Saving You Rescues Me

You've lived a life of wild abandon. Party, party, party. You've always been the 'baron of the ball'. You've always had the resources to ensure your "friends" had more than their fill. It didn't matter whether it was at your mansion, your condo, your summer home, or your yacht...you had the stuff parties were made of. Alcohol, drugs from A to Z, and "paid for" women kept them coming back! As the Eagles song states, " You threw outrageous parties, you paid heavenly bills". You didn't care....you just so wanted to be liked, appreciated, and accepted....and you loved being the center of attention, constantly under a barrage of praise.

When I met you, I found you in a bed among a row of beds. Everything you owned was stuffed in a musty smelling army duffel bag. Your body still twitched from withdrawal. No clothes to dress "to the nines" in, no wallet to carry your wad of Benjamins, no Benjamins. Still in a fog, you wondered where your friends had gone. Wealth was stolen from your accounts by a crashing stock market; assets were seized by the IRS to cover your losses. Your mode of transportation was via your two feet instead of the four high priced power cars stored in your lavish garages. You were no longer a man of substance, influence, and power. Instead, simply a broken shell with empty hands.

I couldn't relate to your massive amounts of wealth or your lavish lifestyle for I had never lived on that end of the financial spectrum. I could, however; relate to losses brought about by addiction. I could relate to the tyranny of shame you exposed in every fiber of your being. I knew firsthand the overwhelming oppression of hopelessness. From those points of experience we had something to talk about. And we did.

Initially our conversations were awkward, even forced...but at least consistent. Eventually they became freer and more revealing and open. You shared your life with me, I shared my life with you. Your addictions developed out of a sense of need to be liked and accepted . You went to any length and spared no expense to get it. You confessed that apart from your money, you were nothing but a nerd. You used your wealth to "buy" your entourage. At the time it completed you, or so you thought. I shared with you that my alcohol addiction developed from a deep sense of despair and pain. I went to any length to drink that despair and pain away knowing it would return with greater vengeance. I pointed out that even though our addictions developed for different reasons, the results were the same: we both ended up broken shells with empty hands.

I took you to support groups for people like us. You heard from others stories of overcoming incredible odds. You heard stories of fighting the good fight of sobriety. You saw living testimonies of lives restored; filled with purpose. You saw people who were whole, people who could laugh again, people who were truly free. I shared with you that I thought people in such rooms were some of the bravest most courageous people I've ever met. We both were encouraged through them. Their hope strengthened ours, their faith deepened ours, and we both wanted all that they had.

Then you asked me a crucial question..."Who is your Higher Power?" In a flash, days of ministering in the church as a pastor flooded my mind. That familiar ache felt in my heart of the longing I still had to return to the pulpit someday pounded me like a hammer on an anvil. I turned to you and shared that my Higher Power was Jesus Christ. I told you that I believed him to be the one true Higher Power and that as I continued to grow in him, I continued to stay sober and deepen in my love of him and others. His grace toward me continues to set me free and that this same grace he has given me is available for you. You wanted to know more and I shared with you some of the deep parts of my life as a pastor, as a failure, as one fallen without hope. I explained to you that I came to realize that regardless how far I had fallen in life, his grace was there waiting to redeem me, restore me, renew me when I hit bottom....and he did. You asked me what to do to receive this grace. I explained that it was a very simple act of faith and that you receive the love and grace of the Lord Jesus as a gift. You said, "That's for me!" We prayed and you got up from your knees free, truly free.

Today you live in a small apartment, drive a used car, buy your clothes at second hand stores and discount shops, work for an hourly wage, attend a small country church, and you are happier and more fulfilled than you have ever been in your life. It blesses me to see you sober, to see you serving others, to see you so in love with Jesus. What you don't know is how you have ministered to and helped me. You see, my friend, helping you in your time of need really did much to bolster the sobriety I have. Putting my life into yours and being there for you helped me remember the things in life that are truly important. Such things cannot be bought no matter how much money you have in the bank. I thank you for that and will never forget you.

As you go about the ministry God has called you to, I would ask you to remember this saying: "You can't keep what you don't give away." It is a true saying I think. We are never more like Christ than when we reach into the life of another one hurting and help them heal. Always remember where you came from and what our loving Savior has done for you....and pass that forward.

The Man in the Intersection

As I approached a busy intersection in the city, I could see him holding a sign. I knew what he was doing and I thought, "Oh brother, another one!" I hoped, even prayed, that the light would stay green so I could punch on through without so much as even having to look at him. It was not to be....

His sign read, " Unemployed, Family of 5, 1 an infant, God Bless". The red light and the car in front stopped me directly parallel to this man. I looked at him, he at me. His eyes spoke of desperation, his cheeks were hollow and sunken in, his clothes were dirty, he looked much older than I'm sure he was. It was obvious to me he was suffering from the pains, uncertainties, and ravages of life. He was the representation of so many like him in our city. I couldn't take my eyes off his despair.

In an instant I heard the lyrics to Matthew West's song, "My Own Little World", play in my head...and I heard a still small voice say, "Give". The light stayed red it seemed for hours as I wrestled with the thought of giving to this man or going on by. Reluctantly, I pulled out my wallet, pulled out some money, hit the down switch on my window, and handed him what was in my hand. He looked at me and smiled and said, "Thank you, I pray you and your family have a Happy Thanksgiving." I couldn't fight back tears as I responded," You too. The Lord bless you."

The man driving the BMW in the lane next to me saw the exchange. He looked at me with eyes and a smirk that seemed to say, "You Sucker!" Perhaps I was. I had no idea the man in the intersection's motives; I don't know his heart. Was he just a panhandler living off welfare and making an extra buck standing in the intersection holding a sign? Was he deceitfully feeding off the generosity and sympathy of others? I don't have answers to such questions.

I do know this.....for the first time in a long time, I felt something that has been absent in my life for awhile.....compassion for another. For some reason, this man drew compassion out of me. I've driven by so many like him never entertaining the thought of giving anything. If I had a thought at all, it was probably a thought of judgment or disgust....but certainly not compassion. This compassion for him was so overwhelming, in that moment, I wept as I helped him. I woke up this morning with him and his family on my mind and again prayed for him. How can this be; to feel that strongly for someone I probably won't see again this side of heaven?

As the light remained endlessly red, several thoughts ran through my mind. I realized first and foremost how much I have and how much I have to be thankful for. While I am currently unemployed, there is enough financially coming in I make ends meet without having to ask for the help of others. I have never been late with a bill, I have never gone without a meal. There is always enough to get by. Yet, how often have I truly thanked God for that? Usually, I go to him wanting more and asking for more without appreciating what I already have.

I think we tend to be creatures of "always wanting more". We could punch through the envelope of our discontent to true happiness if we could clothe our bodies with wardrobes bought from Dillards or Macys instead of Wal-Mart or Target; if we could buy our food from gourmet grocery stores instead of rummaging through canned goods at Dollar General; if we could drive a late model car that doesn't have a cracked windshield and bald tires....if we just had an extra $5,000.00 in our checking account what a wonderful world it would be!

"Me-ism" is an affliction with me. I am an addict in recovery. While I have been sober for awhile, it is this affliction of "me-ism" that got me there in the first place. There is not an illness more selfish and inward than addiction...it doesn't matter what the addiction is....it is all about "me". It is a self-pitying, self-hating, self-destructive, isolating, and life-taking disease. I know this to be true from my own journey to recovery and from hearing the stories of others in recovery.

No, "me-ism" doesn't lead everyone to the bottle or to a needle or to pornographic websites or even to the casino. "Me-ism" in and of itself is an addiction. It robs us of helping others in need; it robs us of the blessing of pouring ourselves into the lives of others, enriching both ours and theirs; mostly, it robs us of a deeper relationship and closeness with God and his blessing. It leads us down a lonely pathetic path that only gorges our already growing discontent and dissatisfaction with life. It leaves us miserable, unsympathetic, cynical, hard-hearted, cold people. It eats us up from the inside out. It cripples our ability to live outside the prison of self; that prison that is dark, damp, and stagnant......and it just smells bad.

The man in the intersection I think ministered to me more than I did him. Because of him, I was reminded of the myriad of things for which to be thankful. Bear with me as I list a few.....

I'm sober today. For that I am truly thankful. I no longer have the desire to check in to "Blackout Hotel" when my little world doesn't rotate on its axis the way I think it should. I have many in my life today that have overcome their addictions who pour encouragement and hope into my life. Every day it is my habit to thank God for my sobriety and to ask his help to stay that way. I think this is a good habit.

My parents. They have both seen and endured me at my worst. They have never spoken anything but a firm belief that God is bigger than my addiction. They have poured into my life faith and hope and encouragement. Their very lives minister to mine and I draw strength from that. I adore my Dad and Mom!

