More than Just a Merry Christmas

12/23/2010…My original plan was to end the 2010 year with a hearty “Merry Christmas” to all who may be following my blog of past journal entries leading up to the present day and beyond.

But this morning I received an early morning text from Bob back in Mississippi. It said “Terry wants to see you next Wednesday.” I read the text and was stunned, actually am still stunned. In the New Year, I will post Part 10, a story about Alma. I just finished posting Part 9. Between these two postings is a “God thing” as my friend David puts it. Both these postings are connected and there is redemption at work by God on my behalf, something of which I do not deserve. Indeed, there will be an outcome that is uncertain, but what is certain is a divine appointment has been set when I return to Mississippi next week.

My original plan was traveling with Melody to see her parents in Sumrall, Mississippi. Then we were thinking of driving up to Jackson, Mississippi on Monday to see Bridgett and Bob and his family. That was the plan. Now there is a different plan. I ask myself. How far is it worth me to go to potentially save a soul? How much comfort am I willing to forego just to have an opportunity to tell someone about Christ? How much inconvenience am I willing to endure for an uncertain possibility that may fizzle out? There are no guarantees.

I have not seen or talked with Terry in almost two years. We met briefly on the streets of Jackson and talked about surface matters. I did not preach to him, instead I tried to build a relationship, but he was hesitant to let me inside his world, so I respected his walls. I invited him to come with me to a Double A Braves game in Mississippi several times but he declined.

Terry was trying to figure out why we came down to the inner city of Jackson. Were we trying to be good Christians and put notches on our belt? Were we trying to make our rich selves feel better by coming down there to do our Christian duty and then return to the comfort of our homes? What was our intent? What were we trying to get out of this? Surely all of us who were coming down there were doing it for some selfish reason, otherwise why come at all? When a person is living in the world, these will be the natural questions to ask because this is what the world sells. Self. Following Christ though means turning selfishness into unselfishness and in its purest form, not expecting anything in return. This is the motive behind those who serve in the Jackson Street Ministry, nothing more.

And so now, almost two years later, I receive an early morning text that says “Terry wants to see you next Wednesday.” I think I am going to go.

Merry Christmas…

Part 9 of 18: Bridgett

1/21/09…God is working, and I am once again amazed at how he connects the dots. Amusingly I think to myself that He must really enjoy those connect the dot drawings that kids do, except unlike us, He is really good at it. For some reason, the Holy Spirit places an urging in me to donate my spare bed to Bridgett. Bridgett is someone I just met who joins us or maybe it is us who joins her on Wednesday nights. Recently she announced she is starting up a shelter for battered women and children in order to help them get off the streets. This is the lady who joyfully takes food every single day, not just on Wednesdays, to those on the streets. Once again God always shows me one more person in this world that is doing more than me, I suppose in order to keep my pride from swelling up, and once again it works. Indeed, Bridgett doesn’t just meet the needs of those in the streets; she goes deep into wooded areas where homeless camps are hidden from view. These are places none of us would deem safe, but not to her. Her testimony is powerful because she exudes nothing but God working through her.

And so the Holy Spirit is not leaving me alone when I learn she is opening her shelters. I obtain a phone number from Bob and then I fail to call her for 5 days, and still the Spirit will not leave me alone. Finally I give in and call her. I honestly do not know if she really needs the bed, maybe she is just being nice when she says “sure I’ll take it.” So Bob and I proceed during lunch one day to deliver the mattress and box springs. We pull up in the middle of a tough neighborhood and see her red car; you always know it is Bridgett by the red car. After a few minutes we locate her inside one of the houses. She is currently doing demolition in one of the front rooms.

After a few minutes of conversation, I now realize why the Spirit led me to her because she needs beds badly. She is stepping out in faith. Over the last few years her life has been dedicated to meeting the immediate needs of those on the streets, but when her pastor at New Jerusalem challenges her to take the next step and help them get off the street, she after much hesitation steps out in faith. Now she has no idea where the money is going to come from, or the help she needs to renovate, or even how it is all going to work out, but somehow she is moving forward. Bridgett will earn no pay for doing what she is about to do. Each house will house up to 10 women and children. The first shelter is scheduled to open the 2nd week in February.

And now I am once again curious to see how God is connecting all the dots in my life and how He has connected me to her. At one time when I came down to Clinton I was joyful and ready for God to use me because I was on fire after my mission trip to China, and then…God put the brakes on. He seemed to say no, you are not ready…but God “I am ready.” After months and months of waiting to serve with dead ends always appearing, and suddenly becoming despondent, God finally is showing me something of which I am not aware, but He is doing it in His timing, not mine. Now after months of being in the silent desert, I can begin to see His unmistakable hand in all these steps; to Him having me buy a house in a certain neighborhood when He knew I was still chasing worldly possessions, to Him having patience with me for 7 months until I grew deeper in love with Him, to Him showing me His desires in Isaiah and throughout the Bible to care for the less fortunate, to Him crossing my path with my neighbor Bob, and now to Him showing me Bridgett. Now I try not to think beyond tomorrow, because somehow I feel He is guiding me into something of which I do not know. It seems each step is building onto itself and I have to rest in Him knowing He is working out the plan, not me…

Part 8 of 18: Mark and Ron

1/17/09…

Part 7 of 18: Gerry

1/14/09…As we leave Red and Henry behind, we decide to head downtown into places most would dare not walk alone at night. The streets are mostly deserted due to the bone chilling cold. We drive up and down a number of streets to see if anyone is in need of help. We do not so much as meet Walter but stumble upon him. We notice a big lump of blankets behind a UHaul trailer and as we approach the pile of blankets, Walter’s dog PooPoo yelps at us. We ask him if he needs anything and he says he is fine. I think really he wanted us to leave so we would not draw attention to him. Imagine sleeping in your house and someone walks in your front door, goes straight to your bedroom, and asks you do you need anything. It can be a little annoying, especially if you are trying to avoid any detection by police cruising around. This is probably what Walter is feeling…so we leave.

The evening air is bitterly cold. As we are wrapping up the night, the streets are indeed deserted, but Bob feels a need to make one more pass down through an abandoned neighborhood full of deserted shops, broken window panes, and dwellings in disrepair. Miraculously we stumble upon Gerry, one of the men we see on Wednesday’s at the Opportunity Center, a place where we do our evening ministry in a parking lot. We pull up beside him in our van. I notice Gerry is a little tipsy. He has some sort of dried up food or throw-up coming out of the side of his mouth. He tells us over and over, “I can’t get my hands warm, I can’t get my hands warm.” The temperature is already in the twenties with a light wind causing the air to be even colder. Gerry has no gloves on. Kristi steps out of our truck and takes off her mittens and lovingly places them on Gerry’s hands. Gerry is only wearing a baseball cap so I ask him if he wants a toboggan to cover his ears and he says yes. He almost tips over as he tries to put it on so I tenderly say to him, “Remove your cap and I’ll place the toboggan on you, okay?” We let him hop in the truck and turn the heat on full blast. He asks us to take him to his home, apparently an old abandoned warehouse about 2 miles down the road.

We arrive and Gerry has us pull into the decrepit parking lot. We stay as long as he wants us to in order for him to warm up. Then it is time to go but before we do, we pray for Gerry. Then Gerry prays for us. Gerry’s prayer brings a tear to my eye because here he is getting ready to go back in the brutally cold air while we go back to our warm homes, and he is thanking and praising, I mean really praising God for us. It was amazing to hear this and certainly it feels as if due to Gerry’s earnest prayers of praise to his Father, that in turn our Father ensures that people cross paths with Gerry during the times he needs them most. And I think of the teaching in Matthew where Jesus tells us not to worry about food or clothing, but turn ourselves to Him, and He will provide.

