15 or 45

When we screw up it does not matter whether we are just a kid (15) or an adult (45).
Swallowing pills, sucking down booze, popping a vein or smoking weed is screwing up. I can think of so many reasons why chemically altering your thought process, damaging your gray matter,or getting high is a screwed up thing to do. I am tempted to write about the legality of it, but writing that message is like beating the proverbial dead horse. I could write about the adverse physical effects of being stupid, but that would probably fall upon deaf ears-you see most people that abuse drugs and alcohol believe they are invincible. So the physical ramifications carry little threat and evoke even less fear. I could write about the spiritual abuse that accompanies the physical abuse. My favorite subject to read and write about is God; God and faith. But even now, writing about God and screwing up probably wouldn't have the desired impact. I could tell you that God loves you just as you are, that He accepts you with all your screw ups, that His Son already paid the price for you screwing up, and that He will provide the way to unscrew your choices...if you let Him. I could tell you that our God is a jealous God and wants you to focus on Him, and point out to you that when you are stoned you can't do that. I could tell you that your pills and your weed are false idols, that even though you may not realize it, you bow before them as if they were your god. I could tell you all that, but I wont, not now.
What I do want to tell you is this-your choices, your actions, your highs, not only screw up your life but they will screw up the lives of everyone around you. Friends and family who enter that sacred circle you call your life do so because they love you. If they don't then they are not your friend, and they are family you can do without. But the ones that love you, the ones that hurt when you hurt, the ones that cry when you screw up are the ones you cannot do with out! Most of the consequences from screwing up will belong solely to you; but not all. And that's not fair.
Every day I wake up I live the consequences of my wife's choice to abuse. She has moved on, she deals with her own consequences now, but I still live with the ones she provided to me. The bill collectors still call my home wanting their money, money that instead was wasted on dozens of doctors and pharmacies.Past family good times, birthdays and Christmas's that were lost are still lost, gone forever. The memories of hospital rooms and late night arguments over where she had been have faded, but will never disappear. I tell you these things not for your pity but for your edification. You see I am blessed, I have been able to move on as a single parent with beautiful children who look forward to holidays and birthdays, without fear of those moments being screwed up by one who was suppose to nourish. But I know that before I was blessed, I hurt. And I know that at this very moment someone who loves you is hurting because you keep screwing up, because you choose highs over life. Because you don't have the courage to say no to your addiction,to say no to your friends (who aren't friends at all) when they pass the joint to you. Open you eyes and see that who you have is not worth all the dope in the world. If you don't do it now, then one day you will open your eyes and they will be gone. Your friends, your spouse, your children...all of them will be gone, but you will still have your high. Is it really worth it?

Altar Call

Early this morning I sat listening to the local television newscaster tell us four different stories that involved sex. Stories about child molestation, pornography and the trafficking of young teenage girls from Mexico into the United States to be used as prostitutes, were all part of my morning coffee time.
The other news stories were not much better, nor the political advertisements that dominate our airways this time of the year. Politicians that lie, make empty promises and accusations fill the room with unpleasant sounds, yet I know very few will bother to call them to task before casting their precious vote.
For months now stories about the people's right to choose have made the daily press. The choice to live or die, the choice to worship, the choice of partners, and now once again the choice to tell or not tell is making the news.Even the choice to exercise a freedom of speech regardless of how many are in the theater is at it's most dangerous height, in part because of venues like Facebook .
The right to choose does not equivocate to the right choice. They all can't be right!
It is no wonder that it now appears that God has hidden Himself from this great nation. A God who feels love and grants mercies, a God who delivers grace, can also be a God who feels sadness. I think today He is sad. The good news is that though He has chosen to hide Himself from man a number of times in our brief history, He has never left us.
A time not too long ago I was privileged to attend Galilean Baptist Church in Lawrenceville, Georgia. Each Sunday Pastor Tolbert Moore would end the service with an altar call. This evangelical call was not just for those wanting to accept Christ as their Savior, the call was also for anyone to come forward and lay their burdens at God's altar. Each Sunday morning those that hurt, those with fears and even those with shame would walk up to the altar and kneel on their knees asking Christ to lift their burden. Tears would stream down their face as they turned it up towards the heavens, towards their God.
As a nation it is time for an altar call. It is time to bend to our knees and ask God to grant the joy of our salvation. It is time to ask Him to grant us the fortitude to repent, to turn from our bad choices. It is time to ask Him to forgive.
No. No it will take more than bending to our knees, it is time to lay our faces on the ground, let our tears dampen the dust and ask. Even then we may not be low enough to enter into His grace.
I know these calamitous words of mine will fall on very few ears, and most of those will ignore them if they have even read this far. But I know this; I am compelled to write that which is in my heart. I know that God will never leave us. I know that things can only get better with His blessings.
I also know that for once I would like to enjoy my morning coffee without a teaspoon of evil.

Sorrow's Salvation

I have always believed that a man, a leader, should not cry. I have been accused of being passionate about the things I believe in. I have also been told that I am deeply emotional about the things that I love. On occasion this passion or emotion has overwhelmed me to the point that I had to fight back tears. On most of these occasions I was the victor, my voice may have cracked and my lips may have trembled, but tears did not fall.
For many nights now the pain and sorrow have been too much. I sit in the dark and loose the battle as the tears roll. But for the first time in my life I recognized these tears for what they are. No longer did they feel like a weakness, for what they provided was strong; a cleansing. Although my eye sight blurred with their sting, my mind's eye was clearer than ever before.

I saw with pure clarity God's promise of eternal life. A life spent in a place with no tears. And any tears that are left over upon our arrival while be wiped from our cheeks by the very Hand of God.

I saw with pure clarity the Grace of God. The Grace that He has provided over the last month that has allowed me to face each day with renewed hope. Grace that allowed me to  be a father to my children with no bitterness towards their mother reflected in my words or seen on my face.

I saw with pure clarity my own actions and inaction that contributed to the end of my marriage. I saw that during those times God's grace was absent, not because of God but because of choices I made.

I saw with pure clarity the sins that I have committed against God. Secret sins that I had buried beneath stones called denial. I saw Christ on the cross, paying the debt for my sins, but knowing, that even though I have assurance of eternity that during these times I was separated from His grace.

I saw with pure clarity that if I am to claim salvation through His death, that I must also accept suffering as Jesus Christ did. You will not see scars on my feet or holes through my hands for only one was able to  bear that burden, but you will hear me cry "Father, why have you forsaken me?" With humility I await His answer, even though I already know what it will be. And I know that in that answer will be revealed the Glory of God.

I saw with pure clarity that my hope lies in Christ. That hope is not for today or tomorrow but for eternity. I will still hope that she comes back. I will love her until my last breath. But I know now that with or without her, we will survive.

I saw with pure clarity Sorrow's Salvation. The pain will not soon stop, nor will the sorrow soon fade, but with the tears provided by God I now see why.