My mother has MDS, a blood disorder. I don't know all the in's and out's of this disease, I simply know it is draining her of life. In her bed she still ministers to me; she ministers to all her family. Her life and witness of Christ is still impacting so many lives around her. Whether by phone or by sitting on her bed, holding her hand, and talking face to face.....she always speaks hope and love in her Lord. Her faith and my Dad's faith continue to teach me that life is about others.

My brothers and sister. They have stood by me. I know sometimes maybe bewildered, angry, frustrated, and feeling helpless to do anything to help me; yet, they have never given up or stopped praying and certainly haven't stopped loving. They minister to me in ways I can't express. I thank God for them. Their love and affirmation of me encourages me to continue to walk the path of sobriety.

My son and daughter. They continue to be a crown of joy upon my head. Because of my "me-ism", they too have suffered. I am grateful for their love. I am thankful that God is drawing us close again and making all things new between us. When I feel low and my head hangs, just the thought of them and the blessing they are to me lifts me again. They both show me what a life looks like when it's consumed and on fire with the love of Christ. I am so thankful to God for my children!

The one I love and my best friend. She has seen me at my worst as well. She has loved me through it and loves me deeper still. She has poured into my life countless whispers of, "I believe in you and so does God." She sees through my "me-ism" and cuts me no slack when I try to go there. She is relentless in her belief that I am more than the mess I made in my addiction. She reminds me that God feels the same way. I thank God for her, upon every thought of her!

My nieces. All a blessing to my life. I love them dearly. They have taken me as I am, warts and all, and loved me, prayed for me, encouraged me, and have stood by me with no intention of walking away. These girls breathe hope into my life and so much joy. I thank God for them!

My true friends. Two in particular, one that is close by and one that lives on eastern standard time. They know me from way back. They always pray for and encourage me. They love me as is. Never from either one of them has come a word of condemnation or judgment. The Bible says a true friend will stick closer than a brother....they have and they still do. I am thankful to God for them!

My God. When he said he would never leave me or forsake me, he meant it. Regardless of how far I have fallen or walked away, his grace and mercy and compassion has been there to meet me. Whether drunk or sober, beaten up by life or euphorically blissful; he has allowed me to crawl onto his lap and has never refused to wrap his arms around me. Sometimes when I can't hear him speak, his embrace and love speak volumes. He doesn't give up on me, he doesn't quit on me; in spite of the fact that I have done that very thing to him on several occasions in my life. I praise God for being in my life! He gave all that I might have a relationship with him and his presence encourages me to press forward toward doing his will in my life. I often question what that is for me; but one thing I know, it is his will for me to remain sober and for me to be available to help others like me get sober and stay that way. I am thankful for his unfailing love and his undying determination to see his best for me lived out in and through my life. Again, I praise God!!

The man in the intersection. You helped me get in touch again with what is truly important in life..... helping others. God has designs for each of us individually to be sure; but one reason we are here is to glorify him, and one way we do that is by helping others. You, my nameless friend, enabled me to see that again. The greatest deterrent, in fact, to the addiction of "me-ism" is helping others. Because of you, that spark of compassion I had yesterday and acted upon has grown a little more. I desire that it continue to grow. I will never forget you. I thank God for you!

We are days away from Thanksgiving. I fear this is often an overlooked observance that has been relegated down to football, overeating, and for some...a day off work. Sometimes I feel Thanksgiving passes by mostly unnoticed as we rush toward Black Friday sales and march toward the REAL holiday of the year....Christmas. My Thanksgiving is different this year. I don't want to miss a moment of it. God has blessed me with so much. Oh, I will enjoy the football, fellowship, and food like anyone else.....but this year, I want to reflect upon and express vocally to the ones I love and quietly to God how truly thankful I am for them.......

I'd like to start with the man in the intersection.....Happy Thanksgiving to all!

I Don't Understand

Very rarely do I wake up late. Most mornings I get up in darkness. I get up so early in fact, the sun is still struggling to awake and rise. In those hours before dawn, I usually find myself in conversation with God. Those conversations usually come in the form of a series of "I don't understand." Let me expound....for instance, on events that have occurred in just the last few days......

God, I don't understand why I have to move out of my apartment. The manager said I couldn't be a full time student and live here. She actually encouraged me to lie about my student status on an affidavit. I wouldn't do that and was served with a notice to vacate by the end of October. I can live here unemployed, I can't live here as a student. I don't understand how being honest can be met with such a seemingly adverse consequence. I thought honesty was due some kind of reward or something....

God, I don't understand how my car can run fine one day and be totally broken the next. I didn't make it to school because when I started my car it sounded like it was running on 3 cylinders instead of 6. I drove from my apartment to the dealership garage down the street, left it there, and walked back home. Still awaiting the final verdict. Preliminary findings are that my car is literally running on 3 cylinders. One cylinder isn't working at all and two others aren't getting enough compression to work properly. "Internal engine problem" had the same slap in the face effect as "you have cancer" would. I don't understand how my car could be that sick when I have taken good care of it. The most devastating is the potential cost to repair it....possibly 3 to 4 thousand dollars. I don't understand how this could happen God when you know I don't have that kind of money. I just don't understand.....

I don't understand my season of alcohol abuse. I don't understand failed relationships. I don't understand my season of unemployment....over 300 resumes sent out, only two interviews, and I didn't make the grade. I don't understand why I'm not preaching and teaching from a pulpit in a church somewhere. I don't understand being a student at the age of 51. I don't understand much in the events that have transpired over the course of my life. And as the adage goes: The older I get the less I understand. Understanding fully the "why's" these things have happend is still a mystery and may remain a mystery for the rest of my life.

In the heat of progressively bad news yesterday, I wondered where God was. For awhile I was tempted to throw my hands up and say,"forget it."......a tendency I have had within me for a long time. I didn't go there, again, for reasons I don't understand. I stayed calm and inwardly uttered prayers to God in faith. The more I prayed the less I wanted to throw my hands up. The thought of a drink didn't enter my mind. Before, that would've have been the solution to everything...I would fall along this train of thought...well, the God in heaven isn't fixing this so I will turn to the god in the bottle who will.....and that god never does. It was like the worse the news got, the tighter my embrace of God.

This morning I got up before the sun as usual but my prayers were different. I found myself just being before the Lord and praying for those I know and love. The car wasn't foremost on my mind. Finding another place to live wasn't either. I really just wanted to enjoy the communion with the God I don't fully understand. And that's the thing I realized.....I don't fully understand God. There is a shroud of mystery about him, an aura of the unexplainable that surrounds him. This led me to some thinking.....

If I knew God as infallibly as he knows me, would I turn to him? Probably not. If I knew his thoughts before he thought them, would I worship him? Probably not. If I saw tomorrow as clearly as he does, would I praise him? Probably not. It is indeed the aura of the unexplainable that attracts me to him. The shroud of mystery about him reminds me that he indeed is God and I am not. I wouldn't need him if I could carry his title and completely fulfill his job description. This mystery of him causes me to run to him like a moth flies to a flame....but falling into his embrace is life, not death....and I want to live,....really, really live.

The moment I was adopted into his family through the shed blood and sacrifice of his son Jesus, he embraced me and called me son. He still calls me son, he has never let go his embrace of me, and his embrace has always been gentle. I wasn't alone yesterday, he was present, even when I didn't feel his presence. He promised to never leave me or forsake me....through the whole of my life, he has kept that promise. I have never out-offended his plan for my life. He has never thrown his hands up and said,"forget it." with me as I have done with him too many times to count. My vision is so small I can't even see beyond the front door of my apartment. He sees the whole of my life....and he is performing and working his will in it, and doing so for my good. The times I've felt least used of God in my life are probably the times I've been used most of God....I don't understand that either.

He is teaching me that he is God even in the storm. He is teaching me to trust him in the storm. I have always been a "praise God" kind of guy when things go my way and a "where is God" kind of guy when things don't. I am learning that he is God no matter what kind of day I am having and he has something to say to me in both the good and the bad that come my way. He controls it all. He was in control of my yesterday and he is in control of my today and even my tomorrow.

It comforts me today to know that he knows me infallibly, completely, and has designs on me that are for my benefit, not my demise. I find life in him and no other. I rest in that revelation. So, I embrace him, his mystery, and the aura of the unexplainable about him. He loves me dearly. He gets me. He understands me. He sees me. I may feel like the most unimportant person on the planet....he doesn't feel that way about me. Therefore, I praise him, I worship him, and I turn to him when skies are bright and when the storms come.....and in it all I discover joy and life beyond description. Blessings to one and all!!

"My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts, and my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine, for just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts." -God Isa. 55:8-9 NLT

Scabs

It was a perfect day for performing death-defying, breath-taking feats of extreme daredevil biking. The sky was blue, the grass a rich green...early summer....August heat hadn't browned it yet, no wind, and just me and my buddy, Joel, preparing to jump the ramp we made with a 2x10 piece of lumber and a plastic milk crate. There were alot of perfect days that summer.

