I have spent some time this week or so thinking about the subject of Moral Authority. What is it? Who has it? How do you get it? Moral Authority, isn’t what the Taliban uses to create an unwilling submission to Sheria Law. It isn’t someone else forcing taboo upon others. At first glance, it sounds like domination of others for reason of superiority. But in reality nothing could be further from reality. Moral Authority is not something that you wield like a sword. It is not something that you gain by position or posturing.
Moral Authority is in a word INFLUENCE. At the heart of moral authority is a humble submission to God’s greater authority that produces in us a consistency of character. For the one who would seek moral authority with the wrong motivation they will find themselves lacking it, due to pride. Moral authority isn’t something that you seek to earn so it can be displayed like a trophy. It is more so like the overflow of your relationship with God that others see, that others sense and that the Holy Spirit uses to draw others to Christ through your life and your voice.
For that very reason, moral authority is exceptionally fragile. You may think you have it to some extent only find that you lost it with one inconsistent act or at the slip of your tongue. See, others have expectations of you and me that we might not be so aware of at times. Kids have unwritten expectations of parents. Friends have expectations of friends and so it goes in each and every area of life. People might have attained great position in life, yet the kind of influence I am talking about be totally invisible in them. While others, who lack any position, power or notable place possess something that others admire; giving them a voice they never would have normally sought.
I spoke a few weeks ago about judgment. In regards to moral authority, judgment is of paramount importance. If one lacks judgment, then they will definitely be lacking in moral authority. Like I said before, judgment is not so much about asking “what is wrong with something”, it more about making a determination that you want your life to be noted by not how close you can get to wrong, but how close you can get to “rightness” and not be filled with pride.
The motivation toward moral authority is LOVE. In life, in life as a follower of Christ I have learned that I have been given great latitude and liberty. Paul himself made note of the liberties we have in Christ and yet he made it quite clear that those liberties should be monitored and held in check in order that our lives would hold up under investigation. The LOVE that I am speaking of is the love a follower of Christ should possess for others. It is a love that should cause us to show restraint in areas of liberty in order that we might not “put a stumbling block” before others. This kind of love is not selfish, but it is SENSITIVE. Sensitive to others possible weaknesses or attitudes and determines that for love sake it is willing to restrain from certain liberties in order to gain influence for Christ sake, and for the motivation of impacting another life for “rightness”.
So, why is Dad talking about this? Well, as you get older you look at life from the viewpoint of impact and influence. Sadly, you do not just wake up one day and determine you have moral authority. It comes from consistency and that is where it gets tough. I know that I have had days where I lost any moral authority I might have had with each of you. The road back to influence is rough and laden with guilt and regret. With Christ gladly that is not the end of it all.
As each of you mature, you will sense the need for influence in a greater way. Right now, you may be trying your best to avoid it… but you can’t! Make your life and moral authority a gift to others for rightness.
Love,
DAD
Friday, December 25, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Judgment
Judgment! What comes to mind when you read that word? Is it the image of the hypocrite who is blind to his own sin, but seems to have 20/20 vision regarding others weaknesses. Possibly, the Pharisee who thinks much more of himself than anyone else, and less of others whom he views as inferior? Unfortunately, that seems to the overwhelming imagery in the minds of most.
That most quoted and most miss used verse more than likely comes to mind, huh? “Judge not lest ye be judged”. Yes, those are the words of Our Lord. He meant it.
A brief perusal of the New Testament reveals that Jesus was most harsh to those who conducted themselves in such a manner. But, what did Jesus tell us about judgment? How did he use the word himself?
Judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgment (John 7:24).
What is “righteous judgment”? The standard he is promoting is this: Ask, what is right about something, not what is wrong with it?
We too often approach issues, especially those issues that appear to be what we call “grey” areas, with the foremost thought of defining how close we can get to something wrong and still be on the side of right. Is that what Jesus was talking about? I do not think so! Was he saying get as close to evil as possible without being infected by it? Or, was he saying to stay as far away from wrong as possible so you can see and experience his rightness. The real question is not: what is wrong with it, but WHAT GOOD CAN COME FROM IT?
This is true judgment! It isn’t promotion of self. It isn’t demotion of others. It is the attitude that in all things you want to experience all things “right”.
Love,
Dad
That most quoted and most miss used verse more than likely comes to mind, huh? “Judge not lest ye be judged”. Yes, those are the words of Our Lord. He meant it.
A brief perusal of the New Testament reveals that Jesus was most harsh to those who conducted themselves in such a manner. But, what did Jesus tell us about judgment? How did he use the word himself?
Judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgment (John 7:24).
What is “righteous judgment”? The standard he is promoting is this: Ask, what is right about something, not what is wrong with it?
We too often approach issues, especially those issues that appear to be what we call “grey” areas, with the foremost thought of defining how close we can get to something wrong and still be on the side of right. Is that what Jesus was talking about? I do not think so! Was he saying get as close to evil as possible without being infected by it? Or, was he saying to stay as far away from wrong as possible so you can see and experience his rightness. The real question is not: what is wrong with it, but WHAT GOOD CAN COME FROM IT?
This is true judgment! It isn’t promotion of self. It isn’t demotion of others. It is the attitude that in all things you want to experience all things “right”.
Love,
Dad
Monday, November 30, 2009
The Will of God
I have never really enjoyed, nor understood abstract art. It has always appeared to me to seem so helter skelter and unreasonable. To each his own I guess! I have wondered of late, what if God painted in such a fashion? What would the autumn leaves look like? What would each of us look like if the human DNA was so fashioned? What if God in his creative genius failed to make that 1.2% difference in human DNA that separates us from Chimpanzees?
If God, were (is) the “Grand Weaver” and his artistry was not just his fashioning our humanity, but involved “weaving” purpose and glory into each of our lives what would be our involvement in understanding it and engaging with it?
The fatalistic viewpoint is: God is sovereign and whatever happens, good or bad, is his will and there’s nothing I can do about it. Whatever decision I face, whatever choice I make, well, God you had it programmed this way, anyway, right? In this line of thought, God is not weaving anything of value, but playing with puppets without any regard for the welfare of individuals. Abstract art would be how I would describe this viewpoint.
Others would see God as the originator of it all, and leaving it all for us to figure out. That would place us as the artist is this story, and how many of us know anything about art? This idea would totally redefine abstract for sure. If we were left to our own designs- what a mess!
The other alternative is, that God in creating each of us, uniquely shapes us with a purpose and this purpose is like a woven tapestry that takes a lifetime to create. Tapestries may have unique designs or shapes throughout, but ultimately they display thoughtful creativity.
So, again I ask, if God, were (is) the “Grand Weaver” and his artistry was not just his fashioning our humanity, but involved “weaving” purpose and glory into each of our lives what would be our involvement in understanding it and engaging with it?
If you subscribe to the fatalistic view, then you see God as one who doesn’t value relationship. If he is simply the starter of life, and we are the completer of life, then he is detached from life having meaning in any way. If he is the one who infuses life with meaning and purpose then it is imperative that we seek to engage with him to determine HIS purposes for us.
How do we seek to engage with him? How do we seek to understand him and his purposes? Like the movie, “What about Bob?” the answer is simply Baby Steps. Baby Steps like these:
Honor the truth that we know. Picking and choosing what we will and will not obey is a recipe for personal disaster. “to whom you yield yourself as servants to obey, his servant ye are”, Paul wrote the Romans. Determine that your heart and life are worth being honorable toward your creator.
The other step would mean, submission. Now that is a power laden word. Our nature is, as we grow older to tell ourselves that “we are the captain of our own destiny” (Invictus.) Submission to the God, is simply yielding your will to His. Determine in your heart that, if he created you, fashioned you with specific eternal purposes that it is in your best interest to yield yourself and your personal ambition to Him. Naturally, submission ultimately leads to Trust. He is great enough to trust. He is good enough to yield all of yourself to fully.
Love,
Dad
If God, were (is) the “Grand Weaver” and his artistry was not just his fashioning our humanity, but involved “weaving” purpose and glory into each of our lives what would be our involvement in understanding it and engaging with it?
The fatalistic viewpoint is: God is sovereign and whatever happens, good or bad, is his will and there’s nothing I can do about it. Whatever decision I face, whatever choice I make, well, God you had it programmed this way, anyway, right? In this line of thought, God is not weaving anything of value, but playing with puppets without any regard for the welfare of individuals. Abstract art would be how I would describe this viewpoint.
Others would see God as the originator of it all, and leaving it all for us to figure out. That would place us as the artist is this story, and how many of us know anything about art? This idea would totally redefine abstract for sure. If we were left to our own designs- what a mess!
The other alternative is, that God in creating each of us, uniquely shapes us with a purpose and this purpose is like a woven tapestry that takes a lifetime to create. Tapestries may have unique designs or shapes throughout, but ultimately they display thoughtful creativity.
So, again I ask, if God, were (is) the “Grand Weaver” and his artistry was not just his fashioning our humanity, but involved “weaving” purpose and glory into each of our lives what would be our involvement in understanding it and engaging with it?
If you subscribe to the fatalistic view, then you see God as one who doesn’t value relationship. If he is simply the starter of life, and we are the completer of life, then he is detached from life having meaning in any way. If he is the one who infuses life with meaning and purpose then it is imperative that we seek to engage with him to determine HIS purposes for us.
How do we seek to engage with him? How do we seek to understand him and his purposes? Like the movie, “What about Bob?” the answer is simply Baby Steps. Baby Steps like these:
Honor the truth that we know. Picking and choosing what we will and will not obey is a recipe for personal disaster. “to whom you yield yourself as servants to obey, his servant ye are”, Paul wrote the Romans. Determine that your heart and life are worth being honorable toward your creator.
