still holding his shoulders, I stepped back and looked deep into his eyes. I glimpsed pain underneath his bravado. I took a deep breath and said, “I love you, man. And so does God. Follow me.”

He didn't hit or grab me, so I turned around and started walking back toward the front door of the gym. I could hear feet shuffling behind me. Without looking back I led the parade of young toughs right up to the front of the stage. John's and Rick's eyes bugged out, but they kept singing. The gang members seated themselves on the hardwood floor a few feet in front of us.

The pastor was standing toward the back, looking tense. I walked up the stage stairs and whispered to John to start some hand-clapping songs. He started playing an upbeat tune from a group called Ocean:

Put your hand in the hand of the Man who stilled the waters,

Put your hand in the hand of the Man who calmed the sea,

Take a look at yourself, and you will surely see,

Put your hand in the hand of the Man from Galilee.

I could hardly believe my eyes when the gang leader began clapping along with the music.  One by one, each member of the red bandana gang joined in. By the time we closed with the chorus of “Amazing Grace,” these young men were singing loudly, tears running down many a cheek.   

I never thought I’d be watching the transformation of twenty young toughs who came to fight and left with a new song in their hearts.

I will sing a new song to You, O God,

On a harp of ten strings I will sing praises to You!

—Psalm 144:9 

Are You A Top Dog or Underdog?

Most of us manipulate others in one of two ways: either as top dogs who use the Strength and Assertion compass points to control people, or as underdogs who use the Love and Weakness compass points to make others take responsibility for us. Uncertain that we are acceptable the way we are, we don the mask of the manipulator.

Top Dog Self Compass

In Christian culture, men tend to adopt top dog patterns of manipulation—being competitive, arrogant and dictatorial. In a radio interview, a man called in to attack me for stating that men need to develop their capacity for tenderness, humility and affection.

“You just want to turn us into a bunch of sissies,” he said.  “Men are supposed to be strong so they can take care of their women!”

“I am suggesting that we men will be better lovers and fathers if we take the chip off our shoulders,” I replied. “We can learn to say ‘I’m sorry’ when we’re wrong, ‘I love you’ to our spouse and children.”

The caller hung up on me.

On the other hand, the underdog patterns of being co-dependent, naive and needing constant reassurance traps many women. When I appeared on a Christian women’s television program, the hostess asked me if there was a detrimental personality style for women. I replied that the worst thing a woman could do was to be overly submissive, dependent and unaware of her own capabilities. The hostess’ mouth dropped open and her hand went to her lips. “Dr. Montgomery,” she exclaimed, “you just described 90% of the women who watch this program!”

Underdog Self Compass

Unfortunately, little boys are still socialized into top dog styles when they are discouraged from expressing tender or vulnerable feelings. Adults still train little girls to be overly submissive and sweet. 

As a parent, you may spot tendencies in your child to get stuck in just one compass point, becoming aggressive, submissive, withdrawn or bossy. You can encourage creative growth stretches into the other compass points until balance is gradually achieved.

In relationships between men and women, men generally need to develop more humility, vulnerability, affection and nurturance. Women usually need to work on more objectivity, assertion, confidence and identity. When both sexes are developing more whole and rhythmic personalities, this dramatically enhances communication.

This is not to say women can’t be bossy and men can’t be submissive. But the idea is to outgrow cultural or religious stereotypes in favor of a fully operative Self Compass, no matter what particular combination of trends you are prone to exhibit.

TOP DOG DAN

At the beginning of my teaching career, I taught a college course in Ethics. I gave a lecture on spiritual love. The students took notes voraciously and one young woman told me the lecture moved her deeply. Yet I came away from the class knowing my own behavior was far from Christlike. I was discovering that problems in my personality were distorting my ability to give and receive love.