We had the perfect machines.....stingray bikes with banana seats, chopper handlebars, and baseball cards clothes pinned into the spokes of our wheels. What a menacing sound they made when we rode up the dirt road that ran between our houses! I'd like to think we were the prototype of the extreme biking you see today on ESPN....a bummer we never got credit for that.

For a sleepy, small, picturesque town in upper Northeastern Oklahoma, this was the most exciting thing of the summer to happen just shy of the 4th of July fireworks display; which was always done from the high school football field every year. And really....how can you compete with a fireworks display when there was also hot dogs, popcorn, cotton candy, and cokes involved? OK, OK...it might not have been the most exciting thing, and maybe there weren't alot of spectators, but Joel and I were intent on getting better and going faster and flying higher jumping that ramp with each run.

Along with the successes in our jumps, there were also the failures....or might I say, crashes. With the crashes came scrapes and bruises and a little inhaling of dirt and dust. I think my elbows stayed a constant scab from late May to early September.

This was my method of triage...If I crashed and scraped my elbow and no blood ran down my arm I got on my bike and rode the ramp again. If I crashed and scraped my elbow and blood did run down my arm; I took a break, went into the house and would yell something like, "Mom, I need a little help here!" She was a wonderful nurse and I think a nervous wreck! She just didn't get that an eight year old boy had to do what I was doing. It was for the greater good of the fraternity of eight year old boys the world over.

"Surgery" was a wet washcloth compress to stop the bleeding, a quick look to make sure I didn't need stitches, a spray or two with Bactine to ward off infection, and a Band-Aid. She then would lovingly scold me, tell me not to jump my ramp anymore, kiss me on the forehead, and send me outside again to play. But....like a moth drawn to a flame....I went to the ramp and made more runs to perfect my craft. Women!!....or maybe more appropriately....Moms!!!

There was never a scrape on the knees as I remember. It was probably because Mom dressed me in those Sears Tough-Skin jeans with the sewn in knee patches. More protection there than the knee and shin pads a hockey goalie suits up with. The elbows though....they were the appendages I used consistently to break my fall when I crashed. They were marked up all the time and I wore those wounds very proudly. However, I hated the scabs that formed after a day or two....they were ugly, so I picked them away when they appeared. In my infinite eight year old wisdom, I didn't realize the scabs were a part of the healing process. At the pleading of Mom and Dad to leave my wounds alone and let them heal....I would not....I could not...the sight of the scabs were hideous to me. They had to come off!!!

In the peeling away of a scab the blood rushes to the surface of the wounded area again. Sometimes it stops there and sometimes it leaks out. Associated with that there is also the twinge of a sting and once again the wound is tender, sensitive to touch, and fresh....like it just happened. The sting of that peeling away served as a reminder of my crash. It was like I relived the glory of my daredevil biking in the sting of peeling away my scab.

For an eight year old that's all well and good. As an adult it is a totally different matter. In my adulthood those wounds moved from my elbows to my heart. I have survived many wounds. Some wounds have been due to circumstances beyond my control, some have been self-inflicted, and some have been made by the actions and words of others. All of us have been wounded one way or another. Some say it is part of the ebb and flow of life....and there is a truth in that. At one point or another we all can relate to a wounded heart because at one point or another we have all had one.

I used to think very stoically about my wounds....that my wounds and hurts make me the sum total of who I am....that they play a role in my personality, my interaction with others, my view of God, and my own self-evaluation. And while there are elements of truth in that, I am no longer convinced that's the whole purpose of my experiences. If it is, then I fall victim to and become a slave of my hurts. It's like the perpetual peeling away of a scab....where the wound never heals, is always fresh, and a constant stinging reminder of my crashes.

God wants me to heal. It is not his purpose I remain in a constant state of wounded or hurt. Purpose in those things?....yes, if I truly believe he works all things together for my good....and I do. But to remain there, no. For the longest time I found my identity in my wounds, they defined me. I moved from one hurt to the next and lived there until the next hurt came along. At times the hurts were many, all at once, so I even learned to multi-task them. In that state I found ways to cope....mainly through the mind-numbing abuse of alcohol. Alcohol abuse became my remedy, my medicine. It was the Bactine to my scraped elbow. It didn't however, fix anything....it only made the wounds hurt all the more.

For me, I started healing when I realized my identity was wrongly placed. I am not the sum total of my sins, my failures, my wounds, or my hurts. They don't define me. So what does define me,....or better yet,.....who defines me? The answer is simple and I guess a little obvious....Jesus. Jesus defines me. His life, his ministry, what he brought about in his death, burial, and resurrection....all these work together in defining me. Ephesians, chapter 2, gives a very lucid and direct explanation of who I was before Christ, and who I became after Christ.

Before Christ I was lost, far away from God, estranged, dead in my sins...there was no life in me at all. After Christ I was saved (rescued), brought near to God, reunited in right relationship, made alive in Christ. My identity is found in Christ. I live my life in him and he lives his life through me. The Word of God goes on to say in other areas that I am a son, adopted by God through the saving work of Christ on the cross. Being a son also makes me royalty. I am seated with Christ in the heavenlies and I share in all his blessings. If I am the sum total of anything, I am the sum total of who he is in me. Grasping that helps me understand Jesus when he said his purpose was to give me a rich and satisfying life.

My wounds serve a purpose in that they point me to the healer of them. He who reigns in me and over me. My wounds serve a purpose in that from them I draw experience. strength, and hope in the one who has helped me overcome them. My wounds cause me to be filled with compassion for those who are wounded and create in me a desire to help them heal. But....praise God....my wounds don't define me. I am in my Lord Jesus, and he is in me....in him do I discover the "me" he made.

Living wounded is no life....surviving and enduring our wounds is no life. God doesn't want to do his work in spite of us or instead of us, he wants to do his work in and through us. We are his righteousness in Christ Jesus! I want to live that rich and satisfying life Jesus said he came to give! How about you? Let the wounds heal, quit picking at the scabs! I believe the Lord wants to see us ride up the ramp at break-neck speed and fly higher than ever before!

"The thief's purpose is to steal and kill and destroy. My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life." -John 10:10 NLT

A Life Unlived, A Life Realized

"For God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, no longer counting people's sins against them. And he gave us this message of reconciliation...."
- 2 Cor. 5:19 NLT

He was nervous, trembling, pacing, and praying. He wasn't waiting for news of the outcome of a major surgery of a loved one, he was waiting to enter the pulpit and preach his first sermon in 15 years. Hundreds of things were shooting through his mind. Did he still have it? Was he prepared enough? Would God speak his grace and life through him? Would the hearers respond? Would he in some way honor God in the message? Who in the world wants to hear from a guy in his 50's who hasn't preached in 15 years?! And on and on his mind went....

It was by some miracle he found himself in this place. He had spent a good part of his life wandering, messing up, and surviving the consequences of him messing up. Most of the trouble he had lived through was frankly due to alcohol. It caused trouble in his relationships, all of his relationships. It caused trouble with the law as well. He new from firsthand experience what it was like to sober up in a jail cell. He lost jobs, friends, and the trust of many. In his mind he had been a disappointment to his God, himself, and a myriad of others. Who in the world would want to hear anything from a guy like that?! Especially anything spiritual!!

But here he was, getting ready to preach. Preach the glorious good news of Jesus Christ. Preach the wonders of the Word of God. To preach life, redemption, and grace. He was well acquainted with those things too. He knew what it was like to helplessly struggle with addiction and failure. He knew what it felt to be shunned and shamed. He was well acquainted with guilt. But from the garbage heap of his poor choices he had experienced the power of God's forgiveness. He knew personally of the power of the Holy Spirit to enable him to be an overcomer. He knew of a God who never gives up on His children....no matter how far away from Him they stray. He knew that what God had done in his life, God would do in the life of another.

He was aware too that every saint in that congregation was also a sinner saved by grace. And because of that they needed hope to carry on just for another day. An assurance of God's love overcame him,... God's love for him, God's love for those who would be listening to the sermon. And then a calm settled in...and he was ready....ready to be used however God chose to use him that day...he left his office and took his seat on the platform.

All the faces were new, he still didn't have a good handle on putting names to those faces. He scanned the congregation to find a reassuring look....he found one...in the eyes of his wife. She met him when he was just a burned out ex-preacher who believed he would never realize his call, that he would continue to live a life of existence, of survival, of just getting by. He was still struggling to stay sober, to keep sober....still had bouts with relapse. She saw the fighter in him, she believed in him, she encouraged him, and trusted God to show him His possibilities for his life. They connected immediately....she got him....he got her. She understood him....he understood her. They went through some rough tests in their relationship but by Gods' grace weathered them all. (Neither of them knew it then, but all the testing was preparation for the special ministry of helping addicts recover and find Christ that God would eventually lead them in.) She gave him that reassuring look that only he recognized and immediately in his heart, he praised God for her. He loved her so!

