When South is North and North is South

I haven't visited or written on this blog in awhile. In fact it's been so long I had forgotten my password and had to reset it. Truthfully, there hasn't been anything inside to write. While gifted writers are able to birth a story out of pure imagination, I tend to stay with saying what I am inspired to say, what is in my heart to say. I have been wandering in a desert for a few months, thirsty for just a drop of inspiration.

It isn't that I have not been living life or reading or studying or storing information in the files of my brain, it's just I have been devoid of anything to say. Maybe some would diagnose a case of writer's block here. Perhaps that diagnosis contains a bit of truth, but it isn't all the truth.

I have examined my life in the past months and I haven't enjoyed the view much. While many my age can reflect on a jet plane ride of accomplishments, be it in business, or with family or church; my reflection on life resembles more a train wreck with damaged boxcars and twisted rails. While some have known from day one their destiny and have successfully followed it with a true north compass, I have lived in a world where south is north and north is south. The path I started was straight, then the road started to twist and turn, then it became a maze of confusion, heartbreak, disaster, bad decisions, hurt, and disappointments......a land where true north couldn't be pinpointed at all.

I work for an oilfield service company. Part of my job is delivering parts and tools to mechanics out in the field who ensure all the equipment necessary to do what we do is properly maintained and in good repair. A shut-down due to mechanical failure, even for a few hours, could literally cost our company millions of dollars. So in a sense I have an important job.

One night I was called to go to the field with tools mechanics needed to repair a piece of equipment. That particular piece of equipment was so crucial to the whole ensemble the job had to be temporarily shut down. Everyone from the top of the organizational flow chart down was screaming at me to get the tools there immediately. We were going into deficit spending by the minute. The location was only 20 minutes away.

It was dark, it was raining; raining so hard in fact the rain hitting the windshield sounded like tiny bits of hail. I had to pull off the road a couple of times because visibility was zero. In that torrent I got directions mixed up and when I should've turned south at one point, I turned north instead. For the next hour and a half I tried to drive to our field location with dismal failure. I was trying to navigate correctly in all the wrong directions. As sincere as I was in getting where I so desperately needed to be, it wasn't going to happen. That experience describes my life for the past 12 years or so.

See.....the fact is I am an addict, alcohol in specific. The moment I picked up a bottle is the moment I set my God-given compass down. I walked away from the vastness of His wide open country of grace and exchanged it for a small 6'x6' prison cell of pure hell. The worst of it? It also created a hell for the ones I love and hold dear. I don't care how you argue, addiction is never a private matter; and my "delicate condition" has wreaked havoc in the lives of many over the years. I have been reflecting on that life the past several months, and it hasn't been pretty. You might say, emotionally, it's been a difficult few months.

I have written rather candidly about my addiction on this blog. That was the purpose for creating this site in the first place. I know there may be many AA'ers out there who would cringe but the story must be told. It has always been my prayer that my experiences in addiction may help another addict find their true God-given compass again....so I write. No matter how far I get away from that last day I took a drink, I will always be an addict. No matter how far away I get from that last day I took a drink, there will be family and friends and former employers and only God knows who else who will see me as nothing more than an addict. No matter how I may succeed in life from that last day I took a drink, for many the only thing they will recognize is that I am an addict. I think the reason is mostly because the darkness of addiction permanently burns a brand in memory that can never be erased. It does damage to the psyche and the emotions that are difficult if not impossible to ever let go of. And an "I'm sorry", no matter how sincere, from me is not enough to heal it or remove it. There are many in my past who probably think of me and say, "Thanks for the memories", but not in the Bob Hope kind of way.

I think of my children here in particular. As I have suffered, so they have suffered and perhaps they have suffered more. A dad not present at crucial times in their lives, a dad not respondent, a dad who's word became untrustworthy, a dad who became a different man altogether because of alcohol, than the dad they knew when they were younger. Children have a tendency to absorb things as their fault when their surroundings fall apart even when it isn't. There are alot of children in this world today who shoulder the burden of that kind of hurt.

They are grown now, both following their true God-given compass. For that I am grateful. I am proud of them so much I get beside myself. I praise my God that because of His faithful love toward them, He has shielded them from so much more they could've been exposed to because of my drinking. I know because of life they will experience hurt, it just comes....some of the hurt they have experienced already is because of me....and it has taken a long, long time to come to terms with that.