Falling up. Chapter I

Prayer is an incredible privilege provided by our Lord. History reveals that those other than Christians prayed to their "gods". Furthermore the practice of petition is not limited to those who claim Jehovah as Lord today. Christian Science, by example, believe that healing can result when bringing spiritual reality onto the human scene. Five times a day Muslims recite Salah, a short ritualistic prayer. Buddhists, Hindus and even Jains, (those that do not believe that a divine being could help them), pray. It would seem that the need to pray may be inherent in each of us without regards to what we believe or whom we worship. 
Many religions have beautifully written prayers that are still recited verbatim, prayers that may be reserved for special occasions or recited when believers gather as a group. "The Lord's Prayer" taught to us by Christ over 2000 years ago is regularly recited in churches today. The "Shema Yisrael," from the Torah, translated- "Hear O, Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one." is recited in the morning and evening prayers observed by Jewish tradition. These words have also survived thousands of years with little change if any from their apparent origin found in the sixth chapter of Deuteronomy.
Many beautifully written prayers have crossed the lips of millions of those that believe. I maintain that a reverence for the Maker is needed when reciting many prayers. To approach the throne on bended knee without awe and respect may leave our prayers floating in limbo. This restriction does not come from God but from ignorance of God's majesty .
Having said that, I also believe that we can talk to God without pomp and circumstance, we can talk to Him like a friend.
"Inside the Tent of Meeting, the LORD would speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend." Exodus 33:11
"And the LORD replied to Moses, "I will indeed do what you have asked, for you have found favor with me, and you are my friend." Exodus 33:17
Oh what a beautiful sound these words carry to my ears. God is my friend! What a better friend to have!
Talking to God as a friend is what this book is about. Conversations with God.

Now we will tread lightly into this area-"conversation" implies, in most cases, that two or more or speaking, sharing thoughts. I know how I speak to God, but how does God speak to me? To quickly swat away the errant thoughts of you doubters out there that may think I am on the doorstep of dementia let me make it clear-I have never heard the voice of God.
But my own inability does not prevent God Almighty from communicating with me or you.
I have experienced God's answers and guidance through many different avenues or conduits. I mentioned earlier that God will sometimes use others to provide us with His answer. Another way of communication is the power of God to simply prevent or cause an event to happen, then when on closer inspection we realize that He answered our prayer. I experienced God's sense of humor once after praying that a meeting I was to attend, being taught by someone I did not particularly agree with or care for, would be canceled. Upon arrival I was informed that the speaker had been called away to another obligation and that I, fully unprepared, would be teaching that day.  I stumbled through the next hour with a greater appreciation of the scheduled speaker than I had begun the day with. I also thanked God for His answer and even His sense of humor.

God will also speak to us through His written word. There has been many times while seeking an answer through prayer that God guided me to the answer He has already provided in the Bible. Just this morning I was again doubting whether a reconciliation with my wife would ever happen. I have prayed so much for her return. I have prayed that if given the chance I would be a better husband, a godly husband. Yet as I sat alone on the front porch early this morning I began to doubt. My morning devotions brought me to the book of James, where he wrote (to me I think), "But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind."James 1:6.
James was writing about asking for "wisdom", not the "whims" of this believer. It is wisdom that I should pray for, and do so without doubt. Praying for reconciliation without having the wisdom to be a better partner will surely result in future failures.

God's silence is all to often a tool of communicating. When it seems that He is not responding to your request, you are probably right. His silence is as powerful a communicator as the booming of His voice would be. We must look into the darkness of that silence to see His message. In my own experience I have found that the silence belongs to God but the cause is my own fault. I have neglected to purge myself of the things that are detestable to God before seeking His help. We cannot go to God asking for His help and guidance with our hands digging through the cookie jar of humanity. In that jar is lust, hatred, deceit, selfishness, all things repugnant to our Father.

So silence, His written word, cause or prevention and placing others in our path are some of the ways God chooses to communicate with us. There is one more. One that I think He may use the most and the one we may ignore the most...that tiny little voice.

We call it our conscience, or an angel on our shoulder. Some call it intuition. Regardless of what we call it, the tiny voice acts as our moral compass. The inherent need to pray to a god is embedded in this compass. The ability to know right from wrong beginning at an early age is the vocal chords of this tiny voice. Everything that is good, everything that makes you who you are originated here. It is our essence, it is our soul. And still we choose to ignore it. We reject the direction of it's guiding light. We scorn the results that we know it would bring if we only listened. Why? Have you ever tried to listen to more than one person or thing at a time? Eventually this battle ends with you tuning into one source more than the other. When it comes to listening to that small tiny voice we are more apt to tune it out in favor of the one that is causing the consternation. We are more familiar with this adversary, we like to wallow in our own misery, so we listen to the wrong voice.

So is this small voice the voice of God? No, I would never describe His voice as small or tiny. Believe me when we do hear His voice there will be no doubt. It is not His voice but it is His creation.
"For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities-his eternal power and divine nature-have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse." Romans 1:20

I would like to tell you that all the reasons I have had to pray about that are included in this book were for the purpose of glorifying Christ. But that would be a lie. I pray because of who I have chosen to be. The circumstances that resulted in the need to sit down and talk with God are of my own making. The stories are unique but I think you will find yourself in many like situations, vaguely or with exactness. The answers that God has provided me are included in this description, they may work for you, and if not I hope the will at least act as a guide. I am not a counselor or a pastor, just someone who knows that without my relationship with Christ, without being able to sit down and talk to Him, I would be nothing more than result of two stars colliding in outer space sending their billions particles into a black void resulting in an amphibian that would eventually evolve into an upright being. Nah, I think I will stick with faith.

Falling up. (Forward)

I began writing the outline for "Falling up" at about the time I was waiting for the final edit of "Addicted to Faith" to be completed. At one point I was going to incorporate "Falling" into the yet to be published "Addicted", but decided that "Falling up", a book about prayer deserved a platform of it's own. Now that the platform as changed medium from paper to electronic I have found it necessary to re-do the original outline. Starting here.
Typically I would not write the Forward until the book was complete, but I am compelled by circumstances to alter that plan. I want to still begin a book on prayer by writing about prayer, and I will. I think it is important for the reader to understand my thoughts on praying, for instance as to why I consider most prayer a "conversation with God". So as of this moment my plan (which I am sure will turn out to be more fluid than anticipated) is to commit Chapter 1 to that explanation. As for now I want to write how I feel.

I am dying inside. I have heard others say that, but until this week I never knew how they felt. It is as if a virus has taken up residence inside my body. When my father died, when my sister died, and even all the years spent dealing with her addiction, I have never felt the way I do right now. The molecules of this virus are comprised of thousands of razor sharp edges; cutting away at my very soul. Each moment they demand attention by cruelly reminding me of their presence. I know when the outbreak of this virus took place. I know the cause-the Known and the Unknown.
I know she is gone. I know she left because I was not the husband she deserved. I know I did things that were wrong. I know I said things that cannot be unsaid. I know that if I did not love her this pain would not be here.
But I think it is the Unknown that provides this virus with the ability to cause such intense agony. I don't know where she is. I don't know who she is with. I don't know if she is okay. Who will she call if there is a problem with the car? I don't know if she is coming back. I don't know if she has any love left for me at all.

The pain began Thursday when she confirmed by text-message that she was leaving. My suspicions that she was planning something began long before that, but I ignored those feelings. Each hour the pain has increased. I thought about crying in my beer but I don't drink. (How I miss that habit at this moment!). Instead of beer, I cried to my Lord. I have prayed more in the past few days than I have in a long time. Only to be greeted by complete silence. Until this morning.

As the Lord has done so many times in the past he answered my prayers through the words of another. This morning at Sunday School we were finishing an enlightening study of Mark's Gospel. John Park is our teacher and paused for just a moment when considering Mary Magdalene. Mark's Gospel teaches us that Jesus first appeared to Mary after the resurrection. "Why Mary Magdalene?" the teacher asked. I am sure that the remainder of today's lesson and the subsequent sermon by Pastor Les were as always filled with words of wisdom, but I didn't hear them. John's question about Mary consumed me all morning at church and on the long drive home. I felt that God was responding to my prayer, that He was providing direction as only He can.