The song worship ended and now it was time to worship in the preaching. He quietly got up, went to the pulpit and said, "Please turn your Bibles to John, chapter 3, verse 16....". He was now in the reality of the life God had always intended him to live....an amazing journey of grace, forgiveness, renewing, and restoration culminating in that one moment....and his journey was just beginning!

Afterward: This fictional short tale testifies to a God who utterly forgives and completely restores those who have fallen in their walk with Him along the way. I can testify that there is no fall so far that God's grace can't reach and renew. He isn't done with us until He calls us home to be with Him. The dreaming isn't over until the breathing stops! Many in our churches hurt, they have fallen. They need a hand of understanding, of reconciliation, of love. May we be the church that is always faithful to that ministry and calling.

A Long Random Thought About Mercy

"O my God, lean down and listen to me. Open your eyes and see our despair....We make this plea, not because we deserve help, but because of your mercy."
- Dan. 9:9, NLT

Mercy: compassion, forgiveness. From a legal standpoint this term indicates an act of pardon. The releasing of an offense to one totally undeserving. We find this in the acts of compassion and grace of God toward his children, and we see it in forms of compassion and grace extended from one human to another.

At some point in our lives we have been rendered the recipient of mercy, not because it was deserved but simply because it was given. That's what mercy is really....a gift. I could write a book on the merciful actions of God and others given on my behalf. You would think it would make me a better person, that it would somehow make me more merciful to others who have offended me....but it sometimes does not. What is it about an offense that makes me just want to get even? Why do I want to punish the offender...make them pay as it were? Why do I still tend to nurse an unforgiving heart when I have been shown so much mercy in my life?

What is wrong with me?!! It is a self-righteous spirit that rears its' ugly head when I'm wronged. I have a bent toward a..."See, I told you so" attitude. Yet, I know my own weaknesses, my own failings, my own dark secrets. I think it makes me feel superior to the one in request of my mercy. They wronged me, I lost sleep over it, so now I am going to dangle them over the fire a little bit and then forgive them later....make them sweat a little just so they know how much it hurts....is it just me that does this? Am I the only tainted saint out there? What to do about this?

First, I am in need of forgiveness for being like this. There's a heart problem, big time. I need God....I need God because I am sick. My disease is sin. I need God to live through me for it is not in my nature to be compassionate....I need his compassion. It is not in me to be forgiving, I need his forgiveness. I don't know how to be merciful....I need his mercy. My flesh screams for justice when I am hurt by another....but my sense of justice is a far cry from God's. I need God. Period!!

The other side is I also know what it means to dangle over the fire by anothers' resistance to be merciful to me. I have offended many. I have hurt many. Some may never forgive. I know what it's like to lose sleep over my sinning against God and others. Chances are you do to. Being unmerciful is such a burden to carry. It isn't God's way for us.

What if God responded to me as I have responded to others regarding being merciful? What if I prayed, asked him to lean near and hear my cry of despair, my plea for mercy and he said, "No"? A man most miserable you wouldn't find anywhere than that. But he doesn't. His forgiveness, his mercy is without limitations and without conditions. He extends to us what we absolutely don't deserve. Does he discipline? Yes. The Word of God says he disciplines those whom he loves. But even his discipline is an act of mercy. He fights for our attention through his mercy. He won't give up on us. Even when we are in the fires of our own bad choices, He purges us, cleanses us. What a loving God!

I need a God-like character. Only he can give that to me. I pray when I die one of the things said of me is that I was compassionate, that I was freely forgiving....without limitations and without conditions. It is my prayer that whether I am bumped by blessing or offense all that flows from my heart is the love of Christ.I have a way to go on learning this lesson. Maybe I am the only one who struggles with this. If I am, put me on your prayer list for I desperately need it!

The Raging War Within

Rain, pouring rain....the palm leaves weren't enough to slow it down or provide any shelter. Waiting.....waiting for the first wave of attack. My buddy, Alan, and I were the first line of defense in protecting the perimeter of our camp......drowning in the pool of water we now crouched in. We were in blackout mode....attack was imminent. Question was...where were they going hit us first?

They hit! Came out of nowhere it seemed. Fire flashes from their M-16's lit up the night. For about ten minutes it was nothing but chaos! We dug in and did our best to stave off the enemy from penetrating our quadrant. We were successful, but Alan was hit in the process. How I dodged a bullet is beyond me!

So it is with war and war training. No one really got hit, or wounded, or died in the fire fight. It was military training. Our enemy was the Philippine National Army and they were teaching us Air Force guys how to defend an airfield under attack. They were good, very good. Even with equipment like night vision goggles, they still hit us out of nowhere! How could that happen? Needless to say, our commanding officer wasn't too pleased. So we did it again, and again, and again....until we got it right.

In my walk with God I have come to realize firsthand how relentless the enemy is in attacking my faith and hurting my relationship with the Lord. He comes, it seems, out of nowhere. A sneak attack that totally catches me off guard. Oh I have the equipment....the latest translation and study bible, the benefit of great preaching on Sunday, Christian friends who are an encouragement to me, a prayer life...all the latest equipment...and yet he still comes out of nowhere and makes my life a chaotic hell. How does that happen?

I mean, I do all the right things, go all the right places, study all the good things, hang out with good people...and still he attacks and murders me as if there were no preparation at all, no faith at all. And the worst of it.....I hear him laugh as he walks away.

I don't have all the answers for this. I do have a thought or two. First, the Word of God says that our enemy walks about like a ravenous lion seeking whom he may devour. When you get into the language there you realize that he wants to tear us to pieces! He wants to destroy us! He wants to murder us, kill us again and again!! See, he isn't just a little miffed about his situation, he is angry beyond angry about it. He's already lost...it isn't a question of if, but a matter of when. He hates God and he hates God's people. He will stop at nothing to ruin God's work here on earth by ruining God's people.

I don't think I fully get that sometimes. He wants to destroy me. Render me useless in the kingdom of God. He wants to destroy God given relationships in my life. He wants to disgrace me, humiliate me, shame me, guilt me, and kill me. Even with all the equipment I have to fight him with, I don't think I take his hate for me seriously enough and I get caught off guard. He comes out of nowhere and attacks me at my most vulnerable spot. He knows what my kryptonite is! I feel I take him too lightheartedly. And that is when he hits.

Second, Paul talked about the war on the inside with his two natures. He said something to the effect of,..."the things I shouldn't do, I do....and the things I should do, I don't." He understood that even with this new nature inside, the Jesus in us, there was still that bent toward sin, toward selfishness, toward evil, toward shaking a fist at God and going our own way. It's there, it's ever present, and it's ours for life. But the deal is, it doesn't have to live big in us. We have been given help and our help is more powerful than our enemy. Something I have to tell myself on a daily basis or I will stumble and fall on a daily basis.

For me, it is a constant raging war within. If you can live without that fight, more power to you. But also for me, that war assures me of whose side I'm on. When the enemy attacks with doubts of salvation, and he does, I look at the fight....I look at where I'm dug in, and whose camp I'm defending. I'm on the right side alright....so if I never get a break....I will go out fighting...and I will fight again, and again, and again....until I get it right....on the right side!

How about you? Done any fighting lately?

"We faithfully preach the truth. God's power is working within us. We use the weapons of righteousness in the right hand for attack and in the left hand for defense." -2 Cor. 6:7, NLT

The Wal-Mart Deli Counter

How in the world did I get home with a pound of pickle loaf lunch meat and a half pound of baby Swiss cheese?! What a "delicious" combination! I know I ordered smoked turkey and Colby cheese. I know I did! I repeated my order twice to the lady behind the deli counter at Wal-Mart. Twice she repeated the order back to me. How did this snafu happen? How can a person look you in the eye, take an order, repeat it back to you twice, and still get it completely wrong? I would never order pickle loaf...I think I might be allergic....plus, it just looks gross. Maybe I'm just allergic to the way it looks. Yuck!

I'm not unique to this type of incident. Perhaps you've never had this experience at the Wal-Mart deli counter, but you've had an experience where you placed an order of some kind and the end result was totally wrong. This is why I'm still gun-shy about going through a fast food drive- thru! You know what they do to you in the drive-thru!!

I'm a former retail manager and one reason I know customers don't return for a second visit is because the first one was met with such inattentive service. We are an impatient lot; we want what we want when we want it and we want it right....the first time. Retail establishments who can't meet with that demand lose business!

When it comes to living a life that glorifies God, I'm a lot like the lady behind the deli counter at Wal-Mart. I know what God says through his Word but do I really listen to it?.... And by "listening" I'm talking about hearing with faith that results in obedience. It seems to me you can't separate faith and obedience. If you have faith it will shine through an obedient life. An obedient life that blesses God cannot be demonstrated apart from faith. It is our stubbornness, (of which I could write a book about my own), that keeps us from entering into the full life Christ said he came to give.