The other step would mean, submission. Now that is a power laden word. Our nature is, as we grow older to tell ourselves that “we are the captain of our own destiny” (Invictus.) Submission to the God, is simply yielding your will to His. Determine in your heart that, if he created you, fashioned you with specific eternal purposes that it is in your best interest to yield yourself and your personal ambition to Him. Naturally, submission ultimately leads to Trust. He is great enough to trust. He is good enough to yield all of yourself to fully.
Love,
Dad
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Finishing Life Well
Kids, I came across this poem by Robert McQuilkin the other day and it touched me deeply. Mr. McQuilkin is a notable man in the Christian academic world. He has been “tested” in numerous ways and in his journey his desire is still and simply to not falter, but to persevere. Although, He is more aged than I; identifying with his heart is quite easy for me. You have heard me lament that life is but a vapor and that I fear greatly wasting my life on earthly things. Such is each of our struggles. I humbly ask you to take notice when I am tracking correctly, and if in my aging I stumble and you see me becoming a man of mean spirit eagerly love me by telling that I am out of focus. So, read this poem that I hope will be a prayer answered for me as my days rush toward night.
Lord, Let Me Get Home Before Dark
Lord, Let Me Get Home Before Dark
But, I do fear. I fear the Dark Spectre may come too soon- or do I mean, too late? That I should end before I finish or finish, but not well. That I should stain your honor, shame your name, grieve your loving heart. Few, they tell me, finish well… Lord, let me get home before dark.
That darkness of a spirit grown mean and small, fruit shriveled on the vine, bitter to the taste of my companions, burden to be borne by those brave few who love me still.
No, Lord. Let the fruit grown lush and sweet, A joy to all who taste; Spirit-sign of God at work, stronger, fuller, brighter at the end. Lord let me get home before dark.
The darkness of tattered gifts, rust-locked, half spent or ill spent, a life once was used of God now set aside. Grief for glories gone or fretting for a task God never gave. Morning in the hollow chambers of memory, gazing on faded banners of victories long gone. Cannot I run well unto the end? Lord, let me get home before dark.
The outer me decays- I do not fret or ask reprieve. The ebbing of strength but weans me from mother earth and grows me up for heaven. I do not cling to shadows cast by immortality I do not patch the scaffold lent to build the real, eternal me. I do not clutch about me my cocoon vainly struggling to hold hostage a free spirit pressing to be born.
But will I reach the gate in lingering pain, body distorted, grotesque? Or will it be a mind wandering untethered among the light fantasies or grim terrors? Of your grace, Father, I humbly ask…
Let me get home before dark.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Walking Through Hell
I am haunted by a question. After an extended paragraph, where the writer graphically shares his common experience of going to a place in manila called "Smokey Mountain"; a mound of urban waste where eight thousand people live. There he describes that the waste dump often spontaneously burns due to the heat and methane gas created by the piles of trash. People live in cardboard homes and spend their days scratching out an existence. The astounding thing is that he shares how joyful the residence of "hell on earth" are each time he comes to visit. The children of Hell play around his feet, hug his legs and are genuinely thrilled to to see him. The adults are grateful for his life, his spirit of grace and humility. He struggles as he walks to his car as a little girl grips his leg. He returns to his nice home, comfortable surrounding; showers, then polishes his dirty shoes in an attempt to remove Hell's residue. Then he ask, "who wants to walk through Hell to share love?"
I try to think about other things, without success. I hope that sending my money to those willing to walk through Hell is enough. Yet I still see myself in that man, showering and polishing in an attempt to remove the essence of pain and poverty from my memory. I tell myself that I have "done my part" and that obstacles keep me from taking that kind of walk ever again. I can't I tell myself, but in reality what is my true reason? Is my faith only good for me? Yes, the smell of hell is just as much on the rich as the poor, but the question still remains hanging over my heart... "WHO WILL WALK THROUGH HELL TO SHARE LOVE? If not now, When? If not now, Why? If not me Who?
I try to think about other things, without success. I hope that sending my money to those willing to walk through Hell is enough. Yet I still see myself in that man, showering and polishing in an attempt to remove the essence of pain and poverty from my memory. I tell myself that I have "done my part" and that obstacles keep me from taking that kind of walk ever again. I can't I tell myself, but in reality what is my true reason? Is my faith only good for me? Yes, the smell of hell is just as much on the rich as the poor, but the question still remains hanging over my heart... "WHO WILL WALK THROUGH HELL TO SHARE LOVE? If not now, When? If not now, Why? If not me Who?
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Facing Your Words
It has been some time since I last wrote, but I do have an occasion to write something about. As you know, the past weekend we all traveled to North Carolina for a reunion. Friday night, while attending the meet and greet for my High School 30Th I came face to face with my own personal history. It is interesting how much we forget and how much others remember. We arrived on time only to find one person there. We made small talk for awhile and others finally began to trickle into the Lodge. It was most interesting to stand there watching people enter the room; people that I struggled to recognize, but even more struggled to remember their names. Some come easy, while others left me totally blank. It seemed that few had trouble recognizing me. While I stood there wondering who they were they were calling me by name. That was usually followed with, "do you remember me?". I guess I gave away the answer too many times without saying a word, simply by the look on my face. That is embarrassing, for sure! My memory seemed to kick into gear after they reminded me of who they were.
Admittedly, I was not much at home there. High School wasn't the greatest days for me. Those years were full of anxiety and pain. I didn't help matters much by all the foolish things I was involved in. All through High School I dreamed of being this or that, or doing this or that and life seemed to get in the way of doing those things. The power of one choice can derail a whole bunch of your life expectations.
After a while a few familiar and friendly faces came into the room. Your Mom was such a anchor for me. I was ready to bolt out the door, but she kept prompting me to be outgoing, not a strength for me. I guess more than anything I was deathly afraid of what these people remembered about me and how I had treated them, or even more so, what they remembered about my actions. That became quite clear the moment Kathy Jones (Williams) walked up to me. I knew who she was and knew she hung out with an ole friend during High School. But, I was not prepared to what she had to say to me. She said it with a smile, but she was very clear that 30+ years had not erased my words from her heart. Talk about your sins finding you! Apparently, I thought I was being funny and self-abasing when I said it, but I was totally out of touch with her reality. That goes to tell you, that what we say in jest, more often than not hurts more than it ever heals. No amount of apologies can remove that hurt.Fortunately, she was not only transparent about my foolishness, but she had lavished forgiveness on me long ago. Faced with my words, I had to realize their power for pain ever so late.
I had to wonder the rest of the evening, just how many more people I had hurt with my words.
Here's some unsolicited advice: Be very careful about attempting to establish your own SELF at the expense of others. You may consider it funny at the moment, but the power of life and death are in our words. We are at our weakest when we attempt to hurt others so we can feel good about ourselves.
Love,
Dad
Admittedly, I was not much at home there. High School wasn't the greatest days for me. Those years were full of anxiety and pain. I didn't help matters much by all the foolish things I was involved in. All through High School I dreamed of being this or that, or doing this or that and life seemed to get in the way of doing those things. The power of one choice can derail a whole bunch of your life expectations.
After a while a few familiar and friendly faces came into the room. Your Mom was such a anchor for me. I was ready to bolt out the door, but she kept prompting me to be outgoing, not a strength for me. I guess more than anything I was deathly afraid of what these people remembered about me and how I had treated them, or even more so, what they remembered about my actions. That became quite clear the moment Kathy Jones (Williams) walked up to me. I knew who she was and knew she hung out with an ole friend during High School. But, I was not prepared to what she had to say to me. She said it with a smile, but she was very clear that 30+ years had not erased my words from her heart. Talk about your sins finding you! Apparently, I thought I was being funny and self-abasing when I said it, but I was totally out of touch with her reality. That goes to tell you, that what we say in jest, more often than not hurts more than it ever heals. No amount of apologies can remove that hurt.Fortunately, she was not only transparent about my foolishness, but she had lavished forgiveness on me long ago. Faced with my words, I had to realize their power for pain ever so late.
I had to wonder the rest of the evening, just how many more people I had hurt with my words.
Here's some unsolicited advice: Be very careful about attempting to establish your own SELF at the expense of others. You may consider it funny at the moment, but the power of life and death are in our words. We are at our weakest when we attempt to hurt others so we can feel good about ourselves.
Love,
Dad
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Some Things You Need to Know About Me – God (part 5)
“Radical” is defined in numerous ways. I want you to know that once (or if) you decide to follow me I will definitely redefine the meaning of the word for you. Part of following me (should you decide to do so) is that the bottom line is I am going to ask you to do some very radical stuff. I know what you see as western Christianity is for the most part ego-centric. I have never promised that my people wouldn’t get off track or confused about what it means to follow me totally. Do not get lost in watching the crowd. I will handle that issue in my own time and way. I want to talk to you right now… and hear what I have to say.
You see so many “radical” expressions from other religions through all the media outlets, all of which are being done to gain something by an individual. They do so in order to gain some perverted pleasure, or some mystical state of being. But, here is what I promise you, if you follow me fully:
It is called a CROSS:
First, you need to come to it. Plain and simple! The most radical thing you will ever do is decide to turn from the way you are heading and come to my cross for no other reason than to be free of the burden of sin you have carried. You have to do it, no other person can do it for you!
Next,you will have to take it up. The second most radical thing you will ever do is decide to follow me fully, with the knowledge that to do so is a direct invitation for me to lead you into understanding and doing your full blown purpose. There is no mistake in how I created you. There is only one you; created uniquely by me for a wonderful reason. Admittedly, this is the point I lose most of the people who follow me. They want desperately to have the burden of sin taken from them, but this thing about taking up the cross is a different matter all together. To follow me fully, meaning without reservation, without limitation is unnatural to your humanity. That is why it takes trust. You must trust me and my character enough to place all that you are and all that you have into my care. If you are willing to trust me with removing your sin, will you trust me with yourself?
Now, here is what you can expect once you shoulder the cross:
Overt attacks from the enemy. The enemy (Satan) will not be ever so slightly impressed by your decision to be a radical follower of me. Therefore, he and his imps will turn some of their wicked intentions toward you. What will it look like? Temptation to return to the easier path. Deception. Discouragement. Ask your Mom and Dad, they can tell you about it.