I went back to Luke's gospel where he writes of Mary of Magdala. We are told that Jesus cast seven demons from her, evil spirits and infirmities. That after doing so Mary traveled with Christ and His disciples and "...provided for Him from their substance."
Mary Magdalene is named in the Gospels more than any other female disciple. Was it because of her radical transformation from a demon-possessed woman to a follower of Christ? Was it because the Gospel writers loved her as much as Christ did? I don't think so, we see them dismiss her claims of having seen the Risen Christ without hesitation. I am not a bible scholar and cannot venture any more than a guess as to why this woman who suffered in life was so loved by our Lord that she earned a prominent place in history. But I do believe this; the words written in the Bible are for us. They are for us to learn from, to grow from and to receive peace from.

Christ first loved her. He loved her with all of her infirmities, all our her addictions. He forgave her and accepted her. He loved her so much and knew her so well that He chose to first appear to her because she would believe.


God has spent my lifetime telling me to be like Jesus, to follow His teachings, to love as He did. And although I am constantly aware of His guidance, I seldom follow his divine advice. In the story of Mary Magdalene I see an unconditional love. I see forgiveness, and I see a trust that can only be rooted in true, uncompromising adoration. I can see my wife and I can see where I should be.

But Father the pain keeps me from being like you. You saw Mary through loving eyes, no longer lingering on the evils of the past. You trusted her with your life, death and resurrection, she was there for all of them. I cannot find trust. The pain of loss is easily replaced with pain of memories. Please make them both stop.

It is Sunday afternoon with just of hint of fall in the air. Football is on the television. I have dreamed in the past of an empty house on a day just like this, kicked back in the easy chair, watching football, snoozing at halftime and engorging myself on hoagie. The empty house is the only reality, and it hurts.

Falling up.

It's been a bad week. I've been falling down a lot. I had to give a long and difficult deposition on Friday. And it appears that on Thursday my wife chose to leave me. I won't write in detail about either of these events, one because I do not think legally I should and the second because I am hoping that I am wrong.
I want to talk for a minute about writing, why I write and why I chose such a public canvas to write on. When I fall down I find it very convenient to stay there on my knees and pray. (I have prayed a lot this week) When I stand back up the anxiety that accompanied the fall is not always gone. I love my Lord, but I don't believe that I have matured enough yet to leave all my rocks and worries, burdens and anxieties at the cross with a resounding Amen. I discovered a number of years ago that writing down my thoughts helped relieve those lingering anxieties. Most often I would crinkle up and toss away the words that had calmed the anxious self. But a time came in my life when the prayers were never-ending and I wore out the tips of pencils writing down thoughts, thoughts that I hoped would provide relief. Instead of ending up in the trashcan the hastily written words became a journal and eventually a book called "Going Numb". I published the book in hopes that my words would become a relief provider to someone else.
At about that same time Facebook was gaining in popularity. At first I resisted the seductive calls of social networking, thinking that it was just another passing fad and waste of time; I was wrong. My publisher recommended that first-time writers should use Facebook as a conduit to provide the much needed Public Relations that normally is very expensive. I agreed that the PR would be good but for different reasons than that of the publishers. I have never made and never will make a lot of money from my books. I write them to help others, and when I hear about someone being helped out of an addiction or  a damaged marriage experiencing rebound, in part because they read my words, I feel completely compensated.
Next came this blog. I enjoyed occasionally using this electronic canvas to write about other subjects that I have interest or passion for. I did so without plan and infrequently. So now I hear that without regular entries the blog is unlikely read by anyone other than the author. Okay, so now I am back to writing words just for myself. That was a long circle to navigate to end up back where I started.
But I have a plan.
I have been working on a third book for quite some time now. I have slowed deliberately the progress of this book. You see my co-author is God. I am waiting for some answers from Him. The preliminary tittle of this book was, "Faith to Faith...conversations with God.", but I think I am changing the tittle and the canvas. I have decided to use this blog as the pages instead of going through the pains in dealing with publishers and editing. And I have decided to change the name of this "book" to "Falling up."
I promise to make entries each and every day. (my fingers may be crossed).
I promise to try never to bore you.
I promise to one day explain the tittle-"Falling up".
I look forward to writing and hope you enjoy reading. If not you can always "delete" or "Un-friend"; and you would not have had to spend as much as a dime at the bookstore.
But right now I need to pause and pray. I have fallen down and know the only way up.

We Want To Remember

Remember.

To consider for more than a moment allowing the construction of the Ground Zero Mosque is indicative of the misdirection our great country is headed.
When those that still love America and all she stands for look at this area now dubbed "Ground Zero" we want to remember what happened on 911. A mosque built, even in the shadows of Ground Zero will deflect our attention and dull our memories.
You must understand that we want to remember.
We want to remember what we saw that day as we stood on the streets or huddled around our televisions.
We want to remember the sounds we heard; the sirens, the explosions, the screams for help.
We want to remember the smells that filled the air. Smells that come from flaming jet fuel, smells that come from burning buildings, smells that come from a fright that can not be described.
We want to remember the hero's that came.
We want to remember the hero's that fought.
We want to remember the hero's that died.
We want to remember 3000 faces that because of the hatred of others lost their lives.

Our great nation was founded on principals that include the freedom to worship what ever god you want to. Our founding fathers knew one God, and yet because of their love for a new nation, allowed others to worship their own god. These principals were built around tolerance and understanding. They were built with memories of a coercive government still fresh in their minds. They were built with purpose, built with intent on creating the greatest nation ever known. A nation where one can work and save to buy land and build their own dreams upon it.

But as for this mosque-not here, not now, not ever.

You see we want to remember. We want to remember that on September 11, 2001, we saw the face of evil. By recognizing evil it becomes easier to recognize good, to recognize God.

Build you mosque, worship your god...somewhere else.

4give

"Just a little from my next book, "Faith to Faith...conversations with God", due out Spring of 2011. I typically keep my words close to me until a book is complete, but right now the time seems right. (It is still a little rough around the edges, but I hope you enjoy it)

"Forgive."
Christ spoke often about forgiveness, not only the forgiveness that comes from God but he also told us that we must forgive others. If we take a walk with Jesus through the words of the New Testament we will see who he was and what we should be. We see that like God the Father, Jesus the Son has a forgiving nature. Remember how many times God forgave the people of Israel as recorded in the books of the Old Testament.

"Teach me to forgive Father. I can only see the person that caused me pain, not the one I am suppose to love. I can only remember what I did for her, and not understand what she has done to me. I picked her up off the floor before she died, and now I only hurt when I see her. Help me Father, give me the courage to forgive. Give me the assurance that regret will not overwhelm forgiveness.
And then God said...
"You have in you the love of Christ. Stop seeing the pain and see the person."
 "I can't"




"You can. How many times have I picked you up? How many times have you driven nails into His hands? Each time I forgave you. Each time I loved you."

"I haven't hurt her the way she has me."

"Do you want to really go down that road?"


Like a father who grabs his child by the arm to stop him from entering a busy street, God tugged on me. I stopped praying long enough to consider my own behaviors. Had I ever caused her this much pain? She always believed so, but that was her imagination! I would never hurt someone so deeply. Over and over she hurts me. Each time promising that it is the last. Each time professing her love. Each time begging me to stay, knowing how much my family means to me.


"You don't understand, I try every moment of every day to love her. Nothing I have done compares to what she is doing."


