From 2 Corinthians

"My grace is sufficient for you." (2 Cor 12:9)

My, is, you: God did not say "My grace will become sufficient for you if you pray long enough, often enough, or correctly." And my prayers that sound like, "Lord, make Your grace feel sufficient for me" or "Please, God, help me to feel ok with your grace" mock His promise.

Trying to live in the reality of that promise is not easy. The underlying lesson for me is simply this: Stop trying to change God's facts into my hopes or prayers. Accept them as realities and they become every bit as powerful as I believe them to be.

The Function of Guilt

The old Roadrunner cartoons feature my favorite character, Wile E. Coyote. That lovable rascal had some of the most charming facial expressions. And like Wile E., I have overshot my intended goal, too close to the edge, and felt the ground give way beneath me often. I've stared that "Oh-boy-this-is-gonna-hurt" stare. I've looked up from the bottom of the canyon, dazed and stunned.

But while Wile E. is invincible, I am not. The falls don't faze him. Within moments he is out of the pit and back at it. I don't recover so fast. I wander and fumble around, stunned and hurt, wondering if this ravine or that path offers a way out.

I liken these situations to Peter. Within hours of Jesus' prediction of his fall, Peter was atop the pinnacle - far from the pit. "Simon Peter, who had a sword, pulled it out and struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his right ear." (John 18:10) Peter must have been smug standing beside Jesus, flashing his sword. I can imagine him saying, "Stand back, Jesus. I've got this!"

Peter expected a fight, and I can only imagine how stunned he must have been when told to put away his sword. The next thing Peter knows is that Jesus and the guards are headed down the hill. Peter is alone now with a decision to make. Stick close to Jesus, or duck into the shadows? He opts to do neither.

Luke records that Peter followed at a distance (see Luke 22:54). Not too close, not too far - near enough to see Him, not close enough to be seen with Him. Love made Peter ashamed to run (as it has me). Fear made him ashamed to draw near (likewise). The disciples chose the left side of the road and ran. Jesus chose the right side of the road and obeyed. But Peter chose the yellow stripe down the middle. BIG MISTAKE.

He would have been better off in the shadows with the rest of the disciples, or in the courtyard with the Master. But Peter is warming his hands on the devil's hearth. Three times asked about his association with Jesus, each step leading him closer to Wile E's. perch at the edge. The third denial brings forth a curse at the very thought (see Matt 26:74).

I have been there; Have you? Feeling the ground of conviction crumble at your feet. The ledge cracks, your eyes widen, and down you go. POOF!!! Now what do you do? Stay in the canyon? Many do, live their lives in the shadows, never to return.

Some dismiss their deeds. "Well, everybody has...... I have been told I was justified in........... What else could I do?" Some deny their deeds. "Fall? Me?" "Are you kidding? These aren't cuts." "I am as healthy as ever." "Me and Jesus? We're tight!" Others distort their deeds, or shift the blame. "It's his fault. "If THAT was different, I would have reacted differently."

Luke adds a chilling phrase to his account of Peter's denial of Christ. When the cock crowed, "the Lord turned and looked straight at Peter." (Luke 22:61) If Peter ever thought (or any of us, for that matter) he could keep his fall a secret, he now knows he can't. "Nothing in all the world can be hidden from God. Everything is clear and lies open before Him, and to Him we must explain the way we have lived." (Heb 4:13)

We keep no secrets from God, the one who "searches our hearts". Confession is not telling God our misdeeds; He knows them. Confession is agreeing with God that our acts were wrong, turning back from them; Repenting. ".....Then Peter went outside and cried painfully." (Luke 22:62) Each tear a confession. Each sob an admission. Peter remembers his promise to Jesus and weeps.

We do ourselves no favors in attempting to justify our misdeeds or glossing over our sins. Regularly, we come to God and say "I'm sorry." But all we really want is a band-aid. We don't want the treatment, certainly to feel as bad as Peter did. He breached his covenant, but his sorrow brought repentance. We wouldn't want that, would we? Repentance is, well, embarrassing sometimes. It means sacrifice, a struggle to set things right, forgiveness, CHANGE!!! It means exposing ourselves, possibly being open to ridicule. But that is where the eternal healing takes place.

God can't heal what we deny. He won't touch what we cover up or whitewash. How can we have communion with Him while insisting we have no sin? How can God grant us pardon when we deny our guilt?

