Thursday, May 28

God's Will....not dependent on ours....

"I am the vine, you are the branches. The one who abides in me while I abide in him produces much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing." (John 15:5 ISV)

I've rejoined the Men's group that I had originally quit to answer the need in the Awana's program (children's ministry at The River). They are studying the book by Henry T. Blackaby and Claude V. King called "Experiencing God: Knowing and doing the Will of God." This study was previously done by the women's group that my friend Cherie attended and in which I saw steady, definable growth by her in her walk. She asked me what I hoped to discover taking such a 'basic' course, a compliment to my spiritual knowledge I guess. I told her, this is the only way to establish relationships that will enable me to create my own bible study group, at least by church philosophy. I finally received the study book and started on it to 'catch up' to the group.

We equate spiritual strength and vitality with wisdom. The wisdom that is reflected in a 'spiritual' walk...i.e. church attendance, social repentance and the shadowy land of 'good fruit'. If you struggle, well it must be because you're not repentant, not being spiritual or -horror of all horrors, unsaved. God is good, and promises the world for us...prosperity, victory and happiness. Therefore, you're not taking ahold of God's promises if you're none of those things. The poor of this world must not be following God, the defeated of the world must not know God's grace and those who aren't happy must not be realizing the joy of the LORD. If we pray for God's will in our lives, and are met with silence…then we must either not be willing to listen or praying the 'right' prayer. We must have a 12-step, an action plan or the vision of a grand campus in which all the ministries we are enticed by can be gathered into one location….or we must not be in God's will for our lives. As I've been told in my quest to answer the call God's placed upon me…one that I thought was simply to function as a 'mouthpiece' for Him….but is so much more (and nothing like I would believe it would/should be); God will provide, if you are indeed anointed to His calling.

Blackaby/King's book is an opportunity for me to slack the sails and let the ship slow down a bit…so that God, walking with me in the midst of this journey, can get a few paces ahead so that I can see the fullness of what He has given me of Himself so far. The authors hit you right in the eyes in the first few pages: "What is God's will for my life? -- is not the right question. I think the right question is, What is God's will?" Dr. Gaines S. Dobbins, a seminary professor the author learned under, is quoted. "If you ask the wrong question, you are going to get the wrong answer." If we want to know God's will, we cannot conform it to the narrow view of our life but must look at God's will and bring ourselves into conformance with it so we can experience God.

Most Christians want instant solutions to the problems they present to their congregational friends, pastor and fellow believers. A child's death should be experienced in the context of the unknown, rather than sitting in the sorrow and grief. A financial burden, well…financial stewardship must be implemented or else assistance won't be forthcoming. The recurrence of sin; you must not be accountable enough or must not be truly repentant. Few stand reflective of the example set by Jesus and what one of my mentors, Scott Engelman, calls a "wise elder". A Christian with passionate convictions about God, His people and this life that come from biblical revelation who moves in wise, powerful and sensitive ways into other people's lives with a godly vision of spiritual maturity with implications of possible continuing struggles with the problems experienced in those lives. The focus is always on God, not our lives or the life problems of others, but what God is doing and how experiences, circumstances and spiritual maturity will look are being used for God's purpose and plan. "What is God doing?" Scott would say. As Blackaby/King ask, are we as the body of Christ, ready to go forward without a clear idea of what God's will ultimately will look like? Or do we require a step-by-step description of what going forward in God's will ultimately will look like? One way relies on God's eyesight, the other our own.

God calls us to an intimate and personal relationship with Him, not for our own gratification or prosperity, but solely for the purposes to which we were created, purposed and are designed for by His own hand. Through the experience of being in the Word, living a life absent of agenda (i.e. this is what I need to be comfortable now) and pursuing God, we find ourselves confronted with our selfishness and protective old nature..coaxed into demanding recognition by the enemy who's only avenue left for our disillusionment is to demand God give us His promises in the context of our own reality. The children never die, finances are always on track and God sends us only where we want to go with a itinerary of what is going to be accomplished.

We want to live our lives under God's protection in the ways we can look without effort for His hand in it. We subject our will to His, as long as it is convenient and we know what He will do with it.

Leonardo da Vinci, who is known as an excellent painter, sculptor, poet, architect, engineer, city planner, scientist, inventor, anatomist, military genius, and philosopher said:

"Every now and then go away, have a little relaxation, for when you come back to your work your judgment will be surer, since to remain constantly at work will cause you to lose power of judgment…Go some distance away because then the work appears smaller, and more of it can be taken in at a glance, and lack of harmony or proportion more readily seen."

Sometimes in that pursuit of knowing God, we have to stop and take stock of what we've learned….in essence, allow God to get a bit ahead of us (not out of sight, but where we can see the fullness of what He's shown us so far). The corrupted old nature still sways and pulls us, redeemed sinners, into paths and degrees of error that can only be realized when we stop and check for a course correction. Granted, if we only kept our eyes on the compass….i.e. God….we wouldn't have to fear such deviations….but we don't, even the 'most' spiritual of us and only a few degrees of error, over time, can lead to disastrous course variations in our journey towards home and the pursuit of God.

It is when we are still in the water, the sails limp upon the masthead and the waves rocking the deck beneath our feet (whether gently or violently) is when we approach our understanding of God, and that intimate relationship, the closest. And we realize that some of the tasks, the assignments and even directions that God beckoned us to join Him in don't seem logical or even worthwhile when He first spoke but in the fullness of the journey, we can see the wisdom of His plan. Too many times, though, we refuse to go without a logical explanation detailing the design and wisdom of God. We speak our dogma with such requirement, we seek out our teachers who can espouse it in our language and 'correct' our scriptural understanding to fit God's word into our demandedness.