Jump right out into the road.


"I love you every moment of your life, unconditionally. You can do the same. Forgive her."

"You don't understand. You are God, no one can hurt you like this. You can't feel this pain."


Now I was in the middle of a super highway with no where to turn.


"From the cross my Son asked for those that hurt Him to be forgiven. These that had followed Him as He taught and healed now betrayed Him and hurt Him...and killed Him. Yet in anguish He forgave. Forgive her. Forgive as the Lord forgave you."

"Help me Father."

"I will"

"It hurts so much."

"I know."

"I can't."


I waited to hear His words. No more came. I will pray again later, maybe the pain will ease. Maybe I will be able to forgive. I hope so. I don't know.

Faithbook

This week Facebook announced that 500 million (that's a lot zeros) are part of this unique social phenomenon. So what is it about FB that so many are attracted or even addicted to it's artificial stimulation? The answer is obvious and a little sad. You see, on Facebook you can be anybody you want to be (I have seen some of your profile pictures, be honest, you haven;t looked like that in thirty years),and you can say anything you want to say.

I will step off my soap box for just a minute to admit that some good has risen like a Phoenix out of the web of Facebook. Old friends have been re-united, new friends have been made. I heard of a family re-union that had the largest turnout ever. I have read compelling thoughts. I have laughed and I have cried at words written on the canvas of Facebook. But for the most part I believe that if extreme caution is not taken when entering the realm of FB, people will get hurt.

Facebook has allowed us to become farmers without the fear of loosing our farm because of the color of our skin or because mother natures destroys our land. You can join the dark world of vampires, or become a mafia boss. Open your own cafe with no sweat or overhead. You can waste away precious time by playing word games, or games with funny names (just what is a farkle?). You can respond "yes" to every "friend request"-and then brag to the world about the number of friends you have.

You can create any world you want, create any friend you desire and believe that they all read what you write, believe what you say and love you unconditionally; until they "unfriend" you that is. Facebook has allowed you to be a creator, a god. With the power of the click you can "like" or "delete" any other one's opinion.

I have been accused of being overly optimistic. They have told me to take off my rose-colored glasses at times. But I can't stop believing, I can't go a moment without faith. So I wonder what would happen if 500 hundred million Facebookies, for just a day, turned off their laptops and PC's, dropped to their knees and looked to the real creator, the real God, and just said "thank you". I wonder what that day would be like if each user spoke to a friend face to face; instead of on Facebook. I wonder what would happen if each one looked around at God's construction and began to realize that there is no greater creation than this. I wonder what would happen if each of us looked in the mirror to see who we really are and know that regardless of the number of bytes, pixels or hard drives you possess, there is nothing in that little box made of plastic and metal that will change who you are. I wonder how many would do this for just one day.

It just a day, He gave us a lifetime, He gave us His Son.

See you next week.

A Path to the Past

He feels empty. The dark void is painful. The pain lives in the pit of his stomach. He can not describe the pain, he is just aware that it hurts. How did he get here? When did the pain and anguish grow to such an all consuming size? Who caused this indescribable pain?

He knows he must go back to find the source. Without this knowledge he believes the pain will never cease. He must walk back down the path that led him to this moment. Surely the answer is there. He knows his search will lead him to the culprit.

He turns to see a path overgrown with thickets as tall as a man. The great plants are filled with thorns. The vines so entwined that he can see no more than a few feet at a time. He wonders how this path to the past has become so overgrown. How will he ever get back to the place where there is no pain?

He begins his journey and almost immediately the thorns contact his skin; opening old scars. It hurts so badly. He struggles to work through the tangled memories, searching for the genesis. It is so hot. The sweat from his forehead pours into the newly reopened scars. The salt causes them to burn.  The thorny vines take on a life of their own, becoming entangled around his legs, cutting deeply into previously unblemished skin. This journey will leave new scars. He stumbles to his knees, the pain unrelenting. “Turn back”, he cries. The journey he thought would bring relief only exasperates. He crawls with is head down, not wanting to see where he is going any longer. The heat and humidity have become unbearable. Insects swarm around his down-turned face, their buzz becomes deafening. It seems to cry out, “You will not find the answers, the pain is forever, die with it.”

Suddenly there is a small opening in the snarl of vines and he hurriedly crawls through, standing to his feet. For just a moment the pain eases, the void begins to fill. But as quickly as the relief came it leaves.
Along the path to the past there is water. Refreshment? No, this is not living water, it is dead, stagnate water. His nostrils fill with the stench of the past. And although no clarity has come from this journey, he believes the stench has brought him closer to the truth. He is determined to find the perpetrator of his pain.

Hours pass, or maybe it is days. He cannot tell for sure. Time past is as tangled as the vines, murky as the swamp. Everything looks the same. The pain returns in full force. His body is soaked in sweat, the fresh punctures remind him of where he his. With each step the hope of discovery grows fainter. He succumbs to the anguish and lies down. Sleep is the only hope of relief. He knows it will be temporary, but that doesn’t matter. Any relief, even that which comes with the darkness of exhaustion is welcome.

The cool breeze awakens him. He stands and looks around to see that the jagged path and overgrown plants are gone. He stands on the boundary of a beautiful clearing. The dark green grass softly sways in the cool breeze. He detects the faint aroma of honeysuckle; an aroma that has always pleased. In the center of the clearing he sees a man. He knows that the man is Jesus. He begins to approach Christ and can feel the strangling vines tugging at him, keeping him from Christ. He pulls away and stands before Jesus.

“Why do I feel like this, why does it hurt so much?”

Christ only looks at him.

“Why did you let this happen to me, you know I love you?”

Christ answered, “Because I love you.”

“But why would you let someone hurt me so?” he cried.

“No one hurt you. You made choices. You held on.”

I looked down at my hands and saw that they still clung to all the bad and wrong choices I had made. When did this happen? How had I made so many wrong decisions? I tried to open my hands and let them fall, but I couldn’t.

“Christ, please take them away. I am sorry. I don’t want them anymore. I tried to do what was right. I tried to forgive others when they hurt me. I looked to you for guidance, I prayed for your help, but I didn’t see you. Where were you! I needed you and you forsook me!”

“I have been here all along, waiting.”

Lord, help me to forgive, help me to forget. Help me to see that is was I who moved away.

Amen.