When I craved attention, I found a way to show off. When I wanted people to like me, I tried to impress them with my accomplishments. When I felt hurt, I hid my pain under a mask of sullen detachment. When I felt resentful, I put on a frozen smile to hide my anger, yet still harbored a grudge. These manipulative behaviors blocked my ability to interact honestly with people.

I felt powerless to change my manipulative ways. That night I begged the Lord for help. I prayed, “Father, help me quit living in my mind and start feeling with my heart. Help me stop puffing myself up, withdrawing when I don’t get my way and holding anger inside. Please help me love others and myself like you do.”

Before long, the still, small voice of the Lord spoke within me:

Dan, you have done well in loving and serving me, but you’re still afraid of people. You’re afraid they won’t respect you if you don’t show strength. You’re afraid they will reject you if you reveal weaknesses. You’re afraid they will hurt you if you open your heart to love. You’re afraid they’ll disapprove if you express your feelings. But I love people, even though some of them reject, hurt and hate me. Are you willing to be more of your real self and take the risks of love?

Wasn’t that the crux of the matter? God was showing me that my intellectual pride and emotional defensiveness had made me a top dog. I wanted love without the vulnerability. I was trying to be strong without being weak, to be in control without risking my heart. This inner revelation gave me new hope. Without realizing it, I was being tutored in the LAWS of personality and relationships. That night I invited the Holy Spirit to give me the courage to love.

Each of us is partly manipulative and partly capable of Christlike love. Though boxed in by our fears, pride and defensiveness, we can risk being more of our real selves and learn to love beyond manipulation. The good news is that we can reverse manipulation by using our Self Compass and trusting the Holy Spirit in our spiritual core.

For more, read:  

GOD AND YOUR PERSONALITY

God and Your Personality

Conversion to Jesus Christ

How can you and I participate more fully in Christ’s transformation of our lives and personalities? Jesus still transforms those who follow him. I know. My personality has needed regular tune-ups over several decades, but required a major overhaul when I met the Lord at the age of seventeen.

Las Vegas, New Mexico, was a dangerous place when I was growing up in the late 1950’s. Maybe it was a throwback to America’s wild west past. One year we had twenty-one murders, several right across from the local movie theater. That’s a lot of killing for a town of 14,000.

I started off as a gentle, curious boy. I collected stamps, flew kites and raised horned toads. I kept an old box turtle named Quonk-Quonk. But in the sixth grade, my life changed. I was sledding one afternoon when a gang of boys attacked me. Jimmy, the leader, beat me until I lay unconscious in the snow. Two friends dragged me home. Years later Jimmy went to the state hospital for murdering his father. I spent a lot of time trying to avoid getting beat up. Despite friendships I formed, a seething chemistry of dark emotions brewed within me. 

At fifteen I was beaten for the last time. A couple of gang members jumped me at lunch and knocked me out with brass knuckles. The next week I found the toughest boy in school. I asked him to teach me how to fight. We met for ten brutal sessions in the gym. The final time something inside me snapped, like a taut rubber band. I’m not going to take this anymore, not from anyone. I exploded with a vicious right fist that knocked him cold. As he went down I felt the heady surge of brute power and vengeance. Within a week I chased down one of the guys who’d jumped me at lunch and punched him out. The next day three of his buddies cornered me in an alley. I beat the leader to a pulp. The others ran.  

Suddenly I wanted to fight anyone who looked at me crosswise. When my Latin teacher threatened to send me to the principal’s office for acting up in class, I promised to destroy his car if he did. He backed down and I felt powerful. I no longer wanted to just protect myself; I wanted to prove myself. 

I started drinking on the weekends. That was like dousing a fire with gasoline. One Saturday night I was returning from a hunting trip with some friends. We came up on a motorcycle with two riders—Carlos and Julio, a couple of toughs who’d beaten me up in junior high. I shouted to Bobby, who was driving, “Pull up next to them!” Then I thrust my shotgun out the window, pulled back the hammer and put him in my sights. I raised the barrel about three inches above Julio’s head before pulling the trigger. The blast sent them spinning into a ditch where they cursed us as we roared off.