You will be misunderstood. People, people really close to you will not understand your decision. Possible even your parents.
Pain: You will face the reality of rejection as my follower. They rejected me.. why not you?
Loss: That which was once so dear to you will fade in its importance.
Loneliness: There will be times as you lay down your life for me that you will feel overwhelmingly alone. You won’t be though… I will never leave you nor forsake you. Trust me.. not your feelings.
Selflessness: The ultimate expression of following me is putting others needs first before your own. That is my definition of love.
Sacrifice: You will never give up anything for me that would not have prevented something greater from being done in you or others through you. Do not believe that you can have the best of both worlds (as your culture defines best). When you yield your life to me I will ask you to lay aside some things that you hold very dear. Then as you allow me to work in your heart I will open your eyes, ears to others needs, that is when you will want to do whatever it takes to follow me… it will mean sacrifice.
So, where is the benefit you might be asking? Why would you be ever so motivated to follow me knowing what I have told you?
Here are a few:
-You will know that you have walked with me and never been alone. You will know my Presence!
-You will have become like me and never regret otherwise. You will know my Personhood
-You will have been instrumental in changing others lives as I intended before you were born. You will have fulfilled your Purpose
-Your hope will not be in this world and things of this world…. it will be in my Son whom you will have followed fully.
You see so many “radical” expressions from other religions through all the media outlets, all of which are being done to gain something by an individual. They do so in order to gain some perverted pleasure, or some mystical state of being. But, here is what I promise you, if you follow me fully:
It is called a CROSS:
First, you need to come to it. Plain and simple! The most radical thing you will ever do is decide to turn from the way you are heading and come to my cross for no other reason than to be free of the burden of sin you have carried. You have to do it, no other person can do it for you!
Next,you will have to take it up. The second most radical thing you will ever do is decide to follow me fully, with the knowledge that to do so is a direct invitation for me to lead you into understanding and doing your full blown purpose. There is no mistake in how I created you. There is only one you; created uniquely by me for a wonderful reason. Admittedly, this is the point I lose most of the people who follow me. They want desperately to have the burden of sin taken from them, but this thing about taking up the cross is a different matter all together. To follow me fully, meaning without reservation, without limitation is unnatural to your humanity. That is why it takes trust. You must trust me and my character enough to place all that you are and all that you have into my care. If you are willing to trust me with removing your sin, will you trust me with yourself?
Now, here is what you can expect once you shoulder the cross:
Overt attacks from the enemy. The enemy (Satan) will not be ever so slightly impressed by your decision to be a radical follower of me. Therefore, he and his imps will turn some of their wicked intentions toward you. What will it look like? Temptation to return to the easier path. Deception. Discouragement. Ask your Mom and Dad, they can tell you about it.
You will be misunderstood. People, people really close to you will not understand your decision. Possible even your parents.
Pain: You will face the reality of rejection as my follower. They rejected me.. why not you?
Loss: That which was once so dear to you will fade in its importance.
Loneliness: There will be times as you lay down your life for me that you will feel overwhelmingly alone. You won’t be though… I will never leave you nor forsake you. Trust me.. not your feelings.
Selflessness: The ultimate expression of following me is putting others needs first before your own. That is my definition of love.
Sacrifice: You will never give up anything for me that would not have prevented something greater from being done in you or others through you. Do not believe that you can have the best of both worlds (as your culture defines best). When you yield your life to me I will ask you to lay aside some things that you hold very dear. Then as you allow me to work in your heart I will open your eyes, ears to others needs, that is when you will want to do whatever it takes to follow me… it will mean sacrifice.
So, where is the benefit you might be asking? Why would you be ever so motivated to follow me knowing what I have told you?
Here are a few:
-You will know that you have walked with me and never been alone. You will know my Presence!
-You will have become like me and never regret otherwise. You will know my Personhood
-You will have been instrumental in changing others lives as I intended before you were born. You will have fulfilled your Purpose
-Your hope will not be in this world and things of this world…. it will be in my Son whom you will have followed fully.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Some Things You Need to Know About Me –God (Part 4)
Just how far am I willing to go seems to be a question on some minds. Meaning, do I have limits? Do I, as creator God have limits to my patience and power?
I am often criticized for what people consider too little, or no involvement in some events and too much in others. Insurance companies are particularly fond of blaming me for certain tragedies. I find it uniquely interesting when man judges me for being judgmental. (LOL) Maybe that can be a subject for another day, huh? The other question is: can man limit my power? Can man prevent me from accomplishing something that I desire to do?
Do I have a limit to my patience? What most people want to know, (those that are on the threshold of belief) is how far can they run from me before I reach out in “judgment” and get their attention? They want to test whether I am the “hater” they heard I was. They have heard that I hate sinners, that I judge sin; which is another one of those distortions that has no basis in truth. The truth is: I hate sin! The truth is: I judged sin – once and for all. The truth is: since the beginning of time I have established a way for sin to be dealt with in/by faith whereby man can be in a right relationship with me in order to prevent the natural consequences of sin from taking place. What are the natural consequences of sin? Death! “By one man sin entered into the world and death by sin”, heard that before? So, do I have limits to my patience? Peter said that, I (God) am longsuffering toward men, not willing that any should perish, but that ALL should come to repentance. Here is what you need to know about me: my patience finds its end at the culmination of unbelief. If you decide to believe the lies and die in unbelief, rejecting me for whatever reason, then you will meet me at the end of my patience. It will be by your choice not from my lack of trying to show you truth. Sin has been fully and forever judged by the death of my Son. I work and use whatever means possible (any means that doesn’t violate my character) to draw people to faith. Will I overpower and force faith on someone? NO! One of you humans wisely stated, “A man convinced against his will is still unconvinced.” What value would there be in getting to heaven knowing you are there unwillingly? Men/Women chose to either yield themselves to the work of the Holy Spirit in leading and impressing upon them the opportunity before them to repent of their sin and surrender wholly to the forgiveness available in the death of Christ. Some do so after great struggle, some after very little. Others simply resist and continue to resist until it is too late. So, in a way, there is a means whereby humans can limit my working powerfully; and that is in their own heart(s) through unbelief.
I am often criticized for what people consider too little, or no involvement in some events and too much in others. Insurance companies are particularly fond of blaming me for certain tragedies. I find it uniquely interesting when man judges me for being judgmental. (LOL) Maybe that can be a subject for another day, huh? The other question is: can man limit my power? Can man prevent me from accomplishing something that I desire to do?
Do I have a limit to my patience? What most people want to know, (those that are on the threshold of belief) is how far can they run from me before I reach out in “judgment” and get their attention? They want to test whether I am the “hater” they heard I was. They have heard that I hate sinners, that I judge sin; which is another one of those distortions that has no basis in truth. The truth is: I hate sin! The truth is: I judged sin – once and for all. The truth is: since the beginning of time I have established a way for sin to be dealt with in/by faith whereby man can be in a right relationship with me in order to prevent the natural consequences of sin from taking place. What are the natural consequences of sin? Death! “By one man sin entered into the world and death by sin”, heard that before? So, do I have limits to my patience? Peter said that, I (God) am longsuffering toward men, not willing that any should perish, but that ALL should come to repentance. Here is what you need to know about me: my patience finds its end at the culmination of unbelief. If you decide to believe the lies and die in unbelief, rejecting me for whatever reason, then you will meet me at the end of my patience. It will be by your choice not from my lack of trying to show you truth. Sin has been fully and forever judged by the death of my Son. I work and use whatever means possible (any means that doesn’t violate my character) to draw people to faith. Will I overpower and force faith on someone? NO! One of you humans wisely stated, “A man convinced against his will is still unconvinced.” What value would there be in getting to heaven knowing you are there unwillingly? Men/Women chose to either yield themselves to the work of the Holy Spirit in leading and impressing upon them the opportunity before them to repent of their sin and surrender wholly to the forgiveness available in the death of Christ. Some do so after great struggle, some after very little. Others simply resist and continue to resist until it is too late. So, in a way, there is a means whereby humans can limit my working powerfully; and that is in their own heart(s) through unbelief.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Some Things You Need To Know About Me - God (part 3)
Silence is something that I see that is very undervalued in your culture. There is more mental clutter and endless noise before each of you, that it is any wonder so many struggle with decision making, moral issues and just a certain stability. Silence is undervalued until I am accused of being silent. Then people take two varied positions; one is glad that they can’t hear me and the other is desperate for my voice. From my vantage point (which is pretty clear) I see that both groups are quite desperate to hear from me.
What is so wrong with me being silent? Why should I bend to speak to you folks? Because you want me to speak, or that your need me to speak? Is it that you have a passionate desire to hear from me, or that you are just carnal enough to be curious as to what I might say?
Silence could be considered not an issue with my speaking; but moreover an issue with your hearing, would you not agree? You humans call it, “selective hearing”, right? Meaning, that you only hear what you want to hear. That would certainly reduce accountability! Right?
I am going to let you in on something:
When I am silent:
-Do not assume I am inactive
-Do not assume I am distant
-Do not assume I am powerless
-Do not assume I am disinterested
-Do realize that I have your best interest at heart.
-Do realize every event in life is at my disposal to be used to impact not only you, but others.
-Do realize that I am more concerned with your character and eternal impact than your pleasure and comfort.
-Do realize that you are not the center of the universe.
-Do realize that when you think I am silent; my silence may be the loudest voice I want to use.
-Do realize that I do not have to speak in order to communicate.
-Do realize that my “silence” may have more to do with your willingness to obey than my willingness to speak!
-Do realize that my “assumed” silence may be your greatest opportunity to stay close to me.
Here is my advice:
WHEN I AM “SILENT”:
TRUST ME
SEEK ME
HANG WITH ME!
