How Superman Got His MOJO Back...

Not long ago I wrote this in a post I was writing and I have thought about it quite a bit lately…

“I told a friend recently that I think the child I was would be kinda let down with the adult I have become. I promised myself I would have more fun than I do. I am serious and worry too much. I remember when I would look at my father and ask… wonder when it went away for dad?? I realized years later he never had the gift to be a dreamer; he was just trying to make a living”

That part about me letting myself down as a younger kid… I’ve thought about it a thousand times lately I swear… I heard the song “Billy the Kid” by Billy Dean recently and as I heard the words I was stopped dead in my tracks. There is a part of the song where he describes himself as a kid remembering when he was a boy wearing six-guns and holsters and riding his bike through the neighborhood. I was thrown into a crazy memory of who I was. I had six guns and a hat and a black bicycle from sears and I was the baddest dude in all the neighborhood. I feared NOTHING… I rode my bike on every surface, sometimes I rode, sometimes I fell and had fun and chased cats and was very ornery. I liked ME then. I liked knowing that I had fun at every turn and as I thought about it… I remembered WHO I was…
I know its ignorant sounding maybe, but I have spent the last 10 years in a place of being changed from the inside out. The guy I was has been thrown in a sack and wrestled to the ground so many times that I have bruises and cuts from head to toe. My circumstances have changed so many times and I have allowed them to define me by letting me find my identity in what everyone and everything said I was. I found myself in a bad place of letting every woman I was attracted to define me. I found my identity in my job title and I spent many of the last 10 years sad, and depressed and kicking against every wall and authority within reach of me. I tried to find identity in being married, trying to re marry and find approval from every woman I came into contact with. I wanted each one of them to speak to me and encourage me but I have finally realized as of late that its NEVER going to work like that… so? I started seeking help from professionals several years ago, and let me tell you… I met some real kooks but I finally met a woman Dr. who broke it all down for me at her office about 6 months ago. She told me I was looking for everything and everyone to fix me. Yeah I have problems that stem way back from both of my parents and honestly? Most of you know a lot of what I endured and I could bore you with the history of it all, but I am choosing to move past it because emotional maturity doesn’t come from pointing fingers at anyone. All I can tell you is I was looking to others for their approval and attention to give me value in my own life... The issue came up about my Facebook and me needing to see myself as someone of value and stop looking for anyone and everyone’s approval. I’ve walked away from it couple of other times, but honestly? I was so frustrated with not having that outside contact that I never got to the bottom of myself… But recently… I walked away and I began searching and praying to figure some things out about myself… I thought it was going to take years and lots of work to figure myself out. I started a job that took me away from the world of people and gave me the opportunity to see myself for who I am. I was taken out of the world of titles and given a role of working for people half my age and using muscles Id forgotten I had, so to say it was humbling? It was a huge understatement for me. I don’t for one second think I figured out anything in 7 days, but I will tell you that it was the final straw of a 10 year process of beating the stuffing out of me that caused me to have that pinnacle “light bulb moment”. On my 8 hour drive back home, I had plenty of time to think about me and my life and when I was an hour from home at mile marker 217… I pulled over and I wrote some stuff down… it hit me like a load of bricks while I was listening to the radio…
(not to sound like Kasey Kasem but…) The answer for me was just a song away… I heard the song about Billy the Kid and it hit me… that’s ME. I am that little kid. I am STILL that little kid… the problems with my circumstances are not who I am… the issues I am facing? They are not WHO I am… who I am is a great big guy with a tender heart, a love for fine things, yummy food, wine, great music and a passion to love everyone, and you know… there’s nothing wrong with that. I am still ornery, still fun and still all boy but yet, I like my tunes, I like my hair and my ability to dance in the aisle at the store and no one not even Sandra Bullock or Paula Deen could waltz into my life and change one thing about me… (Okay, if Paula started talking… I’d probably melt a bit...but…). I finally remembered WHO I was. I remembered I am the one who has made all the mistakes I’ve made, not other people. I am the one who has made the decisions to be where I am. I am the one who can make or break my own situation. If you honestly want to know what happened? I began to find that I just really like myself…a lot. I like who I am, and I’m okay with all of that. I would like to change some things but I want to change them to benefit me… not someone else. I never want to do another thing because someone else says I should…Yeah it was good for me to shut off my FB for a time, but you know?? I like to mess with my friends on my FB. I don’t want their approval…I just like having fun. I don’t care to have anyone’s approval… I KNOW WHO I AM... I know what makes me happy and it’s not a woman or someone else’s approval… it’s mine… I like me… I’m a really great guy. I guess you can say Superman got his Mojo back…

Now please understand me… If you are a private person? You wouldn’t have written this to share or post. You wouldn’t say anything and I respect that… but as of late? I’ve had several friends talking to me about this very issue. Good friends who are beautiful who worry about how they look, who they are and honestly? Who in the hell am I to help anyone, but if I am not open and If I am not transparent, who will be? If God has a calling on my life? Up until now I would say he’s called me to be a boogerhead. But if part of my calling is to share parts of my life so others can work out stuff for themselves as well? Then I’ll be as foolish as I have to be because like I said… I don’t give a damn if you like what I wrote… I’m the fool dancing to “Footloose” over in frozen foods, I just love people and if you needed to hear this today? Then for me it’s better than a hundred sermons I ever preached…

Don't Blink

I was watching the movie “The Shawshank Redemption” the other day for like the 30ll millionth time. I can’t get enough of Morgan Freeman’s voice as he narrates the story about a man wrongly convicted of murder and serving 20 years of 2 life sentences before he escaped the prison. The turning point of the movie (in case you live under a rock and haven’t seen it) is when the star is told his case for getting out of prison is overturned by the warden and he is placed in solitary for 2 months. He gets out and has a memorable scene with his friend about his life. His quote “get busy living or get busy dying” is hanging in the air when the movie concludes and he escapes and goes to live in Mexico with the warden’s money. The movie speaks of a guy who finally gets the big picture… He sees life for what it is. Figures out who he is and finally accepts what he has to do to make it work for him. Some people I suspect do this at very early ages. Some I suspect have to wait till they are a little older.

If we spend our time in our lives living at our jobs, taking care of children, with our heads in our Facebooks, living in our minds, we somehow miss the beauty of life. We spend our lives formulating a routine and doing what’s necessary until we wake up and our back hurts and our eyes aren’t as strong as they used to be and we decide that we have missed a big portion of what we were supposed to be doing previously. One of my favorite authors is a guy named Donald Miller. He wrote a book called A Million Miles in a Thousand years. I guess I’ve read it through about 3 times now because I keep finding more about what he was saying the first time. I didn’t really miss the point, but I did find new things to add to what I could retain. The main point of his book is about living life; writing a great story with your life that will inspire people and give you great memories to remember. I’m pretty sure I used to have the desire to try and please everyone I came into contact with, but I just am learning to ignore that barking dog in my psyche these days and just realize I might not have the 40 or so years left and I have got to put some ink on the page and stop staring at a blank canvas.

So I’ve deleted my Facebook account and I set my alarm early and I am running outside and not in the gym these days. I have a little internet and no cable T.V. (which btw I am not suggesting to anyone of you reading this) but I am making some small changes so I can focus on my work when it’s time to work, live more in the moment with my children and challenge myself to make an adventure out of life. 48 inch waistlines and early detection of heart diseases are not products of fly fishing on the Big Thomson in Colorado. A mini van is not a Jeep and The Grand Canyon was not a gift given to us to see in photographs. Life is greater than last night’s episode of American Idol, and our cousin’s posts about their colonoscopy on Twitter. Letters and cards from friends or relatives with real live stamps and time out of their days to tell you how important you really are to them are a thing of the past. If we invest in our life and the lives of others, we will find we enrich the days we have left with passion and a sense of purpose. Get busy living…or get busy dying… Damn right…

Weird

I want to share something with you I recently read.

I am in the middle of re-ingesting (for the 3rd or so time) a book titled The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus by Brennan Manning. Brennan is by far my favorite author to date. He is the Author of The Ragamuffin Gospel which I love dearly, however; many will bring to light how his message on Grace is dangerous and irresponsible. I of course disagree, because of what I have experienced. Most who disagree with me are those whose lives have never dipped into poverty or experienced anything less than a successful lifestyle. I am gracious so much with those as they have not walked where I have walked and they haven’t experienced the ridiculously painful places in life that would allow them to share my compassion.

In the Foreword of this book, Dr. Larry Crabb is telling of the two times in his life that he has experienced Brennan in such a way that it changed his life. The second experience is this:

The second encounter took place on the balcony of a ninth-floor hotel room. Brennan and I had just finished speaking to a pastor’s convention and we were enjoying a brief moment of quiet before leaving for the airport. “Where to next?” I asked innocently. “I start a seven-day silent retreat tomorrow,” he replied. “I’m not leading it, I’m taking it.”
“Brennan, help me here. I know you’re into that sort of thing. How are you different after getting away for a week with just you and the Lord?”
Without conscious intent (I think), Brennan gently cut through my American pragmatism when he answered, “I don’t know what it does for me. I’ve never thought much about that. I just figured God likes it when I show up.”
I walked away from that encounter more thirsty to experience the Father’s fondness for me.

Imagine if we just longed to be in his presence because we thought HE enjoyed it and not so much because we were making time for HIM. (I was completely convicted of my narcissistic view of myself with this whole story)

Thirsty… that is the word Mr. Manning uses to describe “Mystics”. He says they are not Eastern religion types who live in the dirt and experience visions. They are folks who share the experience of the unending thirst for more of who Christ is in our lives.