Abraham, having the fulfilled promise God made him in Isaac, was told by God to take him to "a mountain" in the Moriah region so he could be a burnt offering. God didn't even tell Abraham which mountain, only that it would be 'one….I will tell you about." (Genesis 22:2) Abraham didn't have the guarantee that things would end the way they did….God didn't provide such information to him. Obedience without cost is easy and empty, for there is no faith engaged in such obedience that doesn't require us to believe in the illogical. So much of the 'basics' are easily understood, but when we get into the depth and width of God….the logic is hidden from us, just over the horizon.

It is when God calls us to join Him in the impossible, the incalculable and the unknowable that obedience becomes a walk of faith….a willingness to walk into the furnace that kills even the tenders….to journey the desert for forty years following a cloud by day and pillar of fire by night…or even to journey into the darkness and sorrow of our past to give witness and voice to that which we would deny and are certain means death. Obedience born of faith that seems illogical, that carries impossibly heavy cost (even the cost of a promise God has given) or is so beyond what we consider to be our 'calling' is were God walks closest to us because we live through that faith….a faith that believes God can kill all our dreams, remove all our promises and blessings but that He also has the power to resurrect them, restore them and fulfill them.

We have to face that which is our most deepest fear, journey back into the timeless pain of a chaotic and troubling childhood to face those giants that stand in the way of God's victorious mercy. Why doesn't God just heal us without that accounting? Without reliance upon God to face those giants, we will equip ourselves with the armor of our choosing and find ourselves ill-fitted to journey alongside our brethren in their struggles. We become counterproductive to the cause of the Kingdom and ineffective in the Potter's hands.

Paul tells us that we should 'rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us." (Romans 5:3-5) In the times to come, whether facing the giants of our past, dealing with the human tendency of self in our dealings inside and outside the family of God or even growing closer to God in the intimate relationship of His will and our lives; we will need faith tested that has persevered to the point of unshakeable and undeniable hope. For in the end of all things, hope is all we have left.

God calls us to bring our garbage to Him for disposal. To be burned in the righteousness of His forgiveness, cleansed by His grace and redeemed by His mercy. Not so that we can live a life prosperous by the standards of the world; wealth, health and glory but so that we can more clearly see a God who defies all understanding and is more powerful that the most complex of our problems. So that we can reflect to a darkened world a light that is unworldly, simplistic and clear by living a life that is illogical in the face of our wounds, our situations and our circumstances.

In a kingdom long ago, there was a murder committed in the light of day. A King killed his beloved son, the literal image-bearer of his face to whom he found displeasure for the apparent handicaps of his wisdom, knowledge and vitality. No justification could or has been given for this murdering, no accounting has been given for its commission. One of the perpetrators of this dastardly deed has walked into the ultimate judgment and another still wanders the worldly hallways of dark freedom….yet the crime must be attributed and assignment of guilt given. God mourns the loss of that beloved son and wants to bring resurrection, restoration and purposed joy to the corpse of that son that still wanders the world….

An illogical trip into the darkness of my childhood is where God whispers to me to go; to journey into the void created and to find that beloved son, without a promise of victory and a proclamation of healing…..but I have faith that God can take me into that place and that He can resurrect that lost child for the promotion of His glory.

Saturday, May 23

Refreshed for the journey....

"[Elijah] then walked another whole day into the desert. Finally, he came to a large bush and sat down in its shade. He begged the LORD, "I've had enough. Just let me die! I'm no better off than my ancestors." Then he lay down in the shade and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel woke him up and said, "Get up and eat." Elijah looked around, and by his head was a jar of water and some baked bread. He sat up, ate and drank, then lay down and went back to sleep. Soon the LORD's angel woke him again and said, "Get up and eat, or else you'll get too tired to travel." So Elijah sat up and ate and drank. The food and water made him strong enough to walk forty more days. At last, he reached Mount Sinai, the mountain of God, and he spent the night there in a cave. While Elijah was on Mount Sinai, the LORD asked, "Elijah, why are you here?" He answered, "LORD God All-Powerful, I've always done my best to obey you. But your people have broken their solemn promise to you. They have torn down your altars and killed all your prophets, except me. And now they are even trying to kill me!" "Go out and stand on the mountain," the LORD replied. "I want you to see me when I pass by." All at once, a strong wind shook the mountain and shattered the rocks. But the LORD was not in the wind. Next, there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. Then there was a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. Finally, there was a gentle breeze, and when Elijah heard it, he covered his face with his coat. He went out and stood at the entrance to the cave. The LORD asked, "Elijah, why are you here?" Elijah answered, "LORD God All-Powerful, I've always done my best to obey you. But your people have broken their solemn promise to you. They have torn down your altars and killed all your prophets, except me. And now they are even trying to kill me!" The LORD said: Elijah, you can go back to the desert near Damascus. And when you get there, appoint Hazael to be king of Syria. Then appoint Jehu son of Nimshi to be king of Israel, and Elisha son of Shaphat to take your place as my prophet. Hazael will start killing the people who worship Baal. Jehu will kill those who escape from Hazael, and Elisha will kill those who escape from Jehu. But seven thousand Israelites have refused to worship Baal, and they will live." (1 Kings 19:4-18 CEV)

Elijah, one of the great prophets of Israel's history, who followed in the footsteps of one seemingly even mightier than he was, was finished.....the road of following God's purpose defeating him and bringing his own humanity into death's grip. So he ran.....as far and as fast as he could until exhaustion seemed to overtake him and he fell asleep under the shade of a tree, his mind shutting down from the stress of what he was running from. God, nothing more than the confrontation that God was bringing by Elijah's prophecying. God is a pretty mighty foe to run from. He had reached the 'breaking point' of his humanity and wanted it finished, over with. Elijah and I are soul brothers in this feeling.