If you are looking for references try the following:
Joseph (Genesis) 13 years in silence
Moses (Exodus) 40 years in silence
What is so wrong with me being silent? Why should I bend to speak to you folks? Because you want me to speak, or that your need me to speak? Is it that you have a passionate desire to hear from me, or that you are just carnal enough to be curious as to what I might say?
Silence could be considered not an issue with my speaking; but moreover an issue with your hearing, would you not agree? You humans call it, “selective hearing”, right? Meaning, that you only hear what you want to hear. That would certainly reduce accountability! Right?
I am going to let you in on something:
When I am silent:
-Do not assume I am inactive
-Do not assume I am distant
-Do not assume I am powerless
-Do not assume I am disinterested
-Do realize that I have your best interest at heart.
-Do realize every event in life is at my disposal to be used to impact not only you, but others.
-Do realize that I am more concerned with your character and eternal impact than your pleasure and comfort.
-Do realize that you are not the center of the universe.
-Do realize that when you think I am silent; my silence may be the loudest voice I want to use.
-Do realize that I do not have to speak in order to communicate.
-Do realize that my “silence” may have more to do with your willingness to obey than my willingness to speak!
-Do realize that my “assumed” silence may be your greatest opportunity to stay close to me.
Here is my advice:
WHEN I AM “SILENT”:
TRUST ME
SEEK ME
HANG WITH ME!
If you are looking for references try the following:
Joseph (Genesis) 13 years in silence
Moses (Exodus) 40 years in silence
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Some Things You Need To Know About Me - God (part 2)
I know human tendency is to transpose images from one person to another in order to make comparison, to draw parallels, and conclusions, but let me shed some light on one comparison that is often made with the following statement: I AM NOT LIKE YOUR FATHER! In fact, the ultimate question is whether he is LIKE me? Experience has shown me that humanity is ripe with blame; especially when they are disappointed by one another and often that blame is affixed to me through the question: Why would God allow…?
When a person decides that I have been the reason for their pain, by and/or through another human, walls go up, resistant grows, and in most cases I am considered non-existent, or disengaged. I understand disappointment, in fact, I understand it very well. Several times, I have made it very clear that my expectations for a group of people has left me more than disappointed. Remarkably, when I have been disappointed the most was actually when I was visibly engaged in unmistakable ways. I parted oceans of water, I fed millions miraculously daily and the next thing they do is create some outrageous image of me as if I am like a cow?
What has transpired throughout human history is that man, wants to shape the image of the god(s) they worship. It takes on all forms of images. It is quite amazing to be compared to something that I myself have created. They want a God that they can not only understand, but that they can manipulate… and in thus doing they themselves unconsciously become god to themselves. Then the god they created becomes just another trinket used to sharpen their personal image.
Man wants a god to be like him except when the chips are down and desperation sets in, then they want me (God) to inject all that I am into the messes that they have made or that others have made for them. What about the natural consequences of a persons actions cause them to suddenly reach out to me desiring that I superimpose my power over the laws that I have created, just so they can avoid grief or possibly shame? This is the point where many either come to understand my ways or make a conscious decision to reject me through willful unbelief.
My objective has never been to be made in the image of man, but that man be remade into my image. No I am not like your father. I never will be. Again, the real question is: Your Father, is he being renewed and recreated in my image? I certainly do not ask for my sake, but that you would consider that even at his worst or best I able to work to bring good from it, and like an artist take something that appears rough and crude and through skill and patience make something wonderful.
There is any number of misunderstandings about me and my ways that have permeated cultures. People get all bogged down in those and easily trust the multitude of voices and miss the opportunity that is ever present to simply, with honest and open heart… SEEK ME.
No I am not like your father… But he is my son.
When a person decides that I have been the reason for their pain, by and/or through another human, walls go up, resistant grows, and in most cases I am considered non-existent, or disengaged. I understand disappointment, in fact, I understand it very well. Several times, I have made it very clear that my expectations for a group of people has left me more than disappointed. Remarkably, when I have been disappointed the most was actually when I was visibly engaged in unmistakable ways. I parted oceans of water, I fed millions miraculously daily and the next thing they do is create some outrageous image of me as if I am like a cow?
What has transpired throughout human history is that man, wants to shape the image of the god(s) they worship. It takes on all forms of images. It is quite amazing to be compared to something that I myself have created. They want a God that they can not only understand, but that they can manipulate… and in thus doing they themselves unconsciously become god to themselves. Then the god they created becomes just another trinket used to sharpen their personal image.
Man wants a god to be like him except when the chips are down and desperation sets in, then they want me (God) to inject all that I am into the messes that they have made or that others have made for them. What about the natural consequences of a persons actions cause them to suddenly reach out to me desiring that I superimpose my power over the laws that I have created, just so they can avoid grief or possibly shame? This is the point where many either come to understand my ways or make a conscious decision to reject me through willful unbelief.
My objective has never been to be made in the image of man, but that man be remade into my image. No I am not like your father. I never will be. Again, the real question is: Your Father, is he being renewed and recreated in my image? I certainly do not ask for my sake, but that you would consider that even at his worst or best I able to work to bring good from it, and like an artist take something that appears rough and crude and through skill and patience make something wonderful.
There is any number of misunderstandings about me and my ways that have permeated cultures. People get all bogged down in those and easily trust the multitude of voices and miss the opportunity that is ever present to simply, with honest and open heart… SEEK ME.
No I am not like your father… But he is my son.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Some Things You Need to Know About Me - God (Part 1)
I hate “To Do” List, and I especially Hate “Don’t Do List”. (Let that statement soak in)
Sounds confusing I know, but let me explain. When it comes to a relationship with me I am not about creating an agenda for my people where they have a false sense of acceptance due to what they “do” or “don’t do”. If you read my word, you will understand that one of the greatest frustrations that I have is when my people, for whatever practical reason they may have, develop a list whereby they measure themselves and others. I guess, it is human nature to want some kind of instrument for this purpose. What happens is this; people become bound by their list and before they know it they have me bound by it too. Well, I am not bound, but they have deceived themselves into thinking it is my list. It’s not my list. As you know, I did create a “list”; you know it by “the ten commandments”. That’s my one and only list of “Do’s” and “Don’ts”, but each of those were never intended to be used as a measuring instrument for how well or not so well you are relating to me.
If you are at all interested in relating to me in a manner that puts a smile on both our faces let me make it simple: TRUST ME! Plain and simple (Heb 11:6). Now, I know from your perspective that may be easier said than done. But, TRUST is the beginning point with me. It begins with you trusting that I am who I say that I am… not what you hear or see through all the voices in your culture. Some of those voices are dead on.. But even those voices don’t or can’t know everything about me. Finite explaining Infinite has a way of being problematic. The “does” and the “don’ts” will take care of themselves once your take the first steps toward trusting me. Let’s start with trust. OK?
Sounds confusing I know, but let me explain. When it comes to a relationship with me I am not about creating an agenda for my people where they have a false sense of acceptance due to what they “do” or “don’t do”. If you read my word, you will understand that one of the greatest frustrations that I have is when my people, for whatever practical reason they may have, develop a list whereby they measure themselves and others. I guess, it is human nature to want some kind of instrument for this purpose. What happens is this; people become bound by their list and before they know it they have me bound by it too. Well, I am not bound, but they have deceived themselves into thinking it is my list. It’s not my list. As you know, I did create a “list”; you know it by “the ten commandments”. That’s my one and only list of “Do’s” and “Don’ts”, but each of those were never intended to be used as a measuring instrument for how well or not so well you are relating to me.
If you are at all interested in relating to me in a manner that puts a smile on both our faces let me make it simple: TRUST ME! Plain and simple (Heb 11:6). Now, I know from your perspective that may be easier said than done. But, TRUST is the beginning point with me. It begins with you trusting that I am who I say that I am… not what you hear or see through all the voices in your culture. Some of those voices are dead on.. But even those voices don’t or can’t know everything about me. Finite explaining Infinite has a way of being problematic. The “does” and the “don’ts” will take care of themselves once your take the first steps toward trusting me. Let’s start with trust. OK?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Out of the Shadows
In my last posting, I closed with the idea that God is at work in your life in many ways. I want to develop that idea a little further.
I mentioned the book, The Grand Weaver in which Ravi Zacharias shows throughout that the somewhat mundane events and circumstances of life are often used by God to not only shape us, but to impact and influence each of us. I am afraid I left you with the idea that God is content to remain in the shadows and in some benign way wait for us to recognize him in it. Nothing could be further from reality.
There is something that is clear throughout the scriptures and that is that God is not content to remain in the shadows. Now, he may for whatever reason choose to remain in shadows of some events, but that doesn't mean that He always does, or even will stay hidden.
In your life and in mine, so many things happen that we fail to understand and struggle to see any purpose or value that might derive from it, as it pertains to God's working in us. That is just the reality of our being finite beings. God can use "good" and "bad" to impact us and He does.
Now, what happens when God does decide to step out of the shadows? What happens when He decides that He wants to have a face to face with each of us? God often will attempt to gain our attention and to prod us in his direction in gentle and subtle ways. He is loving and kind and "full of mercy". But, there comes a time when if we fail to come to terms with his gentle persuasion activities that He steps right up into our face; letting us know that we will deal with him. When that happens, and it has happened to me on several occasions you will be faced with some serious consequences. Depending on your state, and just how determined you are to have your own way you will be faced with the bottom line of choosing God's way or your own way. Now, when this happens it is best to keep in mind that statement from The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe about Asland... where C.S. Lewis, ask, "is he safe?" and the answer comes back, "no, he is not safe... but he is good". God is good enough and loving enough to step out of the shadows to grip our hearts, seize our minds; forcing us to recognize his presence, his passion and his plan for us. The consequences on either side of the equation are in your hands. You will choose and by your choice you will set in motion consequences that are not in your control... they will be the natural results of your willingness to submit your heart, your pride, your sin to the grace and kindness of God.