You may be asking,"Where's the hope?!" I am pleased to say there is indeed hope. Were there not, I wouldn't be sharing this. Because of God's great love for us, even in our hopelessness, we are not hopeless. My journey back to sobriety started with the simple admission that I had a problem I couldn't fix in and of myself and I needed help. I was truly powerless to fix me. It is one of the steps in the twelve step program and a vital one. From there, I started going to meetings to hear others like me tell their stories of addiction and their sobriety. I got on the path of "one day at a time". I have been on that path for awhile now. I have no intention of veering to the left or the right. It may be difficult for one who doesn't have to live on that path to understand it but for me, it makes perfect sense. It isn't a forced journey I have to walk but one I want to travel....each step leads me to more freedom and hope.

I know there are some who have gotten sober without God, I personally know several who make that claim. I don't see how they did it. God bless them for their success. I couldn't. I was so beaten down and buried with a sense of failure and disappointment I needed the love of God to help me up. At one point, the only kind word I could find for me was in His Word. I would've have given up life to hear a kind word from another. Where some told me I was washed up and worthless, God told me in His Word that I was loved so much He was willing to make great sacrifice on my behalf so I could fellowship with Him. Where some shunned my friendship and didn't want me around, God invited me to His house to dine with Him. He fed me and filled me.

In His grace I fell into the arms of His endless love for me all over again....and I started that journey away from my last drink.....I haven't to this day looked back other than to be reminded and grateful I don't have to live in the clutches of addiction anymore. And I don't.

So what do I do now? Keep walking away from that last drink. Use God's Word as the source of my true compass, study it, live by it. Surround myself with people who have fallen, gotten back up, and overcome. Pray like life depended on it (for me it does). Work on damaged relationships by being present, sober, and available.....the best apology I can make to anyone, especially my precious children, is living a day at a time on a path that takes me further away from my last drink. Some will forgive completely, some will hold me at arms length, and some will continue to see me as nothing more than an addict. Today I can live with all of that and here's the reason......God sees me as His child through the shed blood of His Son....and I am totally His child. If the whole world quit on me...He never will. He sees me as much more than the things I've done and His forgiveness is never partial. If my focus is to be a good son to Him, (and I can't even do that apart from His grace), then I will be a better earthly father, husband, son, brother, friend, and employee.

The path I travel is one of hope. That path leads me back to the spacious place of His grace. Yes, I am addicted...today....it is to His matchless grace. For that I will ever be grateful. If you read this today and you struggle with any kind of addiction or hurt, my prayer is you will turn it to God through His perfect Son, Jesus Christ.

"I will rejoice and be glad in Your faithful love because You have seen my affliction. You have known the troubles of my life and have not handed me over to the enemy. You have set my feet in a spacious place." -Ps. 31:7,8 HCSB

Difficult Places

It's been awhile since you've heard from me. I have been dealing....dealing with difficult places. The greatest therapy for me is writing, and that's the one thing I haven't done in some three months now. It's funny to me how the one thing we need most in a given situation is also the one thing we shy away from. More than writing, I need a sense of the ever present reality of God in my life. In the last three months I can honestly say that He hasn't left, He has sustained, He has encouraged, He has comforted, and He has opened doors that, for the longest time, seemed to be shut. For all of that I praise His holy name!!

The most difficult place in my life of late was the passing of my mother. She entered into God's presence on Dec. 8, 2010. She lived a life that was beautiful, full of the grace of God. She shared that grace with everyone she touched and she touched thousands. I had the privilege of watching this woman live life to the fullest. She always put God first, others second, and herself last. She encouraged her children and grandchildren to live the same. A stranger to no one, accepting of everyone, and always speaking a word of encouragement and life to others; that's how she lived.

I was determined to write something to pay honor and tribute to her life. I have stopped and started so many times I have literally lost count of how many attempts have been made. I got stuck every time. It wasn't that there wasn't anything to write about. The influence and impact she made on my life alone would fill the pages of a book, let alone an article on this feeble little blog of mine. I just would be overcome with grief, exactly the kind you experience when you lose someone whom you love so much and upon whom you depended to always be there for you. The tears would flow and I would have to walk away realizing that no matter what I wrote of my mother it would never do justice to all that she was to me. Discouraging in a very real sense....in some ways I thought I was letting her down after her death by being unable to express my love for her; in the same way I had let her down so many times while she was still here.