When the Lord told me he would make me “weird”, I thought he meant in comparison to the World. I never dreamed it would be in comparison to my brothers and sisters as well…
Experiencing this week first hand Jesus words in Matt. 5:3 “blessed are the Poor in spirit”. The death to myself in all things in my life because of my frailties and faults for my hurts and shortcomings have always haunted me and caused me to bemoan my walk with Christ because I’ve felt hindered as I am not like “healthy” people. Today for the first time I feel as if I have experienced my failures as blessings as they cause me to embrace the cross of Christ wholeheartedly… I am undone because of my need for him as my ONLY source of life. If we ever spend one moment thinking Christianity exists for our lives to benefit and be expanded then we have missed the message of the Gospel. We have been called to share in his experiences. To come and die…period. Not for the sake of suffering or death, but for the sake of warfare and reveal to the world that the love of money, possessions, vanity, power and yes the love of life itself has no power over us.
It was not only Christ’s death that was the most powerful story of the gospels, but his resurrection. We become like him and we die to not just sex, drugs, and rock and roll, but to anything and everything this world uses to hold us down. It is a mystery that is only unlocked as we transform the grip of this life and die of self. It is unexplainable foolishness to those who do not follow him. We DO become weird for we rejoice in the wrong places in the story. We give praise when we are not perfect, we are excited when we experience trials and when we are persecuted for these things the bible tells us we should rejoice because Christ will be exalted even more.

Today I rejoice in the fact that I am becoming more like him. The joy’s of my life are not those shared by the rest of the world and the peace I live in daily cannot be purchased, taken or taught… it is the direct result of suffering and shame and sorrow at the slow death of a life I once pursued. The life I now live is not my own and I have uncovered one of the greatest mysteries ever revealed. As weird as it sounds, I pray that I be found even more bizarre as my days unfold before me.


Brennan Manning, The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus(Grand Rapids Michigan: Revell, 2004) 9-10

Shadows of a Father

The clock on the desk tells me its 6:07 and the biting cool of the morning air is nipping at me still as I entered the house. It seems odd this time of year as I have to turn off the air conditioner because its cooler outside than it is in the house. Its weird you know? Like someone flipped a switch and just sent the hot air away like it was all a bad dream. Last week it was 89 degrees as I left the house to go running, and today a guy would almost need a jacket. The only downfall to this time of year is the allergies the cool weather seems to bring with it. I almost feel like a trumpeteer running in the dark with a handkerchief and honking for the right of way as I go along. It is kind of fun to watch the cats as the jump out of their skin from a dead sleep somewhere along my route.
My second oldest son Jonah runs with me every morning as we seemed to be joined at the hip these days, and that is quite okay considering the amount of time I spent in Kansas these past few years. Its quite refreshing too because the time we spend together he is non stop questions. This morning he asked me everything from repair time on old cars to gasket replacements to grass and lawn care to questions on our heritage and why MY father acted the way he did when I was young… That tends to be a topic we discuss regularly. Questions like “when you were my age, did your dad ______________? Are quite common in our day to day exercise routines. I always try to explain and model the greatness of my father so my son will know his grandfather was just that… grand. I told him recently of my memory of working for him as a pipe fitter the summer after I graduated and the entire 4 months we spent daily working together and how hard he was to live with, yet how giving and kind he could be during the off hours. I remember looking up and seeing my dad who was well into his forties by that time coming down off a scaffolding in his blue shirt and denim jeans that always seemed to serve as the main uniform he chose to wear everyday. “He wasn’t as heavy as he is today” I told Jonah. “he was still 6’5” and he weighed in around 250 lbs and it was muscle and bone in those days and I knew there was nothing he couldn’t do. I remember watching him lumber across the concrete at a breakneck pace because my dad went at everything he ever did like a mad man with his hair on fire. I remember being in awe that morning thinking to myself “My dad is huge and there isn’t anything I’m scared of when he is around.” I was about 6 foot then and a whopping 200 lbs. “My dad cast a larger shadow than any man I knew.” “But wasn’t your dad hard on you and Aunt Shana when you were young??” Jonah said. I replied “Son? Of all my friends I don’t know of anyone who’s dad could raise as much hell and throw more fits when things didn’t go his way, but I don’t know of one single father who had a bigger heart and loved his children more during the fun times” “So he as a lot of fun?” Jonah asked. “yeah Jo Jo… he would tell us stories of his childhood and his dad and mom and keep us in stitches for hours about the things he pulled and jokes he had heard, he was fun” I replied.

Honestly, its very interesting how I began to deal with my emotions about my dad as I became a dad and have been perfecting the dad thing. I’m not good at it, but our fathers usually give us a pattern or mold to work from as far as how we are to treat our own children and we move from there to a place of taking what we know and adding to it.
So this morning we were jogging along in the dark through an established neighborhood where the trees were 30 to 40 feet tall and the morning housing lights still had not been turned on because it was so early. We ran under the street lamps which seemed to be so dim during the dark hours of the morning but still they gave some comfort to be able to see the asphalt that was passing so quickly under our feet. As we approached each lamp our shadows would disappear until we were passing the lamp and our shadows quickly grew out of no where on the ground beside us and began to run along in front of us and grow with every step we took. I noticed my shadow was quite a bit larger and longer than Jonah’s and as we reached the center distance between the poles my shadow was about 20 some feet and I could see the young teenage boy in me still and yet I could also see the responsible leader who is the provider and high protector of my young brood of cubs in the same shadow.
A dear friend of mine recently said to me “Humility is being confident in knowing what you are and knowing what you are not”. I thought of that this morning because I realized I AM a good dad and a friend to my children and I haven’t gotten so big for my britches in life that they can’t ever have fun with me. I thought of that because I also know that I am NOT the epitome of confidence my father was at my age. He seemed to always have a plan, to always be prepared and to have things under control. Most days I can’t even get lunch together and yet my children still have no problem trusting that I’ve got it all together, which does give me that deep seeded feeling of humility. I’ve got nothing to brag about but they still will have the same stories to tell their children one day.
I hate the idea of “selling” God. It’s NOT my quest nor mission to do so. You either get it or you don’t… plain and simple..and brow beating others to become Christians is about as bad advertising as screechy TV preachers with hankies and a demand for money to support the ministry. But as of late I have learned a great lesson in just living out what you believe instead of trying to be something you are not. When I do that? It’s just not explainable but God simply makes the necessary changes.. he just tells me to put down the remote and the cell phone and pick up the ball glove and play. Its that easy… just play.. Cause he just wants to play with us as well…
I realize that’s not the kind of theology you’re gonna hear from the pulpit maybe, but in my book? It’s the essence of cool.
As we were finishing our run? I couldn’t stop looking at the stars… there were millions of them this morning… I was amazed. I told Jo… look brother, its really cool.. Cause I think God does that just to dazzle us. He said “I never thought of it like that. I figured they are stars and planets etc” I told him I’m sure they are, but if it was just me and Jo on this Earth? I think he would have done it all over again and again… just to wow me and keep me amazed at how amazing he is. He woo’s us by being amazing and revealing his creation to us when we aren’t expecting it. I can’t explain it really but just being caught off guard by a sunset or a mountain landscape or seeing a beautifully colored bird and realizing that you have seen something like that a thousand times, but today for some reason Its like you were looking at it for the first time. I long to be a good father. But God is an amazing father and when I think of how his love for me covers up my inadequacies I am completely undone. God knows what I need when I need it and he always provides everything in its due time.

God.... and Forrest Gump

“Have you found Jesus yet Gump?” said Lt. Dan. Forrest replied “I didn’t know I was supposed to be looking for him Sir”. it’s a very funny couple of lines from my favorite movie of all time. Yes, you read that right… Tom Hanks portrayal in Robert Zemeckas’s 1994 Hit movie is still light years out in front of all the other movies I’ve seen to date. I love Braveheart, Star Wars, Fight Club, When Harry met Sally, and those would round out my top 5 but by far, Forrest is still my fan favored pick.

If you know me? You would know it’s not a stretch as it’s a movie about a simple man, longing for the love of one woman… which is my life in a nutshell. It seriously is… its funny when I see God dealing with something in my life and as of late it’s the woman thing. It’s coming to a head soon and you will probably find me in the corner with a sticky note on my forehead that reads: If found return to… followed by my address… I love the way the Lord moves and is such a gentleman when he deals with us, but he is and I am glad… and so is the rest of the female population J .

Lately I’ve been hanging out in the book of Song of Songs in the bible and if you have ever read it, it will make you blush with some of the language, but as any strong married couple can attest, the emotions shared by the lover and beloved in this short book are right on and true and cannot be denied. It is a depiction of the Lover who we can correctly assume is the Lord and his Beloved whom we know is the Church and the love affair they share for one another and as anyone can assume it is a depiction of how he woos us and calls out to us to love him. The most manly among us will testify that when the lord calls us to him, we are eager to love him and worship him for who he is and to find him as the provider for our lives and the comforter of our souls. If you have ever found yourself in that desperate place of longing for Him for your very breath of life, you will know exactly what I mean. If not? You will find my words to be nonsense right now.