Ahh, that word - Guilt. Isn't that what we try to avoid? Guilt. Isn't that what we detest? But is guilt so bad What does guilt imply if not that we know right from wrong, that we aspire to be better than we are, that we know there is a moral high ground and we don't occupy it. That's what guilt is: a healthy regret for knowing what we do is wrong.

Guilt is the nerve-ending of the heart. It yanks us back from the edge of the precipice before we get too close, sometimes. Godly sorrow, "...makes people change their hearts and lives. This leads to salvation, and you cannot be sorry for that." (2 Cor 7:10)

To feel guilt is no tragedy. To feel no guilt is.

A Box of Love

I had a tiny box, a precious box
Of human love - my perfume of great price.
I kept it close within my heart of hearts
And scarce would lift the lid lest it should waste
Its fragrance on the air. One day a strange
Deep sorrow came with crushing weight, and fell
Upon my costly treasure, sweet and rare,
And broke the box to pieces. All my heart
Rose in dismay and sorrow at this waste.
But as I mourned, behold a miracle
Of grace Divine. My human love was changed
To Heaven's own! And poured in healing streams
On other broken hearts, while soft and clear
A voice above me whispered, "Child of Mine,
With comfort wherewith you are comforted,
From this time forth, go comfort others,
And you will know blest fellowship with Me,
Whose broken heart of love has healed the world."

More old postings

In July and August of 2007 I wrote a poem trying to express my feelings for my wife. I regret that I never gave it to her. The marriage failed, but my feelings remain, leaving me caught in the hell of finally having experienced exactly what I always wanted, and then destroying it. I remain firmly and unshakably in love with her.

From 1Corinthians 13.
I have read this chapter daily for nearly two years now. The message is the same whether read from the NIV, NKJV, The Message, the NLT, the NAS or any other translation or paraphrase. Along with each reading comes a new realization, a new emotion. It would be so wrong to say I have any better perspective on love than in the past, but I have more insight into the nature of love than I did.

Love Never Fails

love is not proud.
love does not boast.
love is of course
what matters the most.

love does not run.
love does not hide.
love does not keep
when locked up inside.
love is a river that flows through.
love never fails you.

love will sustain.
love will provide.
love will not cease
'till the end of time.

love will protect.
love always hopes.
love still believes
even when you don't.
love is the arms that are holding you.
love never fails you.

love is right here, love is alive,
love is the way
you will survive.
love is a place you will fly to,
love never fails you.

Why I write

On my first day of English 231 I read an essay by Joan Didion, wherein she states, "Had I been blessed with even limited access to my own mind there would have been no reason to write. I write entirely to find out what I am thinking..." Immediate identification with that thought started my mind to spin in search of the source of my own desire to write.

I enjoy writing. I enjoy the physical act of putting a pen to paper. I own two fountain pens and I delight in watching the ink trace across the page forming words. Words grow to sentences, outlining thoughts. These thoughts at times take on a life of their own but more often than not these thoughts are me, borne out of a vivid realization that I have something to say.

I am not the brightest, smartest, wittiest, most original or intelligent of aspiring writers. But I do have things to say. I have thoughts and feelings to express. I have lived five and a half decades of experiences and emotions and observations. I have survived, grown, even prospered in spite of some of life's harshest circumstances.

But more compelling than these thoughts, it is an overarching fear that pushes me. Sometimes I am afraid of what I might not get to say. Giving a voice to that fear and looking at the source of it brings up my need to be heard.

In my experience, the right words will not come at the right time. Closer to the truth is my seeming gift for saying the exact wrong thing at precisely the worst moment. This inability to give verbal life to emotion fuels my need to write.

I'll never tell that redhead just how the blue of her eyes and coppery wisps teased by the wind across her face moved me; it would be inappropriate. I don't always have the words to tell my son just how proud I am of the man he has become; our relationship is so strained. I will never be able to share the regrets of our failed marriage with "The woman who plucks the strings of my heart..." to this day.

And so, until I learn to speak from the heart I will allow my pen speak for me.

It's Just News

The breaking surf is barely audible over the gentle drumming of rain on my fiberglass canopy. Not at all disquieting, the changes in wind and rain created a varying rhythm of tap-tap-tapping. It is comforting. The faint scent of salt air being cleansed in the downpour is whetting a three day old appetite. Hell, I'm hungry!