I was out of control. My parents were called into the principal’s office to hear about my drinking. My friends distrusted me. You’ve got to control your temper, I told myself. You’re turning into a maniac. I resolved to straighten up. I could control this thing. And for a while life went smoothly. 

Then, in the fall of my senior year, my girlfriend Marcia broke up with me and started dating Mike, the new guy in town. I wanted to kill him.

Mike threw a huge party at the Castaneda Hotel ballroom. Everyone was invited—except me. Getting good and drunk, I drove my Chevy over to the party. I made my way to the door and demanded to go in. When the chaperones asked to see my invitation, I went crazy. I screamed at Mike over the arms of parents who were trying to restrain me, “Come out and fight me like a man!” Only when one of the parents started to phone the police did I back off. Still in a blind fury, I jumped in my car and peeled out, tires screaming, radio blaring. 

Deep in my heart I hated what I’d become. Where was that sensitive child I’d once been? Now I never laughed or smiled. I wore a poker face and a mean stare to keep people away. I was digging a deeper and deeper hole for myself, and there seemed to be no way out.

Four nights after threatening Mike at the party, I was walking home with a half pint of vodka stuffed in my old leather jacket. I passed an old church on the corner. As I stood at the stoplight, singing reached my ears. I didn’t like churches. But a strange feeling grew in my heart—a friendly energy coming from the church, beckoning me through the doors.

The stoplight changed to green. I didn't move. The music faded. What will people say if I go in? I started to cross the street, but the tug on my heart strengthened. Suddenly I turned, walked up the steps to those big church doors, pulled one open and went inside.

It was a Wednesday evening service. Heads turned as I walked in and I knew people recognized me. My face heated up and I sat down quickly in the nearest seat. They'll probably throw me out, I figured. But instead, the friendliness that had touched me at the stoplight felt more personal, like a presence.

The reverend was talking about Christ. He said that Jesus could enter a person’s life through the heart and bring peace to every corner of that life.

Suddenly I was aware of a desperate emptiness inside, and a longing so deep I had no words for it. It consumed me. I wanted the peace God could bring. I knew that without it I would die.

After the service I went to the communion rail. I asked Christ to enter my violent heart and bring peace. I give my life to you, I prayed. When I stood up the warmth of his love flooded me. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Where emptiness had been minutes before an indescribable peace filled my very being.  And for the first time in as long as I could remember, I wasn’t afraid.

On the way to school the next morning I spotted Mike walking alone on the other side of the street. As I ran over to him he threw down his books and squared off.  

“Are you going to bust me up, Montgomery?” he shouted.

“Mike,” I said, stopping in front of him. “I want to apologize for acting like a jerk at your party.” I thrust out my hand. Mike eyed me suspiciously.

“Is this a trick?” he demanded.

“No,” I answered. “Something incredible happened last night. I still don’t completely understand it. But I don’t want to fight. I want to be friends.”

Mike searched my eyes, then took my hand. “All right, Danny. I believe you.” 

That handshake was a beginning. I spent a lot of time that school year making amends to all the people I had hurt. It was hard. But the peace that had come into my heart, and my involvement in the church spurred me on. 

My conversion fifty years ago has led to the greatest adventure I could have ever imagined—following Jesus and hearing the voice of his Holy Spirit guiding me throughout my life. I've faced innumerable difficulties and had my share of suffering and life crises. But Christ's complete faithfulness coupled with my simple faith have kept our companionship warm and real.

Dan Montgomery

Now at seventy I know that in not too many years I'll cross over from earthly life in Christ to eternal life with Christ. I feel peaceful about this, even looking forward to the day I stand gazing at him face to face. I'll tell him how much I appreciate all he's done for me. And I won't forget to ask him to watch over you, my faithful reader, in your adventure of living!
 

For more, read: GOD AND YOUR PERSONALITY 

God and Your Personality