Now, the unique thing about when God decides to step out of the shadows it will more than likely be when you least expect it, and when you are not emotionally or mentally prepared with your normal defense mechanisms. It could be in the middle of the night while you are asleep. It could be in the middle of the day. It could be that you are alone. It could be when you are with your best friends. It could be that He will deal with you personally, alone and private. It could that He chooses to use a person to tell you what He wants to tell you. Either way, He is out of the shadows because He wants you to know He is involved in your life.
In December of 1980, God showed up at a party I was attending. Now, keep in mind, He (God) had not been invited. He stepped out of the shadows, straight up into my "grill" and even in an intoxicated state I knew who I was dealing with and that I was facing a serious choice. What followed was that left I that party, went to the house where I was staying and for hours God with great gentleness broke me of my pride and stubbornness. I spent 11 hours on my face and knees; a posture I was not used to finding myself in and in those hours I was changed.
Now, had God been at work in the shadows prior to that night of Dec 19th, 1980? YES! In hindsight I can map out times, events and even dreams that were part of God's work to influence me. But, I have never been one to be to sensitive to subtlety. I guess I am too dense to get subtle persuasion. I would suggest that you not follow my ways in that regard.
Be assured, that when and if God steps out of the shadows in your heart and life He is doing it for your good. He is not doing it to pound you into submission so you might be enslaved by him. He is doing it to break down your pride so you might be set free BY him.
Love,
Dad
I mentioned the book, The Grand Weaver in which Ravi Zacharias shows throughout that the somewhat mundane events and circumstances of life are often used by God to not only shape us, but to impact and influence each of us. I am afraid I left you with the idea that God is content to remain in the shadows and in some benign way wait for us to recognize him in it. Nothing could be further from reality.
There is something that is clear throughout the scriptures and that is that God is not content to remain in the shadows. Now, he may for whatever reason choose to remain in shadows of some events, but that doesn't mean that He always does, or even will stay hidden.
In your life and in mine, so many things happen that we fail to understand and struggle to see any purpose or value that might derive from it, as it pertains to God's working in us. That is just the reality of our being finite beings. God can use "good" and "bad" to impact us and He does.
Now, what happens when God does decide to step out of the shadows? What happens when He decides that He wants to have a face to face with each of us? God often will attempt to gain our attention and to prod us in his direction in gentle and subtle ways. He is loving and kind and "full of mercy". But, there comes a time when if we fail to come to terms with his gentle persuasion activities that He steps right up into our face; letting us know that we will deal with him. When that happens, and it has happened to me on several occasions you will be faced with some serious consequences. Depending on your state, and just how determined you are to have your own way you will be faced with the bottom line of choosing God's way or your own way. Now, when this happens it is best to keep in mind that statement from The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe about Asland... where C.S. Lewis, ask, "is he safe?" and the answer comes back, "no, he is not safe... but he is good". God is good enough and loving enough to step out of the shadows to grip our hearts, seize our minds; forcing us to recognize his presence, his passion and his plan for us. The consequences on either side of the equation are in your hands. You will choose and by your choice you will set in motion consequences that are not in your control... they will be the natural results of your willingness to submit your heart, your pride, your sin to the grace and kindness of God.
Now, the unique thing about when God decides to step out of the shadows it will more than likely be when you least expect it, and when you are not emotionally or mentally prepared with your normal defense mechanisms. It could be in the middle of the night while you are asleep. It could be in the middle of the day. It could be that you are alone. It could be when you are with your best friends. It could be that He will deal with you personally, alone and private. It could that He chooses to use a person to tell you what He wants to tell you. Either way, He is out of the shadows because He wants you to know He is involved in your life.
In December of 1980, God showed up at a party I was attending. Now, keep in mind, He (God) had not been invited. He stepped out of the shadows, straight up into my "grill" and even in an intoxicated state I knew who I was dealing with and that I was facing a serious choice. What followed was that left I that party, went to the house where I was staying and for hours God with great gentleness broke me of my pride and stubbornness. I spent 11 hours on my face and knees; a posture I was not used to finding myself in and in those hours I was changed.
Now, had God been at work in the shadows prior to that night of Dec 19th, 1980? YES! In hindsight I can map out times, events and even dreams that were part of God's work to influence me. But, I have never been one to be to sensitive to subtlety. I guess I am too dense to get subtle persuasion. I would suggest that you not follow my ways in that regard.
Be assured, that when and if God steps out of the shadows in your heart and life He is doing it for your good. He is not doing it to pound you into submission so you might be enslaved by him. He is doing it to break down your pride so you might be set free BY him.
Love,
Dad
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Three Men
You never know who will step into your life and leave permanent impressions. Long term impact often happens in the briefest period of time. Some would call it coincidence, while I am fully convinced that it is divine providence. It will happen to each of you as you walk through life; in fact, I know it is happening now, you just might not be fully aware of what God is up to, nor possibly willing to admit that he is involved at all.
I could make a long list of people that have left deep furrows in my heart and mind over the years. But, there is a particular group of three men that I would like to reminisce about for a few minutes. You will be able find there names in phone books but not history books. Terrel McBee, Jerry Peacock and Melvin Park left giant size impressions on me. At a time when I was alone, out of my element and attempting to get a grip on new life in Christ, these men, who had absolutely nothing in common with me made a choice to come alongside of me and befriend me, mentor me and love me.
Terrel is a tall, thin man who is as strong as a oak tree. Jerry is an outdoors man, an adventurer full of emotion and compassion. Melvin was the sage of the three. He would inject into every conversation tidbits of God's wisdom in down to earth language.
When I came into relationship with these three men we had nothing in common, at least nothing of this world. I had just come to faith in Christ in January of 1981. The circumstances of my conversion will have to be saved for another time, but suffice it to say that God chose these men to impact me and show me acceptance, when most Christians would have stayed in the background to see if my salvation "stuck". As you know I didn't come into the Christian life nice, pretty and cleaned up. My life was a mess and it was written all over me. I looked rough, mean and like an outcast, which is what I wanted at that time. Paul's words in Rom 5:20, "where sin abounded, grace did much more abound" take me back to those early days when Christ was so new to me. These three men, who were typical cowboy types "took me under their wing" and without reservation began to share their lives with me.
Each of these men had their own challenges with family, jobs and all that made their lives function, and as I observed them, they faced each challenge in faith and strength. As our relationship developed each of them in their own way challenged me by telling me when I was wrong, challenging "wrongheadedness" (attitudes) and my own tendency to be judgemental. They were not slow to take the Bible in hand in let the words "in red" do there work too.
Had it not been for God's grace and these three men I am quite sure I would have turned back to my old life. I owe them a huge debt of gratitude for what they invested in me.
Ravi Zacharias' book, The Grand Weaver unfolds how God is always at work, maybe not notably, but definitely in the background of each life. Purposefully bringing things to pass in order to touch a life. God whether you realize it, recognize it or even want to acknowledge it, is at work in you life, even in the shadows. He will use people to write on the pages of your heart. He will use circumstance to direct your heart. Terrel, Jerry and Melvin were woven into the tapestry of my life, and in the lives of hundreds of others.
Caleb and Lacy... look around you and see who God has in the shadows. Look around you and see who is writing on the pages of your heart right now and lastly, ask yourself who are you impacting too. And what kind of influence are you having.
Love,
Dad
I could make a long list of people that have left deep furrows in my heart and mind over the years. But, there is a particular group of three men that I would like to reminisce about for a few minutes. You will be able find there names in phone books but not history books. Terrel McBee, Jerry Peacock and Melvin Park left giant size impressions on me. At a time when I was alone, out of my element and attempting to get a grip on new life in Christ, these men, who had absolutely nothing in common with me made a choice to come alongside of me and befriend me, mentor me and love me.
Terrel is a tall, thin man who is as strong as a oak tree. Jerry is an outdoors man, an adventurer full of emotion and compassion. Melvin was the sage of the three. He would inject into every conversation tidbits of God's wisdom in down to earth language.
When I came into relationship with these three men we had nothing in common, at least nothing of this world. I had just come to faith in Christ in January of 1981. The circumstances of my conversion will have to be saved for another time, but suffice it to say that God chose these men to impact me and show me acceptance, when most Christians would have stayed in the background to see if my salvation "stuck". As you know I didn't come into the Christian life nice, pretty and cleaned up. My life was a mess and it was written all over me. I looked rough, mean and like an outcast, which is what I wanted at that time. Paul's words in Rom 5:20, "where sin abounded, grace did much more abound" take me back to those early days when Christ was so new to me. These three men, who were typical cowboy types "took me under their wing" and without reservation began to share their lives with me.
Each of these men had their own challenges with family, jobs and all that made their lives function, and as I observed them, they faced each challenge in faith and strength. As our relationship developed each of them in their own way challenged me by telling me when I was wrong, challenging "wrongheadedness" (attitudes) and my own tendency to be judgemental. They were not slow to take the Bible in hand in let the words "in red" do there work too.
Had it not been for God's grace and these three men I am quite sure I would have turned back to my old life. I owe them a huge debt of gratitude for what they invested in me.
Ravi Zacharias' book, The Grand Weaver unfolds how God is always at work, maybe not notably, but definitely in the background of each life. Purposefully bringing things to pass in order to touch a life. God whether you realize it, recognize it or even want to acknowledge it, is at work in you life, even in the shadows. He will use people to write on the pages of your heart. He will use circumstance to direct your heart. Terrel, Jerry and Melvin were woven into the tapestry of my life, and in the lives of hundreds of others.
Caleb and Lacy... look around you and see who God has in the shadows. Look around you and see who is writing on the pages of your heart right now and lastly, ask yourself who are you impacting too. And what kind of influence are you having.