I am sipping hot peppermint tea. It's pungent aroma also teases my taste buds, treating my senses as delicately as its warmth treats my spirit. My little alcohol stove is working at capacity, simmering a mild mixture of peppers, onions and rice.

I've been in shock since being told that the blood I vomited three days ago has brought to light a more serious matter. Three sites were biopsied during the endoscopic procedure, the bleeder cauterized.

I've known for some time that my hiatal hernia increased the risk of developing cancer. When there is little that can be done about a problem it is easy for me to ignore or forget about it. It will be another week before the biopsy results are available. I don't think I'll be forgetting this.

In Third Person

He was that carpenter,
the one who walked behind the coffin
dry-eyed;
He never had made a name for himself.
And then his feet no longer moved,
because, poor and tired, he had died.
Already, other feet walked in his footsteps,
those other feet still him,
those other hands his as well.

But yet, he persisted
when it seemed he must be spent.
He was the same man again,
he was once again different and the same.
Only when that broken man was able
did he come back to life,
remaining unnoticed.
He was that man alright,
and he no longer stood out
from the others,
others who were himself.

He gave away his existence,
that was all.
He had never been contained
in a song,
or by his mortal form.
He went somewhere else to work,
and ultimately he went toward death
until he existed only
in what he left behind;
Tree-lined boulevards
he could not be aware of,
Wooden homes he would never inhabit.

And I come back to see him,
and every day I wait.
I still see him,
in his coffin and resurrected.
I pick him out from all the others
who are no less his equals,
And it seems to me
that this cannot be,
that this way leads us somewhere,
That to continue is recovery.

I believe that heaven
must encompass this man
living happy, joyous and free.

Flash or Thrash - an old posting

In my youth I spent a great deal of time in Yosemite. It was my Fortress of Solitude, my special retreat. I spent days and weeks on end with friends, and alone, backpacking and rock climbing. To spend a couple of weeks solo backpacking with a short food supply sharpened my survival skills and forced me to face a number of inner demons. The experiences taught me about the best and worst of myself and shaped much of my life today.

One particular climb I would return to periodically taught me a most valuable lesson; I call it "Flash or Thrash". Chingando was a short, nasty, vertical, 10a off-width jam-crack, and it never changed. It was a short pitch of solid granite, and a magnet of sorts. It was an exhausting, muscle torturing, skin-abrading, grunt - some days. Those days I recall it being a "Thrash". And then there were the days when everything fell into place. My movements were fluid, nearly graceful, a well choreographed ballet that simply fell into place. In climbing parlance, a "Flash".

So what made one attempt different from another? Was it diet? Training? Weather or temperature? It might have been a combination of those factors, but I believe the difference was inside of me; my mental state.

At that time I had no conscious connection with my Creator, God. But I was aware that my emotions and thought-life could impact on my experience. As a recovering alcoholic and addict I have learned to apply many of my life-lessons to enhance the experience of recovery; and this one, Flash or Thrash, is proving invaluable. If my sobriety is contingent upon maintenance of a fit spiritual condition, I must work to eliminate sources of thrash from my experience.

Mental state, or my thought-life, impacts on the quality of my sobriety, my serenity. And my serenity is inversely proportional to my expectations (find it in the Big Book). Relationships improve with better thought control. But most importantly, my relationship with my Creator, and my brother Jesus, improves when I remember I am called to "...demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." (2 Cor 10:4-6 NIV)

I absolute love the way this passage reads in The Message, too. "The world is unprincipled. It's dog-eat-dog out there! The world doesn't fight fair. But we don't live or fight our battles that way—never have and never will. The tools of our trade aren't for marketing or manipulation, but they are for demolishing that entire massively corrupt culture. We use our powerful God-tools for smashing warped philosophies, tearing down barriers erected against the truth of God, fitting every loose thought and emotion and impulse into the structure of life shaped by Christ. Our tools are ready at hand for clearing the ground of every obstruction and building lives of obedience into maturity." (2 Cor 10:3-6 TM)

A Distant Hand

The woman who plucks
the strings of my heart
Bears mourning in her voice
and the joys of poignant memories.
Time and distance fall away;
we are a dream, an unfinished song,
while the yet untamed heart
gallops the backroads dreaming over and over;
of the trace of her fingers
on my cheek or ear,
the thought of a distant hand,
lost in the depths of forgetfulness.
I pause now
to touch and remember
Those feelings, those fleeting memories
I still covet,
Not because she is so passionate,
or sweet smelling,
But because - I don't know why.
Must I understand?
She brought into my life
a nearly sacred, unplaceable scent,
As if she were borne
from another time.
With her my weary heart returned
from far-flung lands,
Where it had lain
sweating with an all-consuming fever,
Emotions delivered through a soul-wrenching
that threatened to tear it asunder.
Not only did she touch me,
or did my heart touch hers,
They were so close, so entwined
the combination became part of my being,
Alive within me
so that they lived
Half of my life
and will die half of my death.