After praying, Bob and I step out of the van to wish Gerry a “God Bless” and a “Take Care,” but as we are uttering the words, flashing blue lights suddenly appear from nowhere and a spotlight shines glaringly into our eyes. It seems a police car on patrol happened upon us and I am thinking they probably think a drug deal is going down. One of the officers with a bullet proof vest exits the car and quickly asks us “What’s going on here!?” Me, I am like a deer caught in headlights or more like police lights and offer no response. After both officers approach us, Bob speaks up and lets the officers know we are just trying to help Gerry. The officers begin asking Gerry questions about where he is staying. Gerry tries to give them an answer just enough to suit them but not enough to give away his location, otherwise Gerry may end up in jail. After a few minutes of telling Gerry he is trespassing and needs to move on, or he needs to go to an area shelter, another police car pulls up with flashing lights and a glaring spotlight. Out steps a defensive lineman for Ole Miss, or at least that what he looked like to me. He wanders over and asks, “What’s going on!?”

After a few more minutes, the officers make a comment about us, saying they understand we are part of the street ministry team that comes down here to provide spiritual and physical nourishment to the homeless and those in need. They tell Gerry he can stay due to the inclement weather but when it warms up he will have to move on…and they leave…hmmm.

Gerry keeps apologizing to us saying he has to ask forgiveness of God for telling a white lie; i.e. he did not tell the officers exactly where he was staying. We keep telling him over and over it is okay, God understands. We climb back into our truck, and as we turn back onto the pitted road with dilapidated buildings and overgrown underbrush staring back at us, we see Gerry walking around the abandoned warehouse…



Part 6 of 18: Red and Henry

1/14/09…Imagine how cold ice is. If you touch it and let your finger linger there, you soon feel a stinging numbing pain. Such is tonight as Bob, his wife Kristi, his daughters Ally and Kayla, and me, their adopted brother, drive towards downtown Jackson. Temperatures will be dipping into the teens tonight. We are not sure of our destination, only that we want to be an avenue for God to use as He sees fit because out in the street there are no accolades, only a chilling reminder of how blessed we are, I am. After a few turns, we find the highway overpass Bob’s former policeman friend Keith told him about. Here under interstate I-20 live Red and Henry; yes they have lived here for the last 3-4 years. I am unable to fathom how they live here under the noise created by 18 wheelers speeding over their heads all night long. It is already dark out when we park our truck at the bottom of their concrete home. Bob gets out and shines his flashlight into the lurking concrete darkness and starts yelling above the traffic noise, “Hey anybody up there!! We have some blankets, jackets, things to keep you warm!! Anybody there!! In a few seconds we look up and we see the shadows of two men emerge faintly in the moonlit night, looking like something out of a horror show, seriously. It seems a little surreal. The funny thing is, the more homeless people I meet, the more taken aback I am at their gentle heart and humility, not at the horror show that some portray them to be.

Red and Henry carefully make their way down the slanted concrete to the bottom where we are standing. In love, we hand them some hamburgers, water, and plenty of warm blankets and clothing. They ask for candles, something of which I do not understand until afterwards; candles burn a lot longer than wood or paper or debris and it offers some light and a little bit of warmth for their hands. Hmmm…the fact is the longer I am involved in street ministry, the more I am learning the special needs of those who call concrete home. We say goodbyes and I utter a “God Bless” and a “Take Care,” but I am immediately struck by how ridiculous these words may sound as I utter them, especially as they hike back up the steep concrete embankment and disappear into the dark shadows. In the bitter cold of night, my breath visibly appears in the air. I along with Bob hurriedly climb back into the warmth of the truck. My thoughts are anything but peaceful. Instead they are jumbled. 

Part 5 of 18: The Cold Streets of Jackson

1/13/09…Our van stops at Miss Dorothy’s house, a 74 year old who lives in a duplex in a downtrodden Jackson, Mississippi neighborhood. As we exit out to do our weekly check on Miss Dorothy, a lady emerges from the shadows from the park across the street. She approaches us and we say “hello.” She makes some small talk but it is clear it is not small talk she desires. Unbeknownst to us she has been waiting for us to arrive because every Wednesday, like clockwork, we show up at Miss Dorothy’s house, usually around 8:30 pm. Somehow, through word of mouth she knew we were coming.

Our team begins piling out of our van. Michael, part of our street ministry team, greets her and starts to talk but then he quickly realizes he needs to listen. We all gather around Benita and she tells us she has been waiting for us all night because she has nowhere else to turn. Her face is in agony, her tears are pouring out, and she is not sure what to do with herself. All she knew to do was wait in the shadows for us to come. She said that is all she knew to do. As she begins to talk, she tells us her son has killed someone, her son has now been sentenced to life in prison, and her son who was a high school football star and had a scholarship at Jackson State is now behind bars for the rest of his life. Unable to process this, she cries out why to us, why did he have to do this!? In agony that only a mother can understand, she tells us how she went to visit him in jail and asked him why, “...my son, why did you do this?” In response, she said he simply shrugged his shoulders and looked down because he was unable to look into his mother’s eyes. After this encounter, apparently just hours before, she was left to aimlessly wander in the streets, carrying a pain and a burden that none of us can relate to. All she knew to do was wait for us, and as her tears drop onto the cold streets of Jackson, we gather around her, lay hands on her, and Michael prays as earnestly as he can to our Father in heaven, asking Him to comfort her, and to somehow show her in her deepest pain that there is still hope when hope lies in Him.

Part 4 of 18: Daniel

12/25/08…Your Son was born today in a manger and He was born homeless. Is this true? If it is, I am absolutely stupefied by the irony…Jesus, our Creator, our Redeemer, our Alpha, and our Omega was born into this world as a homeless person!

Father, my thoughts wonder from this to this past Wednesday. Is it not true apathy is a layered emotion or feeling? We see the homeless, the poor, and we reach out to them because we sense the apathy of the world towards them. You show us how to love and care for those less fortunate than us. And yet as we minister to them, week in and week out, we become beat down and worn, and apathy begins arising. The very apathy we judged the world with points its burning finger right back at us and now we want to become the judge. When we see Eddie, a poor man but one who has a home coming to meet us every week, and every week he collects clothing, and towels, and socks, and we ask why? Surely he has enough by now. When every week we see the vans of our door swing open, and those who come claw their way to us, vying for a position so they can obtain the help. At times it seems like a crowd of vultures. At times it seems like the strong versus the weak and the strong seem to hoard the hand-outs. Week in and week out we see this. We try to meet their needs but so many times the true homeless and those in need are pushed aside by the swelling of a crowd. Unable to truly discern, we are left with a feeble attempt to control the crowd and handout good will. Yet, there are times when we are unable to engage them for the most important handout, a question for their souls.