I sat down to watch Forrest Gump again last night and as usual, I tear up like a little girl all through the movie and I realized today why exactly I do such a thing. I noticed that the parts where Forrest is reunited with Jenny all through the movie, I found myself with tears streaming down my cheeks, and for most that would be foolishness, but I think its so much more than just the happy scenes or the scenes about love for me. I realized something amazing… Forrest is like God in this movie. Always disciplined, always doing the hard thing, because it is right. He is faithful to his word and continued to maintain a single love for ONE woman….. Jenny. His Jenny was so lost and sad and heartbroken and corrupt and dead to his affections and love. Jenny is a depiction of the world. Robin Wright plays the role masterfully in the movie and in the times she is running from everything that is true in her life (Forrest) she is lost and whores herself out for any attention from other men (other Gods) so she can feel complete. Forrest writes letters to her, and they come back unread. He confesses his love to her. He does his best to woo her in his simple charm that isn’t attractive to Jenny as she longs for so much more than he can answer or give to her. He remains steadfast and he is never bitter. In fact every time he is with her all throughout the movie he says the same line “Me an Jenny were together again just like Peas and Carrots… and IT… was the Happiest time of my life.” That part struck me very hard like a frying pan to the side of my head.

God desires us even when we are whoring ourselves out for attention from the world. He desires us and is never ever evil or angry when we reject him. He hates our sins and that is a known fact of many in the church but so many throw out the baby with the bathwater and assume God wants to punish us for walking away from him. That’s JUST not the case… in fact, like Forrest.. When we return to him every time, he woos us all over again and he wants to settle things and Marry us and keep us for his very own… and like all the times in the movie, we as the church love on him until we decide his love is just too much and we run away. Isn’t it JUST like the Father to allow us to get to a place where we are sick, or ill or hurt or wounded and we seek him out again, just like Jenny did with Forrest and he just didn’t become ugly or angry.. Once again he accepted her and welcomed her back and gave of himself to her over and above what she could have ever dreamed. He’s not flashy, he’s not a quick fix…. He is simple and his love for us is real and honest and its overwhelming and it simply wants to give itself away to us. I love the movie but my favorite part is when Jenny writes to him and they are reunited and married and she is sick in bed and she says “ I wish I had been with you all those times” and he replies “you were”. We are ALWAYS on his mind… he is ALWAYS thinking of how he can woo us and love us and keep us and show us HIS love. The love of our Father is so real and so alive and so amazing and completely and totally loyal. We are his ONLY object of affection…. He is a jealous lover and yet he won’t condemn us is we run away from him, but when we return… He is like Forrest.. He is totally lost in his love for us as his beloved bride.


As of late my God has wooed me back to a place of walking with him. Just like in the movie, the love of the world and the affections of women are tempting? But I am dancing in the living room to Sweet Home Alabama when the rest of you aren’t looking. My needs are being provided and I am literally the apple of his eye right now and I desire nothing more that can take the place of such peace. “It is the happiest time of my life” and me n God are like Peas and Carrots again…. And I am praying for each of YOU, every day to experience the same… I promise you there is nothing that can rival this… And that’s all I got to say about that….

.

Tomatoes for Polly

I am a member of a group of people who gather at my church several times a week to pray. The eldest member of our group is a widow named Polly who has been the lead prayer partner as long as I have attended at our church. When I first started coming 11 years ago, the church wasn’t nearly as big as it is now, and I believe the growth in number while retaining the flavor of a small church comes through prayer from faithful folks like this friend of mine. Now Polly’s health isn’t the best and she is forced to carry oxygen with her all the time now and her hands are showing the effects of arthritis but she is definitely still willing to lift the banner of prayer high in our church.
We were preparing to start recently and Polly asked if she could share something. It’s funny when Polly asks to tell a story because she speaks these days of the simplest things, which I find endearing because of the joy in her voice and the spark in her eye. So it was with great big smiles we looked at her with anticipation, and of course, she did not disappoint.
Polly said “well, of course most of you know I’m retired”. We all laughed when she said that and rightly so… Polly is in her early eighties and therefore she has been retired several years at this point. “I don’t have much or want for much these days, but I was sitting in my chair at around 9 AM this past week and I told the Lord that I was hungry and said “Lord, I haven’t had a good juicy tomato in a long time, do you think you could see fit to give a couple?” which is a simple prayer really because it was just for a couple of tomatoes, not a necessity, just something I really wanted. So I had kind of forgotten about it and around 10:30 I went outside to get the newspaper and just as I came out the garage door, a woman I knew had pulled in the drive, and I stood there to visit for a few minutes. She reached over into her bucket and pulled out 4 large tomatoes and asked me “Polly, would you like to have some of these tomatoes? I have too many and I need to give some away”. Well I gladly took them and I put em on the table and laughed to myself as I thought of God sitting there chuckling about not just giving me 2 tomatoes, but 4, cause that‘s just like him to give us more than we asked for.”
Of course we all had a great laugh about her story, but it was something much much deeper than that and Polly grew a bit more serious and looked around at all of us in less of a story voice and more of a forewarned tone and said “you know? God isn’t worried about my tomato intake nearly as much as he is my understanding that he is a good father and he loves me very much. I could go on and on about a lot of things, but he just wanted to remind me of his love and he does love me very much.” I was honestly very moved by the amount of sweetness in her voice as she told us about her experience because she had understood the whole thing correctly. She hadn’t missed God’s intentions… He just wanted her to realize that he loved her just because of who she was and wanted to give her good gifts not because she had earned them or been faithful or prayed the right prayer, but simply because he loves us as his children and longs to give us constant reminders of his love. Its not magic, it’s not coincidence…. It was just a matter of him, loving on Polly cause not only did she appreciate it, she wanted to share his story. I wrote this the week she told the story, but I didn’t feel it was time to share it… but today is the right time to share this story. If you have to ask why at this point, then it’s probably not for you, but someone needed this story today… and you need to know that if it’s a car, or a house payment or a job or just to know he loves you… God is just waiting to answer your prayer and give you a huge hug, cause he really loves you (well.. he loves me too.. But you know… Hee hee Hee).
Have an awesome day my friends ; )

Superheros and Snotbubbles

My name is Todd… and I am a Father, part time to children who miss me.
But that’s not the big story.
My name is Todd… I once was married but now I’m no longer married.
But that’s not the whole picture.
My name is Todd… I am a minister… and I am a broken Christian, and I am one of Gods Ragamuffins… and that is the best story I can tell…