Reflection on an Easter Weekend Backpacking Trip

How disappointed He must have been. His followers arguing over who was greater. So he washed their feet. They had all been given the chance to serve Him, had failed the test.

My brain cries "Tell them! Tell them to wash Your feet!" But He forgave instead. Double-tongued promise breakers, fair-weather friends; they would leave Him at the cross, or sooner. They made promises that night; they made tracks the next day. While He was beaten, they beat feet.

In my life i have come to experience sorrow, yet nothing like His. Left to my illness, questions unanswered, holding the bag, out in the cold. Logic says, "Put up your fists." He says, "Fill up the basin." My head screams, "Bloody his nose!" He whispers, "Wash his feet." I protest, "She doesn't deserve it." Jesus answers, "You're right, and neither do you."

Amidst this garden of wildflowers, these stems of gentle strength, rooted in truth, my word-petals of praise amount to nothing but weeds in light of His sacrifice. The Author of all i see, the Creator of time itself made me but a footspan on eternity's trail. Because of Him, of what He did, I live free from the compulsion of retribution. The pain of accumulated hurts sheds itself from my heart.

And Love, a Love that never fails, offering the Life I had so often rejected, taken for granted, spurned in favor of temporal pleasure, wells up inside me, reminding me that Love is only Love if chosen, And Love never fails.

More Tuna at the Beach, or, What The Cross Means to Me

I've read a half dozen explanations about the true meaning of Jesus' sacrifice on Calvary, or why God would sacrifice His only begotten Son. "Substitutionary Atonement" for our sins is the basic one, easiest to explain and possibly hardest to understand, with my brain at least. If God wants to forgive us, then why not simply do so, as we are commanded to forgive others? Isn't that what grace is about?

I am told that the "Ransom" theory is the oldest. We humans placed ourselves under Satan's authority and Jesus' death ransomed us back for God. That God double-crossed Satan by raising Jesus from the dead brings a smile to my face.

The "Christus Victor" theory holds that the enemy is death itself, not sin or Satan. Jesus opens the door to our eternal life by entering into and overcoming death. The "Perfect Penitent" theory actually answers my questions about forgiveness. Forgiveness, to be real and legitimate, requires an expression of sincere repentance from the wrongdoer - me for example. I am not very good at repenting sincerely and fully. Paul's writings remind me that I am fully "sold out to sin." Jesus became representative of all humanity and in spite of His complete innocence repents for all of us. This is the view held by one of my favorite writers, C.S. Lewis.

"Moral Influence" holds that the cross demonstrates Jesus' self-giving, complete abandonment to God's will and self-devotion for the sake of the world. Jesus' death completes the entire message of His life: He makes visible the self-giving love of God. When that sacrificial love touches us we are changed internally -"constrained" is the word Paul uses for it. We want to stop being selfish and join God in giving back; first by giving ourselves to God, then to the people whom God so dearly loves.

I don't know the name of the sixth theory but it hinges on vulnerability. By becoming vulnerable on the cross, by accepting suffering from everyone (Jews and Romans) rather than visiting suffering on everyone, Jesus shows God's loving heart. God wants forgiveness, not revenge, for everyone. Jesus shows us that the wisdom of God's Kingdom is sacrifice, not violence. This theory helps me to understand how God's kingdom on earth began with Jesus' arrival - and why the Jews could not accept anything other than a warrior king. It's about accepting suffering and transforming it into reconciliation, not about avenging suffering through retaliation.

But it is not until I consider how painfully I have been hurt by others that I understand how painful my sins have been to God. Until it has been experienced it is impossible to to understand just how physical, how visceral, betrayal feels. The world goes empty, your stomach burns, your legs feel numb, your neck is cold, each breath feels like you're drawing in a poisonous gas, your brain buzzes like a fire alarm so loud you can hardly stand it.