Love,
Dad
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
"GRUNTING"
I was flipping channels the other afternoon and came across one of the court room programs; not that those mindless programs are in the least entertaining, but the subject caught my attention and brought back some past memories as well as some recent ones. What was so interesting about this was that the plaintiff was suing the defendant for grunting. My first thought was ONLY IN AMERICA! The defendant was rather well built gentleman who obviously was fully engaged in staying fit. The plaintiff, on the other hand notably was what I would call an attendee at the gym. The plaintiff was angry and offended that the defendant grunted while working out and was suing to prevent him vocalizing in the public. For me, the evidence was clear the one was committed to personal growth, fitness and willing to put forth the effort with the knowledge that he would gain for his effort. The other simply wanted to pleasant gym experience. Notably, the "grunter" was older than the "non-grunter".
My Dad and Mom both were "grunters"; both literally and metaphorically. I worked alongside my Dad quite a bit while he physically able. When he was in the garden using his hoe to weed he would grunt (in a small way). When he cut wood, he would grunt loud. I would stand and observe him working and I guess I "caught" the grunting thing. Mom on the other hand, she didn't grunt literally, but she did pour herself out daily to accomplish whatever it took to finish out her day. I guess I "caught " some her grunting ways too.
I see people all the time, and I occasionally hire one (unknowingly) that are like the plaintiff. They do not mind you working, pouring yourself into your job... but "please do not expect the same from me" is their attitude. In the court case, the plaintiff stated that the defendants grunting disturbed him and distracted him. I, for one, am inclined to think it shamed him. As it should!
I have very little patience with anyone who expects maximum benefit from minimal effort. I see this in our gym all the time. People who pay fees, hire trainers and simply "go through the motions" They, for some odd reason think that walking for 30 minutes at 3 miles per hour while socializing will bring great reward. Now, if you are elderly it probably will. If you are recovering from some health issue it just might. I am not talking about those kinds of things. I see perfectly healthy, but purely LAZY people there just passing the time. What a waste! I would venture a guess is that is how they live life too.
Just last week, I had a gentleman make fun of me to others in the gym for grunting. I usually have my I-Pod blasting and hear nothing from anyone. But, I was very into my routine and was giving a good effort and was going at a good pace. The guy was much like the plaintiff. He had come into the gym and gone to the tanning booth first. I had just completed about 15 sets of heavy lifting and was finishing with some shrugs, which were from my point and experience HEAVY. 230 pounds is heavy for me to do shrugs, especially 4 sets. I had noticed that the guy that when he came out of the tanning booth that he took a curling bar (35 lbs) and placed 5 lbs weights on each end. A whopping 45 lbs. While he was doing his curls I was completing my 3rd set of shrugs and my I-Pod came to the end of a song... so I had some silence when I heard him grunting and staring at me. His wife, who is as big as a barn started laughing too. I got a little angry for a moment. Then I realized that I have nothing to angry about. I thought of some sharp things that I could say too... but I didn't! We both get out of our workout what we put into it.
Grunting is more than making a noise. It is an expression of total commitment, of complete dedication, of a willingness to give yourself fully to a cause, a goal and job. It means that you are engaged... willing to exert yourself in order accomplish a task.
Our culture is in the process of perfecting the notion that "movement" means progress. NO SO! Expecting dramatic results while giving minimal effort is one way of defining insanity in my book.
You do not have to literally GRUNT... but going through the motions is a pathetic way to live life.
My Dad and Mom both were "grunters"; both literally and metaphorically. I worked alongside my Dad quite a bit while he physically able. When he was in the garden using his hoe to weed he would grunt (in a small way). When he cut wood, he would grunt loud. I would stand and observe him working and I guess I "caught" the grunting thing. Mom on the other hand, she didn't grunt literally, but she did pour herself out daily to accomplish whatever it took to finish out her day. I guess I "caught " some her grunting ways too.
I see people all the time, and I occasionally hire one (unknowingly) that are like the plaintiff. They do not mind you working, pouring yourself into your job... but "please do not expect the same from me" is their attitude. In the court case, the plaintiff stated that the defendants grunting disturbed him and distracted him. I, for one, am inclined to think it shamed him. As it should!
I have very little patience with anyone who expects maximum benefit from minimal effort. I see this in our gym all the time. People who pay fees, hire trainers and simply "go through the motions" They, for some odd reason think that walking for 30 minutes at 3 miles per hour while socializing will bring great reward. Now, if you are elderly it probably will. If you are recovering from some health issue it just might. I am not talking about those kinds of things. I see perfectly healthy, but purely LAZY people there just passing the time. What a waste! I would venture a guess is that is how they live life too.
Just last week, I had a gentleman make fun of me to others in the gym for grunting. I usually have my I-Pod blasting and hear nothing from anyone. But, I was very into my routine and was giving a good effort and was going at a good pace. The guy was much like the plaintiff. He had come into the gym and gone to the tanning booth first. I had just completed about 15 sets of heavy lifting and was finishing with some shrugs, which were from my point and experience HEAVY. 230 pounds is heavy for me to do shrugs, especially 4 sets. I had noticed that the guy that when he came out of the tanning booth that he took a curling bar (35 lbs) and placed 5 lbs weights on each end. A whopping 45 lbs. While he was doing his curls I was completing my 3rd set of shrugs and my I-Pod came to the end of a song... so I had some silence when I heard him grunting and staring at me. His wife, who is as big as a barn started laughing too. I got a little angry for a moment. Then I realized that I have nothing to angry about. I thought of some sharp things that I could say too... but I didn't! We both get out of our workout what we put into it.
Grunting is more than making a noise. It is an expression of total commitment, of complete dedication, of a willingness to give yourself fully to a cause, a goal and job. It means that you are engaged... willing to exert yourself in order accomplish a task.
Our culture is in the process of perfecting the notion that "movement" means progress. NO SO! Expecting dramatic results while giving minimal effort is one way of defining insanity in my book.
You do not have to literally GRUNT... but going through the motions is a pathetic way to live life.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Fried Taters and Onions
I love food! I think you know that for a fact and nothing can generate a memory like food. We have had the privilege of eating at some of the most wonderful places one could imagine. One of my favorites was The Carnivore, in Nairobi. Swords of fire roasted exotic meats in an all you can format, Wow! Another very nostalgic place for me is “Lotos”; a place that defines “hole in the wall” there in Morogoro. Cheap, fast and greasy; what else could a guy want?
I guess nothing brings nostalgia like the food you were raised eating. The food of mountain people is often interesting, and a definite link to my (our) personal history. When I tell people what we sometimes ate growing up that shake their head in disbelief and say no way.
One day a gentleman came by the house with an opossum clinging to his bicycle rack. Man was that possum angry, and scared. He had been caught in this man’s rabbit gum (trap). Dad bought him (the possum) and kept him in a 55 gallon barrel for a few weeks so he could fatten him up. We ate him one night for supper with roasted vegetables.
I could come up with a rather long list of critters I have eaten over the years. Everything from elk to warthog all are a delicacy to somebody. One delicacy we had growing up on the farm was when we would slaughter a hog. Nothing went to waste! Pork rinds came from the skin, the feet were pickled, the fat “rendered” to use in cooking. Everything was processed somehow, someway to get the most out of the hog. We didn’t just go for the ham, bacon and sausage the real treat came the morning of the slaughter when breakfast would be hog brains and eggs, biscuits and gravy. I know you are think.. yum, yum right now.
I have often told you that we grew up poor and I have even shown you the little white house on Price Street. One night my brother Clarence and I were hungry. Dad was in the hospital for cancer treatment and Mom was with him. We both loved (still do) bread. We had this habit of making bread and eating it with butter for a snack. This particular night, we were making our bread and when we opened the bottom of the oven to get a pan a huge rat jumped out at me, he had to be at least 8 inches long. I jumped back and slammed the drawer shut and caught that rat. His head was halfway out and he was making this squeaky noise trying to get loose. We were all excited (scared at first) so I ran to get this golf club I had found at a nearby golf course. Being kids, well you can guess what that rats head was used for… it was a little messy. Afterward, we cleaned it up, made our bread and had our snack. No we didn’t eat the rat.. just in case you are wondering.
But for me, the real memories come when I think about the time I got to spend with my Mom and Dad alone on the porch eating a biscuit with tomato, or breaking beans in the summer. I will tell you this, there is never a time that I eat or make fried potatoes and onions, pinto beans, cream corn or fried okra that my mind doesn’t make a lap around those precious times. In my minds eye, I can still (40+ years later) taste the wonder of a fresh slice of tomato from the garden stuffed into a day old biscuit or crumbling cornbread into a big bowl of pinto beans and onions. I have eaten in some fine restaurants, eaten exotic foods on several continents… but there is nothing better than the simple things.
I guess nothing brings nostalgia like the food you were raised eating. The food of mountain people is often interesting, and a definite link to my (our) personal history. When I tell people what we sometimes ate growing up that shake their head in disbelief and say no way.
One day a gentleman came by the house with an opossum clinging to his bicycle rack. Man was that possum angry, and scared. He had been caught in this man’s rabbit gum (trap). Dad bought him (the possum) and kept him in a 55 gallon barrel for a few weeks so he could fatten him up. We ate him one night for supper with roasted vegetables.
I could come up with a rather long list of critters I have eaten over the years. Everything from elk to warthog all are a delicacy to somebody. One delicacy we had growing up on the farm was when we would slaughter a hog. Nothing went to waste! Pork rinds came from the skin, the feet were pickled, the fat “rendered” to use in cooking. Everything was processed somehow, someway to get the most out of the hog. We didn’t just go for the ham, bacon and sausage the real treat came the morning of the slaughter when breakfast would be hog brains and eggs, biscuits and gravy. I know you are think.. yum, yum right now.