I’m not sure how old I was when I first started hearing stories of the Christian life. I must have been 3 or 4 but I do remember receiving a bible from my Aunt for Christmas in 1974 and I couldn’t really understand it and always knew I needed to be reading it, but to a 6 year old the King James version did NOT make any sense. So I did the next best thing, I put the bible under my pillow to protect me, and keep me safe from the demons I thought I saw looking in the windows at night and I slept with it there until I left for college in 1987. I would look at the pics and try to understand it, but it wasn’t until July of 1988 that I actually gave my life to God that I truly began to understand the words written on the pages. Sitting on top of a 10’ ladder in the back of a restaurant at 2:00AM, I gave the rest of my life over to God and he… is a man… of his word.
When you learn most of what you know about the bible by regurgitation from well meaning evangelical ministers, your outlook of the word can be very skewed and disproportionate. Much like those ministers who are hung up on blessings and tithing, the bible belt area I grew up in where my faith was formed is very steeped in the traditions of evangelism and much is given from the pulpit about morality and right living so others will be lured in. Sure that’s just MY viewpoint and there is nothing wrong with that mentality, but coming from my broken assessment of the gospels I have found solace in the last 10 years in the broken places of just knowing that my God is a friend to those who are broken and hurting.
I used to think God had called those who had it together or at least when we got saved, we all got a new car and a great haircut and our acne cleared up and all we had to do was pay our taxes on time and drive the speed limit and never cuss and we could punch a ticket into heaven. I listened to other Christians go on and on about the love of God and how they had been filled with peace etc and I swear for 15 years I faked it. I was even ordained in 1997 as a gospel minister, probably based on the words I could say, but I’ll tell you honestly, if there was any truth in me it was only how to live morally and not necessarily a true experience of God’s love.
In 2002 my friend Mark and I were discussing this love experience thing and I told him I just didn’t believe in the emotion of it all. I didn’t feel comfort when I prayed. I didn’t feel it was anything more than a public show and he looked at me like Id lost my mind. I mean, I was in leadership for goodness sakes. I was in the leadership home group with other leaders who were the folks in the church who were supposed to be the experts in the ways of Christianity and we had all the answers… and honestly? I had NO idea what it was to be in love with our father. To my shame Mark grabbed me by the hand that next Sunday morning and led me to our Sr. Pastor John and explained my plight. I had shared many meals with Pastor John and he knew me well. He had loved my family like his own when we joined the church and was very compassionate most days, but he looked at me with a look of broken compassion mixed with bewilderment. I had said all the right words, I had gone through all the motions correctly, but it was beginning to show in my walk that I was missing something…”something??” I was missing THE thing. I didn’t want Pastor John to know I didn’t have the grid for the experience I was supposed to understand. I mean I was an ordained minister for goodness sakes… I am supposed to be an expert in my field, the fact that this conversation had gone this far we ridiculous indeed, but God had bigger plans for me than for me to lie to myself and everyone else.
Now I’ve heard tell of spiritual Ninja’s and men whose prayers are heard no matter what they pray and I believe our pastor was just that kind of man. I wouldn’t say he is a prophet or some super spiritual guru… but trust me when I say he was a Spiritual Dirty Harry. The man had just as well been aiming a 44 magnum at my head when he stood there and prayed for me to feel the love of God in my life and in my emotions. His hands sort of shake as he prays and I don’t know if that is spiritual or not, but I remember him shaking me as he held my chest and prayed as if to ask God to take my heart out of my body and renew it… I promise you, God WAS listening that day. Not because John has magic powers, but because God was ready to bring me to the place where he could show me his love.
God is a man of his word… period. He always does what he says he is going to do. He had told me in the year 2000 in a bookstore in Independence, MO that I was a ragamuffin. He told me I would know what it meant to experience his love. I have it written in my diary from 2001 exactly where I was standing when God whispered “I’m going to change you from the inside out”. Not long after “Dirty Harry” did the prayer deed, I lost my job… not long after that? We lost everything that wasn’t tied down, jeep, appliances, money all of it. Then to make matters worse?? The boys and their mom left and went to live in Oklahoma. She only came back to visit her doctor for a lump in her breast several weeks later. We ended up having to go through breast cancer knowing full well when it was over we would end up divorced. I’ve lived the most radically painful and disappointing life since the year 2002 wandering aimlessly in life wondering when the pain of not feeling God’s love would subside. As I look back at the time of my struggle, I have come to realize one thing… everything I have endured was because God desired to bring me to a place where I knew WHO I was, who HE was and where I was going. He made himself real to me in the darkest dankest hours of my life when I felt like it would end several times. I’ve never reached out for attention just for attentions sake in those moments… I really have been scared… but every time I cried out to God… and every time.. He was faithful to send one person, one check, a job, anything I needed at the time and the only way I know how to describe the past 10 years of my life is God loving me as a father… holding me tightly and me kicking wanting to get down and play. The love our Father has for us in those dark moments when we are on our knees praying he will take our lives is not a romantic, giddy, puppy love. When you are praying for comfort as you cry until your throat aches and your eyes burn from the hot tears that drench your shirt because you long so much to know his love. When you have tried to kill the pain with alcohol, food, tobacco, the love of another and anything else you want to inject into your system to forget the past, and you finally reach your breaking point… he will find you there on the floor of your home, rejected and dismayed at life and he will pick you up and remind you once again… he loves you. Its then in that moment and not in some theological classroom that you realize WHO he is… WHO you are and what you have to give back to him and where you are going. You find yourself in that place of knowing that you in your rags and filth are nothing and the only goodness in us is the love he gives and the dignity he can restore if we find ourselves in that Garden of Gethsemane place of saying… not MY will.. Not MY life… not MY choices… not MY way…. Anymore. When we get to that breaking point… he can use us. He can heal us and we finally realize WHO we are. There is never a time when we have to look for love in the arms of another. We never have to look for affirmation from others… we are just his and he can then love on us…
I find it almost humorous when I write anymore… I have people constantly messaging me about God’s love, and giving me advice. Worried that I am just too hard on myself. Saying I am looking for encouragement. Saying I need to just figure out who I am. These are actual messages I’ve received from kind well meaning friends… and the funny thing is I really DO know who I am… who HE is and where I am headed these days. I’ve blown enough snot bubbles on my knees looking for direction that I know for sure. I know he isn’t finished with me… but I also know I don’t question if he loves me anymore. I am at peace with it now. I am so at peace I can share my stories in humility and transparency, not for you to pat me on the back, but to help you on your journey as well if you need it. I’ve come to understand that its not about being seen, gaining approval or masking our faults and sins. My sins are my sins, but his love is so much greater than those stories… I sleep peacefully every night… now cause HE calls me Superman… the name was his idea. I sleep peacefully knowing HE loves me and that too was his idea… and I know that I will now and for the rest of my days tell the story of how his love changed my heart even though it cost me all I had in life. Whether I find love or I am single all my days… I will write it, preach it, do finger puppets if necessary, telling about his love for us. it’s the greatest love story ever written and it will always be the same… a loving father… giving all he has for us to show us how much he loves us… and he does it using Ragamuffins…just like me and you. ; )

The People of Wal-Mart

The weirdness of this life happens when we least expect it. I was in Wal-Mart today shopping for some necessities and like everyone else I was quite entertained by the number of lower income/poorly dressed folks that seem so abundant in Wal-Mart. It’s interesting how sometimes you see these folks working at trying to look odd with their funky hairdos and crazy clothes and I was a bit appalled honestly by the whole production of it all. I tend to be quite critical of others most of the time and like most everyone I am very harsh in my judgments of those who were shopping today…

As I was tootling along with my cart, a very strange thing happened… I began to think about what it was like in the streets of Jerusalem during Pentecost when Jesus was a boy… All I could think about was what it must have looked like?? Was it different than this? I mean… sure there was no A/C, but were the people much different??
I can’t tell you why I had such a thought, but it was weird… I did. I began to think of the mothers who had been remanded to come to the City of David to make an accounting and the fathers who were herding goats or whatever animal was the flavor of the day. I thought about all those people who were going in and out of the city gate, skipping over animal feces, walking in the hot sand, smelling to high heaven of sweat and B.O. and just doing their best to survive in that day. I was reminded that 2000 years later we are no different, in the way we do things. We may have the ability to stay cool indoors and buy movies and magazines while we wait for cashiers who make the beeping sound instead of typing in numbers these days… but essentially?? It’s still the same.
I saw a mom who was shopping for back to school clothes and supplies with her kids and she was using food stamps, cash and a debit card and I was totally taken back. I noticed the food stamps and was amazed at how colorful they were. I had never seen them before today and I think she was a little irritated because she caught my stare and probably thought I was judging her. I wasn’t judging her, but I was amazed at the strength of this woman who struggled to make ends meet and her two children who seemed to be so well mannered were standing besides here asking for candy that wouldn’t fit the budget and gum that would not be good for anyone actually. I heard the woman say “not today sweetheart, we’ll get that on a day when momma isn’t buying so many clothes for school” and I was heartbroken immediately that I wasn’t able to help buy gum or candy for the woman. I didn’t want to create the feeling of judgment for her by giving the gum to the little girl. I know it would be hard to know the rest of the world was able to provide and to not be able to give your children all they desired would be hard.
I immediately began to be filled with compassion for everyone I saw. I think God was allowing me to see them as his children and not white trash or rednecks like I had so quickly imposed judgment on them because they had different value systems than me. I sat in my car and as I type this I still have a hard time with it… I began to shed tears for the broken and beat down people who I had been poking fun at only minutes before. I was completely taken back by the thought that I have absolutely nothing in this world to judge or compare myself to any of these folks with. I am saddened we as a nation lift ourselves to the place of judge and jury for the way we look down upon them. We are so harsh and critical for the way we treat people who live their lives the best way they know how and just because they aren’t the same as we are, we look at them as if they could never measure up. I began to think of my friend Katherine in California who is involved in inner city ministry and was sitting on the hot sidewalk talking to George a local street dweller who happened to be an African American man in his 50’s who had no teeth and he was a regular in her visits and when the sidewalk grew so hot that it hurt to sit on it, George offered her his blanket to sit on. His only worldly possession besides his clothes and it was stained with blood, urine and sweat from his hard life on the street. She was so moved to compassion she kissed him for his act of kindness. This man offered his only material possession to her in her time of need and it was greater to her as a gift than a thousand dollars from a wealthy man. She told me the story of how God had changed George’s life and yet he remained on the street to minister to others who were hurting because of the harshness of this life. I felt myself needing to repent of my judgments and my finger pointing for those who were doing their best in this life to cope. Me with all my education, 2 degrees, years of schooling and ministry and seminary training… undone completely by the story of a homeless Black man who hadn’t finished high school and he was doing more than I have ever accomplished by trying to share the gospel message of the God I so boldly serve and brag about all the time. I am not beating myself up, but I am being changed daily because of the world I live in. George is on the streets in San Diego tonight; sleeping on cardboard… stinking to high heaven and it’s a scent that our lord in heaven loves to fill his nostrils with because of the love for the lost that fills George’s heart. Maybe one day I will become more and more like Christ, but for now I struggle to stop judging, and learn NOT to be critical of those whom Christ called me to find worthy. Jesus never came to the church folks… but to those who would love him freely, like George, and if I ever meet him I’ll be glad to shake his hand….