I used to wonder why forgiving hurts so much. And then it came to me why Jesus had to suffer and die for my sins. Forgiveness by a perfect God required a sacrifice of monumental proportion. For I have betrayed Him so deeply and so often. I still could not fully verbalize any particular theory of the cross - but I understand now. Paul writes of "the unsearchable riches of Christ" in Eph 3:8. I now know he was speaking of something far beyond my understanding, but not beyond my appreciation, at least in part.

Reposting - While Eating a Tuna Sandwichat the Beach

"You cannot know Me until you have stopped telling yourself that you already know Me. You cannot hear Me until you stop thinking that you've already heard Me. I cannot tell you My truth until you stop telling Me yours!"

All people are special and all moments are golden. There is no person and there is no time one more special than another. Many people choose to believe that God communicates in special ways and only with special people. This removes the mass of the people from the responsibility of hearing His message, much less receiving it, and allows them to take someone Else's word for everything. You don't have to listen to Him, especially if you have already decided that others have heard from Him on every subject and you have them (friends, clergy, attorney's, other Christians) to listen to. By listening to what other people think they have heard Him say, you don't have to think at all. But when He stops communicating with us, it will be because we have chosen not to follow His Word.

This is the biggest reason for most people turning from His messages on a personal level. If you acknowledge that you are receiving His messages directly, then you are responsible for interpreting them in light of His Word. It is "safer" and much easier to accept the interpretation of others than to interpret the message you may very well be receiving in this moment now.

Go ahead and act on all that you know, or have been told. But know that you have all been doing this since time began. And what shape is the world in? Clearly you have missed something. Obviously, there is something you don't understand. That which you think you understand must seem right to you because right is a term you use to designate something with which you agree.

But some are willing to actually listen to Him. They are willing to hear, willing to remain open to His communication, and willing to act on it even when it seems scary, crazy, or downright wrong. Especially when it seems wrong. If we think we are right about everything, then who needs to talk with Him?

Writing Assignment; At the Beach

The morning’s damp gray marine layer had been pushed back to sea under the pressure of temperate onshore breezes. From my vantage point on top of a dune the breaking waves seem to stretch from Monterey to Marina in an unbroken line of blues, greens and white. The mix of tangy salt air and the roar of the surf is a salve to my soul. Del Monte beach was unusually crowded for a February afternoon. But it was Valentine’s day and that brought out families, couples, lovers and those simply interested in taking advantage of the unseasonable warmth.

A boy of ten, or so, attempts to bury his Chihuahua mix dog in the sand. “Grammy, look at Bobbi!” Unremarkable except for the uniformity of its tan coat, Bobbi wriggles away again. Sudden movement draws Grammy’s attention over the top of her book, and the youth in matching navy and gold board shorts and top scampers across the sand in chase. “Alex,” she calls to deaf ears. Setting the book aside, she rises and shields her eyes to watch her grandson chase the pup. Her dark blonde hair with gold highlights, pulled back to a short ponytail, reflects as much of the sun as does the Rhode Island sized diamond on her finger.

Bobbi is now attempting to engage a Golden Retriever, gray at the muzzle and 5 times her size, in a game of chase. The heavy-set man in Dockers and a blue tape stripe shirt is nonplussed by the interruption. A brief tug on the leash exposes a bit of shirt cuff below the sleeve of his olive North Face fleece jacket.

Twin four year old's in matching floral print mini-dresses over black bike shorts double team their grandmother toward the surf. When one loses a Croc in the foam the arm-tugging becomes lopsided. Ponytails high on heads bob and wave in an excited fashion as the family matriarch, jeans rolled to the knees, bends at the hip to retrieve the lost shoe. Her unbuttoned white top exposes a fair amount of tanned cleavage. Upright again, girl’s foot ware in hand, she pulls her vermilion sweater closed and shepherds her young charges back toward their blankets. The Nikon SLR around her neck comes up for a hastily posed photo with the rolling overhead surf as a backdrop.

A lone female in head-to-toe black tosses a soft Frisbee into the breeze for the world’s happiest dog. Black and white, with white spots on the black and black spots on the white, and nearly squealing its pleas to throw the disc again, the pair make their way across the packed sand at the water’s edge. Long auburn tresses and sad eyes are not noticed by the joyful canine.