It's like God goes to the deli counter...gives his order... I look at him like I'm listening...I repeat his order back to him twice...and he still walks away with something from me totally different. Did he get his own order wrong? Hardly!... I just didn't listen. I fell short of his expectations. I just looked at him with that 'deer in headlights' glaze. I just went through the motions. I was inattentive to what he was really saying and as a result....I missed it...his blessing...his satisfaction...his walking away from my counter whistling a happy tune....his, "Well, done".

How many times in my life have I missed the true blessing of God because I had ears to hear, but didn't listen?! How many times have you?

"To those who listen to my teaching, more understanding will be given, and they will have an abundance of knowledge. But for those who are not listening, even what little understanding they have will be taken away from them." -Matt. 13:12 NLT

Here I Am!

"Suddenly the Lord called out, "Samuel!" "Yes?" Samuel replied. "What is it?" He got up and ran to Eli, "Here I am. Did you call me?" - I Samuel 3: 4,5a NLT

As a young boy, I remember my mother telling me the story of Samuel. He was a special gift to Hannah, his mother,... an answered prayer. Hannah was childless and she bitterly wept before the Lord in His tabernacle over her condition. She made a vow to God that if He blessed her with a son, she would give him back to God for service to Him. God heard her prayer and Samuel was born. Samuel means, "I asked the Lord for him." Mom would then tell of the wonderful and powerful ways God used Samuel to judge Israel for 40 years. He annointed kings and was the voice of God to Israel.

Then she would tell me that when I was born, she and Dad dedicated me to the Lord's service, just in the same way Hannah did Samuel. Oh, they didn't dump me off at the church when I was three and leave me there, which I'm glad because that church building would have been a pretty scary place to live for a three year old!.... but in the same spirit they dedicated me to God's service.They prayed and believed God would use me in ministering to others, in whatever way that translated to reality. No pressure!

In many ways, as I reflect back on my life, I see a sensitivity that kept me close to God, always thinking in terms of helping others, always looking for the spiritual in things, and always seeing God's hand in everything. When I was younger, simple prayers of faith were easy to pray. When I was younger, a trusting zeal for the Lord was constantly present. When I was younger, I readily shared my faith regardless of how I would be received. When I was younger, loving others seemed almost natural and came without much effort. Oh, to have now what I had when I was younger!!

What happened to me? Where did I veer to the left when I should have veered to the right? How did I go from a hot heart for the Lord to a cold heart for the Lord?!....a lukewarm heart for the Lord at best. Life happened, bad decisions made, failed marriages, straying from the Lord repeatedly and returning to the Lord repeatedly. My life had become, it seemed, a piggy bank collection of sins and failures...the scars and wounds of which eventually kept me from feeling even worthy to say, "Here I am" when He called my name. Amazingly, I could still hear Him call my name. What could I offer from the rubble of my life that could possibly encourage another fellow struggler? So for a time I retreated from any kind of service to the Lord.....just went through the motions. I thought all that was left was to count the coins of sin and failure I had collected in my piggy bank. And life would not get any better, so I might as well deal with is as it was and live with it.

For the last month I have been wrestling with this. Hearing His call and arguing that He should call somebody else. How crippling a sense of unworthiness is! There truly is nothing worthy in and of myself to be used of God....to be used by Him. But He calls because of the Jesus in me who has redeemed me completely. He calls because He still has plans and a work for me to do. God just sees me differently than I see myself. He knows I am not the sum total of my sins and failures. They do not define who I am as far as God is concerned. I am defined by the Christ who shed His precious blood for my salvation...and God has vowed to continue to rescue me....from myself among others crippling entities. That's what the word salvation literally means, "to rescue." He has rescued me relentlessly all my life!

This morning I read again the account of little Samuel. Flooding in came memories of my childhood. Memories of a loving father and mother who faithfully prayed over their little boy and who still faithfully pray over their little boy....always believing the very best God has for me. Always seeing the potential in me when I am rock solid in my walk with the Lord. This morning, weeping, I said again to God....at the ripe old age of 51...."Here I Am!"

As we age we live long enough to experience both joy and disappointment, it is as certain as death and taxes. How we deal will determine the level of inner peace we all instinctively seek and desire. I am living testament that peace doesn't exist apart from God. Going my own way may sound brave and it may make for great song writing, but the reality is that path leads to just more crippling disappointment. And it keeps us from having a hot heart for the Lord.

Why write such a confession on this blog? Because I am convinced at least one out there who reads this will identify and relate to it. You have been where I have been. The pathway to Heaven is littered with fallen brothers and sisters who have once said, "Here I am." but now have lost hope. They need to know the relentless grace of God again. They need to know He still calls their name. They need to know they can smash that horrid piggy bank and start fresh regardless their age. We are called by God to help them....who more qualified than one who has been there in the ditch too? It is such a freeing thing to say, "Here I am!"

Letting Go

So Joseph sent his brothers off, and as they left, he called after them,"Don't quarrel about all this along the way!" - Gen. 45:24 NLT

It had been decades since his brothers last saw him. And for decades they carried a deep, dark secret of deception. Now they stood before him, trembling with fear. No doubt wondering how they would be paid back for their crime against their brother. All the dramatic telling of how Joseph was reunited with his brothers and later with his father oozes with the theme of true forgiveness. In fact, it is one of the best demonstrations of forgiveness in the Bible.

Perhaps Joseph knew that his siblings may have the temptation to point fingers at one another on their way back home regarding who was really at fault in what they did to him. Maybe he was concerned they would argue as to how to explain Joseph's situation to Jacob. Would they have to tell Dad they actually sold their brother into slavery? Would they have to tell Dad the blood stained robe and the story that went with it was all a lie? So much time had passed that perhaps they actually believed the lie they told their Dad about Joseph's fate. But not anymore. The reality of their deception was slapping them full in the face. It was time to come clean.


If anyone in the Bible had the right to be vengeful, spiteful, and unforgiving it would've been Joseph. Sold into slavery by his own brothers, falsely accused of trying to rape his master's wife, and thrown into prison, forgotten by all but God. I don't know if I would've come out of all that without feeling just a smidge bitter. But bitterness wasn't Joseph's first thought. His first thought was love. His first action was forgiveness. He saw the whole of his life and saw that in all that happened to him, it was intended for good by a sovereign God. Through him God preserved two nations, Egypt and Israel.

For Joseph, it wasn't a time of revenge. It was a time of letting go. It was time to reunite the family. To help them, to love them. With a word, Joseph could have put his brothers to death for what they had done. Instead, he forgave, he let it go....completely, without one twinge of grudge. Then he blessed them!

When others hurt me often my first thought is retaliation. I just want to get even, hurt them back so they can feel what they made me feel. I want to make them eat dirt! That path is so much easier than forgiving. Forgiving takes a literal act of the will. It is an unnatural act that requires supernatural empowerment. I can say, "I forgive you" all day long to someone who has offended me and still go around carrying anger and a "get even" spirit toward the offender. Is that true forgiveness? In a word, I don't think so. Perhaps it is the absence of that inner anger and "get even" spirit toward the offender that indicates real forgiveness has come home to stay.

Exercising forgiveness is often painful but always necessary if we are to grow in Christ. I have much growth ahead of me I'm afraid. Jesus taught that we should forgive our offenders so consistently that being forgiving defines us. When we are bumped hard by someone the first thing that spills out of us is forgiveness. I do that so consistently inconsistently! Yet, we are never more like our Lord than when we forgive those who have hurt us.

I have been offended and I have been the offender. I have been asked to forgive and have found it necessary to seek forgiveness. Such a position makes me a perfect pupil for the school of forgiveness. To learn more, to be more consistent in exercising it, to make it the theme of my life. Like Joseph, I want to, truly want to learn to let go! Man, there is so much freedom in that!!

Blessings!

"The only revenge which is essentially Christian is that of retaliating by forgiveness."
-F. W. Robertson

Remembering

I am always honored and touched when I attend church on Memorial Day weekend because it never fails that Armed Forces Veterans are recognized for their contribution to the safekeeping of our Nation's freedoms that each American enjoys. I well up with tears and truly am proud that I had the privilege of serving my country in the United States Air Force from December 1984 to February 1990 with an added reserve commitment until December 1992. I obligated eight years of my life to military duty.

I experienced many events during those years from joyful to tragic, peaceful to violent, and secure to unsure. Some experiences I remember with fondness and still talk about them today. Some experiences to this day I find very difficult to talk about at all. But I am glad I can say I did my part. I gave some of my life to become part of a fraternity of men and women who made personal sacrifices for the good of the country they love.

I gave some of my life....there are some that gave all of their life. They are the ones who literally laid down their lives for our freedoms here in America.....it is to these that make Memorial Day a day for remembering. It is to these we honor their ultimate sacrifice. Because of them and what they gave up, Memorial Day is more than a family cookout and a day off from work. To those who gave all I offer my gratitude and tribute.