Politics of Perfection

Our lives are a canvas of stories that are told from our actions and events that either happen to us or we make happen and sometimes stuff just kind of happens that we neither plan nor could have a hope of making happen primarily because they are just too awesome to dream up. My good friend Ricky was relating to me a story that happened to him not long ago in his home town. He was apparently driving and chatting with his girlfriend when he said to her “oops looks like I’m being pulled over, I’ll call you back shuga”. Well, he DID manage to call her back, but it was about 17 hours later. It seems that his driver’s license had expired previously without his knowledge and when the deputy pulled him over, he was immediately arrested and taken into custody. I was blown away by the decision of the officer because I’d never heard of an arrest being made for what seems to be such a minor offense, but he was booked into jail and everything.
I found out about the story somewhere in the middle when his girl texted me asking for prayer because she had no idea of what was going on because he was arrested after he hung up… needless to say I was freaking out, Rick is a pretty humble guy, but as far as men of God go… he is the Apostle John in my book.
Well…I found out the next day when he told me about the story that it really was a divine thing, his arrest I mean. It turns out, he was placed in a holding cell with a guy who was a gang member and the guy had lived a pretty rough life. He related to my buddy how he had been kicked around all his life, typical deal, no family, street dwelling upbringing, never heard about the Love of God, probably a really great guy, but all he knew was take from others and selfish living because of the way he was raised. Rick… being Rick was just real with the guy and didn’t judge him or look down on him with some moral haughtiness of religion; he just spoke to him like he does everyone… with the love of God in his words. The guy listened and began to question my buddy and wanted to know of his kindness and why God was so good. The funny part is when Rick was getting ready to be brought in front of the judge; the guy thanked him for his words and actually gave Rick a hug. A gang member! I laughed out loud when Rick told us of his ordeal… that is sooo just like God to let it happen like that. The real kicker of the story is when he talked to the judge who was apparently “cornfuzzlated” (as my friend Lisa says) about Rick’s arrest. The judge wanted to know WHY he was being detained, because apparently it’s not an offense to be put in cuffs over. He was given his things and released. Like Peter or Paul, Rick ran to tell his friends and share with much exuberance about how awesome it was to be used of God like that. It didn’t shock any of us because Rick’s just that kind of dude.
I find it very interesting that in the midst of our semi cruddy lives, God is able to stick his finger in the middle of the muck and pull out a pearl.
I live my life most days like many others trying to make the awkward pieces of the puzzle fit together with very little success. I have those mountaintop experiences where I’m smiling and high fiving everyone around me, but they are vastly outnumbered by my screw ups that so encumber most of us. Most days are filled with hustling from place to place to find comfort to the need to fill up the brokenness with the love of others, or the need for money or endless business for the sake of being busy. Most everyone has a sense of who they are and when I am real with myself and God and I mean REAL, I am slapped in the face with just how broken I really am. Most of my friends are completely undone when I do this because they think I’m just being down on myself and I love them so dearly for their words but I don’t live in a la la land of grandeur about my being better than I really am. I don’t look at others with a microscope wondering about them either, but I do know we all seem to find a place of acceptance for who we are out of self preservation because if we didn’t we’d go out of our minds fretting over our troubles.
Politics are king and we are all masters of it whether we know it or not. Very rare are the times when we run across someone who is just a really good person who hasn’t polluted their lives with selfish virtues and lies and doesn’t have to keep their closets protected to keep the world from finding out just who they really are. Some are better than others at putting on a great front and with that skill comes great acceptance in our fallen world, but for those who are real or simply broken by life in the dark alley of sin, the world stands in the street clucking their critical judgments and calling out what a fool they are for being found out.
Christ never came to make bad people good…. He came to make dead people live. If we read our bibles instead of letting someone regurgitate what it says from a pulpit, we find that Jesus never criticized people who were not “church folk”. In fact… the religious people usually drew his ire because of their haughty actions and lack of grace for those God loved. Our belief in God is not nor has it ever been a call to a higher morality or judgment of anyone. It is a place where we are all little kids together and our father comes home with his tie undone and grabs the football to chuck to us and smother us with his love and acceptance and a gentle ear to hear of the bugs we stomped and the jungles we explored behind the neighbors back yard with our sticks and rocks as weapons. God is love….period. His whole existence is to give himself away and I long to be more like my buddy Rick who finds the biggest smiles in life when he gets hugs from gang members in a jail who for the first time in life encounter Jesus in the brokenness of who we are. Rick will be the first to tell you that God loves using broken people to love on those who need to hear of his love. It’s not the clean cut and perfect… it’s those who are simply willing to be used. ; )

Dat Foosball is da Debil

There is a special scent of woman’s perfume that has always captured my attention like no other. Romance by Ralph Lauren can sway my ship like a giant rudder and will cause me to actually float through the air and be lost like a love struck houndog. Its borderline obnoxious how possessed I become by the scent, but there is another smell that possesses my soul in a deeper realm and I would take any day of the week. It’s a scent that I usually only find the final weeks of July and most of the month of August. Unless you have a shared and like experience you probably can’t connect but this time of year I always catch a whiff of the humid dew rising off of fresh cut grass and it brings back a million memories waking up early to get to the field house to strap on 25lbs of football pads and helmet to walk into the hot morning sun for preparation on the field of battle.



The memories are so thick you can do your best to waive them away like flies but they won’t subside. The awkward feeling of the football pants washed in a hot dryer till they have shrunk to a size that you almost need Vaseline to squeeze into them. That jersey that you didn’t wash from the day before and the smell of the sweat that has soaked into it along with the early smell of mildew forming on the towels in the locker room. The cleat shaped clumps of dirt and grass dried hard on the cold concrete floor, which break up under your bare feet and you are forced to brush off as you slide on those hot socks fresh from the drye. The tightness of the helmet that is banded on your head and provides protection, but is so covered on the inside with padding you almost suffocate. I can still smell the sweet stench of Coach Price’s wintergreen tobacco, and see the brown string of spit that usually accompanied it as he screamed in the ear hole of your helmet when your actions were found less than desirable in his sight, and for me it was quite often. The grass, the sweaty jersey, that metal taste of blood in your mouth from the cut on your finger you just licked off to keep the ref from making you bandage it up…all these memories sink deep into my soul and summon the demon of football past and it comes relentlessly like a black magic voodoo woman haunting my dreams with her lustful and temptress thoughts of running at full speed and crushing the very bones of an opponent carrying that treasured brown trophy of pigskin and autographed signatures of former football greats. I have recently discussed these dreams out loud and to my anguish, my black magic lover visited my dreams again last night. I awoke to find myself racked with tension and the jet-fueled infusion of testosterone that always accompanies such things. It’s like that dream you have when you are flying, and even in the dream you know it’s not possible to fly but when you do and you are soaring… you wake up excited that you got to do it, but a little sad that it wasn’t real.



So where do I go from here? I was relating to a friend recently, you can’t just strap on pads and strike an unexpecting victim, because honestly, you’ll break out in a bad rash of hand cuffs. You can play a pick up game of basketball or join a softball league or even croquet somewhere, but why would anyone invent a sport with amazing weapons like bats and mallets where you aren’t allowed to extract any blood from your opponent. Fight clubs are illegal, and any kind of contact sport is simply off limits to guys like me. Granted you probably will never find a kinder more docile soul with giant paws of strength yet a heart of compassion and gentleness. Sort of a Ferdinand the bull if you will with a heart to see broken people healed and hatred of bullies. I’ve never been deer hunting even once as the sadness I would feel in taking the life of one of those majestic creatures as a sport or for a trophy would be gut wrenching. Many of my friends enjoy the hunt and the kill and live for the season, but for me it wouldn’t be a reality. So I find it odd the walking dichotomy of which I have become always desiring to fight for something I believe in, yet being a giant teddy bear with a gently touch. It occurred to me as I drove home from church today the generation of my grandfathers fought in a great war and their fathers fought in a war of nations before them, the men my fathers age fought for our country in Vietnam, but the men and boys of my era have never had anything they have felt the need to stand and fight for. They have nothing of which they can empty their passion into except their jobs. We have taken the warriors and hunters from the battle fields and jungles and reduced them to managers and factory workers who purchase their kill on a piece of plastic wrapped Styrofoam with a blood napkin which insulates us from remembering who we really are. Provision for our families is no longer the battle for survival but it is the accomplishments and the climb of the ladder to see how much air conditioned leather we can wrap our backsides in as we travel in a steel covered jukebox on our way to the next sporting event where we consume fatty foods and beer. We have twisted our need for purpose to a place of consumption and if we look around, the once great male of our species has left the place of muscle sculpted provider and high protector of the family to pasty white flab covered arrogance looking to be served as we drive around to the 1st window. I am disgusted by the figures of leadership in our nation, and many businesses and churches, although not as judgment as it seems to come across in my words, but in sadness as we have left the integrity of a way of life where men were men and our sons longed to be like their fathers who were their personal hero’s for the amount of provision and leadership they brought to the table.

I have found recently in my prayers and study of the gospels, that to be a leader of anything means to serve, not to be served. To be a father or husband is to be like the example Christ gave us to lay down our lives and die to ourselves. It will never matter the response we receive from those we serve, we should continue to tirelessly serve until our death, never expecting a certain outcome. Our service should be in love to give until it hurts for those we love because love isn’t an investment to receive a return like stocks. It is a commodity we give a way. It is never selfish, its very nature only exists to give itself away…period. Jesus ministry on this earth at the time of his death in anyone’s opinion was a complete failure. He had ministered to thousands of people, teaching and healing and yet at the final day on the cross at his feet gathered only his Mother, his best friend and one grateful woman. Yet it was in the completion of his death that we find his victory and the next book to the right in the Bible we find the disciples forming the church that has changed the world completely since that time.

As men we will serve our families tirelessly, always giving, always providing, always teaching and in our lifetimes we may not see the fruit of our labor, and God bless those with long lives and fruitful offspring who love them in their old age because more times than not we fail to see what God was doing with our lives while we are on the Earth. I know that in my passion to be male I will pass on the wisdom I’ve acquired in dying to myself, and I will spend the rest of my life serving my family teaching my boys to raise the banner of Christ high, and learning the fine art of dying to my selfish desires. The fight we rage in my generation is not one of men and nations, but the fight to find daily that our wives and our children and our families will know that if they have to etch our names in a granite memorial that it will be because we fought trying to preserve the principals of the walk Christ taught us to share with him on this earth. Superman is a hero of the people. Little boys don’t wear the blue shirt with the red S because he celebrated touchdowns and shouted “look at me”, he stopped speeding trains, and flying bullets and rescued kittens in trees. Serving others with no thought of personal gain is the greatest battle we can wage. If I never play another day of that debilish foosball, that’s okay, but I pray the battle to be more like Christ and die to self daily will mark the rest of my days and they can brand a large S on my pine box when they lay me in the ground and print “he served” on my headstone. I can only pray I’m found worthy…

.