And yet through all of this, You seem to arrive and show me just one solitary connection each week. This past week it was Daniel. He is a true homeless person who is mentally crazy. He is old, balding, and gray hair dots his black scalp. Tonight Father was tough. The crowd was almost out of control and demanding. My soul felt useless. Then towards the waning end of the night, You have Daniel approach me from seemingly nowhere. He is deranged and I can barely understand what he says as his eyes grow wide in a crazy stare at me. He says he went to Harvard, he went to Yale, he went to Notre Dame, and he tells me tales of such preposterous outcomes, I get lost in his maze of delusion. He can barely hold his sweat pants up and the entire time he is talking, one of his hands is on his pants to keep them from falling down. In his other hand he has a shirt he obtained as a handout. Tonight is going to be cold and I ask him does he want me to help him put it on? He says yes. Barely able to stand up straight, he loses his grip on his pants and proceeds to show his naked body to those all around. I am speechless. I simply say “Daniel, you have lost your pants.” He mutters some words and proceeds to pick his too large sweat pants off the ground and put them back on, oblivious to the fact he just showed his penis to everyone around him.

I grab his things and with my other free arm I help him take off his jacket. He is not very flexible and his arms are rigid. I slowly help him put his red shirt on by grabbing the shirt and placing it over his head. Then gently I help him put his arms into each sleeve and then grab the front and back of the shirt and pull it down over his body. After this, I help him put his jacket back on. I notice he has nothing for his head and I tell him to wait as I hastily walk back to the van and grab a knitted toboggan out of my knapsack. Hurriedly I make my way back to him and in that moment I feel something I have rarely felt in my life; caring for someone who cannot care for themselves. Lovingly I take the toboggan and as he bends over slightly and mumbles words I cannot understand, I place it on his head and ever so gently pull it down over his ears. I truly make sure it is a warm and snug fit on his head because tonight is going to be cold.

As the night ends, we leave Daniel. As our van pulls out of the parking lot, I see this delusional shell of a man hugging the masonry wall of the Opportunity Center, and in the dark of the night, I see him peeing on the wall.

Oh Father, what will happen to Daniel? He is a human but he has no concept of who You are and he never will. He is a true homeless person in every sense of the word, even to the degree that his soul has no home. I pray one day You may receive his soul into Your kingdom and bestow upon him a degree from Harvard and Yale. And I thank You for encouraging me to continue reaching out even when I become weary from doing good, and I thank You for not letting myself judge, with apathy, those who may not need help. It is not my place. You are always there to show me why I am there and it goes beyond my ways. Doing this act of kindness for Daniel was nothing more than Your glory manifested in me and it was only for Your glory. You are the one who directed Daniel to walk over to me and begin his delusional talking but You already knew the purpose, and You wanted to show me something beyond myself, of what I am capable of when I truly am seeking to honor You.

Father, I pray for Daniel. I pray You will protect Daniel as his flesh and his soul carry out the days with no home to go to…

401 (k)

12/17/08…Humbly I come before You Lord trying with desire to understand rich and poor. There are those with much who reference the Book of Job as their reason for accepting Your monetary blessings, and a reason to not empty their bank accounts, or cash in their 401 (k), or downsize their house, or sell their country club membership, in order to feed the hungry and attend to the poor. Surely my life is a reflection of the same indictment I see in others. I might as well hold a mirror up to my face.

Yet, as I read Job, I realize this…before You blessed him this is the order in which Satan was allowed by You to run rampant in his life and strip everything from him. Directed by Satan, the Sabeans killed all of Job’s five hundred oxen and five hundred donkeys; then in turn they killed all of his servants. Directed by Satan, fire fell down from the sky and burned up all of his seven thousand sheep and his servants were killed. Directed by Satan, the Chaldeans raided his livestock and took all of his three thousand camels and killed his servants who tended the camels. Directed by Satan, a mighty wind struck his house and killed all of his seven sons and three daughters. Then finally, You allowed Satan to strike his flesh and cover him from head to toe with boils. The irony is by Your own admission, Job was a blameless and upright man in Your eyes. Blameless, Lord; You could not find one thing wrong with him in Your sight.

So I guess what I am saying Lord, is if You allow Satan to kill my son, if You allow Satan to empty my bank account, if You allow Satan to empty my 401 (k), if You allow Satan to strip me of every possession I own, if You allow Satan to infect me from head to toe with boils, if You look at my heart and call me blameless and upright, then I guess at the end of it all, if You then choose to bless me like You did Job in his latter days, I think I would be very comfortable with the “riches.” Please Lord, understand, as much as I want to glorify You, I would not wish this on my worst enemy. But if You did do this, then I guess I would accept my “riches.” Until then everything You have shown me in Your Word points to me walking away from all my riches to feed the hungry and attend to the poor.

Seinfeld

12/14/08…Father, the show “Seinfeld” was a show about nothing…it use to be my favorite show, and yet, was that not a reflection of my life during that time, a show about nothing…

Hope Deferred

12/14/08… Proverbs 13:12, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life”…Father, You pointed me to this passage at a perfect time…at first, I was a little unsure of what the second part meant and what You are trying to say…I tried to lean on my own understanding but could not grasp its eloquent depth…then, You pointed me to Proverbs 13:4, “The soul of a lazy man desires, and has nothing; but the soul of the diligent shall be made rich”…is this not true? I have become lazy in my study and prayer towards You, particularly in listening to You…I am no longer sure if it is You speaking to me because of my failure to full heartedly trust in You…therefore my desire to draw closer to You is resulting in nothing…and yet this morning when I quieted my mind the best I knew how, even with a dog barking in the distance, and the hum of a computer, You faintly spoke to me, oh so faintly…in my thoughts You lovingly said You will not reward the faint of heart…and then Your passage became clear…place my hope back in You with all my heart, soul, and mind…diligently pursue You in study, prayer, journaling, and most of all listening…this hope deferred will make my heart sick as I wait on You, but I know too well over the last 2 years that when the desire comes, to feel You once again closer than my skin, then my life will become that of a tree bearing fruit in Your name…Thanks be to You Father for your breathed words of life…

"I chose you out of the world"

11/10/10…

Christ speaks,

The Father who dwells in Me does the works (John 14:10).

Every branch that bears fruit my Father prunes, that it may bear more fruit (John 15:2).

Without Me you can do nothing (John 15:5).

I chose you out of the world (John 15:18).

These things I have told you, that when the time comes, you may remember that I told you of them (John 16:4).

In just a few chapters in John, I read these words and their power just overtook me. The thought that crossed my mind is I could spend a lifetime just on meditating on these precious few verses, and I think it very well could be a lifetime well spent. I believe this because I know how often I tend to forget how Christ in me and my Father are the ones behind anything good that comes from me.

"...the Father who dwells in Me does the works"

11/9/10…Father, how quickly You sometimes speak to me. I confess to You how my motives are not as pure these days as they once were not so long ago. I confess I have not loved You with all my heart, soul, and mind. How quickly the days of China and Jackson fade? And yet…I remember. You created me to remember. Somehow You knew I needed to remember because Your love has never stopped, not once. No matter how frail I am in the realm of spiritual war, You let me remember quickly who You are. All it took was a moment on my knees in a hotel room and being honest before You. My prayer was no more than a drop of water in a lake…but I meant it.

Writing to glorify You means nothing apart from You. In my own power, my words are hollow. I could not face writing anything else apart from You. Have You not shown me who You are in these last three years. Every time I asked, You revealed in Your time. You blessed in Your time. You taught in Your time. When I began taking the reins is when Your glory began to cease within me because I was relying more on my own power. Oh, how many times will it take for me to learn. How faithful You are to still love me and endure my own selfishness. I love You.