I'm not given much to over analyzing any dream I might dream. Most of the time, if I can even remember a dream the next morning, I smile and pass it off as the result of something I ate the night before. Not too long ago I had a dream about mom. It was vivid enough that I remember every nuance and detail. I was sitting on the loveseat in her den, she in her chair surrounded by the books she was reading....it was her 'spot'. She asked me why I wasn't writing. I told her I was trying to put together something to pay tribute and honor to her and found it difficult to finish. I told her I didn't think I could write about anything else until I finished that article. I thought I couldn't nail the last nail on the coffin of my grief until I did. I told her I felt paralyzed to move forward.

She looked at me and smiled, with her comforting, understanding, gracious, motherly smile, and said, "Son, honor me by writing what God has put in your heart to write. Encourage others who struggle like you with addictions and hurts that keep them from being God's best. You are overcoming; share honestly and openly how God's grace is helping you do that. Not only will that honor me, more importantly, it will honor God." I woke up and for a couple of weeks now I have been processing my dream. I think it was the result of something more than what I ate the night before. Whatever it was and wherever it came from; the result is clear....it's time to move forward. So I write, I am out of practice and this article may not mean anything to anyone who reads, but for me it is getting 'back on the saddle' and moving on, moving forward.

My life bears the scars of grace. Those scars were, at one point, open wounds that came as a direct result of the consequences of my addiction. So much shame and guilt, so beaten down, so many people hurt, so many jobs lost, so many bridges burned....all the result of addiction. I lost complete hope that my life would ever be any better than my addiction....it was a monster inside me, an idol I bowed to every day....it had taken me captive, put me in its prison, and threw away the key.....and worse, it laughed at me as it walked away looking for its next victim.....but....God.....in His relentless love of me, released grace. I found forgiveness, I found strength, I rediscovered hope....in His wonderful grace. My scars are reminders that there is no fall to far His grace can't reach..when I hit bottom it was His grace that caught me....when I strayed from Him, walked away from Him; His grace paced the porch, awaiting my arrival back. When I turned to Him and reached up....He reached down, picked me up, held me tight, and whispered in my ear words of hope. He set me free in His grace.

Not only have I been set free by His grace, I am defined by His grace. Alcohol addiction is not who I am....I am His child through His grace imparted to me when I received Jesus as my Lord and Savior. Even in the pit of addiction, that never changed. However, when you are drowning in a pit of any kind, such realities are quickly diluted. Nonetheless, I remained His child in that pit and He never left me while I lived there. I am thankful my occupancy was temporary.

So....how is it with you? Alcohol may not be your addiction; for that I praise God....I wouldn't wish that even on someone I may not like so much!! But...maybe you struggle with gambling, pornography, other addictive drugs, unresolved anger, a rebellious spirit, sex; perhaps you are addicted to pleasing others so much you don't know the real you anymore. Whatever your addiction, your 'ism', your hurt, your habit....whatever it is that hinders you from freedom in your Lord....the solution is a rediscovery of the power of God's grace.

In articles ahead, my prayer is that I may, through my journey in the country of God's grace, impart an encouraging word to you that will spark hope and a resolve to join me in this grand adventure. Please know I haven't overcome all....I am still overcoming....but today I am overcoming! I have confidence where I mis-step....God's grace will catch me. I praise God those mis-steps aren't so frequent.

My mother was a giver of God's grace to others. I pray I may be rich in the giving of the same. May that be your prayer as well. Blessings!

"But by God's grace I am what I am, and His grace toward me was not ineffective" -Apostle Paul -I Cor. 15:10 HCSB

Lyrics to a song I used to sing many years ago have very special meaning to me today...maybe they will you too:

"Through It All" -Andrae Crouch

I've had many tears and sorrows, I've had questions for tomorrow,
There've been times I didn't know right from wrong.
But in every situation, God gave me blessed consolation, that my trials come to only make me strong.

I've been alot of places, and I've seen millions of faces,
Yet there've been times I felt so all alone.
But in those lonely hours, yes, those precious lonely hours...Jesus let me know that I was His own.

So I thank Him for the mountains, and I thank Him for the valleys,
And I thank Him for the storms He's brought me through...
For if I'd never had a problem, I'd never know my God could solve them,
I'd never know what faith in His Word could do....that's the reason I sing that....

Through it all, Through it all
I've learned to trust in Jesus, I've learned to trust in God
Through it all, oh, Through it all
I've learned to depend upon His Word.

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.