Wicked Seed of Judgment

I was in the gym this morning and I learned a little something about myself. I was on one of the machines and the gym I belong to is really our local community center but they are pretty state of the art with the equipment they purchase. The trainer I was using has a TV monitor attached to it and can be tuned to whatever station I want to watch without fear of it being switched by some hyperactive overachiever who thinks they have become empowered.
There is a great sense of amusement in watching someone who gets lost in TV when they have rock music playing in their iPod… especially if that person forgets where he is when making comments. I was watching ESPN highlights and the women’s soccer match against Brazil was playing and I just blurted my opinion right out there. As I watched I said “Geez I hate women’s soccer” and only the movement of the heads around me cause me to break from the trance I had engaged myself in. The guy on the trainer next to me said “What’s wrong with women’s soccer?” I had to take my headphones off to have him repeat his answer, and it was then that I realized it was nearly silent in the room and my comment must have come out as very loud. I just looked at the guy and said “I just don’t like women’s soccer... I don’t find it interesting”. He looked at me like I was some sort of sexist pig-dog and looked ahead and kept plugging…
I thought a long time about what I had said. Why had I said that out loud? It DID sound ignorant and sexist, but I comforted myself by the words of the woman I had run into the day before who wanted the whole world to know that women’s soccer was more important than the cure for cancer and if anyone in the restaurant we had been in had wanted to change the channel that she was packing a gun and wasn’t afraid to use it… Okay she wasn’t THAT bad, but she was kind of militant. I thought about it and remembered a deep hatred for militant women and their stupid soccer game was growing in me… I realized I had allowed some bitterness in the door. That kind of nonsense won’t work in my life. A. Because it is toxic and painful to others. B. It's such a negative witness to others... I don't want to be a sexist pig...

So I kept watching and the guy next to me spoke again and when I slipped off my headphones, he was saying he wasn’t a fan of women’s soccer either… I hinted around that I was too judgmental and as we watched the highlights, one of the players butted the ball into the net with her head and we laughed as I suggested I was not in the physical condition to criticize women’s soccer.

We talked a bit more and I introduced myself and shook his hand after we finished our 30 minutes on the trainers and we agreed to meet up again another day. But I realized if I hadn’t isolated the criticism from the day before, it could have turned in to full blown hate. I am susceptible to viral anger like many others, but it’s hard to keep an eye on it at all times, but it IS important. I know I look foolish from time to time, and making blatant judgment calls about women’s soccer is one of those silly things I shouldn’t do, but catching them and fixing them quicker than I used to is one of the many miracles God is working in my life. I wanted to share this story because it’s really a glimpse through the transparent window of who I am and sometimes we all need to know we aren’t alone in our boogerhead decisions we make in life… : )

character

The side of town where I live is the older district. Not the part of town that was built in the 50’s with a lot of ranch style homes nor is it the new homes area that sprang up ridiculously in the 1990’s, but the old district… the one built when the town was built in the 1850’s which in Missouri is about right. The homes in this area are very colorful and each one different in construction as if to say people used to appreciate the differences and took the time to instill quality and diversity.
The house I live in isn’t even a house at all, it’s a basement. The actual house is a ranch style home built in the post war era and the two walk out basement apartments were actually a part of the home when it was constructed. It’s by far the newest home in the neighborhood. All the newness has actually worn off by now with the numerous amounts of tenants that has lived here and there are a few things here that just need updating from time to time.
The other day I flipped on the switch of the garbage disposal that was added years after the house was built I’m sure, but the switch failed to kick on the disposal. The funny thing is I wasn’t surprised. The disposal has been failing to kick on for several years and I have to kind of smack it with my hand against the switch for it to come on. For most people that would be a curse because we are a group of people who just want things to work. I mean obviously we want our cars and computers and airplanes to work. Airplanes working right are a very good thing to a guy who’s the size of a football player with an unhealthy fear of freefalling from 35,000 feet, but when my disposal doesn’t work the first time, I don’t have an anguish or frustration… I honestly kind of like it. I know that probably sounds a little weird…but its true. I get this little quirky smile on my face when it happens. It adds character I think. My home has a lot of things that work right and I like it like that way, but when that disposal doesn’t kick on right and I have to go all Fonzi on the thing and bump it to get it to work, I personally find the character it possesses as an endearing trait.

I’ve noticed there are friends of mine who have some character flaws. They might overeat a bit, or complain about things too much, or worry too much or they might be too much of a mother hen, but if we took these small peccadilloes away from these people? Would they cease to be endearing? I know there is a difference between endearing and annoying… sometimes it’s a fine line, but the endearing stuff is what makes a person have great character. Without that kind of character, we’d have no great stories to tell. God isn’t into cookie cutter types of people. If we all looked and acted alike, he’d probably get bored. He likes go getters, he likes compassionate folks and yes he really must love the knuckleheads because he made so many of them. He is a God of diversity, and that is a good thing, cause so many of us are different.

If you are like me, you are working hard at writing a great story with your life. Personally? I think I have tons of character… in fact probably a lot more than what you find on those slick sporty models with the stripes and perfect lines. In my own way I am kind of like an old jeep. You know, not a new one, but a red one that’s a little sun faded you’d see parked in front of a café somewhere in the mountains in Colorado, with the stickers of where it’s been and seen. You know the kind, with a bikini top on it and big tires, a loud stereo and maybe a little dab of rust on the fender well, and a “Have a nice day” tire cover with the yellow happy face on the spare in the back. I know the author of perfection is doing his work in me lately and yeah we are overhauling the engine… but the same great character still exists and kind of makes you smile because you know it’s the only one like it around... ; )

Joseph

Isn’t it interesting when we have a bad day or week how other’s rush to your aid to show you love or jump on the bandwagon to jeer you for your failures?
I’ve noticed when I’m feeling good about myself, I always remember the ones who love on me and yet when my low self esteem is at an all time high I tend to remember the folks who are critical of my failures. I know its human nature but I really desire to believe the best about myself even though it’s not always easy.

It’s easy for God to take a person of high esteem and knock em down a few notches with life, than to jack up a person who is down on himself. God can do anything he desires, and sometimes I really believe I am both types of guy but lately so much has happened and my world is falling down around my ears again and I feel lower than a snakes belly. Honestly the worst part of feeling like this isn’t the knowledge of living in a lie, or how I know I should feel better, but it’s the throngs of others who begin to tell me how I should feel. I know everyone means well, but I DO know I have children, I know what a blessing they are, I know I’m striving to be a good daddy, yes I know… this is what keeps me vertical most days, but you’d think I’d developed some sort of amnesia.

I began to read about Joseph in the book of Genesis. You know? Jacob’s boy? I like the story about Jacob and being married to Leah and Rachel. I really do. The bible says Rachel is a hottie, but Leah has poor eyes, but if you look it up, the actual interpretation is “Soft” eyes. She might have a horse face but she has a set of nice peepers the bible says. Jacob gripes about this, but his sex life is WAY out of control… like it’s a burden? Seriously Jake? I’m thinking he just likes to gripe honestly because here is a story of two women AND their maidservants fighting over sleeping with this guy.

The story goes on and is interesting because old Joseph is pretty well thought of as a boy. His dad apparently dotes on him probably because he is Rachel’s oldest boy, and he gets a little cocky with his dream, tells his brothers he is going to be bowed down to because he dreamed it, and they throw him in a well… and honestly? I can’t find any blame for them for that. We feel sorry for Joe because we know how the story turns out, but at the time he is a cocky brat and has to have the stuffing slapped out of him by life.
Now if you continue to read, you find he has a bit of integrity about him and goes a while… a LONG while as a slave and a worker and finally moves up only to be slapped around again and put in jail. It’s not a good kind of jail where there is TV and visiting hours and 3 squares a day. No, this kind of jail is the kind where there are damp, dank nasty conditions and foul smelling prisoners and quite frankly, it’s a gnarly existence, all because Joseph was trying to have integrity with his master. His master’s wife has a pretty…um…let’s say “amorous” need and he is thrown away in a cell, but the bible tells us God remembered him. The really interesting part is this… Joseph had been in prison for a while, he interpreted some dreams for a couple of guys, told them to remember him in front of the king but they didn’t and the bible says two years later, the king has a dream, the cupbearer remembers Joseph at that time and he is set free to become the 2nd in the kingdom because of his faithfulness.
Now the truth of this whole story is God gives Joseph dreams and visions of his future and guarantees he will be a wise and powerful man and he will lead his family, but the hardships he endures is not how we would achieve such a goal, but because of the disciplines and hardships he endures, his character is developed. Our characters are no different and I’m sure Joe had a few bad days like the one in the bottom of the well. The funny part about it is when Joseph was handing out the grain, no one really reminded him of the days at the bottom of wells and prisons… I’m sure they hoped he’d forgotten… I’m sure I’ll forget my dark days as well… but I swear some days I think God has forgotten about me…

Inked (short exert from the book)

I have a friend named Mike who is literally covered in tattoos. Now for most Christian, Conservative, fundamentalist types I have surrounded myself with in the past… this is bad. It’s bad because... well… honestly… where we grew up we knew that smoking and drinking and tattoos were for “bad” people who hung out at the Beer Joint. Mike however, is NOT from the fundamental, conservative area where I grew up and in the past eleven years, my Christian walk has afforded me the privilege to meet many great guys like Mike who simply love Jesus. I can only imagine that in my arrogance and judgment of my past I would probably missed a lot of friends like him because I valued people on the merits of whether their background was the kind you find advertised in any issue of Christianity Today, if we were just being honest.