The nails are removed from the boards that I had sealed the door to that childhood home I once 'lived' in human terms but where my spirit, in Christ's terms (or Eldridge's terms), died at the hand of the despot ruler of the kingdom contained within the walls of the Wormer home......that is where the atrocities of the King happened....the apartment in Ferndale on the street off of Woodward where he served as a landlord tenant still stands but there is only one of the happy memories of my mother...that short fiery woman of Polish descent....stirring a big shiny pot on the stove in the tiny kitchen and an innocent little boy asking shyly what she was cooking and her response that was made in jest but had frightened that little one so bad he didn't want to eat it....."My witch's brew". The shock and guilt that flashed across her face when she realized the fear that it caused was one of the many faces that her love showed in the years that I was blessed to have her in my life.

The giants pound on the walls of that house on Wormer, in the shadow of St. Paul's monastary, as if they can smell the very blood that flows in my veins and remember the delicious taste of my young soul....wanting it more, since they haven't been fed in years and years since I've nailed the door shut and tried my best to make the vision of the King's prophecies come true. I shake with a fear that comes from the core of my being....sweat from the incredible heat that seems to consume even the sweet air of the Lord's gifting of the Counselor making my body try and regulate my body's overheating condition. The knob in my hand, to the front door on that little porch that was in front of the house, seems to turn against my will...my hand is actually straining to keep it closed..."Oh, tried it," I'd say, "but it was locked up tight. So sorry Lord." It opens, the creaking reaching down into my soul with naily barbs to run fresh wounding jagged lines into the depth of my soul. I can imagine the depth of Christ's cry when His Heavenly Father had to turn His back on Him....the despair that formed the words, "My God, My God! Why have you forsaken Me!"

The darkness is total, though the sun is high in the sky...nothing prenetrates the soul of this house. Nothing good, at least. What is God doing in this place, why must I travel the roads that are best forgotten and erased? To face my father is to face myself, to find accountability for his actions and inactions to hold myself to account for those actions, for I share too much of him to disassociate myself even if I could try. The door is open.....and I am of Elijah's "Kill me, I''ve had enough!"

I don't want to go in; to face the reaction of the man who hated so much the curse of having a son who looked like him but was so much 'weaker' than he would ever be or ever was. A boy who was prone to 'daydreaming' because there could be no illness in his family...from his seed. Even when the epliepsy was diagnosed, after I fell off the kitchen table and bit off my tongue (or at least bit it badly)....it was unacceptable for him. It would set the tone for our relationship all of my life, until the week before he died of a massive heart explosion (doctor's words). I told him that I had given up on trying to please him and be like him, and of hating him for seeing his face in the mirror each morning.....I had come to bury the hatchet. He seemed surprised that I would ever think that he would be disappointed in me. Apparently the life I led was as much a mystery to him as it was to me in that childhood; a father divorced from his family for the sake of work....classic Lewis. But, an accounting was never given and so resolution and redemption never obtained. A week later, my sister called with the news.

"These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world." John 16:33

I fear to face those giants contained within these walls; the images haunting my sleep and my waking hours, yet Christ overcame the world and therefore I have within me, as kinsmen, the same ability.

But God knows me so well and knows this journey home is impossible without Him and even then, it will have to stretch my faith and my relationship with Him to new depths. He knows the journey ahead into the darkened depths of this house will cost me in strength, pain and anguish...so He gives me the grace to refresh at each turn, each discovery, to come to a place where an accounting is given, responsibility assigned and then healing through the forgiveness of a absent father who created a ghost son can be more real and encompassing that it was before. He promises me, and so I refresh before I enter.

"When we choose to believe the promises of God, we will have the strength to endure all the broken promises of the world." Teresa Ortiz tells us in her blog, "If we set our hearts and minds on heavenly things – Knowing and loving God by studying His word, and loving people, He promises to walk with us through our trials – or carry us when we can no longer stand."

God has shown me, in the end of this journey, what prizes He has for me to give; the ability to walk into the darkness of another's soul and sit within with them speaking God's love, provision, and strength until they too obtain that which God has brought them to get and freedom from sin, from humanly assigned purposes and from the past are realized under the flowing water of Christ's sacrifice. This is the taste of heaven we can have on earth.

This is the song He has begun to teach me in the gathering darkness of the past, as a journey into its depths is begun and the end of it comes into sight....to sing, to praise and to worship the I AM in the blessings of His friendship, His love and His promises. For when I walk into the purpose to which He calls me, these things I will need to know in the depth of my heart so that I can give it to others in their need, in their journeys.........

"You have turned my mourning into dancing; You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, To the end that my glory may sing praise to You and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to You forever." Psalm 30:11-12

For the few who will be saved through the telling of my story, through the encompassing of my smaller story in the greater context of God's bigger story......through the trials, tribulations and destruction of a dead and dying world as man walks further and further from God's hand...

Oh Lord, let me speak that they hear You, let me live that they see You and let me die that they might see that You live........not in the storm, earthquake or tempest but in the gentle wind that comes before it....speaking the promises of Your love into the souls in need of refreshment...


AMEN

Thursday, May 21

Jesus is much more than....what He did.....