On this day I also remember another who gave all. My Lord Jesus when he sacrificed himself on a cross for my spiritual freedom. Ephesians 2:4 starts with, "But God, who is rich in mercy....that word rich can be exchanged with the word exhaustless. So it could be read, "But God, who is exhaustless in mercy....I could not out-sin the far reaches of his mercy no matter how hard I tried. When I run away from him, no matter how far....when I stop, his love is waiting for me there. No matter what I do and no matter how hideous to others my sin may be....God's mercy toward me is exhaustless. What a blessing, what a privilege, what a Saviour!

Jesus gave all, I gave none. The first three verses of Ephesians 2 tell us what we were before God intervened with his mercy in verse four. We weren't pretty and there was nothing in and of ourselves that was redeemable. In other words, nothing in us was good enough to merit and win God's favor. I had nothing to give God in exchange for my salvation. It was all of him. I couldn't work my way to heaven because even my good works were filthy to this holy God

God so loved us he gave his only son that we may have fellowship with him. It was all of him and none of us. So I remember also with gratitude that at the age of fourteen God called me out of my darkness and into his light. Jesus became my Saviour and I became a part of God's family. I received my spiritual freedom. I gained Christ and heaven.

Remember to take time and remember the sacrifices made for your personal freedoms and the freedom of the country in which you live from those who gave all to buy it. And remember your spiritual freedoms that came from the sacrifice of the One who gave all.

Memorial Day blessings to everyone!

The Uglies!

They swarmed around him. Everywhere he went, they were there! The lame, the blind, the deaf, the prostitutes, the tax collectors, ....all the refuse of society, they seemed to surround him. And he seemed more comfortable with them than the church goers. He touched them. The church goers criticized him.

He spoke against the church goers. Said they had a religion that was empty. .....as he put it....full of dead men's bones. No heart, no soul. That made them mad! They plotted to kill him! Jesus, this is Jesus! This is the Son of God we're talking about. He accepted everyone as they were,....and loved them....got nailed for it. In fact, at points...the Word says he wept over them. Imagine, weeping over the refuse of society. He did it!

It amazes me how religion and faith get confused sometimes. You'd think they go together. They mix like oil and water most of the time. Especially when we talk about the Uglies! You know the uglies, all those people that don't measure up to our spiritual standards....hey, let's go further than that....even those people that don't "smell"acceptable. We look at them and immediately think of them as "lesser than".........I have, I know. It's the hierarchy of the "haves" and the "have nots".

I have said, "Amen" when the preacher has been at the zenith of his point! Sounded righteous too! Others have done the same. Just sounding righteous. Nothing wrong with saying Amen. Everything wrong with saying Amen when it's for show! I have been guilty of show. You know, sometimes the word spoken just doesn't move me. A reflection on my heart, I know, but it doesn't. I think I'm not listening or caring or something. I need Him to touch me, to take me in to that crowd of the uglies. I am an ugly.

He gave his life for me. When the world sees me as ugly....he doesn't. When I can't go to anyone else...He takes me as I am. Ugly as I am...and loves me anyway. Wow! How can that be?! In Him, I don't have to measure up to other's standards. I just need to look to His. His standards are so much more inviting. If I fall, He is there to pick me up. He never rejects me, never lets me go. When I totally blow it, He doesn't walk away....just says He hasn't forgotten His plan for my life.

I am an Ugly...and He loves me anyway. I haven't known a love like that. I don't deserve a love like that. But it's mine and I'm glad. How could the beautiful embrace the ugly. It's a God Thing....and only that. His embrace around my ugly makes me beautiful...and that pushes me to go embrace others who think they're ugly.

Only God, a loving God, can make the ugly beautiful. He does!

3:45am

I wish I could say that when I woke up God had such an epiphany for me it would change the lives of millions. The truth is I woke up with scratchy eyes that are bloodshot simply because I woke up so early and couldn't go back to sleep. So...I'm up. There are many in my circle who would say,"Stupid, go back to sleep!".....I can't.

As I was showering I was thinking about a few things. In the shower I am either thinking about a few things or singing....this early in the morning I dared not sing lest neighbors think a drunk cat was outside their door! My "meows" are so slurred this early in the morning! So I left my brain on and my voice on pause.

I was thinking about size. The bigness and the smallness of things.....did I spell those two things right? Oh well....it's my blog....guess I can spell anything any way I want. Wow, that was a selfless statement! I was thinking about the size of God compared to the size of me. Man! I am so little!! Yet, so arrogant, I think I am so big!

And that's the thing....the parts of me that should be small are big. The things that cause me to stumble and fall are so HUGE! And the qualities that allow me to go outside myself to be a blessing to others are so small! Why does it seem to be all about me, me, me?! Why do I feel put upon to be involved in another life, to give of myself so another may be helped? What is it in me that causes me to feel that others are an interruption to me? Do you see the me, me, me here?

Sometimes I think I am more comfortable with stumbling and falling, getting back up, asking for forgiveness so I can stumble and fall again. I am sure I am unique.....NOT! We all have that tendency I think. We are comfortable with being one of God's "pet" projects....want to know why....we get all his attention....we are even selfish in that! And no one has worse problems than our own! Start telling me your life and I will tell you something in my own that is worse. You can't out miserable my misery!

I have lived long enough to be a disappointment to everyone I love the most. Sometimes I feel I wear that like a medal on my chest. Why? Because I want attention....sick as it may sound....that's what I want. If I can't get it by being good, I'll get it by being bad. But attention is what I want. Man! I need a support group!!.....and more!

In thinking about God's bigness....he looks beyond my selfishness, my need for attention and looks at the wonder of me....he made me...and he makes no mistakes. I am no mistake even though there are times I feel that way. He works his will to perform it in my life...he never gives up and never lets go of me. He is patient with me and with you. His compassion's and mercy are renewed toward us every day. Something to take advantage of? No! Something to be grateful for! That is the bigness of God....seeing in me something I don't see in myself. Seeing in me something worth redeeming, worth giving his only son for. And he did all that!

God is huge! I want him to live big in me....in spite of my failings....I want him to live big in me. I am small....maybe that epiphany is not so bad when put in the proper perspective.

Those of you who have this bigness and smallness thing down...please contact me and show me how to do it right. In the meantime, I will stumble and fall and get back up again and hope with each incident, I will allow God to live bigger in and through me than I did before.

From The Message:
"But you, O God, are both tender and kind, not easily angered, immense in love, and you never, never quit." -Psalm 86:15

Blessings!

P.S. It's 3:45am for crying out loud.....allow me a few random thoughts this early in the morning!

Bed Frames

In my lifetime I have just about slept on everything. From the floor to army cots to air mattresses ( the ones that lose all their air throughout the night to the ones that hold air well ) to all sizes of beds from twin to California king to water beds. I have done my share of sleeping on couches too....especially when I've been in trouble. I had the opportunity to try a bed of nails in the Philippines once....I opted out of that experience.

If you have a bed, you need a bed frame....that is unless you like that "close to the floor feeling". Frames come in all types, from wood to metal to cement block, if you so choose...but you need one in order to have that "sleeping in a bed off the floor" feeling. I recently learned that you have to have the right kind of frame....if it's metal especially....to fit the right size of mattress. Metal frames are made of different strengths of material to properly hold the appropriate size mattress. Twin and full mattresses don't need a heavy duty bed frame as do queen and larger mattresses do.

I bought a queen mattress set with a light metal frame. It held pretty well for awhile. It squeaked, squawked, and moved a little when I turned over and such but it seemed OK....until two nights ago. Somewhere in the night the middle cross brace at the bottom broke in half and one of the legs buckled under itself putting one corner of my mattress completely to the floor.

This happened while I was asleep dreaming of sugar plums and buffet lines....Now I'm not necessarily a small man but I don't have the body density of the Incredible Hulk either.....
....and I learned something else while waking up face down on the carpeted floor....God never intended man to sleep on an incline! If you roll over, you're gonna keep going. You're gonna end up pulling carpet fibers from your molars because the floor will rudely stop your fall. It's called gravity and it is very unpleasant to experience from a dead sleep!

As I grabbed a pillow and moved to the couch I thought about the verse in Proverbs 16:18. It goes like this, from The Message:
"First pride, then the crash - the bigger the ego, the harder the fall."
Falling from my bed isn't the only crash I have experienced this past week. Lessons from a bed frame can be valuable, especially when we start thinking we're "all that and a bag of chips." Just when I think I have it all together is really the critical time for me to do a heart check, because there's probably a crash coming if I don't. I am putting my life on the right foundation again....hope yours is already there.