Father, I have recently wondered whether publishing these incredibly bare blog entries was the right thing to do or not. I even wondered if my motives were as pure as they should be. But You pointed me to your son Jesus and his words in John say “the Father who dwells in me does the works.” On a night in a hotel room by myself, these were the words I needed to read. I have seen those who have accessed my blog and where they are from. I am humbled to realize people as far away as Japan, Russia, India, and many other countries have accessed this blog. And I also realize there is no power in this unless You are front and center. It is You who will point people toward You, not me. So I humbly offer all of me to You for glory only You can see come to fruition.

For those who may be reading this blog whom I may never meet, please realize if there is a hole in your heart, or an ache, our Father in heaven may be the one who pointed You in this direction to speak to You in only a way He knows. The only hope in my world is Christ, because all other avenues I have ever tried always ended up in a hollowed out dead end. I encourage you to seek and I hope you will find life.

Tiantai, China…

12/13/08…Father my heart is sad…it is as if I feel their pain, their searching, and I so much want to reach out to them, and hug them, and tell them look no further, your quest for meaning is over.

Father, they traveled thousands of miles to Tiantai, China in a quest to search out the cave of Han Shan, the great Taoist hermit and a Buddhist poet in the 7th century. The tale of the journey came into my possession by a loving aunt who sent me a copy of this mini-novel written by her son. What aches my heart most though is knowing they are of my blood. At my cousin Larry’s request, his 26 year old daughter April accepts this quest to Tiantai, China. Why, because the words of Han Shan were still embedded in her mind from long ago bedtime poems read to her by her father. And over the years as they conversed about spiritual matters, Larry tells those who are reading his tale that April and he have had many discussions and he said they, “exchanged comments about the pearl of the mind, that alignment of nature, spirit, will, and glow that transcends any mechanical construct of the physical and social world.” I learn one object they wanted to procure on this trip was in his words, “a pearl, the overarching symbol of Zen enlightenment.” Father I see through their words, I see in desperation they are formulating their own religion, and yet never able to pull all the pieces together. And in a continuing search for meaning they travel on a pilgrimage to locate the cave of this 7th century revered Buddhist poet, all for one brief moment of looking out of the same cave he looked out of…for an answer to a question. I read their 18-page tale and hung on every word to see what would happen. Through many detours, dead ends, language barriers, and confusion, they finally locate this hallowed place in the serene cliff mountains of Tiantai.

And this is where my heart pours out tears for them. I think back to a time when I had no idea who You were and I was searching for the same answers as them, yes I even bought a book of Zen, because I became enamored with finding an answer to my emptiness. But the book of Zen provided no answers, only words for storage in a hollowed out rotting log, me. I searched it in movies like the “Last Samurai,” a movie I still love to watch but its Zen themes could not translate into redemption. I searched in nature in the solitude of the Appalachian Trail at one point even debating to leave the world behind and hike the 2,170 mile trail as a pilgrimage to find myself. Nature became my retreat but I failed to see You in it. In a similar quest as Larry and April, I sought out my own hallowed ground, the start of the Appalachian Trail. My long search took me up a remote mountain to a secluded spot 8 strenuous miles from civilization, where embedded in a rock, there was a plaque signifying the start of the trail. For anyone who has ever hiked in isolation or who has walked for hours on end in blistering heat or bone chilling wind, they can appreciate the few who make the Mecca from Springer Mountain, Georgia to Katahdin, Maine, so to stand in the same footsteps as those before me was somehow a religious experience. And I remember standing there and seeing the plaque with the white dash, and then looking up and viewing the mist covered blue ridges as sunset settled in. The soft hue of dusk somehow soothed me. The distance seemed to have no end. It was so worth the effort to make the trek because in that moment I felt something beyond myself. But. But when I left, this feeling did not come with me, it stayed behind. Father, there was an aloneness, an isolation of my soul that desperately wanted this feeling to stay by my side instead of remaining behind. Oh how I ached. But the feeling did not accompany me back to my car, back to the road, back to my home, back to my life. Instead the feeling remained behind because You were not in it…

And here they are Father, Larry and April, looking out of the cave set high atop Cold Mountain. If I close my eyes I can almost picture them marveling at the rocky outcroppings of the Tiantai mountain range as a cold wind numbs their noses. They see angular cliffs in the distance boastfully jutting above the low cloud cover. As they stand on the same ground where Han Shan stood centuries ago, Larry and April take their hands and softly move their hair away from their face as tears overtake them. As their senses are heightened by a splendor that I am sure left them speechless, I imagine it was indeed a religious experience that lifted their souls to new poetic heights. But. But my heart breaks for them when I realize how far they traveled for this feeling, and knowing this feeling will not accompany them back down the mountain…

“Born Thirty Years Ago” by Han Shan

Thirty years ago I was born into the world.

A thousand, ten thousand miles I've roamed.

By rivers where the green grass grows thick,

Beyond the border where the red sands fly.

I brewed potions in a vain search for life everlasting,

I read books, I sang songs of history,

And today I've come home to Cold Mountain,

To pillow my head on the stream and wash my ears.



Part 3 of 18: Pregnant and Homeless

12/14/08… Oh Father, You are taking me deeper. You have Redeemed my heart and You have shown me in order to love the poor and homeless, it is not good enough to just give my money, I must love and in order to love I must be in relationship. Now I feel You want to show me the breadth, the width, and the height of who You are and what is in me, yet to be tapped for Your glory.

Just nights before by the Opportunity Center, there is a memory etched in my mind of a woman with no home. Like a tattoo inked on my brain I see her wrapped in blankets and huddled tightly against the concrete loading dock wall as we are loading into our van to leave for the night. It is dark outside, it is late, and everyone has gone their separate ways but her and us. I climb into our heated van along with the rest of the street ministry team and peer out the front window to see her remaining behind. I already know tonight’s temperature will dip below 28 degrees…and I see that she is pregnant.

Returning to my home that night, I am drained. I cannot get her out of my mind. I am in my nice warm home; she is sleeping on cardboard with a life inside her. I crawl into my bed and pull the blankets over me to keep me warm and she resides in my thoughts as I toss and turn. Never in my life have I been presented with such gut wrenching truth as this. She might as well have been a piece of trash thrown out to the curb for pickup the next day. Oh Father, where is the justice here? You have handed down the indictment on my self-imposed sheltered life, and I am guilty. Guilty of a life that remained calloused and hardened to those who cannot help themselves by my apathy and my indifference. Who was I to judge in my indifference who needs help and who does not? This is not an intellectual discussion any longer, it is real, it is before my eyes, I now have seen it, and I cannot live with myself if I ignore it.

Father, I feel you are telling me this is what you see every day around this home I call earth…and it brings tears to Your eyes to see Your creations treat Your creations with apathy and indifference. To those You have blessed with much, to me, I for too long have hidden my eyes from what You see every second of the day. Now, in love, You have shown me the truth.

Fast forward the following week; Father you see the rain is coming down in arctic sheets. I am not sure if I have ever felt a driving rain this cold. There is a winter storm warning in effect which is very odd in Jackson, Mississippi. All of us, including our homeless friends, are huddled under the small canopy on the loading dock trying to keep warm and dry, but it is impossible when the biting wind and rain is blowing in at unheard of angles. Bob Ford and I head to the van to escape the weather because the canopy is too small to fit everyone under it. Bob tells me in his three years of this street ministry, never has he seen weather this bad. A young homeless person approaches our van. Bob rolls the window down and recognizes him as DeWayne so he steps out into the rain to talk with him. DeWayne asks him for a ride but I do not hear the destination. Apparently DeWayne and his girlfriend Monica walked 3 miles in order to receive help and nourishment. DeWayne climbs into the van and we talk some. Moments later he steps out to get Monica and they both return and climb into the van. I try to talk with Monica, but she is quiet and reserved, and trembling…and she is pregnant.