"God called you to endure suffering because Christ suffered for you. He left you an example so that you could follow in his footsteps." (1 Peter 2:21 GW)

It was the sensation that sparked the little wristbands, the bumper stickers, and even conversations around the water cooler…..WWJD or "What would Jesus do?" It has faded because of two reasons: Everyone already knew the answer and no one could sustain doing what Jesus would do for long. There was no deep, reactionary change from shallow Christianity to a deeper relational understanding and commitment to God through His Son, Jesus Christ that must happen before the question becomes the reaction.

Jan Johnson feels even knowing that mysterious "WWJD" and doing it is prone to the same failure, because outward obedience is corrupted unless inward transformation of the heart towards "the kind of person from whom good deeds naturally flow" happens. In her theological understanding of 'Christlikeness', Johnson endeavors to look beyond the knowledge of "what" Jesus did to "understanding" seventeen 'underrated and particular' characteristics of Christ so that a 'curriculum of Christlikeness' will lead to a sustainable, transformational change within where what Jesus would do is replaced by doing what Jesus would do.

Johnson offers us a perspective of a "Jesus who was more than what He did" and a different look at the examples He left for us to follow.

Wednesday, May 13

A house of horrors and seeking the beloved...

"No one will be able to oppose you successfully as long as you live. I will be with you as I was with Moses. I will never neglect you or abandon you. Be strong and courageous, because you will help these people take possession of the land I swore to give their ancestors. "Only be strong and very courageous, faithfully doing everything in the teachings that my servant Moses commanded you. Don't turn away from them. Then you will succeed wherever you go. Never stop reciting these teachings. You must think about them night and day so that you will faithfully do everything written in them. Only then will you prosper and succeed. "I have commanded you, 'Be strong and courageous! Don't tremble or be terrified, because the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.'"" (Joshua 1:5-9 GW)

"Spiritual strength and energy, the courage of faith," John Darby says, "are necessary, in order that the heart may be bold enough to obey, may be free from the influences, the fears, and the motives which act upon the natural man....."

When God introduced this verse to me yesterday, I felt it was a precusor to the battle that lies ahead in confronting the church in its duplicity within the worldly realm of humanism and the particularly bitter wounds that it has visited upon me in my pursuit of my ministry calling. That is what I was going to blog about, but I never felt the easiness of the words flowing nor was able to contribute the time to 'coax' them out. Usually, as if one would think I should automatically realize by now, that means that the intent I heard behind the word wasn't God's but my own.

Last night, I had the priviledge of sitting with some of my band of brothers under the tutelage of John Eldridge, author of Wild at Heart (and a wealth of other books) and the Ransomed Hearts Ministries. My brother in Christ, Kurt, had purchased tickets and a friend from the Awanas program was willing to watch my son while I attended this Monday meeting. Though I have read and felt there was some worth to Eldridge's books, I've felt that he never really was 'deep' enough for me. Didn't have the answers, the formulas, or the ideas I needed to grow. I truly only attended because I have learned that when God moves my brother to do something, usually there is a collision coming.....between me and a point God wants me to confront.

I humbly submit that I was wrong about John Eldridge and the wisdom that he writes within his books.....the effectiveness and passion of the man is not found there.....to experience the story behind the stories, you really have to see him in person. And listen to him tell a story; of boyhood, of the cowboy, of the warrior, the king and the sage.

He is but another teacher, abiet a more distant one than my current teacher, God is using to entice me and countless other men to allow God to bring true masculinity and spirituality into their lives. Like Lewis of Men's Fraternity, Dr. Crabb, Dallas Willard, Matt Lobel of Out of the Wild, and the group of Mighty Able Men; Kurt, Ken, Randy, and Scott. Some are willing to fight alongside me, to live life in its imperfectness with me. Others speak wisdom, enticing me to turn around and face that which has devastated and crushed that 'boy' of so long ago. Most are willing to stand and hold me up, edifying me when I question my own validity in this pursuit. All call every man to battle the fierce giants that stomp unchecked in their lives and prevent them from being fathered by the Father.

My brother in Christ and I had a long talk on the trip back to my car, and the tasks of single parenthood; picking up my son, going home, getting him to sleep, and working on getting myself to the same state....to do another day, to step out into the world that is reality in a broken world. Swirling images, bitterness, and mourning complicated those tasks. They still do today and may for some time. The giant isn't the church in its humanity, but the wounded soul of a boy.

And he looks bigger and stronger than that puny giant that the church has become.

How prophetic it seems now, my son's desire out of the blue to 'know where his father came from', to visit the old neighborhood....to see where his dad did the 'generalities' of life (school, home, friends, adventures). The house on Wormer still stands, I'm sure, though I have not travelled down that street in years although I have been in that neighborhood because my children's mother lived there with her boyfriend for a time. The images of what lies hidden within that house, in the past of its history, are more vivid today than they were growing up.........more powerful and more frightening than they ever had the weight of as a child. Unless the current or previous owners have gutted it completely, I can walk the layout; the front room, the short hallway that contained the two first floor bedrooms (my parent's and my younger sister's) and the bathroom (only one for a family of five). At the juncture of that hallway, a opening from the living room, the dark recess of the short hall, the opening for the kitchen and right behind you (facing that darkned hall) is the door to the upstairs. To the world I lived in and the one I still cling to today. Four walls containing the world I knew and haven't allowed change to come to....Johnny Horton's album playing over and over upon the LP player I somehow had, "North to Alaska....we're going north, the rush is on." Calling me to an adventure of risk and dangers untold....