The silver sequin eagle on the back of his western style shirt is the only non-black visible on one half of the Latino couple. Her painted on denim Capri pants, and too-short, too-tight yellow top reveal too much about her figure. His uneven gait and reluctant demeanor make me think of times when I had been pulled away from my Budweiser to join in an outing, too. That he picks up speed on their return trip to the parking lot reminds me of a barn sour trail horse.

A shapely 40-something brunette strolls perilously close to where I sit and write. She’s heading
to the parking lot, alternately pulling and being pulled in play by a petite blonde girl. The thin white cotton tank top and pink cashmere sweater tied around her neck do not conceal her figure. It’s a bit cooler now. Barefoot, lean tanned legs and green cargo shorts are equally distracting. I get the feeling from her gaze that she knows what I’m writing. As she lifts the 70’s retro styled sunglasses and smiles, I am certain she knows what I am thinking. “Aunt Sami, I want to eat at McDonald’s. OK?” “Sure, honey.” She looks almost as delightful walking away as she did walking toward me. The backward glance and second smile confirm it; she knows what I am writing. Breathtaking.

Five young teens are taking turns on an elongated skim board, their whoops and taunts rising above the roar of the surf. The shirtless young men in gaily colored board shorts and trunks catcall at the inevitable, spectacular spills of their friends. The foamy wash routinely sweeps them into each other and hapless passersby.

The Met Life blimp, homeward after the golf tournament, passes almost noiselessly overhead,
the few remaining children squealing and waving excitedly. Couples stop to point; Snoopy going
unnoticed by the assortment of dogs still busily chasing, fetching and straining at leashes. Sand castle shadows are growing longer. The sun is dipping lower. The breeze is getting cooler. Aunt Sami and I are having coffee at Peet’s this evening.

A Message to Women

When I created the heavens and the earth, I spoke them into existence. When I created man I formed him from the clay and breathed life into his nostrils. But you, woman, I fashioned after I breathed the breath of life into man because your nostrils are too delicate.

I allowed a deep sleep to come over man so I could patiently and perfectly fashion you, and so that man could not interfere with my creativity. From one bone I fashioned you. I chose the bone that protects mans core. I chose a rib, the bone that protects his heart, as I meant for you to do. Around this one bone I shaped you. I modeled you. I created you perfectly and beautifully. Your characteristics are as the rib; strong yet delicate and fragile. You provide protection for man's most delicate organ, his heart. His heart is the center of his being.

You are My perfect angel. You are My beautiful little girl. You have grown to be a splendid woman of excellence and My eyes fill when I see the virtues in your heart. Your eyes - don't change them. Your lips - how lovely when they part in prayer. Your nose - so perfect in form. Your hands - so gentle to touch. I've caresses your face in your deepest sleep; I've held your heart close to mine. Of all that lives and moves and breathes you are most like Me.

Adam walked with Me in the cool of the day and yet he was lonely. So everything I wanted Adam to share and experience with Me I fashioned in you; My holiness, My strength, My purity, My love, My protection and support. You are special because you are the extension of Me.

Man represents My image, woman My emotions. Together you represent the totality of God. So man, treat woman well. Remember My commands; love her, honor her, cherish her - treat her with respect, for she is fragile. If you hurt her you hurt Me. What you do to her you do to Me. In crushing her spirit you only damage your own heart, the heart of your father.

Woman, support man. In humility, show him the power of emotion I have given you. In gentle quietness, show your strength. In love, show him that you are the rib that protects his inner self.

Rejoicing Over Small Things

A chicken salad sandwich and a hot shower acted in concert today to bolster some terrifically sagging spirits. Even my pen had failed me lately, literally. I had used some cheap ink recently and it clogged my pen. Without proof-of-purchase, even pens that are warranted for life are just another piece of junk. So much for trying to buy quality, second-hand.

Trying to save a dollar has too often cost me more in the long run, a lesson I must continue to relearn, I guess. I am a slow learner in some areas. I must continually repeat some mistakes. Trusting in God to see me through difficult situations is one of those lessons.

Therapy-interfering behaviors are anther area of my life that I struggle with. In sixth grade I entered my fifth new school, and I had not attended kindergarten. Always the new kid, not having a support group or even a supportive family, I learned I would need to rely on my intelligence and wits to fit into any new surroundings.

The net result is that trusting in an unseen God is next to impossible at times. But it gets easier over time. A few hours of work following a night of prayer asking Him to provide my next meals is all the proof I need today that He does listen, and care. New funding for Behavioral Health provides the medication I need for mental/emotional stability after a 5 week lapse in availability. And worship today gave me such an overpowering sense of His presence tat it brought tears to my eyes.

