"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 13
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)
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)
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