I faced that house when I was invited to share with my (as of tomorrow) ex-wife during a marriage retreat; the parent-child dialogue that brought it into my view for the first time since the family no longer called it home. Like the Amityville Horror, its eyes gazed unwaveringly out at me as I stood on the sidewalk, as if to say....'Come, enter your house of horrors and be damned.' The totality of its reality brought full force into my mind, elicting a gasp from my mouth from it's impact.....that trip into that house of my broken childhood to face the specter of who claimed the name father was a bitter, heart-breaking, and sorrowful experience. In front of other couples, to boot. Shutting the door on that was a relief....a bone-felt, marrow deep relief.

And God wants me to go back. There is, as my BIC said, unfinished business within its smoke-stained, plastic-covered furnitured, and darkened halls.

I'm not afraid to say I'm down right frightened beyond the point of reality, the image after haunting image bouncing like richocheting bullets (equally as damaging) inside the recess of my mind. In the kingdom of my father, even the court jester had it better than I.

The sins of my father, the cruelity of the verbal and emotional abuse that was visited upon the middle son, for no other reason than the luck of the draw in my birth. For I bore the face of the king of that painfully dark realm and earned the wrath of it because I wasn't what he thought I should be. Not the genius of my elder brother nor the mechanical inate abilities of the younger. Any desire to protect that was biologically supposed to be engrained, as evidenced in my sister, was bleached away in the inadequacey and diasppointment of a father towards the son who's image was his own. Who was weak, a daydreamer with no discernable talent, a weakling with a handicap, and yet, in the cruelest twist of fate, bore his own image. Unlike the other sons, here was the one most like him physically and so far from what he felt a son of his should be.

Now I can understand why my mother (not the one of birth, but the one who raised me) was so angry at my father for the picture he chose when I was at the Hall of the Divine Child military school.....my dress cap was down low enough to cause a shadow to cover my upper facial features. Everyone else''s was clear. As if to hide the fact that I was his son. And that is the only place I was worthy to live, to be allowed to live, was in the shadows where such horror couldn't be seen by the light of day.

It struck me as odd when I visited that house on that day along the shore of the western side of Michigan that the images of the others in that house were shrouded in mystery or blurry snapshot-like glances as I walked that short, dark hallway towards my father's room....no clear images of my brothers, no memories of what we did---as all young children do---no adventures, no shared friends, no memories exists in the fabric of my mind of such things. A younger version of my birth mother, the memory of caring for me when I was stung by a bee doesn't float to the surface of the wreckage.....my sister, in her younger years.....nothing. It struck me as Scott brought my ex and I closer to that dialogue experience how much of my memories of that house were like that of a ghost, a wraif, a creature who had no weight.

Eldridge said that God has a way of bringing us back to those stages of masculinity that have been skipped, tarnished, and unfinished because His whole desire is to finish the unfinished man. And each stage interlocks with the others for the necessary foundation of it all. If a boy isn't treasured and given the understanding that he is the Beloved son of the father.....life will remain unfinished; bitter and broken. Because God wants to father the fatherless; even those who's biological dad remains a part of their lives.

In that house of my childhood, sheathed in darkness and foreboding.....where the crimes and abusive parenting left bleeding and dying upon the floor of its altars the body of the beloved son......God, in all His immortal craziness, calls me to go. I stand upon the stop in the grass I can still find today where I fell asleep in the front of this house; failing to keep this man from leaving or even acknowledging my sobbing pleas as he got into that pea-green station wagon and left.....and where the burn from that event remains today an indentifying mark upon my arm----standing there frozen in fear and loathing. The house of my horror, the house of my unfinished masculinity.

This is where God calls me to go and where even angels fear to tread.

One might wonder what this has to do with the verse quoted above.... Imagine, Joshua lived under the guidance and 'protection' of the massive figure of Moses. He was free from the weight of responsibility and doubt, those were Moses' burdens to bear as he brought the Israelites through 40 years in the desert. Now, suddenly on the cusp of realization of the Promised Land, Moses is gone...and Joshua takes the mantle of leading a people. There is no indication that Joshua knew of Moses' ban nor that he would assume such heavy responsibility.

As this duty passes on to him, there isn't silence. God boldly steps into the face of his fears, worries, and doubts and tells him to do what he knows to do and that the promises and assurances He gave Moses will be Joshua's to have. God will walk with us into the face of our fears, whispering words of strength, encouragment and power into our frozen feet and our paralyzed minds.

D.L. Moody says that many of the promises God has given to His people, to us, "seem to be pretty pictures of an ideal peace and rest, but are not appropriated as practical helps in daily life. And not one of these promises is more neglected that the assurance of salvation. An open Bible places them within reach of all, and we may appropriate the blessing which such a knowledge brings."

John Darby said, "The most difficult path, that which leads to the sharpest conflict, is but the road to victory and repose, causing us to increase in the knowledge of God. It is the road in which we are in communion with God, with Him who is the source of all joy; it is the earnest and the foretaste of eternal and infinite happiness."

As my knowledge of God increases and the desire to be His grows, I will face such giants that have been familiar companions in my life, but stand in the way of realizing God's love for me.

What holds you back from the love of God? Are you aware that you are Beloved and Purposed? What demons must you conquer to be in the peace and contentment of the eternal promise?

I know one I must explore and lay to rest..........the Prodigal is going home...........