Yes, He does hear us, and He loves us.

Risky Behaviors

There is an element of risk in living out your dreams. In a society that teaches us an intuitive risk vs. reward analysis, why is it so difficult to focus on the rewards we dream of? I can think of only one - fear.

I think it possible that fear is so powerful it causes us to downgrade our dreams. Instead of trying to live out of the fullness that God offers, we settle for convenience, security and comfort. A hot shower in the morning, a roof over our head, regular meals, maybe a kitchen to cook them in, a comfortable bed with pillows and blankets, good sex, these are all powerful wants, but are they what God dares me to reach for?

For some time now my kitchen has tucked very nicely inside of a 1-quart covered pot - stove and all. An accumulation of foam and pads, a sleeping bag and an old comforter serve as my bedding and showers come almost daily as friends can arrange. Yet living in my truck has taught me to dream again, dreams about the life God has always intended for me.

I have had to overcome some very powerful fears to get to the place of peace I find myself in today. Homelessness, abandonment and rejection have all contributed to being able to let go of the life I had chosen to follow in favor of a better one. And while I may not see that life while I am here, I do get glimpses of it from time to time.

I see it in the laughter of children, the caring of elderly couples for each other, the protectiveness displayed by homeless bands of men and women, the clearing eyes of recovering alcoholics and addicts. I see it in the flashes of inspiration I receive when my prose or poetry flows. I have seen it in the faces of friends when my poetry has been set to music, and that music played on the radio.

"I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of." (John 10:10 TM) I have a difficult time imagining myself as a writer, even harder is imagining myself a songwriter, hardest still is as an evangelist. Yet, in this story I find myself in, I have allowed elements of each of these "job descriptions" to be developed in me. And as I abandon myself and my dreams in favor of those He supplants in me and His life I am happier and more emotionally fulfilled than I thought I could be again this side of heaven.

Oh Those Wacky Philistines

Isaiah tells of "flying on the shoulders of the Philistines" (Isa 11:14). The Philistines were Israel's mortal enemies! But this passage suggest that they would not only conquer the Philistines but ride on their backs to even greater triumphs.

This is more than victory. It is a triumph so complete that death and destruction have been avoided - that our enemies have been vanquished and a plunder of unimaginable value awaits. We can actually thank God for the battle.

We can receive from our conflicts a spiritual discipline that so greatly strengthens our faith that it changes our spiritual character. Temptation is like that. It is necessary to establish and ground us in our spiritual life. Strong winds cause tall trees to sink deeper roots. Our spiritual conflicts are among our most wonderful blessings, and the Adversary is used to train us for his own ultimate defeat. Meeting temptation victoriously doubles our spiritual strength and increases our arsenal.

It becomes possible not only to defeat our enemy but also to capture him and make him fight in our ranks. Another meaning, perhaps, to "In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us." (Rom 8:37)

Life In The Shadows

In the shadow of his hand he hid me; he made me into a polished arrow and concealed me in his quiver. (Isa 492)

"In the shadow" - I don't want to be in the shadow. I want to be at the forefront. I don't want to be held in reserve, paced in a quiver for later use. Put me in the sunlight. Give me a task equal to my desires!

I must assume He knows better than I because, to date, I have made an absolute mess of my life in trying to run my own show. But still, it is the shadow of God's hand, and there are lessons that can only be learned there, only be learned where He leads.

The photograph of His face can only be developed in the darkroom. He has not pushed me aside but has placed me "in his quiver." He has not thrown me away as something worthless. I am on the back of the greatest Warrior, within reach of His hand, until the moment comes when He sends me on a task to bring Him glory. A quiver is closely tied to a warrior, and jealously guarded.

Acknowledge What's Important

Deep within, you know that the only thing that's truly important is being in alignment with God. Therefore, anything that is not of God (fear, worry, shame, anger, etc.) isn't deserving of your attention.

Experience has shown me that waking up, that healing, is not a process of the intellect. It is not something I can undertake with my thinking self. I must fully engage the life God has placed me in. I must look deeply inside my nature, with Christ as my guide, and awaken to the reasons I devote so much attention to my suffering (fear, worry, shame, anger, etc.), to begin to uncover and explore the nature of my Christian self.