It really gets me excited when Mike shares his story of God’s relentless mercy and grace in his life and he gets to talking in his Chi-CA-go accent and waiving his arms all around the air and repeating his favorite expression “I don’t care” all the time. The other day, mike and I and the guys were chatting at Clay’s Curbside Grill (a hot dog stand in North KC, but this guy Adam who is the owner, has given it quite a reputation with that name) and Mike told a story about his old man. Apparently his dad was NOT a fan of the tattoos nor would he allow Mike or his brothers to get one. He told us he and a buddy had snuck out and he wanted a tat so he got it on his chest. He told us he had a pic of his mom tattooed on his chest so that way if his dad got mad and wanted to beat him, he could simply tell his Pops “Dad… Really?? You want to beat me for having a pic of Mom tattooed to my chest?” We all got a good laugh out of his story thinking it showed quite a bit of forethought and moxey, only to really bust out laughing when he raised his shirt to reveal an evil clown type face on his chest. Mike really gets a kick out of that bit. We really get a kick out of Mike.

I’ve thought a lot about how my judgments about others became so skewed early on in my walk. It got me to thinking… you know REALLY thinking about my self centered world and what it would look like if I hung around guys who only acted and looked like me. That was a pretty depressing thought thinking I would only know guys who wanted everyone to laugh all the time and had a deep love for fried food. You see, in my thought process as a young Christian, tattoos were just unsightly but it occurred to me how Mike’s tattoos were no more a reflection of his character than the silver cross I wear around my neck. My cross was not going to get me to heaven any faster than those tattoos were plunging him into hell and to me that was a pretty big revelation. I was actually quite impressed with my self considering I recently had also been spending a lot of my spare time trying to figure out if Mr. Snuffleupagus was really a long haired brown elephant or just an amalgam Big Bird conjured up from time to time to have someone who would agree with him…

Here is the thing… Mike’s character has been being forged from the fire of life and his daily walk with God since the day he became a Christian. He loves to laugh and show the pics of the scantily clad women he has painted on his forearms and tell stories about coaching little league soccer for his daughters team and having to deal with the concerns of other parents and the odd looks on their faces as they wonder if he is a death row escapee who is in charge of teaching their children the fine art of not touching the ball with their hands.

In my own walk in recent years, I realized I’d stop judging people based on their outward appearance and my assumptions of their supposed sins. Which for me is weird because if I got really honest with myself, I can admit that I’ve been a pretty shallow person most of my life. The pendulum swing in my life can be attributed simply to me dropping the ball so much in my own life that I woke up one day and realized there was nothing exceptional about me or my behavior and who was I to judge anyone else’s life. So in thinking about all of this I was reminded of something I heard on the radio the other day that stuck with me… some guy said “Who we really are as people is not who we are when we stand triumphant on the mountaintops, but who we are under the rubble of the disasters of our lives” At first I was indignant about this… in fact I was quite snotty about it. I wanted to argue and tell this man he was wrong to speak for us. Who I think I am is a man who is triumphant and making great strides to undo a lot of bad things losing weight, stopping old vices, making good choices, gaining ground in my life.
It weighed heavy on me all that day until finally a chord was struck way down deep within me. The guy was totally right! He was, I mean who we are is NOT who we have become when things are going well… who we are and the real character of who we are is who comes out when our world collapses… MY world has collapsed several times and I gotta say… I pretty much suck. I mean really. I would love to brag and say I was the guy who was on top of the world and when it all caved in around me and that I was still standing tall and rebuilding walls and being the mighty man and everyone’s superhero but you know? When my job went South, or my kids were sick, or any one of my girlfriends and I split? That’s when my whole world caved in. It’s not pretty either… I lack dignity and character and anything anyone would call good in their life. Like I said… I suck. I say this not in a manner of low self esteem, but I believe God... in his great mercy has allowed me to see who I am deep at my core. Not because he wants me to slobber and blubber at his feet exclaiming that I am worthless either in a real sense of cruddiness or in any kind of false humility, but because he delights in me finding my strength and my purpose and my life in him and not in me.

“Our God is the God of second chances” is one of my favorite quotes… I say it often because it’s true. You see…there’s an ethereal belief and visions of grandeur about how we will live with him forever in the sky by and by etc, and those kinds of moments are great and I’m not downplaying them, but I’ve got to tell you… every day I am faced with who I am and who I really want to be. My flawed character, my tarnished life and my broken heart are a daily reality in my life, and honestly? I thank God every day for those things. You see? I would love to say I am who I am on the mountains… but who I am, is this guy… right here, today. My ministry, if you can call it that, will be to always espouse the grace and love of a God who is relentlessly kind to those who have blown it, those who have waivered in their quest, the feeble, sad, frustrated group of broken down folks like me who are continually shifting the heavy weight of their own life from one foot to the other. When you have been to the place where you’ve lost all that you esteem and value in your life, you begin to realize that God’s favor is a gift. You can’t earn it, buy it or expect it. He gives it freely to those who will come forward to receive it. When you find yourself in the possession of such a gift, you find that you will never ever look at wounded, hurting, broken people the same again… and that’s when lives are changed and altered and repaired and the place where pure ministry happens.

Last night I laid awake thinking and I thanked God for my friends like Mike, and my buddy John, and my friend Shelly, and others in this Rag Tag band of folks who have either stumbled in their lives in one way or another or have endured hardships to gain a new perspective on God’s desire for them. Not one of us are people I would call ‘religious”. We have made the decision in each of our lives to do the Jesus thing. His grace sought out each one of us for his desired purpose and plan. Not one of us can say we are pure, or better or holy than anyone else. God doesn’t stand and applaud or yell because any of us show up at church or daily quiet time. We are travelers on our way… tattooed with the decisions, the choices and infirmities we’ve endured in our lives and all of us realize that short of God’s grace and mercy, we might all just be a story in the news you would find on the 5th page back of the paper, forgotten in time and just wasted lives.
You will find on our faces, a smile, and hope in our eyes and if you aren’t careful? You might just get a hug. : )

New Perspective

I’ve started reading a new book and the author starts out the book by saying stood before 20 thousand bible college graduates and asked how many of them have read the New Testament and feel like we as the church have missed the point entirely… he said nearly every hand went up. I’ve agreed with this a long time, yet I just started to believe in my heart that I truly agreed to it.
For the longest time in my life I have understood the message of the gospel and thought I really had a grasp on what I was reading, and yet all I can say is I know what the specific words on the page mean, but I’ve missed the message entirely…
If this were an “AA” type of class, I would stand up right now and say “Hi, I’m Todd, and I’m an evangelical believer in the prosperity church”. Before you make your assumption about what I’m talking about, put your brain in neutral…”HOLD PLEASE”. I don’t attend a large denominational church where a large number of constituents are listening by radio and are sending money and checks to some pastor with combed cotton candy hair who is frothing at the mouth as he preaches about healing and wealth, but I AM involved with a large group of folks in our nation who associate themselves with the church and a fine family and blue suits and sedans and nice homes in a suburban area and great friends who gather for lavish meals and we get together to “fellowship and share” and the topic of discussion is either the style of clothing we saw being worn at church on Sunday or the sad state of affairs that this couple’s marriage is in and “bless their hearts” or other topics. When did we miss the call? I realize this week as I have walked that God’s greatest desire is for me to be like his son Jesus, to be baptized into his sufferings and share the inheritance in Heaven.
I made the decision this week that our sufferings (no matter what form they come) are meant for one thing… to create the nature of the Father’s love in our hearts. I, like many of you, have ignored these sufferings and pointed a finger at EVERYONE else and said it’s someone else who has hurt me, when I should stop, realize that the reason I’m in this place, be it unemployment, struggling in a horrible job, trying to survive a horrific marriage with an outward view of peace and love towards others so we can save face, to know that no matter how hard I work, I’ll never be able to conquer the demon of my life of alcohol or tobacco, or abuse of whatever kind… no matter WHAT we struggle with, is because he is trying to drive out the impurity in our lives and he is using the mundane things of this life to carve away the pieces that don’t look like him. We blindly live in a state of denial and belief if we deny it long enough… the pain will vanish and we will eventually live in bliss. What if we turn into the direction of our suffering and say “be it unto me as you have said, Lord”? With obedience and grace we would stagger towards the truth that we need counseling, or help for our addiction, or forgiveness for our anger we have held against others. Maybe we aren’t meant to be a great business person, maybe we’ll not be a wealthy person, or someone who has an amazing marriage? What if God’s desires aren’t our desires? What if we simply succumb to the idea that our frustrations for the way things have been going is simply Him trying to get us to see he has a better way?
The gospels call us to lay our desires down, and die with him. Death to not only our sin, but our selfish vain desires, to a life of our own choosing and to realize he has no other no other greater purpose in our life but to glorify himself through us as we become obedient.
No matter the circumstances God is using to dust off the seat of your pants to keep you from going completely into destruction, he loves us for who HE IS in us. All things work together for the glory and edification of his purposes. We may not see it today, we may not see it next year, but one day we’ll thank him for explaining why we aren’t wealthy, or why we will have to remain single or why we never achieved the dream we so vainly dreamed of or whatever. God has higher purposes for our lives. When we obey our hearts only, we find ourselves in that place of going around ANOTHER mountain. But just imagine if we stopped and asked him what he desired for us and then began to not walk, but run into the direction of our own cross…
This morning in church God told me he desires to give us HIS perspective… and for us to see why we are going through our struggles. While this was going on… a song was playing and the words echoed in my ear… “at the cross he… beckons me..” God gently calls us to come and die…like a gentleman.. he never forces us…but in a gentle effort to give up willingly…
God have mercy on us to hear him… and to walk willingly to the place in our life of our own cross… cause if you remember? The church never came into existence UNTIL Jesus went willingly to HIS cross… when it was finished? Well? That’s when it all began…