I have often told you that we grew up poor and I have even shown you the little white house on Price Street. One night my brother Clarence and I were hungry. Dad was in the hospital for cancer treatment and Mom was with him. We both loved (still do) bread. We had this habit of making bread and eating it with butter for a snack. This particular night, we were making our bread and when we opened the bottom of the oven to get a pan a huge rat jumped out at me, he had to be at least 8 inches long. I jumped back and slammed the drawer shut and caught that rat. His head was halfway out and he was making this squeaky noise trying to get loose. We were all excited (scared at first) so I ran to get this golf club I had found at a nearby golf course. Being kids, well you can guess what that rats head was used for… it was a little messy. Afterward, we cleaned it up, made our bread and had our snack. No we didn’t eat the rat.. just in case you are wondering.
But for me, the real memories come when I think about the time I got to spend with my Mom and Dad alone on the porch eating a biscuit with tomato, or breaking beans in the summer. I will tell you this, there is never a time that I eat or make fried potatoes and onions, pinto beans, cream corn or fried okra that my mind doesn’t make a lap around those precious times. In my minds eye, I can still (40+ years later) taste the wonder of a fresh slice of tomato from the garden stuffed into a day old biscuit or crumbling cornbread into a big bowl of pinto beans and onions. I have eaten in some fine restaurants, eaten exotic foods on several continents… but there is nothing better than the simple things.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Retarded?
Retarded?
“Stupid is, as stupid does”
Forest Gump
Retarded is what they called him. When they said the word it seemed natural, not derogatory or mean spirited. Just a simple recognition of something lacking, as measured by what is called “normal”. Of course, they suggested he be become a ward of the state and shipped off to some place for “those kind of people”, the retarded ones. More importantly, Franklin Troy Warren was my brother. In reality he was my half brother, the son of my mother and an unknown gentleman whose name I have never heard nor care to hear. Nevertheless, in my mind and in all of our hearts he was greatly loved and fully accepted as a brother. Dad never thought of him in anyway, other than a son -- fully accepted. Whatever happened to him took place in his infancy. Spiking fever and resulting seizures was what we were told caused his “retardation”.
I remember pictures of Frank playing outside and riding a horse when he was young, around 10 years old. It is “funny” that we really never consider the impact of a human life upon our own lives until they are gone.
When I was little, before Dad passed away our relationship (mine and Franks) was not that memorable. My memories of him during that time frame are sketchy—some make me really sad. For instance, Frank had a room all his own, while I had to sleep with another brother. Yet, Frank’s “room” wasn’t really a room. The little white house on Price Street had a back porch that was hardly a room. Plastic covered over the screen to prevent wind and rain from coming in, but winter had to have brutal. He would always have 3-4 heavy quilts to keep him warm. Conversely, summer time had to have been the extreme opposite. To this day I struggle with a sense of shame when thinking about how he was relegated to the back porch.
Later, after Dad died, our relationship began to develop. To be more precise, God began a deep and abiding work in my pre-adolescent heart and Frank was a major player in God’s plan.
Those years right after Dad died brought about horrific change in our household. Thinking back it was much worse than I thought at the time. Soon after Dad died we moved to 111 Hall Street. How I remember that address I will never understand --strange for sure. Sara married just before Dad died, during her senior year of High School. Clarence had joined the Air Force against Dad wishes (a story that deserves it own space) So, suddenly, that little over crowded house was full of just Richard, Mom, Frank and I. We were all that was left. So, I assume to escape the memories, we moved about 1 mile away. Frank had his own room this time—not a porch. It had walls and a window. Richard and I shared a room. Somehow I ended up with my own bed.
Household dynamics changed dramatically too. Mom’s work schedule had to change to accommodate taking care of Frank. She had to take a job on 2nd shift in order to be at home during the day, while Richard and I were in school. Richard was in High School and I was in the 5th grade.
One major adjustment was that in order for Mom to get to work on time I had to get out of school early every day so I could care for Frank. In my mind this was a really good deal, for me. School was not my strong suite. I was known for trying anything to get out of school. . Like I said, in the beginning I thought it was a pretty sweet deal. It turned out to be something very difficult for a 5th grader to deal with. I found myself being at home alone with Frank until way late most evenings. I cooked sometimes, cleaned the house and managed what I told as best as I could. I was there to make sure Frank was taken care of…Only God could make something good come out of this situation. There were many evenings that I was terribly scared… and lonely… I was only 10! One evening, I was so scared that I was carrying a gun and it went off. Mom never knew how that hole found its way in the kitchen ceiling.
Frank during this period also went through some serious changes. He was already struggling with going blind and around this time frame it seemed to escalate. He had these special glasses he was to wear that were suppose to help correct some of the issues with his vision --- but it was too little to late.
To be honest, caring for Frank wasn’t that hard… it was just that I didn’t have a clue has to do it. So, I learned along the way. Experimentation without supervision is a very dangerous. I could hardly take care of myself – and here I was caring for Frank. Later, in my adult years I apologized to him for how I treated him at times. It seemed like a blink of an eye and several years passed. During that time I was impacted – Frank became very precious to me. Yes! There were times that I really struggled with anger -- feelings of neglect and abandonment – thinking how “unfair” life really is to ME! Why do I have to stay home all the time? A question I must have voiced a million times. Nonetheless, caring for Frank became a source of personal pride – we became close – he didn’t say much except when he wanted or needed something. There weren’t deep conversations about the complexities of life, sports or anything else for that matter --- we just did life TOGETHER. Today, I see it as such a grand privilege to have had that time with him.
There are a myriad of lessons, and unexpected gifts that came to me through that time. Those are gifts and lessons that only the gracious and sovereign heart of a loving God could bestow on someone like me. Certainly, adolescence blinded me to God’s sovereignty in those days, but today they are treasured beyond gold or silver.
Today, when I hear the word “retarded”, first I consider the source. Then in the back of my mind I see my brother and I think BLESSING! Frank wasn’t retarded, what he lacked in “normalcy”, was more than made up for in grace and kindness. No one made you feel more accepted, loved and treasured than him. That was his God qualities flowing toward each of us. He could really get excited to see you –especially if you had been away for a while. He would raise his arms real high and get figgity and start calling your name wanting you to come close so he could hug you and hold you tight. When he had you in his arms he would just warmly pat you on the back --- just the memory makes me feel loved and brings a joy to my heart that can’t be explained.
In January of 1996, about 2 am one morning I was jolted out of bed to the phone ringing. It was my sister Sara calling to say that Frank had died. He had died in his sleep. I can not remember a time ever that I have cried so long and so hard. It was one thing to feel the pain and the sense of loss. For me it was more, much more. My pain was magnified, because of all that I had been given through him. I was eight thousand miles away and my greatest friend was gone. Today, without a doubt I know my personhood was uniquely shape in some ways through him.
It has been more than 10 years now. The memories of that flight stateside and of the funeral are long and faded into a mist in my memory. But, the one thing that is very clear is the imprint of his life upon my own. “Retarded”—no way!
I have taken great comfort in that Frank passed away in his sleep. I know that may sound a bit unusual, but to me it was a precious gift and a huge comfort. I never wanted to see him suffer for a long period of time at his passing. It was something that I thought about deeply as a child. When I was a child, church wasn’t my thing – but the one thing that caused me to be sensitive to God was Frank. As a child, I would pray at night that Frank would not suffer in his death and that he would die in his sleep. I can’t tell you how many times I would lay in bed and cry for him and ask God to make sure he died in his sleep. When Sara told me he had died – her first words were that he “died in his sleep”. It was like God said to me ---- I heard you – I was listening – He is with me now – you will see him soon.
It is funny, that in my minds eye even today I can see Frank sitting in his favorite chair – my heart is saddened for only a moment – I eventually start to smile – because of all that God did in me through Frank. God’s greatest gifts are often wrapped less than perfect (less than perfect from our human perspective)… totally perfect from God’s sovereign perspective.
________________________________________________________________________
I close with a simple thought from John11. A crowed asked Jesus one day, who sinned in regards to the blindness of a young man. They were looking to find fault – Jesus said, NO ONE! Then he made an incredible statement --- He was born blind in order than God may be glorified.
Here is what I have learned: What appears to be God’s cruelty in a life like my brother Frank --- is sufficient evidence of his kindness to us.
“Stupid is, as stupid does”
Forest Gump
Retarded is what they called him. When they said the word it seemed natural, not derogatory or mean spirited. Just a simple recognition of something lacking, as measured by what is called “normal”. Of course, they suggested he be become a ward of the state and shipped off to some place for “those kind of people”, the retarded ones. More importantly, Franklin Troy Warren was my brother. In reality he was my half brother, the son of my mother and an unknown gentleman whose name I have never heard nor care to hear. Nevertheless, in my mind and in all of our hearts he was greatly loved and fully accepted as a brother. Dad never thought of him in anyway, other than a son -- fully accepted. Whatever happened to him took place in his infancy. Spiking fever and resulting seizures was what we were told caused his “retardation”.
I remember pictures of Frank playing outside and riding a horse when he was young, around 10 years old. It is “funny” that we really never consider the impact of a human life upon our own lives until they are gone.
When I was little, before Dad passed away our relationship (mine and Franks) was not that memorable. My memories of him during that time frame are sketchy—some make me really sad. For instance, Frank had a room all his own, while I had to sleep with another brother. Yet, Frank’s “room” wasn’t really a room. The little white house on Price Street had a back porch that was hardly a room. Plastic covered over the screen to prevent wind and rain from coming in, but winter had to have brutal. He would always have 3-4 heavy quilts to keep him warm. Conversely, summer time had to have been the extreme opposite. To this day I struggle with a sense of shame when thinking about how he was relegated to the back porch.
Later, after Dad died, our relationship began to develop. To be more precise, God began a deep and abiding work in my pre-adolescent heart and Frank was a major player in God’s plan.
Those years right after Dad died brought about horrific change in our household. Thinking back it was much worse than I thought at the time. Soon after Dad died we moved to 111 Hall Street. How I remember that address I will never understand --strange for sure. Sara married just before Dad died, during her senior year of High School. Clarence had joined the Air Force against Dad wishes (a story that deserves it own space) So, suddenly, that little over crowded house was full of just Richard, Mom, Frank and I. We were all that was left. So, I assume to escape the memories, we moved about 1 mile away. Frank had his own room this time—not a porch. It had walls and a window. Richard and I shared a room. Somehow I ended up with my own bed.