Their clothes are drenched. They do not have umbrellas because they must travel light. I can feel my jeans becoming saturated as the pools of water stream off Monica and onto the vinyl seat. Somehow the water finds its way to me and like Bounty towels my blue jeans soak it up. We begin driving and I begin thinking, where are they going to go? If they have no shelter, how can we drop them off in this biting rain and cold that will be with them throughout the night? I can’t bear to think of doing this to them. How can we kick them out of this van with friendly goodbyes and live with ourselves? A thought crosses my mind to invite them to my home for the night. The words start to churn inside me but the words churning inside of me are unable to find a voice. The minutes tick by and my conviction to speak grows, but I do not. Instead I remain in agonized silence. Why Father can I not utter the words? Is this not the Holy Spirit speaking in me to reach out? Your words in the Book of Luke tell us the story of a man robbed and beaten and left by the roadside. The beaten man in utter need sees those who can help him, even a priest, simply walk by him unconcerned by his dilemma. Am I to do the same to DeWayne and Monica? As I wrestle with my lack of unanswered risk, we stop in front of not so much a house, but a rundown duplex hut in a downtrodden neighborhood. Dewayne and Monica tell Bob this is where they are staying. Inside me a huge sigh is let out because I no longer have to ask them if they want to stay at my house. If only I had asked though, they would have told me it is ok, they have shelter. But I did not, and my God has searched me out. He has tested my heart and I failed once again. Why O God could I not utter the words?

A couple of days later the answer is revealed. I have given of my goods and money to feed and help the homeless and poor. Father you seemed to say thank you my son for reaching out to those in need with my goods and money, please go further. So I spent time in relationship getting to know those I was coming in contact with and truly learning how I can love them. Once again You seemed to say thank you my son for beginning to learn what it means to love those who are repulsed by many, please go further. At each turn, you Father, show me my unworthiness and yet somehow You do it in love, and Your love is ever patient, for it has to be for someone like me who continues to fail You over and over again. And now I have to look in the water and as Proverbs 27:19 says, “As in water face reflects face, so a man’s heart reveals the man.” My pride is the only reason not to write the following words, but Father you already know me, and there is no turning back for me, only looking forward. Is it not true, I still want to separate their world from my world? I have yet to truly love. Otherwise, why would I not offer to bring DeWayne and Monica into my home, like a son or daughter? At this realization, my heart sinks, my head lowers, and I realize how unworthy I really am to say that I know You…I do not.



Part 2 of 18: A Homeless Awakening

12/13/08… “And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, but have not love, it profits me nothing.” Once again Father your Words show me the way. What a wonderful enlightenment. This passage in 1 Corinthians only revealed to me as I sought to display Your words in action. Following a 2 day fast from food where I asked You to seek me out, You did and You showed me the words in Isaiah 58:8, so I sought with fervor to feed the hungry, to care for those in need, and to help those with afflicted souls. I sought with fervor to love my neighbor but I had no concept of what this really meant; I thought I did, I did not. You showed me the path, the avenue of truth, and You led me to the poor and the homeless, and I took the risk and said yes.

At one point, I bought $200 worth of individual travel size shampoo, toothpaste, deodorant, laundry, and other hygiene products. Father, the cashier at Wal-mart probably wanted to run when she saw me pull up with a shopping cart overflowing with hygiene trinkets; probably enough to “feed” 5,000. But instead of running away, she just smiled, and I just told her I liked to brush my teeth a lot.

Father, another time I bought a cart load of groceries. I lined up the bagels and peanut butter on my kitchen island like a manufacturing conveyor belt, and I proceeded to individually bag a meal for those who were hungry. Other times Father, I took requests from those with no roof, and joyfully proceeded to buy wool socks, heavy jackets, blankets, and winter gloves. My heart was full of joy knowing I was going to be helping those in need.

But then You spoke and in my thoughts You seemed to thank me for striving to follow your Word. You seemed to thank me for my giving heart. But then You seemed to say You wanted to teach me something further. You wanted me to love them.

I respond and say, what do You mean Father? I am not sure I understand. Am I not loving them with my giving heart, with my money, and with my goods. What else is it You desire of me? Then a passage is revealed. Isaiah 58:8 says, “…then your light shall break forth like the morning” and I finally understood. You showed me back to the words in 1 Corinthians 13:3, “And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, but have not love, it profits me nothing.” The greatest commandment of all besides loving You is loving our neighbor, but I cannot love them if I am not in relationship with them. You indeed are showing me how to live the greatest commandment of all; to love a crack addict, to love someone with HIV, to love an ex-con, to love the indigent, to love those who smell bad, to love those who reek of alcohol, to love those who are mentally unstable. But I can only do this if I am in relationship. That means talking to them and getting to know them as real people because when you begin to know someone, that is when love can take root. Oh Father! The truth behind this brings me to my knees.

Part 1 of 18: A Homeless Journey

12/12/08…Oh Father! I want to know who You are, and because of my love for You, I want to do what is on Your heart. And yet, as I study Your truth, I realize it is never-ending and it never stops searching me out. In this regard it has no end. I take one step, pat myself on the back, and You seem to say not enough; please come take two steps and let me show you more of who I am. For it was not long ago that my son and I were on our way to enjoy a vacation, trading our kingdom of comfort for more comfort, fun, and enjoyment. This was at a time I was not following You and as we drove to the airport, we took an off ramp and came to a stop at a red light. To the left of us was a homeless man with a cardboard sign and a cup. He was haggard, lines etched deeply in his face, some remains of teeth, extremely thin, and not all there mentally. As his old wilted hands held out the cup for money, they tremored as if he was in withdrawal. Over the course of my life, I have passed by hundreds of homeless people and beggars and never thought twice about stopping to help them, but this time it was different. And what burns in me to this day is him; a haunting memory of my inaction. I really wanted to hand him some money but I did not. I did not want to be ridiculed. There was a suggestion from others in my car besides me and my son that this man should get a job but this man was in no way, shape, or form capable of holding a steady job. This much I knew and yet I did nothing, paralyzed by lack of compassion and caring too much about what others would think of me if I did help. Just then, the light changes to green, and I let out a sigh of relief to remove myself from this spotlight as I push the gas pedal, but as much as I push down the gas pedal in order to gain distance, I cannot drive far enough from this memory; it clings itself to me like one of those Bounce Clothe fresheners.