Wednesday, May 6

God's love and facing the giant

"The LORD your God wins victory after victory and is always with you. He celebrates and sings because of you, and he will refresh your life with his love." The LORD has promised: Your sorrow has ended, and you can celebrate." (Zephaniah 3:17-18 CEV)

The giant that I face, that relational wound that has been exacerbated and deepened by those both within the Body of Christ and without, is staring at me with hunger in its beady little eyes; so many cower in fearful trembling behind me, others who have had at least some 'success' with relations (with their wives, husbands, children, friends, co-workers, etc.). The ones who should be shoving themselves aside in an effort to get to this giant first. Armed with only a sling and a few handy stones that I've gathered from the valley floor, I approach this giant of mine; custom-made you might say by the one who used to know me so very well in the dark days of my life before God impacted me. I don't want to be hear, let alone dare think that I, simply a un-victorious man, can knock this big guy down….permanently. I don't move because I want to see what will come, but because the very existence of this giant is an abomination to the God I am called to serve; it stands in the way of fulfilling the purpose to which I was called.

But the one everything that has always failed me, that has made me live a life as a ghost; weightless and without substance, lies within the muscular arms of this big, big giant and gleams from the eyes of his unibrow forehead. Self-contempt, unworthiness to be valued, and foolish of daring to dream. I face this giant to get by him, in one way, but in another to stand for what I know is right; God is a relational being and He wants me. That realization, in and of itself, is equally as impactful to cause my legs to give out beneath me and bring me to my knees. The God, I AM, delights in me to the degree of a favored son. He loves to rejoice in me, as I struggle to my feet and face life with Him by my side. He calls me to ministry, surely. But not just a ministry to teach, to empower, and to testify but also a ministry to show that love, that empowering strength, and humility that comes from a fully-realized unworthiness to partake of such love. To show that, to live that, and to be that.

There is no victory I alone can obtain here upon this dusty and dark valley floor; I simply have not enough true strength to do it, nor do I truly think that I can conform my mind past the very real realization that this is going to hurt and hurt deeply. On my own, I am simply a shepherd boy with a simple toy weapon foolish enough in his own folly to face the end of his life in foolish expectation. But, the measure of this man; far from wealth, strength, and stature lies simply in my heart; a heart given fully in the pursuit of this God who loves me so much.

Within this verse, I find encouragement and comfort; the gentle whispering of a Mighty and Powerful God who can surely smote this giant like a fly, erasing the fear and trembling that he causes and the depth of pure fright that embraces every fiber of my being, calling me to speak in His Truth and in His defense to this burden and wound that has shaped every relationship that I have tried within this journey of my life and failed at; He whispers victory after victory throughout His word and the lives of the saints that have traveled before me. "This I can do," He whispers to my soul, "But, for My glory and for the sake of you my child, I shall empower you to find victory over this foe in the fullness of time. Until then, stand." It doesn't overwhelm my fear but empowers my feet to move because my Savior is in me; supporting my failing limbs and guiding the stone to the cup of the sling; rotating my arm in ever increasing arcs, the whir of the weapon so simple and lightweight in my hand piercing the air like a siren.

"Immanuel", God with us, is far mightier than this giant and far more concerned with the state of His children to a degree greater than any human capability. Jehovah, in the midst of my sorrows, is sufficient security, full of unspeakable joy, and providential in His presence. This Almighty God, mighty to save, came to the earth as a man and became a 'man of God's right hand' being fully God and fully human, empowered through the will of His Father, my Father, to be my strength and savior. He can deliver me in ways I would never imagine He would even want to so that I may be saved, to the utmost degree that only He can; beyond all human logic and reasoning.

A Savior, in the fullness of His Father's design, came to earth not to 'do His best' to complete His Father's will but to deliver His people from the hands of their enemies, support and live the Truth as His Father set forth, and leave as He overcame death's grip a Mighty Counselor to assist His people in every service or duty that He has empowered them to render to those who are lost, seeking them out in the darkness of their sinfulness and bring them under counsel and covenant to the fullness of that purchased salvation as it will be applied freely, fully and without end. There are many victories that I have experienced in the fullness of my journey; otherwise to be standing here, lips parched and legs securely locked in a supporting stance would simply be impossible against the sinfulness of this giant and the knowledge of his master.

And he rejoices in me; a sinner who was saved, a man who struggles against the wounds of his past and forsakes a worldly comfort for the satisfaction of standing unevenly and with inner trembling before his giants. Christ, who is the begotten Son of the Most High, rejoices in me….and is joyful of my weakness, happy of my failures that bring me closer to His love which is manifested in the rest and peace that no earthly power can overcome, change or separate me from. I stand before my giant not because of some ill-conceived glory seeking thought or an assurance that I will indeed triumph over this unsightly and ungodly authority. No, I stand because of love…..a love that delights, entices, and empowers me to believe in my unbelief; to reach for hands unseen and a hope secured.

He sings because of His love for me; a joyful and delighted voice that echoes in the halls of Heaven from the throne. He rejoices in my victories and expresses strength to stand again after my failures. He sings a song of the chosen, redeemed, and those to whom He has called to clothe them with His righteousness and grace. It is "his love of complacency and delight," John Gill writes, "which is the source of all the grace and glory He bestows upon them."

Some brethren accuse me of seeking the glory of my trials in the eye-gawking 'victim' mentality, others accuse me of self-glory seeking. I have been called, they say, to work where and when the Church authorizes you to and in the capacity we've discerned is appropriate for the level of 'santicification' which we perceive evident in your life; barely there, but none the less there. Keep keeping the faith, they say, for God will give to us a heart of wisdom regarding your path. Just wait like the rest of us, content to let this giant bluster about foolishly. As the giant of all of our lives stand before the vast and mighty army of the Most High, they preach caution and Kumbaya love….discussing the 'rewards' offered for facing this giant with longing and yet fearful, too fearful, to take it on. A mighty army brought to a halt because they are afraid; the world, after all, is bigger than they…..and it's ugly. Can't they hear the singing, the joyful proclamation of His love and the call, the enticement to join Him in the battle?