Jesus Juice

So I stopped at the gas station on the way into church for a quick cup of hot coffee. Gas station coffee is never very good but caffeine was on this mornings must list of things to do.
The young I-Generation clerk at the counter asked, "Is that all this morning?". I mumbled yes and laid two dollars on the counter.
She then asked "You on the way to church?"
"Yes I am", I replied, surprised a little by her inquiry.
"Gotta get your tank filled with the Jesus Juice!", she proclaimed as she handed me my change.
Jesus Juice? I don't believe I had ever heard this unusual phrase, much less ever considered that I was filling my tank with it.
This oh-so brief conversation stayed with me on the long drive into San Antonio. In fact, it would be with me all morning; all through an inspired Bible study on moral issues, the clerks words rang in my ears. As church service began with a guest chorale from Atlanta, Georgia beautifully singing praises I continued to consider "Jesus Juice".
When the preaching began I thought surely this moment in time, spent in a small Texas gas station on I35 would begin to fade. But it didn't.
When the Mercer University youth closed us in song, sung so perfectly that I believe the angels in heaven stopped to listen, the mental picture of a tank filled with Jesus Juice, which had taken all morning to  form, was finally clear in my mind's eye.
What was also suddenly clear was the memory from the previous Sunday. That Sunday school class had been just as inspirational. The music just as uplifting and the preaching-  God's word. So why did my tank need to be re-filled? Where had the Jesus Juice gone in just seven days. Why did I feel empty going in and full coming out?
What happens to our tanks between Sundays?
It is easy to blame some evaporation on the world. Sadly our world doesn't always see God Monday through Saturday, neither do we. Maybe some of the juice is burnt up by an emotional train that speeds through our week, requiring us to expend more of it than normal. Perhaps like a thief in the night, people we know and even love siphon off our tanks for their own use.
Pretty easy to place blame.
Pretty easy to justify the need for a refill each Sunday morning by proclaiming a "Bad week."
I always try to be honest to the person in the mirror and those who show me care by reading my words. So honestly...I lose most of that Jesus Juice by poking holes in my own tank. Each time I make the wrong decision, self centered instead of Christ centered, I drive a nail through the lining of the tank, letting the juice seep out. As the tank level lessens it becomes easier to jab and jab again, making more holes, releasing more of Christ. Sometimes by Saturday night only fumes remain. Just enough to get me back to church, where I sputter in, anticipating, needing, praying for the Jesus Juice.
You see, God will let me go on in the wasteful pattern as long as I am stupid enough to do so. He loves me that much. He also loves me enough to remind me that although I may think that my tank is empty, it never really is.
"Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you."
Unconditional.
"No one can snatch them out of my hand."             
Unending.

"It is finished"                                                    
Love.

When they know what they do.

Each of us, whether people of faith or otherwise, will face obstacles in our life. We will face them most often in any of four areas, health, family and finances. These obstacles, large or small may be put  in place by our own actions, by the actions of others or by Satan himself. We live in the devil’s playground and he has proven to be quite the bully. And then sometimes, like a hurricane, all the elements of these obstacles come together to form an unstoppable storm in our life. The gale will rage and cause havoc until the fourth area, our faith, begins to feel the devastating power of this tempest.

The Bible tells us stories of those who faced the storms with their faith leading the way. We know of Job and Abraham, of Jacob and Joseph, we read the accounts of Moses. The faith of each bible hero points towards Jesus Christ. There are many other men and women of faith depicted in the scriptures, but none so great as Jesus of Nazareth. Before we know him as Jesus the Christ, we read of Jesus the man. He was a man who would face all the obstacles that any of us will. His ministry on earth would grow for more than three years, loving those he met, becoming friends with a small group of constant followers. He would be known throughout the region as a great teacher, a man of compassion. Nevertheless, the storms would come.

He would be betrayed for a pocket full of money. He would beaten about the back so severely that his blood would flow. They would hit his face without mercy. They spat on him like he was worth no more than dirt. He would be ridiculed by placing a crown of thorns upon his brow, causing more blood to run down his swollen face.

And on the eve of his death those whom he had loved would turn their back on him.

Yet through this story we see Jesus the man’s faith. In the Garden of Gethsemane Jesus said, “My soul        is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.”. Then in faith he turned to the Father and said, “Abba, Father, everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.”.
And then on the cross we again see the faith of Jesus of Nazareth, moments before he would become Jesus the Christ, when he uttered these words-” Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

But what about when they do know what they are doing? What about when with knowledge and forethought others bring storms into our life. What about when with knowledge and planning we bring the own storms into our life? What happens when we act as Peter did on the eve of Jesus’ death and run and hide, denying knowledge of Jesus.

The Bible does not tell us who they were that did not know what they were doing. I believe it did not only include those in the crowd that cheered as Jesus was raised on the cross. I believe it included all those that had conspired against him for so long leading up to this moment.
But I do not believe it included Peter.
You see Peter knew exactly what he was doing. Peter was hiding like a coward. He pretended a different life for his own benefit. This was the same Peter that had proclaimed to Jesus- “You are the Christ.”   

So what do we do when those that are closest to us bring storms into our path? What do we do when we choose to hide instead of believing? What do we do when the pain is so deep that we look for the end rather than the resolve?

After His resurrection Jesus the Christ sat with the betrayer Peter and asked him three times-”Peter, do you love me?” And then, with immeasurable love,  Jesus trusted Peter with His most loved possession-His church. The Great Shepherd said to Peter, the man who knew what he was doing when he denied Christ three times, the man who knew what he was doing when he ran into the night, away from his friend, his brother, he said to him,” Take care of my sheep.”         

Can we love those  storm-makers as Jesus loved Peter? Can we trust them as He trusted.

I hope I can.

In just a moment.

Every so often  a Sunday school lesson comes along that will stay with you all day. Maybe even  into the work week. Today’s lesson will stay with me for a long time.

It is not just the content of today’s lesson that will prevent life from causing  the recitation to fade into memory, it is also the teacher of this lesson. As a side, he would not want me to write these words for all to see, but I feel compelled to do so because the teacher is also my friend.

Today’s  lesson came from the 9th chapter of Mark’s Gospel. The bookends that sandwiched this provoking lesson were, first “What would you do in thirty minutes spent with Christ?” This question alone would have sustained the entire lesson, with no other word being said out loud after the question was posed. Yet it is the partner bookend that has hung with me all the day. The teacher closed today’s course when he spoke of events in his life that have come onto the horizon almost simultaneously. Any of these events alone would be enough to cause fear and anxiety to most of us. To face them all at once would surely be overwhelming.

In a way that our class members have grown to recognize, the teacher was able to separate his personal life from the lesson while enticing us to consider God’s word in our own life, even when we knew it was his life that  the lesson had gently led us to. If there was concerns, fear or anxieties that the teacher is facing now they were concealed by the professionalism of a great leader.

We will all face giants in our  lifetime. With them will come many questions, many concerns and sometimes many tears. As I listened to the teacher and thought about my own giants I considered again the first question-what if I had thirty minutes with Jesus? There would be so many things that I would want to  say, want to ask. So many of His words that I have read that I would want to hear Him say aloud. The thought of what to do with thirty minutes began to set it’s on anxiety into place!

So instead of supposing I instead  began recalling. It is these memories conjured that led me to where I sit now. The pupil encouraging the teacher.

It suffices to say that life has presented me with many giants, most of my own making. I will not give these  behemoths any detail, most have been defeated, those that have not do not deserve limelight. There was never thirty minutes with Jesus that helped me survive the angst these giants hurled. Thirty minutes with Christ would have been a welcome miracle. But thirty minutes was not needed. It was in just a moment that each time, with each giant, that Christ calmed the storm, that He wiped the tears, that He gave me hope. The outcome of the events were not foretold to me. As a matter of fact some did not end as I would have hoped (God’s plan is bigger than our hope). In just a moment I was gently reminded-”Be still, and know that am God.”

It is these moments that allow us to survive the hours, the days and the years. All of life’s events, it’s giants, swirl around us at breakneck speeds. We don’t know where they will take us, what harm they may cause or what joys they may bring. But if we just “be still”, the blur will begin to clear, the noise will fade, and there in the midst of our life we will see God.

Thank you John for a wonderful lesson. Now it is time to “be still and know.”

Two Les's

 Yesterday I was walking across the sea of asphalt that makes up the huge parking lot of the  grocery store. I was carrying one small bag of groceries and one rather large headache when I noticed a man approaching. He had taken the perfect angle across the parking lot and would surely intersect my path before I reached my truck. I could see his eyes and I knew he had me as his target. From his appearance I believed he must be homeless. His clothes were dirty and ragged. His shoes looked as if they may have traveled thousands of miles. His hair was long and tied back in a pony tail. His beard was short, perhaps just a few days old but carried with it the dirt of the road. He also had the distinguishing behavior of a drug addict that had been tweaking. When he opened his mouth to speak you could see that chronic drug use had caused advanced tooth decay.