Ribs

Sitting in church, squirming in my seat! If my mother were sitting beside me, she would've pinched my thigh to get me to sit still like she used to do when I was a little boy in church. I'm kind of glad she wasn't there....that hurt! I was listening, but I wasn't listening. I was participating, but I wasn't participating. It was like I was viewing everything close from a far off distance; like Sarah Palin who can see Russia from her house in Alaska. I had one thing on my mind.....ribs!!

Two pounds of beef ribs, marinated for 24 hours in spices and liquids sure to enhance their flavor to much higher euphoric qualities. Two pounds of beef ribs lovingly and gently placed in a 6-quart crock pot and slow cooked for 12 tenderizing hours. Ribs! That is what was on my mind as the pastor expounded upon the wonders and majesty of God's Word. I'm a spiritual giant alright!! I couldn't wait to get home....already tying a bib around my neck as I drove out of the church parking lot.

Breaking the speed limit to get home, I noticed that posted speed limit signs are more like suggestions when I'm hungry and on mission to eat. I would've broken the sound barrier if I could've pushed my 6-cylinder, 4-door sedan that fast. Fortunately, the law enforcement fraternity was evidently in coffee and donut shops getting their fill at the time of my travel because the interstate was void of them. Personally I think that was God's grand design....he wanted me to have those ribs too!!

Drooling so heavily at the thought of succulent, marinated, slow-cooked rib meat melting in my mouth, my pant legs were wet when I got out of the car. Bursting through the door of my apartment, I didn't walk up the stairs, I didn't run up the stairs; I cleared them all in one single bound....a feat only Superman could perform....until now. As the lovable canine in the bacon treat commercial keeps repeating, "Bacon, bacon, bacon!"...in his frantic search for the coveted morsels, I kept repeating, "Ribs, ribs, ribs!"

Rushing around the corner of my living room into the kitchen, I stopped briefly to appreciate what seemed to be a heavenly glow around that 6-quart container that was gently caressing "my precious"! It was a sacred pause, a sacred moment. The container "called" to me and I responded by lifting the lid with such force, had I not had a firm grip, it would have flown through my balcony door window like a Frisbee!

Wide-eyed with excitement, still drooling everywhere, I peered inside the pot anticipating a culinary treasure even Emeril would envy. To my horror, I found my ribs in such a state I had to turn my head in utter disgust. All of those succulent morsels of flavor had become encased in the translucent goo of the fat that surrounded them. As the Man of War jellyfish ensnares its prey, so this repulsive fat had ensnared the morsels of meat I was greedily getting ready to devour.

There was a sudden loss of appetite and a fighting back of the gag reflex that so desperately wanted to take control. Looking at rancid hamburger would've been more palatable than this offensive conglomeration of YUCK! After the shock and disappointment wore off, I put an oven mitt on one hand and wrapped the other in a towel. I lifted the hot clay pot out of its cooking element and slowly walked down the stairs to discard the contents of "my precious" in the trash. I felt like a dead man walking and I fought back tears with each step.

After discarding the inedible ribs in the dumpster, a thought from scripture popped into my head...

"We are all infected and impure with sin. When we display our righteous deeds, they are nothing but filthy rags. Like Autumn leaves, we wither and fall, and our sins sweep us away like the wind." - Isa. 64:6 NLT

For all the hours of thawing, marinating, and slow-cooking....those ribs ended up on the dumpster floor, a feast for flies, worms, and other unmentionable creepy crawlers. My best efforts weren't enough to keep the end result from disaster and disappointment.

Then I thought of my life....for all the things I do, the people I help, and the difference I attempt to make in this world for good....those things are no better than the inedible ribs on a dumpster floor when done on my own. My righteous acts the Bible says are as filthy rags. I realized just in the thought of that verse, I needed a righteousness that went far beyond me, a righteousness not my own. With gratitude, I also realized that I have that....for I have the righteousness of Christ. It is his righteousness in me that makes my deeds top-shelf.... What he does in and through me is the only righteousness that counts and the Bible teaches when we come to him, he clothes us in it. All of him, none of me. What eternal good I do, he does through me. It is to his credit, not to mine.
It is to his glory, not to mine.

Even though I didn't listen much in church; and even though I settled for a tuna fish sandwich and potato chips, God was still teaching me....through ribs!

Shipwrecked

"Cling to your faith in Christ, and keep your conscience clear. For some people have deliberately violated their consciences, as a result their faith has been shipwrecked." -I Tim. 1:19 NLT

"People never crumble in a day....it's a slow fade."
Phrase from the song, "Slow Fade", as sung by Casting Crowns

Adrift! Floating in the middle of the ocean at the mercy of wherever the waves and tide carry me. It seems the more I kick in one direction, the waves carry me in another. No land in sight. Nothing but horizons of waves in all directions. Hungry....thirsty....exhausted....weak....fighting giving up, fighting hopelessness....fighting letting go and letting the ocean carry me to the bottom.

I don't remember how I got here. Everything prior to the crash is a blur. Even the crash itself is absent of specific details. All I know is that at one moment I was sunning by the pool, drinking a nice cold glass of fruity tea, and the next moment I am desperately hanging on to a piece of the ship to stay above water. Looking around I see no one else. Am I the only survivor? I scream out for help in vain effort to hear a reply from another living life. My screams are returned with a discouraging echo of my own voice. I hear nothing but the sound of turning waves.

Waves are getting bigger as the wind blows harder. They hit me ever more violently, determined to free me from my only hope of staying afloat. I can't go on, I can't hold on. One more hit, one final blow. As the last stone drops a martyr to his knees, I am shaken free from my lifeline. Arms too tired to tread the choppy sea....I sink...gulping down ocean water with each descending meter toward bottom....I am lost, hopelessly lost!

A dream!...no, a nightmare!! I shoot straight up in bed to discover I had been swimming in a pool of my own sweat. No ocean, no violent waves, no brutal wind, no wreckage, no death at the bottom. Just a nightmare. On the one hand, I breathe a sigh of relief; on the other hand, I immediately, almost instinctively, start taking an inventory of my life. I don't like what I find.

My conscience, that internal GPS, if you will, was broken. When it broke, I have no idea. One small compromise after another eventually prohibited my GPS being useful as I navigated between the territories of Right and Wrong. No longer effective, the lines between these two lands became blurred....so blurred in fact, I could no longer see them. I eventually traveled between the two with ease, without passport or visa. Because my GPS was not functioning, I could no longer tell which land I was in. I crashed and didn't know it. How tragic! The only sure vision I had was what I saw looking back....nothing but a string of wreckage. Some was repairable, some wasn't...but it was wreckage and it was massive.

I had become the frog boiled to death under a low heat. Happily swimming around at first, then lethargic...just floating....no movement, then death at the bottom....bloated and weighted from massive intakes of water. Like the frog, I didn't know a crash was coming. It came. The fallout from my nightmare shook me awake....truly awake! Perhaps it wasn't too late for me to go in for repair...perhaps it wasn't too late for me to change.

The only prayer I could pray was: "Jesus, help me!"....the prayer of a desperate man sinking to the bottom of the ocean of his own compromise. No one but Jesus Christ could help me...no one but him could pull me from this death. I did come to realize that a life of compromise is no life at all. Jesus was willing to rescue and praise God he did! When he rescued, he did so completely. Apart from him, nothing else would have worked.

The verse above says to "cling to your faith in Christ". The word "cling" conjures up the mental picture of hanging onto something or someone for dear life, as if your life depended on it. That's what we must do, cling to Christ in faith if we are to navigate successfully between the territories of Right and Wrong. It is the surest way, the only way, we can keep our consciences clear....our GPS's working properly.

If you're adrift....cling to him...he is sure to rescue! Only he can fix what is broken in your life. What he did for me, he will do for you!! Blessings!

Aftermath

Preface
Some of this story is me. Some of it is not me, it's fiction. My hope and prayer is that it will meld together to demonstrate the power of God when He invades a life with His mercy and grace. I hope it will encourage just one to believe that God wants to, can, and will change a dead life to a new life no matter how despicable that life has become. The cross and empty tomb point the way...they point the way to Jesus Christ....He and He alone.


Aftermath
Peering in and steaming up the small windows in the doors that led to the sanctuary, I nervously wrung my sweating hands....waiting....asking myself what on God's earth was I doing in such a place! I didn't go in until after everyone was finished greeting each other with handshakes, hugs, and smiles. I didn't want to be touched by anyone for fear the dirt, filth, and yuck of my miserable life would rub off. To keep them away I wondered if I should enter shouting, "Unclean! Unclean!" like the lepers had to do in biblical times as they navigated through the masses. I felt as a single drop of black, polluted oil in a pool of pure, clean water....as a convicted criminal on the run hiding in a crowd of people with squeaky clean records....feeling severely out of my element. And would my dismal presence contaminate what was going on inside that holy place?