Talking is over-rated

I was thinking the other day about Adam and his plight as the first man. Not for any reason in particular, I was hanging out at the farm and realized that I had not spoken to anyone out loud in about 29 hours, and that happened to be the lady at the bank. She was very nice, but I know she talks to people daily and probably wouldn’t remember our conversation hours after we spoke. But if I was the only other person on Earth, I know she would remember and probably hang on every word I said no matter who I was or what I looked like.
It got me to thinking about what was it like when Adam would talk? Who did he talk to? He was alone a long time considering He didn’t meet Eve until after he named all the animals according to Moses text in Genesis. I’ve had many bonehead discussions with women many times. You know the ones… saying the worst possible thing and stumbling over my words and then watching her walk away. Adam didn’t strike out in his conversations with Eve. I mean, even if he did say something bonehead, apparently Eve found it an endearing trait and loved him any way. I mean they DID have children and lived a long life together. I have to wonder if they really were attracted to each other or did they just settle because they were the only game in town? So what did they look like? Did he look like Brad Pitt? Was she just a super hottie? Maybe they were very average people, but because she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and he had such a vast and interesting job naming all the animals and they totally intrigued the other, they just could not stop looking at each other. Who knows? But the one thing I do know is they were naked before God and they were unashamed. I can’t even begin to imagine such a relationship with God, walking along in the garden, having all of your needs met and yet not ever longing for anything more as the relationship you have with God is all-consuming. I mean I think about my needs more than anything. My prayer life is a lot like this, “God? Fix this… God? I need that… God? Could you make this happen or that happen” I submit to you that most of us think like this because we always trying to fix the things in our lives that would essentially make our lives good. Seriously, if you think about it, we are ALWAYS looking for the answer to our problems during every waking hour. I have thought about this a long time and it’s clear to me that somewhere in my mind there seems to be an imperfection or a virus that keeps telling my brain that when I get my problems fixed then my life will resolve and I’ll experience some euphoric sense of being. Will my life really be better if all my problems are solved? I have all my work finished, I have nothing else to do except come to town and write this out and it’s like there is still something missing. My mind keeps saying “if you had more money… If all your debts were wiped out… if you had a beautiful wife… if you lost a hundred pounds… if you were a published writer… if you were a better father…” and on and on and on it goes. Seriously??

The problem I have concluded that with all this thinking about what could be and what is going to happen, I have turned 42 and have 4 kids and a van payment and rent that is due and part of my life is gone and I have nothing to show for it except the lines on my forehead. I have a few collected assets but I mean the memories and the fun times and photos of a full life I don’t have. I guess that is why people win the lottery and realize it was all meaningless to begin with. Why are we programmed like this? The happiest people I meet realize that life is more than accomplished work and long hours or building equity in our 401K. They are content with what they have and are happy with where they are in the “moment”.

It must have been like this for Adam in the Garden before the fall. He was content at every moment, he loved life and probably was amazed at everything God showed him about the beauty of creation. Everyday something fascinating and new came along and he was just blown away by beauty or the excitement of it all, and God was there, reveling in Adam’s enjoyment of it all.

Sometimes God will stop me in the hustle of life and show me something like a sunset or a waterfall or even a squirrel at play. These are the things God loves. Simple? Maybe so, but God is not interested in the euphoria of the stock market or the insanity of the vastness of the internet. NASA sends a man to the moon and we call it remarkable or unbelievable. God makes a rabbit and says it is “good”. Scientists figure out the genetic code and they call it phenomenal... He spoke the sunlight into being and said it was “good"... go figure..right? But for me to stop in my busy life for five minutes and see the beauty of the trees in bloom in the yard at the farm?? God simply whispers “I did this just for you”. I am his bride, his love and he digs it when I stop and shake my head in amazement and tell him I am dazzled or wowed by something great he has done. My sin isn’t his great interest, he is busy wooing me. Calling me daily to enter in to the place where it is just he and I. Sure we could plant churches, and build missions, and donate money and help at orphanages but those are just the busy work that we do everyday. His greatest joy is for us to find him walking in the garden daily, completely unashamed in his presence so he might just love on us. That’s the place where worship happens. Mornings in the mirror when we put on make-up or on our commute to work or when we stop in our business and just remember him and thank him for all he has done for us. That’s where life happens for us. It’s not the things I have collected or built or the money I’ve saved, but it’s the look on the faces of my children as they witness the grandeur of the Grand Canyon and the knowledge of knowing that it pleases my Father to see us enjoying him in his creation as well.

I would bet that if God came down in human form, he would visit the park and sit on a bench in the shade and admire the children playing on the toys in the playground. I can imagine he would sit and smile and realize what's the most important things on this Earth and I'll bet you anything those things can't be found on the home shopping network : )

Where is YOUR focus??

So? Where is your focus these days???.... and WHY am I the guy no one comes to and says, "hey, where is YOUR focus buddy?" Okay... so sometimes people do and I don't listen... sue me, right??
I get off track in life a lot and I look for my strength and my peace in EVERYTHING except for the one who really provides. I look to my job, to my girl, to weight loss to find identity etc and the one place I forget to look is UP...
Why do we do that? I have to be really honest and transparent right now.. I haven't kept my focus. I hate it too because I lose everyone's respect around me. I want everyone else to admire me and fix my issues etc. and I have NO problem laying this out there for you guys because if you are reading this??? you probably need to read these words for YOUR life too. I'm not the only one who ever does this you know... scripture is full of guys and gals who's focus was centered upon other stuff. Most of God's people were liars, theives, braggarts, and losers. I mean really... look at some of these guys... they were street people who didn't have a clue about their own identity and tried everything else first too. King Uzziah had to die off this earth before Isaiah could fully see God in his glory, before that, King Uzziah was his idol. Noah was a drunkard who fell down naked as a jaybird. Abraham LIED and told the story twice of his wife being his sister so his life would be spared. My favorite of all those who were nothing was David. A man after God's own heart. This king not only committed adultry, he hid it and had the woman he made pregnant's husband killed in battle. This is God's GUY! and he lost his focus... so If he screwed up... maybe God will forgive when I do the same.
You know the funny part about this is when I read about David, I know we all remember Bethsheba and his sin etc, but I also remember the story about David when he and his men had been living with the Philistines and Achish sent him back to live among his people. He and his men had reached Ziklag and the Amalakites had attacked their camps and taken their possessions and their families and even their wives. Vs 4 of Samuel 30 says " David and his men burst out in loud wails—wept and wept until they were exhausted with weeping. David's two wives, Ahinoam of Jezreel and Abigail widow of Nabal of Carmel, had been taken prisoner along with the rest. And suddenly David was in even worse trouble. There was talk among the men, bitter over the loss of their families, of stoning him.

6-7 David strengthened himself with trust in his God. He ordered Abiathar the priest, son of Ahimelech, "Bring me the Ephod so I can consult God." Abiathar brought it to David"


See? Even in the midst of his sin and a life of lies, David had a heart after God. He was always finding himself in a dark cave hiding from his enemy and calling on the name of God and asking for wisdom, direction, care, provision etc, and the funny part? God ALWAYS took care of him. ALWAYS....
I've been in that place of finding my strength in him again... its not an easy place because it's like learning to eat healthy again, and finding a taste for good foods, but when we do? we feel like we are on top of the world...
So? I'm in your face... poking you in the chest asking YOU... where is your focus?

Street bum with a job

I heard something on the radio today that stuck with me… a man was talking about us as people. He said “Who we really are as people is not who we are when we stand triumphant on the mountaintops, but who we are under the rubble of the disasters of our lives” At first I was indignant about this… in fact I was quite snotty about it. I wanted to argue and tell this man he was wrong to speak for us. I am a man who is triumphant and making great strides to undo a lot of bad things and am doing quite well etc. etc. etc…
I thought about what he said all day and it finally struck a chord with me. Who we are is NOT who we are when things are going well… who we are and the real character of who we are is who comes out when our world collapses. I was pretty impressed with myself for figuring this out, and then another thought passed through my head… I’ve been here when my world has collapsed several times and I gotta say… I pretty much suck. I mean really. I would love to brag and say I was the guy who was on top of the world and when my world caved in all around me, I was still standing tall and rebuilding walls and being the mighty man blah blah blah... but you know? When my world caved in, so did I.
Who we are is not the issue here. If our lives are based on who WE are then we fail. I know that’s contrary to the champion lifestyle we are all striving to achieve, but it’s true. When I found myself in my lowest points, I’ve always realized just how far away from a loving God I have walked. God has yet to allow me to walk next to him and then let my world collapse. It’s always when I’ve strayed. I’ve realized that short of God… I am a street person with a job. Nothing more… it’s his grace that allows me to have a life apart from sleeping in cardboard. People don’t aspire to be street bums. They just fall on hard times and never get out of the trap of being where they have fallen.
Life is hard… but walking in a life without the grace and goodness of God is harder. But the hardest thing I’ve ever done is to walk along and not acknowledging the goodness of God in my life and to take what he freely gives as a gift and spit on it. I have had the opportunity recently to watch a friend of mine give and give and be stepped on by the person being helped. It caused me to realize how many times in MY own life I have taken God’s goodness for granted and how many times I should have been pounded into dog food for doing it, and never getting what I deserve. I was indignant with my friend’s guest for the way they treated my friend, and yet I find myself being ungrateful for God giving me the grace to make it through one more day and I just leave dishes on his sink and toothpaste on his bathroom floor… I’m a piece of work I tell ya…
Maybe one of these days I’ll figure it all out, but then again… I doubt it. ; )