Fast forward three years, two years since returning to You and I think about how much You are using me to help others and lift them up. I think of how far I have come in my compassion yet I am wrong, so wrong. On a trip to see a friend, I go there to celebrate a birthday. So he, his wife, and two of my other friends pile into a car and head to the big city to celebrate. We will spend money and enjoy a great meal and entertainment at an upscale and trendy restaurant. On our way there, for some reason our conversation steers towards homeless beggars. In a great debate we discuss giving money to the roadside beggars and our struggles in knowing if it is the right thing to do. Soon the discussion turns to the intent of the beggar. One judges the intent, one says it is a scam, one is scared to step out, and me I say it is the purity of our action when handing someone money that God judges us on. It is not up to us to judge the circumstance. I am quite proud of myself for exhibiting Christ in me and my friends seem to take notice. I pat myself on my back. Thirty minutes later we take an off ramp as we enter the city and we come to a stoplight. To the left of us is a beggar with a cardboard sign and a cup. All of a sudden I am paralyzed. Something in me says get out of the car, walk over to him, and hand him all of my money, $80 worth. I don’t. The seconds tick by in excruciating pain. Oh for the love of all that is good, please red light change to green and press down on the gas pedal. All of us try to pretend not to notice him by immersing ourselves in conversation. The light finally turns green and the gas pedal is pushed. Moments later it hits me, I can’t believe I just failed You again! You’ve got to be kidding me. How could I fail again? Is it not true I was scared of what my friends would think of me? I was thinking this beggar doesn’t look like he needs it, he is plump, seems in good shape, my friends are going to laugh at me because this guy has ripped me off. And yet what I realize is I had the greatest opportunity to glorify You in action, not in words, and I failed miserably.

After the weekend, I begin the long drive back home. Oh Father, please give me another chance. I say this over and over again for six long hours in my car. Father just give me another chance, please. I won’t fail You again.

Weeks later, after visiting with my fourteen year old son in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, my ex-wife and my son are driving me to the airport to fly back home. The conversations I had with my son earlier in the weekend centered around helping those less fortunate than us and that money is really not that important. As we near the airport, what else happens but we pull up to a red light. To the left of us is a beggar with a cardboard sign and a cup. In all the times I visited my son this year I have never seen a beggar at this intersection, ever. Something in me stirs to get out of the car, walk over to him, give him $20, and pray for him, but we are two lanes over, what if the light turns green? I tell myself there is not enough time. Besides he looks like he doesn’t need it. What are they going to think of me if I do this? Pretty soon my excuses delay me long enough for the light to turn green and the gas pedal is pushed. Moments later, I absolutely cannot believe I did it again. A perfect opportunity to show who Christ is in me to my son and my ex-wife, in action, not in words and once again I fail. I am now laughing at myself because if I don’t I will want to stick a knife in me and put me out of my misery. Father, please just one more chance, please, I beg You, I am so sorry; I could have done so much good for You and shown others Your glory in me. I could have shown them the city on a hill, the light in the lamp post, the salt of the earth, and I failed. I can’t believe I just failed again. Oh my Father! I am so pitiful. I beg of You, please, just one more chance.

Three weeks later, the same intersection and by now you know the story. Yes to the left of us a beggar with a cardboard sign and a cup. Father, seriously, just kill me, what good am I to You?

By now I have stopped asking for another chance but here is where God shows His never-ending redemptive love. No matter how many times I fail Him, He simply picks me up, dusts me off, and points me down the path of truth once again. He knows I am trying to passionately follow Him and He does not give up. I could fail 500 times, I could pull up to an intersection with a red light and fail over and over again, but as long as I am pursuing Him, He will not let me fail. Weeks later, in a random conversation with my neighbor Bob, where by the way I bothered to interrupt my work-out walk and spend some time in relationship, Bob mentions he goes downtown every Wednesday to minister to the homeless. Inside I am speechless. What are the odds my neighbor across the street is involved in a homeless ministry? If I laid a wager on this in Vegas, I would be a filthy rich man. I suddenly blurt out, “Can I come with you this Wednesday?” Bob says, “Sure.” Since that day, I have joined the Jackson Street Ministry driving around the crime ridden city streets looking for those with cardboard signs and a cup. How can I understand a love like this? My Redeemer, You never quit on me, You never gave up.



The Whirlpool Galaxy

12/11/08…The universe, one verse, is you oh God. My desire is for You, I reach out my arms towards You, laughing, spinning, dancing in my soul. My feet hop onto Your oxygen and I hang 10 through the atmosphere. Looking back and laughing I see the planet Earth fading from view as I leave the last traces of the Milky Way in my wake towards You. Yes, with all my heart I sing praise, “I have decided to follow Jesus, I have decided to follow Jesus, I have decided to follow Jesus, no turning back, no turning back”…I grin from ear to ear as I pass by the Supergiant Star Monocerotis and its supergiant light echoes back to me with praise of You. I struggle to gain my balance by bending my knees and balancing myself with my arms. Your beauty is so wonderfully distracting…

I feel space flowing through my gray hair betraying my years. Over and over again I blink my eyes trying to return moisture as the artificially created wind dries them out. After 30 million light years I see my destination faintly before me…an image taken by a man-made telescope by astronomers whom You gifted. This marvel of a telescope, the Hubble, is one of the greatest inventions made by man. Oh but you God, show us the marvel and humbly bring us to our knees at Your majesty because we make telescopes, You make galaxies. In denial, NASA calls it the X structure in the Whirlpool Galaxy. It looks like anything but an X. I arrive and in wonder I hang in mid-air and look before me. In awe before Your spectacle, my voice is lost, tears form in my eyes, and my breath abandons me. I stand amazed. My eyes rise as I bask in the blue light of my Jesus. I am dwarfed, barely to be seen, in the glow of a cross so big and beautiful its height is only measured by a number not yet created by man. The only thing I am able to do is slowly raise my arms above my head and turn my palms up to the majesty of the cross before me. All because of Your love, in devotion I sing, “the cross befoooore meee, the world behiiiind meee, the cross befoooore meee, the world behiiiind meee, the cross befoooore meee, the world behiiiind meee, no turning back, no turning back”…

A humble prayer to all of God’s daughters…

12/10/08…Father… Your breathed words to those who nourish life, “Do not let your adornment be merely outward ”…oh how as a man I want them to understand the beauty of this passage…they are a mystery to me, awaiting discovery, and a seeking of a treasure that is ever elusive, but so much worth the pursuit… is this not why You created them?... is this not a reflection of You, who You are, a mystery, but worth the pursuit…and You give me, a man, a taste of who You are in a woman… so I pursue, sometimes with reckless abandon, these wonderful treasures...but Father, with time I now see a woman differently…I may see the outside first but as a pursuer of You I quickly look to the inside…yes, I see the adornment on the outside, how can a man not notice the outward beauty of a woman…but I now look at them to see if they have “the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of You ”…whenever I cross paths with a gilded flower such as this, I immediately notice a radiance and joy emanating from them…

I have seen women who look to You as duty or obligation, it is never a pleasant sight to see…I have seen women who are lukewarm toward You, and in turn my heart breaks for them knowing the chains that bind their heart, and instead of a radiating joy, there is only a bath of water, not warm enough to draw others to them…And Father I have seen one, who in flawed pursuit, still passionately pursues You…and it is so refreshing …this is where, dare I say, a woman’s sexiness comes from…the glow covers up whatever perceived flaws she thinks she has, weight, cellulite, even a bad hair day…how can I help them understand the truth in this?...when she is looking to You, it is the purest form of the pouring out of love that there is…Your water nourishes her, and she sprouts from a weed into a brilliant tenebrosa orchid…

And as a man, this is the beauty that draws me to her, and lo I am drawn to be her water…

Oh up High I feel so Alive

12/9/08…My gait is slow and labored but I keep walking, one foot in front of the other. My eye is full of darkness so I doubt my next step. The only thing I know to do though is take another step…and another step, and another step. What else am I to do but take another step. I continue on into the cold starlit night. My path is only illuminated by the occasional streetlight. As I walk, my thoughts turn to words of comfort, words from a friend back in Tennessee who understands me. And somehow the sensation of vibrations travels the length of a cord to my ear, and I hear triumphantly “I am free to run!” I slowly break out into a run, I lift my arms to heaven, and a smile as large as Guitar-Man crosses my face.