Maybe their pride of a life achieved, illusionary in its rewards and its comfort, that they don't want to risk it all to stand in front of their giants and rather hide behind the armor of their King sounding like a chorus of jingle bells ……fear, self-doubt, and the sheerness of the size of those giants keeping them frozen in place. Maybe they think that there is no victory here, standing in front of this giant of theirs insulting their King, their Church, and themselves; veteran warriors of the battles of old…… They wonder what a small boy, who stinks of sheep and long labor, can do with just a sling and some stones. They can't see the victories already gained, the triumphs already spoken in the land of their countrymen, and sung by their King.

They whisper the words of the enemy, championing the cause of his kingdom and disillusioning the authority of their countrymen to stand boldly and without fear before the giants in their own lives. They mock the love and righteousness of their King.

Others stand, facing their own giants whose shadows darken the landscape of their lives and taunt them with intimate knowledge of their failures and weaknesses….and they shout encouragement, their words echoing the song of love that comforts my heart, their edification finally coming to deafen ears; You have a heart for God, you have victory through Him and are able to stand through His strength, for His time, in a love that knows no circumstance, no situation, or no place where it cannot go, where it cannot abide, and where it cannot give you comfort and peace.

"Never give up," these shepherds say, "Never surrender but to the King!"

Surely the aches of the failures; the bloodied knees, scrapped elbows, and wounded hearts they share and know of its victorious defeat of my peace from its bleeding. They've shared that journey, in parts and ways unique to them, but surely they know of my inadequacies to be here before this giant….surely they know I'm a failure even at shepherding….a flock unattended by me to follow through with my father's wish to provide bread to his favored sons……some of whom don't even want its warm and nourishing substance. Me, I'm just a simple shepherd, dirty from the toil of isolated work and the sorrows of isolation. Surely if I was a mighty warrior as they are, some adorned in the fitted armor of the King and others in the various stages of becoming as their brethren…….I'd be the same; either adorned in armor or visible in the process of its formation on my powerful frame rather than dressed in stinking, filthy woolen cloth that scratches the sensitive sores of an life lived in the wilds….instead of the mighty swords they swing with confidence and finesse, I've a simple sling…..and pebble stones gathered from the ground as my 'fearful weapon'.

Who am I, that they would include me in their number? What do they see, beyond the simplistic adornments of a shepherd boy, that burdens their hearts to cry out in the midst of their own lives, their own burdens, and their own struggles to me? Who do they look at when they stare at my face, cratered with the sorrows and tracked with the tears of pain? What causes them to speak of leading, of mighty deeds already done, and victories yet to unfold?

The shadow of my giant looms over me where I stand, darkness falling in the middle of the day as his enormous size blots the sun from my sky. He laughs at me, calling me by my name…foreboding echoing in the acidity of his words as he promises yet another failure…yet another sorrow….and a whole lotta pain……. He laughs at my foolishness, "Am I a dog that you would send a stick before ME?????" in a booming voice that drowns out even the sweet and tender mercies of that joyful song I've been listening to……..the swinging sling slows, the weight of the situation crushing down upon me as surely this giant's immense sword will cleave me in two much like a toothpick…. As surely as if it was the deepest of winters, even the sun's warmth has disappeared into the darkness that is my despair, bringing cold pain to the aches of battles long ago, of sorrows once forgotten, and of wounds healed and unhealed that chafe the surface of my exposed heart.

The illogic of my heart, at war with my broken, logical mind, has brought me to this place, to this battlefield dotted with the giants of so many…..my mind has ceased screaming at the illogical hope that my heart increases its grip upon in this wintry landscape. An ember of the flame, the heat of its power and warmth attended to by a heart ravaged as if it is its source of beating, despite the desire of the mind to stop…to run into the depth of the deepest ocean and be done with it. The heart beats on and as long as it beats, the ember remains.

It is this ember, this 'mustard seed' of faith that I drop into the stilled cup of the sling at my side. It is with without assurance of victory, without hope of 'overcoming' that I look up at the giant in the distance and calculate the time to cover its broad field…and begin to run……kind of skipping, actually, as the giant begins to walk towards me, shaking the very soil of the desert floor beneath is feet……..my sling gaining speed with each step, I can do no less than to cast my faith into the face of my fear and hope for a victorious blow so that I can once again here that loving song of a joyful Savior and the echoing love of the Most High……..

"Your great victory will be seen by every nation and king; the LORD will even give you a new name." (Isaiah 62:2 CEV)

I am James, a jewel in the eyes of my Father God, Authentic in my faith, Mighty in my weakness, Encouraging in my testimony, and having a Story to tell……..with a heart like David's, seeking after my God and a life burdened for the souls yet sung of by Christ; a kinsman to the Begotten Son of the Most High, I AM. ……that is my new name. A name given to me by a Father who knew and loved me before I was born enough to send my Kinsman, Jesus Christ, down to take my place for the punishment of my sins.

I am James, son of Ronald L.; brother to Larry J., Stacy L. and Robin A.; father to Casey L. and Sara E.; brother in Christ to those in whom the Lord is well pleased! With a lineage and family like that, how can I not do anything else than to struggle on towards the hope assured and the promise eternal?

I can only trust in the Lord's love and worship the honor of its embrace……knowing that:

"The LORD is pleased only with those who worship him and trust his love." (Psalms 147:11 CEV)

Friday, May 1

Slopping for the pigs......