If I have to avoid my suffering in order to experience happiness, then this is not true happiness. It is not possible to be truly happy unless I am in contact with all aspects of the being I was created as. As I embrace all aspects of my life, the story I find myself in, I can even welcome the aspects that are not of God and embrace the healing that comes from accepting myself as I am and just living, growing in Christ.

Confusion About Cognitive Dysregulation and Parasuicidal Behaviors

What the heck does this even mean? As part of my commitment to recovery, personal growth and the therapy I am undergoing there are large quantities of information being thrown at me, and the terms are unnecessarily complex. The meanings are actually simple concepts - being taught by people who, I think, are trying to sound more intellectual than they need be.

Apologetics, Pre, Post, or Amillennial, Dogmatism, Eschatology; words such as these are bandied about in churches by preachers who, I think, are trying to sound more spiritually intellectual than they need to be. Complicated terms used to describe simple enough concepts if explained in common vocabulary, serve to cause me a feeling of being less than or not as connected with God as I want to be (or want to believe I am). Where is the simplicity of the message of the Gospel? Where has the Good News of Christ gone?

Living in a Hospital Ward

The book of Isaiah holds some wonderful lessons and makes some lofty promises to us; promises about what God can do for us - wants so very much to do for us - if we will let Him. But there is a price of sorts to be paid.

"Comfort, comfort my people, says your God." (Isa 40:1) The world is full of hurting and comfortless hearts, and God commands us to offer comfort to them. But before you will be ready for this ministry you must be trained. And your training will be costly, for to make it complete, you must also endure the same afflictions that are wringing blood and tears from countless hearts.

As a result, your own life becomes the hospital ward where you are taught the divine art of comfort. you will be wounded so that the Great Physician can show you first hand how to render first aid to the wounded everywhere.

Do you ever wonder why you have had to experience such gut-wrenching sorrow or excruciating pain? In coming years you will find many others afflicted in the same way. You will tell them how you suffered and were comforted. As the story unfolds, God will apply the anesthetic He once used on you to them. Then, in the eager look followed by the gleam of hope that chases the specter of despair from the soul, you will know why you were afflicted. And you will bless God for the discipline that filled your life with such a treasure of experience and hopefulness.

God comforts us not to make us comfortable but to make us comforters.

This is My doing

This is my doing (1 Kings 12:24)

My child, I have a message for you today. Let Me whisper it in your ear so any storm clouds that may arise will shine with glory, and the rough places you may have to walk will be made smooth. It is only four words, but let them sink into your inner being, and use them as a pillow to rest your weary head. "This is my doing."

Have you ever realized that whatever concerns you concerns Me, too? "For whoever touches you touches the apple of [my] eye" (Zech 2:8) "You are precious and honored in my sight." (Isa 43:4) Therefore it is My special delight to teach you.

I want you to learn when temptations attack you, and the enemy comes in "like a pent-up flood" (Isa 59:19), that "this is my doing" and your weakness needs my strength, and that your safety lies in letting Me fight for you.

Are you in difficult circumstances, surrounded by people who do not understand you, never ask your opinion, and always push you aside? "This is my doing." I am the God of circumstances. You did not come to this place by accident - you are exactly where I meant for you to be.

Have you not asked Me to make you humble? Then see that I have placed you in the perfect school where the lesson is taught. Your circumstances and the people around you are only being used to accomplish My will.

Are you having problems with money, finding it hard to make ends meet? "This is my doing," for I am the One who keeps your finances, and I want you to learn to depend on Me. My supply is limitless and I "will meet all your needs" (Phil 4:19). I want you to prove My promises so no one may say, You did not trust in the Lord your God." (Deut 1:32)

Are you experiencing a time of sorrow? "This is my doing." I am "a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering" (Isa 53:3) I have allowed your earthly comforters to fail you, so that by turning to Me you may receive "eternal encouragement and good hope. (2 Thes 2:16) Have you longed to do some great work for Me but instead have been set aside on a bed of sickness and pain? "This is my doing." You were so busy I could not get your attention, and I wanted to teach you some of My deepest truths. "They also serve who only stand and wait." Some of My greatest workers are those physically unable to serve, but who have learned to wield the powerful weapon of prayer.

Today I place a cup of holy oil in your hands. Use it freely, My child. The supply is endless. Anoint with it every new circumstance, every word that hurts you, every interruption that makes you impatient, and every weakness you have. The pain will leave as you learn to see Me in all things.