“Oh up High I feel so alive, so alive for the very first time.”

Paradox of Obedience

12/8/08…Father, as I pondered the paradox of obedience, You pointed me to Your passage in Matthew. Unbelievably I turned right to it as I randomly flipped the pages of Your Word and started reading the temptation of Christ three times by the Devil. What immediately struck me were the opening Words, “Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.”…What!? I say incredulously! You intentionally had Your Spirit lead Him into temptation. Why? Why would You do this to Your Son? Was there intent here? Did You deliberately want to test Him? Yes, I understand there are other meanings to this passage, but what strikes me in this moment is the intent, and the words “Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted.”

Everything Christ experienced was experienced in human form so vessels like me could relate to Him and understand His perfection even in the midst of temptation. He is my living example as a human. But I am now wondering if what the Spirit did to Him, will it do to me likewise, otherwise why bother including this story in Your Word? At times, will you be leading me into temptation? Is this truth? Is it true Your Spirit will act on Your behalf and actually!! direct me so I can be tempted? If so, that doesn’t seem quite fair. It is not like apples to apples, it is apples to oranges…Christ to Greg, ughhh, I even hate writing my name next to Your Son’s…that is apples to rotten oranges, by no means is that apples to apples. I don’t stand a chance…

And so Father, I heard Your messenger this Sunday talk of obedience, once again…but how do I reconcile this? Your messenger talks of obedience as if now that the words are uttered, his hands are wiped clean of the matter, and time to move on to the next topic…but hold on, wait a minute. Your Word dare I say, demands obedience, but You say, or is it You know, we are not going to be obedient. That is why You sent Your Son to die for me is it not? I understand grace but this paradox of obedience continues to haunt me. Father, are You not saying, be obedient, and yet You know I will not be obedient. Once again, be obedient, but You know I will not be obedient…and for good measure You may, with intent, allow temptation in my path. And since I am not Christ, You already know I will probably fail. Father, I almost have to laugh at this, it is maddening in so many ways, which I know You understand. My only hope is in You. Please forgive me. Thank You for Your Son dying on the cross for my continued disobedience. Thank You for Christmas and helping me remember it is about celebrating His birth, it is about celebrating forgiveness, and it is about celebrating an apple to a rotten orange…

God is Disappointed in You

12/5/08…There is a battle raging in me. The Holy Spirit has taken up arms. He intends to win. The closer I have drawn to my Lord, my Savior, my God, the more I have been attacked, in ways unimaginable to me. Who else but Satan would be involved in this lie told to me? A lie told by a person that cuts to the core when the words are, “God is disappointed in you.” Yes I know it is a lie, given to me by the father of all lies but the battle has raged for weeks on end. At first with me pretending the words did not cut deep…but then later, weeks later, I realized they reached the mark Satan had intended it to reach and all those demons from my teenage years and why I drifted resurfacing. So the Holy Spirit has taken up arms on behalf of me…for who else is fighting for me, when I have all but laid down my Bible for three weeks, and stopped praying, and stopped listening. It is a war of attrition in the spiritual realm I cannot see, or touch, or hear, but somehow I can feel. And every temptation thrown my way is presented so I can reinforce that I am a disappointment to God. And yet I know I am not, but how do I rid myself of this thought that has haunted me every single day for weeks on end. When I least expect it, it crosses my mind and I give in to a temptation versus going to my Father. But He has not forsaken me, instead He is fighting for me. He knows there is too much good, and too much glory, for Satan to win…

Tonight I feel stronger, I can feel the battle being waged inside my soul, and for the first time I can feel Him winning. And all the while God continues to show me where the true battlefront is…for those who are sleeping tonight on a concrete slab with cardboard as their bed. For Douglas who is huddled in his dented green car trying to keep warm. To Alma who is fresh out of prison, facing a son up for murder charges, and a daughter who has been raped. For Vanda who is unable to kick her drug habit. For Jamie who is a crack addict. For Priscilla who has HIV. For Byrd whose only request of me was for a winter coat to keep warm. These are the ones whom Satan is having his way with. So I know my Father has put on his armor, and He is in me fighting as a warrior to kick the father of all lies out of me once and for all…so He can use me to do good and glorify Him. For my God is strong enough to split boulders in two with the touch of His pinkie. My God breathes dust and spits it out creating a fire breathing Sun. My God sighs and smites the evil of nations. My God is a warrior who fights for His redeemed. With the palm of His hand, my God can press down Mount Everest into a pile of dust. Who are you Satan to fight my God!? My God will win because my God is a warrior fighting for me on my behalf and His Son has said to you, “Get thee behind me Satan!”

Poor in Spirit...Am I?

10/05/08…Oh, Christ Jesus, my Savior…I think I understand Your beatitude, “Blessed are those who are poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” I never knew its truth before this pursuit of You. My spirit feels poor. Through Your holy truth, my spirit grieves. It is unable to completely let go of creature comforts, and to take everything I own and lay it before You; to store up no treasure here on earth, and instead, focus on feeding the hungry, and helping the poor. If my soul can cry, then its tears are staining my heart. They are coming down in slow drips, a slow torture. One drop at a time, reminding me every three seconds of my inability to drop it all and follow You in reckless passionate pursuit. This beckoning truth weighs heavy on my shoulders. I am unable to shoulder it alone. What am I to do? You ask nothing of me, but me, yet I am so in love with You I want to follow You so bad, it hurts me, and in turn my spirit indeed grieves. Is this what it means to be poor in spirit? I realize the unworthiness of following You. I say one thing, I do another. Were this body garbage, I would throw it in a landfill and cover it up with the stinking refuse and then let the birds pick at it so at least they gain some nourishment from me.

Untitled

10/02/08...Let me Praise You. Thank You. My soul grieves for Your Son to return. This life has nothing to offer me. The only sweetness is pointing others toward You. Father, I thank You for showing me You, for convicting my soul to pursue Your treasures. In You I have found my life. When I hear others talk about pursuing earthly treasures apart from Your Glory, it ails me. My ears become numb, my eyes gloss over, my indifference slaps them. It no longer impresses me…it no longer stirs envy.

Trapped in a Hunk of Metal

10/02/08...Father, my ears are numb to their talk, yet I have nowhere to go. I sit here in this backseat and I listen to hour after hour of wasted words, and wasted lives. There is nothing for me to say because their hearts are hardened toward You. Only You can save them. I wonder in thought. They talk about blowjobs, they talk about strip clubs, they talk about their money, they racially slur others, they talk about their self-indulgent adventures. Hour after hour, nothing but self. The numbing talk lasts for six hours straight and I am trapped in the backseat of this riding hunk of metal. They even talk about going to church. I am not sure how you talk about the enjoyments of being at a strip club in one sentence and literally talk about going to church in the next sentence. There is no shame, or guilt, or the slightest bit of remorse in the conversation transition. How Your ears must burn. Mine, well they are just numb. I am contemplating the merits of jumping out of a car doing 85 mph. Surely, a couple of broken bones and abhorrent road rash can’t be as bad as sitting here continuing to listen to this. I mean I would speak up but what do you do when you realize there is absolutely no use.