"But when he came to himself, he said, 'How many of my father's hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants."' And he arose and came to his father." (Luke 15:17-20a ESV)

There is no time frame given in which the prodigal son is slopping the pigs, wishing for food that is only fit for them and their substance. This story is often used to help understand the process of salvation; we realized that we have sinned and are absent from the relationship with our Father, The repenting sinner turns with firmness and resolution from the bondage of Satan and his worldly lusts and returns to God through prayer...."notwithstanding fears and discouragements," Matthew Henry says. He returns to take the servant's role, to the Father's rejoicement and restoration to his place in the home.

But, as I have travelled this journey, slopping for the pigs who are placed so much more highly than myself in this world (who are of the world) I wonder if God didn't intend for the message contained there to stop with the repentant sinner and the joyful celebration of his return home. There is so much more contained within the story of his conversion. Pastor Jim Combs, of the River of Faith, brought another context a few Sundays ago, about the elder son and the prodigal and how that should be reflected between mature and newborn Christians (I'd recommend listening to it www.hissalt.net). But, even there I think lies a true message, but not the only one......

The world will, as the lesson clearly teaches, fool you into its embrace and promise wealth, glory, and relationship....until what you have to sustain the illusions is gone and then it will cast you upon the rocks of despair, leaving you valued less than the pigs, who are quite content to wallow around in fith and muck. Even those who have 'backsliden' from what they know is true.

What kind of home did he leave? Apparently a wealthy and prosperous one where he had experience with independence and authority, for he demanded his inheritance and was not stopped from leaving. Maybe there was a disagreement he had with his elder brother, the mother, or even the father...whatever the reason, he rejected the 'nature' of his home and went into voluntary exile. Steeped in selfish gratification, he held to a 'bondage and gloom' image of what home was like instead of its truest picture until even the illusion of such denial came to break under the Truth of reality; the world didn't want him unless he had wealth to give and in the 'empty, desolate, withered, perishing' (Jamieson, Faussett and Brown) situation he found himself in, the Truth found him once again and reminded him that even the lowest in the household were treated better than what the world offered him when nothing else was left that he had to give.

He came to 'himself', not as if he had gone mad but back to the person, I think, he was when he lived in his father's house. A house filled with peace, wealth, freedom, authority and dignity even for the servants of the family. A warm and living reality that breaks the bonds of his disillusionment and gives him the resolve to journey home.....he envisions the initial meeting and what he would say....and goes home, expecting only enough grace to become a servant under that remembered roof.

So heartening is even that lowly status, to serve those he once called family, is enough to make him journey non-stop back to the country of his birth, back to the home he had rejected. Hungry growled within his stomach, his feet were sore and dirty from the walking, and his heart was tired of the deceptions with which he had lived with for so long.

He was broken, yet he journeyed to become nothing more than a servant in his father's house.

Even when life doesn't work, our efforts are nothing more than dirt thrown into the fierceness of the wind to come back and cover us once more and the remembered grace of our Father's house becomes the only sustaining hope that we have left to push us back to our feet, back to our senses, and back home to be nothing more than servants placed in our own home to be the laborers for those who enjoy what we once did...even then, that hope remains.

There is no flipping back and forth for the prodigal; no question in his mind that his father will accept his request, either through pity or compassion. There is that assurance that, even with what he had done, squandering his inheritance, rejecting his home, and now coming back to his father smelling of filth and stained with the dust of his journey. He expects nothing more than his rightful due; to be a servant, nothing more.

As I got home last night from work, being touched once more by the grace of God and His love....oh my God....His love for even the lowest in His house....being broken again and lifting my hands high even in that humbling, that pain, and realizing how far I have come....servanthood is a dream to what I have come from....I came back to that "Amazing Grace" lyric...."I once was dead but now I live....now my life, to You I give.", I looked at the mail; the packet from Reverend Doctor John Gotberg arrived. As I read the commission that appointed and annointed me as an Ordained Community Chaplain, I felt that assurance that even in my Father's house....servants are fed and well-treated. In my Father's house.

In my Father's house, even the suffering is preferable to the illusionary happiness of the world. In my Father's house, even the hired servants are cared for and treated well. In my Father's house, once I had rejected and walked away from, there is an assurance I will be given an opportunity to be there...in whatever capacity...but I will be in my Father's house!
Even if I spend my life toiling away, indentured not as a son to a Father but as a servant to the family, I will be better off in my Father's house than what the world, absent from that home, would allow me to do.

In the group I've never felt I belonged to, unworthy and unqualified for the task and the scope of the mission God has complied these mighty giants to do in and for the Kingdom, it is far far better to be the lowly servant than to be absent from their presense. If I can do nothing more than perform the mudane task of a servant, in my Father's house, I will be far better treated than what the world could give me.

I don't know if I'll ever reach home; I'm faminished, tired, bruised and filthy with the illusionary stain that seems to never wash off ...........like a rape victim, I can't shower enough or be clean enough to seem to remove the stain, the filth of what the world has done to me.....but even if I don't make it home, the vision of what it will be like shall sustain me till that point I cannot go on.

And when I lie collasped in the sand, I'll try once again to get back up and continue...so that I can be a servant in my Father's house...........for they are treated better than the world offers, this lies within my heart to move me to move, get up when I want to stay down, and sustains me in my hunger...such small hope, such a small faith......

Even faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains.....

And I think I can see my father's house just over where the valley floor ends.....

A few more steps, and I'll be home.