My head was pounding and I did not want to deal with a beggar right now. I don't mind helping out someone when I can, but what ever I gave him would certainly go to buying drugs, I would rather save it for someone who really needed help.This one looked like a seasoned pro, he ignored No Solicitation signs and would bother whomever he pleased. I knew by his path that there would be no avoiding him, so I had already decided that my path of least resistance would be to offer him a dollar and move on.
I reached into my shirt pocket and pulled out a folded bill to hand him when I noticed that his own hand held something that he was offering to me. With the quickness of a stage magician he replaced the dollar bill that was in my hand with the paper that was in his. Now in my hand was small piece of brown paper, about the size of a business card. The paper looked like it had been torn from a lunch bag. On one side, written in childlike script was the question, "Do you know Him?". On the other side the words "John 3:16".
He said, "My names is Les. I am working on straightening my life out with the help of Jesus. I am just asking for people to pray for me, but you gotta know Him before you can pray to Him."
I stood there looking at his face, unable to reply in any way. Les then handed me my folded dollar bill and said, "You must have dropped this."
"Go ahead and keep it", I replied.
"Nah, you save it for someone who really needs help."
Then he walked away.
This unexpected encounter stayed with me for a little while. I kept seeing his face. I kept thinking about the small brown homemade calling card; until my headache took over and all memory of this encounter faded.
Until today.
This morning during worship service at Trinity Baptist my encounter with Les came back when our pastor, Pastor Les, lead the congregation with a sermon about Les the homeless man. Now Pastor Les Hollan didn't know he was preaching about Les the homeless man, but I did. Today's sermon was about "Sharing the Good News." The Pastor taught that to share scripture one must understand scripture. He suggested that we ask three questions when learning about a verse or verses. The first, "How does this passage help me to know God?", second, "How does this passage help me to know myself?", and finally. "How does this passage help me to know the world I live in?".
You see, yesterday God placed in front of me living Scripture, named Les. I know very little about this man, and doubt that our paths will ever cross again. What I do know is this: in that parking lot it was not I who was Sharing the Good News. I take these questions learned this morning and wonder-
"How did this stranger help me to know God?"
"How did this stranger help me to see myself?"
"How did this stranger help me to recognize the world I want to live in?
God Bless you Les.
God Bless you Les.
You both have led in the way of Christ.

One Last Story

I met a man tonight that told me a story. I want to share his story with you.

He is married to a drug addict. They have been together for more than 20 years, for many of those years she abused drugs. He told me how he had lost almost everything during those years of abuse. He told me of the time and money stolen from his family so that the addict could satisfy her own desires.
I asked him why did he stay? Why not pack up everything and leave? He told me he loved her.

He told me how one day she hit rock bottom. Her crash to the bottom not only effected her life but it also hurt his children and him. He told me how he thanked God for finally intervening and ending many years of abuse and darkness. The he told how she stood up on the steep and rocky bottom; shaking her fist at the world. She denied an addiction. She lied about a secret life. In her anger she blamed him on her situation; spitting vile words of hatred at the man she married.
I asked him why did he stay? He told me that his children needed their mother; that he prayed each night that she would again become their mother; he had hope and faith that she would.

He told me of her recovery. He told me that she took small steps in the right direction. She began to accept professional help, an indication that the time of denial had ended. She became involved in support groups, attending meetings on a regular basis. As time progressed she began to again look like the woman he had married so many years ago. He believed that the hours spent in prayer, on bended knee, uttering at times nothing more than deep groans, had finally been answered. Then one day, hidden away carefully, he found her stash, freshly dated. She was again living a lie. She had managed to fool everyone, her doctors, her friends, her family.
I asked him why did he stay? He told me that God hates divorce. He told me that he did not want to be the one to make God cry.

He told me she once again promised to quit; although she had never admitted using again. She told him that God was working in her life, putting people in place that would help her. Putting people in place that she could help. He believed her. He was determined to make their marriage work after all they had gone through. So he watched each day as she progressed. He began again to see the subtle changes in her behavior and appearance. Her life was changing before his very eyes, for the better. He was witnessing the work of God in her life. So many prayers finally seemed to be answered....
And then he told me that one of those people that were now in her life...appears to be more than a friend. He told me that years of lying about drug abuse had enabled his wife to be an excellent liar about other matters also.

He told me that he felt as though all he has gone through, all the scars he bore, all the years he wasted, were all for nothing. He told me that if this was God's will then he would be better off without God. He said that if he had endured because of love, because of his children and because of God, then the endurance was meaningless. Love changes, children grow and enter their own world, and God, well God tempted him with faith, with hope. And then when all was done that could be done, God just walked away.

I told him that I would pray for him. I told him that I hoped the pain would again go numb. I told him that I hoped he would again one day trust God.
He didn't say anything.
I bowed my head to pray but could not find the words. So I just stood there in silence, head bowed and eyes closed.
When I opened my eyes I did not see this sad man. He was gone.
But I know that next time I look in the mirror he will be there again.

Empty Churchs

Once again today's news included a story about church attendance declining. The reporter said that church was not relevant to today's young generation, Generation Y or better known as Millennials. The story was brief but gained my attention when the decline was credited to a lack of relevancy in regards to religion.

There is nothing more precious and relevant than one's religion. An argument could be made, and discussed at length, as to the focus of one's religion, but I dare not go there now. I believe it is more important to concern ourselves with the reason for a loss in relevancy.

If we look closely there are two groups that are at the center of this sad truth; the church and the youth of our great nation. Our church leaders must take this news to heart. Why do the young adults, our future leaders, place religion at such a low priority in their life. Their parent's entered the church in record numbers during the 80's with the introduction of the "Big Box" church. Perhaps it is the message that these churches send; love and prosperity, God and prosperity, prosperity and more prosperity. Perhaps this new generation saw the empty promises that the carnival preachers hawked were just that...empty. Perhaps prosperity is not the focus of this new generation; that is good, unless by default it excludes the very church they grew up in. The young mind may be prone to using broad strokes when eliminating boredom and relevancy. And with a single stroke they whitewash what was meant to be a place of worship. But attendance is not just down in these mega-churches. So what is the cause in your church? If your church still preaches the gospel, still reads the bible and tells the truth about contentment, are you doing what needs to be done to attract this young mind.
If you are the leader in the church are you willing to sing a different song, to open the doors at a different time? Are you reaching out? You can do all this and never water down the Gospel! You don't know how, ask someone who is part of the Generation Y. Or maybe spend some time on your knees and ask God. You can not just keep opening the doors, sing the same hymns, greet the same faces and expect them to come. Christ told us to go and invite them in. So go.

To  this new and reluctant generation: there are many things as a young adult that will have no relevance to you right now, religion or a relationship with God is not one of those things. If you have never heard the story of Christ, take a moment of your life and learn about Him. If you believe the church is filled with hypocrisy, then change it. If you experienced unfulfilled promises then know that the wrong god was likely portrayed. God is not a lotto ticket that can be crumbled and tossed when you don't win. God is not guarantee that you will be the best at everything in life. God is not some rich uncle that will solve your problems with a checkbook. But I will tell you what God is, He is patient. He has all the time you will ever need. He will wait for you because He loves you. But you see my young friend the problem is that you are not patient, you may think you have time to kill before seeking religion, you don't. Before you know it you will be reading about Generation Z, you children, and wondering why the act they way they do. They act the way you teach them. Trust me, the time you loose away from God today will break your heart tomorrow. Start fresh, ask questions and seek answers. Learn today who Christ is, learn today why God is relevant. So go, now.