I sat in the very back, in the far corner of a pew that no one else was in. I didn't want to be noticed and I certainly didn't want to be recognized. In that room full of people I sat there in my isolation. And I sat with my head down, staring at the patterns in the carpet so hard they began to move. I dared not even look up, make eye contact. My hands, still sweating, were now shaking almost uncontrollably. I clasped them together with such a grip it looked as if my knuckles would burst through the skin. I didn't belong there....but then I didn't belong anywhere. At one point I almost got up to leave and in that instant was strangely drawn to stay. What could it hurt anyway? Perhaps I could get some reprieve from the thoughts that constantly tormented me. Yes, just some rest, if just but a brief escape from a life littered with losses, shame, regrets, and hopelessness. I sat there....still...motionless.....staring at the moving patterns of the carpet.

I never intended my life to end up as it did. As a young boy my dreams for myself were lofty, noble, respectable, and had purpose. My upbringing wasn't harsh. My parents were good parents. They showed me love at every turn, even in their discipline. I lacked for nothing. I was supported and encouraged to go conquer whatever corner of the world I was placed. I was taught to consider others before myself, to love the unlovable, to be merciful, kind-hearted, and caring toward my fellow man.

I grew up in church. I wasn't a total stranger to places like the one I was sitting in. At one time, I even felt comfortable in such places. I knew the bible. I learned it from my Sunday School and pastor at church and from my parents at home. I saw my mom and dad live out in daily life what they confessed they believed. I had such deep respect for them because of that. In crisis their first thought was always prayer to and faith in a God who cared and acted on their behalf. I had good friends...some of my closest friends went to the church I did. I remember a better past with more pleasant memories....they were faint memories....but I remembered them.

I grew up....life happened....circumstances I didn't want or ask for happened to me. I got angry and then bitter....and what was once a life headed for success became a downward spiral of bad decisions. I didn't want to hear from anyone...not from my parents, siblings, children, friends, and certainly not from God. I ignored all those caring voices until I could no longer hear them at all. To cope....I drank. The more difficulty I invited into my life....the more I drank to cope. I lost all. On the outside it was job after job, driving privileges, apartments, marriages, financial stability, upward mobility, and tragically...friends. That network of love and support was gone. On the inside it was self-respect, vision, hope, contentment, peace, joy, and even the will to live. I became the shame and embarrassment of family and friends. No one wanted me around. I had successfully managed to remove myself from any hope of recovery. When the bottle was no longer enough to numb my depression, sense of failure, self judgment, and other hellish torments in my mind, the last answer of true escape was death.

That is where I found myself...sitting in that pew with my head down....a dead man walking. My life had sunk so low I saw death as my only hope. Death was the only way to be truly released of this excruciating misery. Imagine the irony....my only hope being death. There I was sitting in that pew with all hell breaking loose on the inside of me.

I noticed though, even with my head down, I was listening. Listening to what was being said and what was being sung. I didn't realize until it was mentioned.....I entered that sanctuary on Easter Sunday. That revelation made me think of last Easter....I was so drunk I couldn't get myself dressed to go anywhere. Last Easter I sat in my Lazy Boy, drinking vodka and Coke, trying to numb the overwhelming hopelessness that had invaded my life and taken control. It was like I was drinking to get the hopelessness drunk so it would loosen its grip on me for just a little while and give my weary brain some rest.

The pastor, an elderly, distinguished looking gentleman with the kindest eyes, walked forward and read from the bible these verses: "...But God is so rich in mercy, and he loved us so much, that even though we were dead because of our sins, he gave us life when he raised Christ from the dead. (It is only by God's grace that you have been saved!)" -Eph. 2:4,5 When I heard those words I raised my head and really started listening. Hearing that I was dead, which I was....or at least felt like I was, but could be given life again intrigued me. This wonderful preacher began to tell of Gods' grace and mercy that spanned the centuries starting in the Garden of Eden and culminating in the death, burial, and resurrection of his Son, Jesus Christ. He said God did what he did though history to establish again relationship with his creation that was broken in the Garden. Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, his death, and resurrection ushered in a means whereby we might be restored completely in relationship with God once and for all.

I began wondering how this could be done. What did I have to do? I was desperate, my whole being cried out for relief. Suddenly within me was a thirst for something more. I actually was beginning to hope for something more.....not an assured hope, but a "hope so"; that somehow what was being said could happen to me. Perhaps the downward spiral of my life could be turned around. The preacher continued to say that my sins were nailed to the cross of Christ . He took upon himself my sin that I might live in a new life. He spoke of the hideousness of the cross. He painted such a picture of Christs' blood soaked body being broken for me that I could see him hanging there, dying, staining the cross with his blood and covering the cross with my sin. It moved me someone could love so much. It moved me deeper still someone could love me so much. Lastly, the preacher spoke of Jesus' victory over death and that because of that victory death no longer had a choke hold on those whose faith is in him. Wow!.. death no longer my only hope of escape? Instead of that dead man walking I was seeing hope in a dead man coming alive through this life preached about. But how?

The preacher sat down and the choir stood up. Music started playing and the choir started singing the words to the song, "Hallelujah! Praise the Lamb". Intently I listened....still wondering how....how can I go from walking death to life? As that little country choir sang in that little country church, I became overwhelmed with such a deep appreciation of Gods' great love for me! I bristled because I felt the words of that song were speaking directly to me:

From the moment man first disobeyed the Father
We were then held captured by our sin
The law of God demanded a sacrifice
Restoring to himself His own again

So the Lamb, His Son so freely offered,
Atonement for our sins forever made.
The innocent and holy still God and God only
Would ransom and redeem us back again

So to the cross they carried Him
With all our guilt and all our sin
The Lamb of God was slain for our transgressions
And on the cross those nail pierced hands

Reached up to God and now to man
And just as if I'd never sinned
He took me in His arms
Embracing me he willingly forgave

For mercy, grace, and love that knows no bounds
Though guilty and condemned I now am free
Forever I'm forgiven for Christ the Lord has risen
And risen with Him we shall one day be

Hallelujah praise the Lamb
Hallelujah praise the Lamb
My heart sings His praise again
Hallelujah praise the Lamb

I began to weep as I saw all that Christ did....for me. Me-the three time loser in love; Me-the failure as a son, brother, father, and friend; Me-the loser of jobs; Me-the drunk. His great love for me moved him to leave eternity and enter time and history. He left riches, royalty, and majesty and took upon himself the weakness and frailty of human flesh. For me-he bore my sin that I might be clean and have relationship. Me-this outcast was drawn near and made a son because of him. Me-once homeless, living out of my car, he gave a home in heaven.

My miserable life was flooded with hope! I was still wondering how to leave this death I was living and move into that new life, when that wise and loving pastor got up again. He answered my question with two other verses from the bible: "If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is by believing in your heart that you are made right with God, and it is by confessing with your mouth that you are saved." -Rom. 10:9,10 That was it?! No training? No college work? No special certifications? No written recommendations from city officials? No elaborate monetary gifts to the church? No installment payments? No pain? It seemed so easy it couldn't be true! Surely after what Christ did on the cross, I would have to go through some suffering of my own in order to qualify even becoming a candidate for this new life! The pastor said this new life was a gift simply to be received. Nothing in me that I could offer would make a worthy trade for this life. God gave it because he loved me and for no other reason. So I confessed and I believed. I prayed right there in that pew....and his grace and mercy through Christ's love overtook me as a tidal wave!

The aftermath of a tidal wave usually is remembered for the vast amounts of damage, the millions of dollars required to repair the damage, and sometimes the tragic loss of life. This tidal wave was different. My life was already damaged; my life was already tragic. This tidal wave swept over me and transformed my sense of worthlessness into something of value. I may not have been a person of worth in the eyes of many, or even in my own eyes, but in God's eyes I was....I was worth redeeming to him....and he spared no expense to make that happen.

In the aftermath of this tidal wave hopelessness was turned to hope, and not just a "hope so" like I thought earlier....but an assured hope. Hope in him, a knowing that he had invaded the deepest parts of me and eradicated the last bastion of hopelessness....his great love for me routed that life taker completely. And how can a man truly live without a real hope, a right hope....how can man truly live without God?

Isolation was replaced with the hunger for fellowship. I now wanted to receive the handshakes, hugs, and smiles I adamantly avoided in the beginning....I wanted to give them too! I wanted to forgive those who hurt me and I wanted to seek forgiveness from those I hurt. I wanted to love again....everyone! I who had become unlovable wanted to love again!! I was amazed at these things....all happening inside me the moment I confessed and believed....I was new instantly....there was no waiting period. When Christ became mine and I became his, everything that made me...me....changed! I left that holy place different than when I entered it. I still didn't know how my life would turn out, but I knew the Author of my life hadn't finished writing my story....there were still many chapters ahead for me. I had an assured hope of a happy ending. I didn't have to be a slave any longer to hurts, addictions, and failures. I was free....truly free!! I found that freedom in Christ and him alone. All because of Jesus....what a wonderful Savior....praise to his glorious name!!!