Is this how You feel towards those who have turned from You? At the point they will not turn to You, I wonder if You stop trying, and according to Your Word, You let them wallow in their mud. You say, here, You want this world, it is yours, enjoy. And I think back to my life just a short time ago. Was I not the same as they, maybe not to the same degree, but Father you do not judge us on degrees do you?

Proverbs 1:28-31

Then they will call on me, but I will not answer;

They will seek me diligently, but they will not find me.

Because they hated knowledge

And did not choose the fear of the LORD,

They would have none of my counsel

And despised my every rebuke.

Therefore they shall eat the fruit of their own way,

And be filled to the full with their own fancies.

And yet, Father, You still never let go of me...

My Words

9/21/08...Father, is this not true? Am I not romancing You? I write words, I pour out my heart, I seek You, I am in pursuit of You…like a horse, I have blinders on so I can see nothing else ahead of me but You. Is this not romance? The pursuit of a lover. Time no longer matters. I neglect every selfish desire just so I can pursue You more…for just one glance, or one brief encounter. You woo me. You draw me closer to You, to pursue. My Bridegroom, I yearn and long for one small kiss of glory, of truth, in You. My life is consumed and irrational. You desire not candy, or flowers, or a diamond ring. Instead this is the romance you desire…all of me, nothing held back. A realization that You are the only One worth pursuing. A realization that You are precious, and to be treasured, and to be glorified. A willingness for me to show public displays of affection. A willingness to forego humiliation and embarrassment because I no longer care what others think of me…I only think of You. You woo me and I do pursue You like a lover. My words are my romance to You, for You…nothing held back.

Desire and Delight

9/21/08...Father, I know You planted the knowing of You in my mind…this desire to seek You, to worship You, to know You as my Father. Do you not delight in this, in knowing I am seeking You in this reckless pursuit of passion. Sometimes I feel my pursuit of You is like a wreck, a 16 car pileup on the highway of life. Do I need to renew my driver’s license in this pursuit? Do I need to learn how to parallel park before I get on the Autobahn? My pursuit of You is a wreck, in all its glorious u-turns, dead ends, merges, and reroutes…yet do you not delight in knowing this, knowing that this desire in me for You is so great, I am willing to throw caution to the wind and just go for it. Or, would You rather me wait for You, staying under the 25 mph school zone limit, lest You give me a ticket? Because I have to tell You Father, staying under the 25 mph school zone limit is very hard to do…I just want to stomp on the accelerator.

…and Father, now that I have spoken about desire, let’s talk a little about delight. What about my soggy cereal? You see me every morning, get up, half asleep in the early dawn hours, and fix my bowl of bran cereal. I let it sit in the milk while I take my shower, only to return sometime later and, while still half asleep, cheerfully proceed to place spoonfuls of the mush in my mouth. Who planted this delight in me, for soggy cereal? I know You planted the desire in me to know You but what about this delight? It’s a little troubling. Once my friends find this out about me, they may think of me a little differently. Do You take delight in knowing this is my delight? Why did You plant this in my chromosomes, my DNA? After all, I assume one of those chromosomes got a little out of whack to plant this delight in me, this penchant for soggy cereal. How can anyone live with someone who likes soggy cereal? It really is kind of disgusting.

…and so Father, this wraps up my time alone with You this morning, I hope it was time well spent, in both desire and delight in You.

The Book

9/07/10...I have spent three years writing a book. Most of the writing took place between years one and two. Very few, thus far, have read the book. Of those who have, the reviews have ranged from the North Pole to the South Pole. Some were encouraged by what I wrote and I was taken aback by just how much. Some said nothing to what I wrote of which is fine (actually it’s not, I really want to hear how good it is…continue reading). However, the part that is troubling is a few were hurt by some of what I wrote, of which is not fine and this response completely took me by surprise. How can something I wrote with every intention of glorifying God end up hurting someone? I guess in my naiveté, I made the false assumption that anything done in the spirit of glorifying God would only create good in others lives. Apparently, for a myriad of reasons, which by the way can be found in the Bible, this may not always be the case.

So what do I do with this book? I can delete it from my computer and forever it will be gone. Clearly the book seemed to offer encouragement to some and to a degree that I never could have foreseen, so if I delete it, is God going to look at me and say why did I not use the talent (referencing the parable) he gave me. Or I can continue to edit and revise trying to take out the parts that could offend, or cause hurt, or cause division, or cause anger, or…or…or. I am afraid if I follow this path, there will not be much left to the book. Already, I have edited and rewritten to the point my eyes are crossing.

This is the other thought that is troubling to me. What I wrote, I wrote to glorify God. At least, initially. Later, not so sure. Were my motives all pure? I was humbled to hear a respected pastor whom I know personally and who to me is a shining example of a walk with Christ, tell a mutual friend, that he does not think he has ever had a pure motive in his life regarding his service to God. Talk about an eye opener. As I told my friend, if there is no hope with this Christian, then how can there be any hope for us. Alas, I realize he puts on his pants the same way as my friend and I.

Our human nature seeks glory on earth, affirmation from others that we matter, and a whole host of self-serving motives. Even in the times we start out pure, these little irritants crop up and all of a sudden we enjoy the attention and the accolades and the recognition from our good works. Yes, we want our reward in heaven but dadgoneit, how can we be sure there is a reward? Why can’t we go ahead and enjoy the earthly reward as well. Ahhh…back to our instant gratification. The motive that gets me into trouble all the time.

Do we keep our good work silent before others and only bask in the coming reward in heaven? To what extent does this silence glorify God? What is considered silence, in other words how do we define silence or better yet, when do we restrict our spiritual talents? Some say there are easy answers to these questions, but God tells me in Jeremiah my heart is above all deceitful, so I would say be careful of listening to easy answers. Or do we spread our good works (I am making the assumption now that they are good) in the hopes of touching other lives. Do we bask in knowing the greater reward awaiting us if this happens? I think it goes back to the title of my book, Expect Nothing Expect Everything. Go before God expecting nothing because all power is in Him, not ourselves. However, let our faith speak to the other side of this and expect everything, because as our Father in heaven, He is capable of all. All blessings flow from Him, not ourselves.

So back to my dilemma? What do I do with the book? I guess the decision I have come to is to let go and take this next step expecting nothing, and yet hoping for an undefined everything. I humbly am letting go of the last three years of my life writing this book, hoping somehow it can do good in others lives, and hoping somehow that there is nothing in there that will cause the exact opposite intention. I am humbled to know this may not be the case. I am also humbled to know that my motives may not be all pure as I once thought.

Father, in the end you know my heart. Let this do good if it is Your will to let it do good. If there is not good here to glorify You, then let it fall on deaf ears. If there is criticism directed at me, let me lay it at Your feet knowing I did the best I could. Forgive this flawed vessel who still seeks the earthly more than he does the heavenly. I am nothing in Your sight and forgive me for at times not loving You with all my heart and soul. To You goes all glory. Amen.

So Little Time to Glorify...

1/15/08...The snowflakes fall, tenderly, oh so gently from the sky. Each one has its own path, sometimes wistfully blown by the wind, but eventually all end up resting on the earth. These little crystal structures were created in the space towards heaven, and yet their little lives are so brief. After being born so high up in the clouds, they glorify God as they slowly tumble down to the earth. With impending finality, they also know when they come to rest, they will melt. Yes, their little lives are so brief here…so little time to glorify. Somehow though, because of grace, our Father loves each and every one of them as they complete their meandering journey…and gently melt in His arms.