Sara Rose

Sara Rose walked across the stage this week while being inducted into the National Junior Honor Society. Sara is my fourteen year old daughter. As I sat in the auditorium, an overwhelmed and proud parent, memories of the past fourteen years streamed by as quickly as the time has. One memory,that paused with clarity, was of holding her hand when she was but maybe fourteen months old, helping her walk across a playground. She tried with all the might of a toddler to pull away from my grip and run to discover this new found world.

With difficulty I departed memory lane and I listened as the speaker spoke of service, leadership and character. A member of the NJHS must perform with outstanding results in each of these areas to be considered for and maintain membership. These words are ones I associated with adults, not my little girl. Until tonight. Tonight I realized that I must change with her. She has matured into a young woman, and I have not stopped looking at her as a young child.

In less than thirty minutes my daughter grew up in front of my teary eyes. I worried if she would face all the challenges that I did as a young teenager. The temptations that come within and from peers. The broken hearts that come with relationships suddenly cut short for no good reason. The decisions to study or to play. The choices to do right or wrong. 

I know she will face each of these as I did. Today the challenges are even more with the popularity of social networks like My Space and Facebook allowing one to be more bold in their honesty, more open in their sharing of private thoughts, regardless of their content. It has become so easy for anyone to sit at a keyboard and type thoughts that at one time were not even spoken out loud; then with the stroke of a key share them with the world.

Without doubt I know Sara will face these challenges. It is also without doubt that I know she will face them better than I did. Sara Rose has the distinct advantage of knowing Jesus Christ as her savior and as her guide. At fourteen I made the choice not to know Him, to turn away from God and His church. It would be another twenty years before I realized what Sara did when she was just 8 years old.

All of inductees tonight were asked to take a vow. A vow that they would always follow the guidelines as set forth by the National Honor Society. For you Sara this vow will be simple when you remember the promise that God made to you.

I will still try to hold your hand at times to steady your walk, and you will probably still  pull away and discover the world on your own. But know this now as I do, in truth, you were steadying me.

Love, Dad

tammy h

A few hours ago I attended a Cocaine Anonymous meeting after being invited by tonight's guest speaker, Tammy H. Tammy is my wife.

I arrived to a room that was filled with addicts. Like my wife, all were not cocaine addicts. I listened to them reveal their addictions,as I patiently waited for tonight's speaker to begin. There were alcoholics, cocaine addicts,and those with combination's of abuse. I was sitting in a room with people, whose network may have abused every drug there is to abuse. I was uncomfortable, hoping that the time would progress rapidly to the moment I could walk out the door.

Then a young girl stood up to introduce tonight's speaker, my wife. Her words and choked back tears told all of her adoration for Tammy. Tammy is this young girl's sponsor, her mentor. She spoke of a time with without hope, and then how hope came to her through the words that my wife had shared with her. And now Tammy was about to share those words in a room filled with people who cling each day to an elusive hope.

In 2008, my first book, "Going Numb" was released. The book was about a battle with addiction; Tammy's battle. It was about God's love and intervention in our life. It was suppose to be about hope. The last chapter of Going Numb was written on what was then Tammy's thirtieth day of sobriety, it has now been more than three years. As I read those words back now, I realize that in those final thoughts written was also doubt. I did not have much hope that Tammy could even stay sober to day thirty-one.

Thank God I was wrong. You see, tonight Tammy wrote the final chapter with the words she delivered to a room filled with hope.

She invited us on a journey that began with her childhood and it would continue along a road filled with turns and obstacles until it would finally reach her recovery. Tammy's words brought back many memories. Memories that I had chosen to bury in the darkest corner of that closet we call our mind. She reflected on behaviors that had caused pain to the people she loved. She told this audience how she had ruined so many things. As I sat there listening to my wife's confession I wondered why she would tell a room filled with strangers about such private matters. Her words caused hurt, for her and for me, yet she continued down this road.

Tammy spoke of things I had not remembered. She spoke of things I had not known. With her words she completed stories that previously I had only been able to guess as to the endings. Not another sound could be heard as she lead us on this journey whose scenery revealed scars that heal so slowly.

Tammy spoke of God. She told us how He had been there when others were not. The list of "others" is exhaustive and includes me. It was at this turn in the road that I saw her destination. With Tammy's words paving the road she lead a group of people to a place called Hope. By revealing where she had come from she accomplished the message of where she was going, and tonight everyone in that room wanted to go with her.

Tonight I saw for the first time in many years the woman I fell in love with. She has matured beyond me. She came through this journey better.

She looked at me as she spoke with tears brimming her eyes and said, "I don't know how I will ever make it up to you."

Baby, you just did.

Just as I am.

Charlotte Elliot penned these beautiful words-
"Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because Thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come."
-more than 150 years ago. I am blessed each time I am led to sing this wonderful hymn. The words remind us that regardless of who we are, or of what we have done, our Lord died for us. These simple words tell us that we are welcome, that we are forgiven and that we are cleansed.

Then what?

These words of assurance are for our beginning. They are like the welcome mat at the outset of our walk with Jesus Christ. He welcomes me "Just as I am", but we can not stay "Just as we were"!

The Apostle Paul wrote in his letter to the Colossians-
"You used to walk in these ways, in the life you once lived. But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator. " Col.3:7-10.
We can add to Paul's list of things that must be rid;addiction.

We accepted Christ's promise. We asked Him to help us stop. Now all that came with a life of addiction must also stop. We can't stop abusing one substance and replace it with another substance or behavior, and think for a moment that we are cleansed. We can't have anger towards the results of our own past behavior, lashing out at the one's who loved us enough to stand beside us when we failed, who stood fast through our recovery, who could have left but never did. We can't lie about our past to pave a better future, that my friend is denial. We can't because of the blood He shed. You see there is no forgiveness without the shedding of His blood. Without forgiveness there is no hope. Without forgiveness there is no relief.

When we continue just as we were, we water down the blood of Christ. And when we add water and more water and then more by our refusal to accept a new and renewed image, we end up with nothing more than a stagnate puddle to stand in...alone.

Father, I pray that we accept and embrace the new image your created for us. I pray that these words open our eyes-
"Just as I am, and waiting not
To rid my soul of one dark blot,
To Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come."

Indecency 101

Yesterday someone displayed a banner on the campus of UTSA declaring "Free Porn". The banner went on to read "Trade in your Holy texts for porn." The banner is signed "Atheist Agenda". The creators and enthusiast of this banner may fail to realize the hypocrisy they displayed when choosing to wave a banner for all to see.

The Vice President of Public Affairs for the university stated "...we are a market place for free ideas.", he went on to say, "As long as students don't violate any laws or rules, they are allowed to exercise their constitutional rights." Sadly I suppose he is correct. Our nation wavers all to frequently, as of late, when recognizing constitutional rights. It is with pride and reverence that I also claim those same constitutional rights to voice my opinion to reveal the true hypocrisy of this ardent group of young atheist.

The web site for American Atheists spends a considerable amount of space defining their beliefs. Actually the majority of the space declares why all other definitions, other than their own, fall short of the truth. So I will honor their definition; "a lack of belief in gods"...that's it.

So where is the hypocrisy in their displaying of this banner?

The Atheist has made an offer to trade pornographic material for "Holy Texts". This person who practices a belief in the lack of gods suddenly recognizes that other texts are worthy of complete devotion. Texts that are exalted because of their goodness and righteousness are now sought after by the Atheist (otherwise why trade for them?). They will readily surrender their own belief that porn is good, porn is free,and finally admit that porn is actually one of their gods, in order to get their soiled hands on "Holy Texts". Evidently their lack of belief in gods only extends as far as the atheist chooses. In elevating pornographic material to a level that is equal with the Bible or the Koran, the Atheist inadvertently has revealed a god, their god, their idol.

Perhaps these Atheist will take the time to read the "Holy Texts" that are bartered for their cheap porn. Perhaps they will learn that long before they had this bright idea in March of 2010, man had already sought deity in obscenity. Genesis 13:13 reads "Now the men of Sodom were wicked and were sinning greatly against the Lord." In Sodom the little god of lasciviousness was so vogue that only one man and his family were spared from the wrath of God. Perhaps they will realize that the desire within them to seek comfort originates from the God of the Universe who loves them so much that he allows them to worship the little gods. Perhaps they will realize, if they take the time to read the words, that God knew from the beginning that these were the choices they would make. In making these choices, God knew that he would be separated from his creation, his children, separated for an eternity. Perhaps as they read they will see that to avoid eternal separation, God came to us as a man. And this man, Jesus the Christ, walked amongst his creation. As a man he described to all who would listen, the love of the Father. As a man he suffered. As a man he wept. As a man he died...for you and for me.

Or perhaps they wont realize the hypocrisy their life is draped in and never read a single word.

When giants fall.

Tiger Woods was a giant. His status as an athlete towered high above other golfers. His professional demeanor, his obvious love for the game he played with little flaw, his humanitarian efforts and his love for his family, displayed without hesitation, made Tiger Woods someone we wanted to know, someone we wanted to be like. But like other giants who would one day fall, Tiger has followed their descent.

This Herculean hero recently admitted to an addiction to sex. In the past few days he added to his list of addictions the drugs Vicodin and Ambien.

Today we can find out so much about the personal lives of not only our hero's but of our next door neighbors simply by googling, tweeting or reading a facebook entry. If one googles "Tiger Woods" and "addiction", thousands of pages will offer their perspective, their thoughts...made up or true...you must decide. But within those thousands and thousands of web pages you will also find those that actually elevated Tiger's status as a giant to one of a demigod. "Whats wrong with being a sex addict?" one blogger cried. Others accepted Tiger's behavior as a matter of course, it is acceptable to come with fame...it is expected to come with fame.

Whether there is any truth in these thoughts I can not tell you. I hope that we have hero's and role models that do not succumb to this behavior, justified by the fame alone. What I can tell you is you don't have to be famous to fall. Addictions are not reserved for the rich and famous, the Beast that is addiction is an equal opportunity spoiler.

I wrote once that every where I looked I saw those that suffered from the consequences of addiction; in my family, at work, at church and in the mirror. I now wonder how many of those may have addictions to multiple behaviors or substances. I wonder, as in the case of Tiger Woods, which came first. Did his addiction to sex and the eventual public revealing of this addiction drive him to seek relief with drugs? Did then his dominate addictive behavior take over again and convince him that he would not survive without the numbing effect the drugs would provide?

I wonder if we all are addicts. Are we all hiding behind a false front, carefully built with a daily routine that conceals what we do at night, what we do in the darkest recesses of our mind? Is this what God had in mind we He gifted us with free-will?

No.

Stopping will not be easy, for Tiger Woods or any of the thousands of other who fight a daily battle. Regardless of their belief, Buddhism, Zoroastrian, agnostic or Christian, without faith they will not stop, they will not change. And one day they will fall.

I believe that only with faith in Jesus Christ will we change. This change, this re-generation, this new birth begins the moment we accept Christ as our Savior. I cannot tell you what in us changes, only that a change begins. Your addiction will still be there, the fight to stop will be fought on even tougher battle fields.The desire to go numb again will be real. The consequences of addiction that have damaged relationships, developed physical pains and ended careers will not miraculously heal. But there is change.

First, you are not alone...Christ is by your side.
Second, you may fail, but you will never fall. Your life is held in the hand of Christ.

John 10:28-"And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any pluck them out of my hand."

I hope you will pray and ask for forgiveness, ask Him to be your Father, accept His gift of forgiveness and eternal life, take His hand. That is what I hope for, what I do is pray.

Jim

22 Minutes without God

I began today as I do everyday, time with God. First is time spent in scripture then a time of prayer. I pray each day that I will realize God in my midst each and every moment. This morning at 7:49 I received a phone call from my sister. Her call was to tell me of an accident that a family member had been involved in. Her voice alone told me that it was not good. Tragedy was the result of a terrible accident. Three people were dead. Her husband, the driver was home with minor injuries. He was sleeping, having succumbed to the emotional toll, late night hours in a small town hospital and question after question asked by the State Troopers.
I struggled to find words that would offer encouragement, offer hope, words that would soothe. She asked only for prayer. I told her I would.
Within minutes of receiving the news of this terrible accident my phone once again rang. More news, unrelated to the accident, came to me. Bad news. News that could be life altering.
I had not yet stopped to pray for my sister and her family when the second call delivered it's punch. The second call was ended abruptly by the caller.
I sat at my desk stunned. In a matter of minutes overwhelming information had been delivered. My mind had little time to react to the first call, much less to respond to the second.
Question after question raced through my mind. How did the accident happen? Who were the people killed? Would charges be filed against the driver? Why? Would my sister be okay?
Questions prompted by the second call were grounded in doubt about the candor of the caller. She accused me of causing her newest situation. Was I the agency of her problem? Was there any truth in the words she spat with such venom? What would our future bring? Would my marriage survive another blow? Would I be okay?

Where is God now?

It was 8:11 AM before the questions ended their ricochet. The staggering effect of the calls began to subside. For twenty-two minutes I did not realize God in my life. I had told my sister that I would pray, I had not. Until the final question, "Where is God now?", I hadn't even thought of God.
The sudden news and sorrowful nature of both calls had lead my mind away from God, away from my source of comfort and towards life circumstances instead. For twenty-two minutes I chose life without God.

The choice was not a conscious one, but one that is rooted in the very nature of man. My choice, our choice, to face life's problems without first facing God is wrong, always. It is lonely, always. It hurts, always.
It is avoidable...always.

In the 69th Psalm, the psalmist begins-"Save me, oh God;for the waters are come into my soul." He goes onto write verse after verse, words that depict a depressed soul. He describes his life as being sunk in a deep mire. He declares that he is tired of crying, his throat is dry. Hatred has polluted the life of King David, his enemy looks to kill him. Yet even with all that is wrong and hurting in his life David ends his psalm with these words-"I will praise the name of God with song, and will magnify him with thanksgiving."
What the psalmist understood that I failed to for twenty-two minutes is that there is life and there is God. I can choose one or I can choose both.
Life will always have it's tragedies, it's sadness, it's dark hours. Time will pass and the shock of this morning will wear off. Life will return to normal until the next event. As with today's the next will have pain to deliver, and questions will arise out of the mire. But next time, I pray, I will remember to first "...praise the name of God and magnify him with thanks" before I spend another minute without Him. I lost twenty-two this morning, I can not afford to loose anymore.