Household dynamics changed dramatically too. Mom’s work schedule had to change to accommodate taking care of Frank. She had to take a job on 2nd shift in order to be at home during the day, while Richard and I were in school. Richard was in High School and I was in the 5th grade.
One major adjustment was that in order for Mom to get to work on time I had to get out of school early every day so I could care for Frank. In my mind this was a really good deal, for me. School was not my strong suite. I was known for trying anything to get out of school. . Like I said, in the beginning I thought it was a pretty sweet deal. It turned out to be something very difficult for a 5th grader to deal with. I found myself being at home alone with Frank until way late most evenings. I cooked sometimes, cleaned the house and managed what I told as best as I could. I was there to make sure Frank was taken care of…Only God could make something good come out of this situation. There were many evenings that I was terribly scared… and lonely… I was only 10! One evening, I was so scared that I was carrying a gun and it went off. Mom never knew how that hole found its way in the kitchen ceiling.
Frank during this period also went through some serious changes. He was already struggling with going blind and around this time frame it seemed to escalate. He had these special glasses he was to wear that were suppose to help correct some of the issues with his vision --- but it was too little to late.
To be honest, caring for Frank wasn’t that hard… it was just that I didn’t have a clue has to do it. So, I learned along the way. Experimentation without supervision is a very dangerous. I could hardly take care of myself – and here I was caring for Frank. Later, in my adult years I apologized to him for how I treated him at times. It seemed like a blink of an eye and several years passed. During that time I was impacted – Frank became very precious to me. Yes! There were times that I really struggled with anger -- feelings of neglect and abandonment – thinking how “unfair” life really is to ME! Why do I have to stay home all the time? A question I must have voiced a million times. Nonetheless, caring for Frank became a source of personal pride – we became close – he didn’t say much except when he wanted or needed something. There weren’t deep conversations about the complexities of life, sports or anything else for that matter --- we just did life TOGETHER. Today, I see it as such a grand privilege to have had that time with him.
There are a myriad of lessons, and unexpected gifts that came to me through that time. Those are gifts and lessons that only the gracious and sovereign heart of a loving God could bestow on someone like me. Certainly, adolescence blinded me to God’s sovereignty in those days, but today they are treasured beyond gold or silver.
Today, when I hear the word “retarded”, first I consider the source. Then in the back of my mind I see my brother and I think BLESSING! Frank wasn’t retarded, what he lacked in “normalcy”, was more than made up for in grace and kindness. No one made you feel more accepted, loved and treasured than him. That was his God qualities flowing toward each of us. He could really get excited to see you –especially if you had been away for a while. He would raise his arms real high and get figgity and start calling your name wanting you to come close so he could hug you and hold you tight. When he had you in his arms he would just warmly pat you on the back --- just the memory makes me feel loved and brings a joy to my heart that can’t be explained.
In January of 1996, about 2 am one morning I was jolted out of bed to the phone ringing. It was my sister Sara calling to say that Frank had died. He had died in his sleep. I can not remember a time ever that I have cried so long and so hard. It was one thing to feel the pain and the sense of loss. For me it was more, much more. My pain was magnified, because of all that I had been given through him. I was eight thousand miles away and my greatest friend was gone. Today, without a doubt I know my personhood was uniquely shape in some ways through him.
It has been more than 10 years now. The memories of that flight stateside and of the funeral are long and faded into a mist in my memory. But, the one thing that is very clear is the imprint of his life upon my own. “Retarded”—no way!
I have taken great comfort in that Frank passed away in his sleep. I know that may sound a bit unusual, but to me it was a precious gift and a huge comfort. I never wanted to see him suffer for a long period of time at his passing. It was something that I thought about deeply as a child. When I was a child, church wasn’t my thing – but the one thing that caused me to be sensitive to God was Frank. As a child, I would pray at night that Frank would not suffer in his death and that he would die in his sleep. I can’t tell you how many times I would lay in bed and cry for him and ask God to make sure he died in his sleep. When Sara told me he had died – her first words were that he “died in his sleep”. It was like God said to me ---- I heard you – I was listening – He is with me now – you will see him soon.
It is funny, that in my minds eye even today I can see Frank sitting in his favorite chair – my heart is saddened for only a moment – I eventually start to smile – because of all that God did in me through Frank. God’s greatest gifts are often wrapped less than perfect (less than perfect from our human perspective)… totally perfect from God’s sovereign perspective.
________________________________________________________________________
I close with a simple thought from John11. A crowed asked Jesus one day, who sinned in regards to the blindness of a young man. They were looking to find fault – Jesus said, NO ONE! Then he made an incredible statement --- He was born blind in order than God may be glorified.
Here is what I have learned: What appears to be God’s cruelty in a life like my brother Frank --- is sufficient evidence of his kindness to us.
Last Words
Birthdays are special, even your 81st. It was definitely a special day. People who I had rarely ever seen were roaming around our house. The little white house on Price Street was more than overcrowded this day. Dad was turning 81 and that brought everyone to town; at least that is what my 9 year old heart was telling me. I knew one thing; when the house was full of people the food was abundant and that made the day special for me.
Dad was in his usual place. The front porch was where the early summer breeze could be felt and away from the noise in the house. Across the street was Dad’s garden. To me it seemed huge, but in his mind it was just enough to keep his kids fed and the neighbors appreciative. We spent plenty of time together in that garden the past few summers. The garden was a testament to Dad’s indomitable spirit and passion to under-gird his family through the sweat of his brow. We never lacked for healthy food, fresh vegetables and sweet melons. My favorite memories are those where we were together either in the garden or sitting together on the front porch. It still puts a smile on my face every time I eat biscuits and tomatoes; our favorite snack to eat together ---the precious memories of times with Dad during the summer.
This particular day and those that followed I do not remember much about the garden. Those days were to be overshadowed, dulled by the pain that I could not in my youthfulness foresee coming.
Dad loved to be on the porch. My favorite place to be was on the first step or playing in the dirt right in front of the house. I didn’t have friends that I can remember that well. People that really influenced me were always close. Brothers, Sisters, Mom and Dad were my world. On this day, most were present, if my memory is trustworthy. All I know is that in the background numerous conversations were taking place and I wasn’t part of any of them. It did seem that something needed to be done and that arrangements were underway. Dad was in his chair on the porch just waiting.
Dad’s illness had apparently worsened. Nine year old boys like me were not privy to all the information being exchanged among the others. Dad’s pace had certainly changed, and I knew that he was struggling more and more for each breath. Mom was notably anxious these past few weeks leading up to this day; rightfully so, I guess seeing all that would follow.
Everyone was in the front yard when Dad stood to make his way to the car parked in the road. I had caught enough of the conversations by now to know that Dad was headed to the hospital. His Birthday present was the presence of his children. For him that was plenty enough, on this day at least. I watched as he steadied himself with his long walking stick. Standing at the bottom of the step as he descended he seemed weary and yet in my eyes he was larger than life. Someone was on his left helping him down the steps, who I do not remember. This was the moment a sense of dread and despair began to invade my life. Something wasn’t right!
Emotion and sentiment wasn’t part of Dad’s personality. Expressions of affection were reserved and limited. This particular day that wouldn’t change. Looking up to him as he descended those few steps, as any little boy would his father, all the world stopped for me in a moment in time. Frozen and etched into my mind, the memory, to this day can be played frame by frame. His hand reached out to rub my head, this was as sentimental as I knew him. The words he spoke were like cement blocks to my soul, leaving me alone in the crowd of soon to be mourners. Hand on my head, looking me in the eye, “Son I will never see you again”, he said. As I struggled to grasp the meaning of his words he made his way to the car to be gone moments later.
He was right! A few days later, in the shadows of the early morning I awoke to the whispers of my Mother telling others… “He’s gone”. I laid there trying to be quiet and cried myself back to sleep. Now, only his memory lives…..
________________________________________________________________________
I can’t say I am much like my father when it comes to sentimentality. I long for, and enjoy the preciousness of a hug from you, my children. I can’t recall ever being affirmed or told that I was loved by my father. I will never stop telling you that I love you. You are more precious to me than my own life.
Why Watermarks?
WATERMARKS
Sometime back the idea of watermarks flashed across my mind while contemplating some childhood memories. The idea seemed to fit how I look at my life.
Why watermarks? Formal documents are often decorated with a watermark. Some appear to be a small stain. Most frequently, you have to hold them in a particular light in order to see them. Most forms of US currency have some kind of watermark in order to prevent duplication as well as to establish authenticity. So it is with a life, in certain “light” a life observed becomes uniquely real. Experiences provide a backdrop for respect, appreciation and deeper understanding.
The first time I really began to understand what I just wrote is while my children (Caleb and Lacy) were asking their Grandmother questions about her childhood. She was reluctant to go very deep, but I knew the deeper reality of her unfortunate upbringing. As guarded as she was with my children they too understood the power of life events on personal history.
That day, I also got a glimpse of another form of watermark; this one much more distinct and visible. Like lines on a building denoting the flood levels reached in a storm, I saw the impact of pain, deep pain and sense of loss. Those waters in her life had long receded, but the marks were real, all too real. Etched into the landscape of her soul was her history. Yes, the marks had long faded, but the memory of such pain was still evident. Sadly, eighty years gone, and so many had not gone to the well of her heart to taste her sweetness, myself included.
What is to follow are simple and crude excerpts from memories and life events that I am compelled to share with you my children. Why? History! Personal history. I know so very little about my father and mother. For one reason, I failed to inquire about their life. I am not writing to peak your curiosity, but rather to pry the lid off my own heart and soul and give you something to pass along if so inclined. My memories are fragile and often pastel in color, rather than high definition. Sometimes along the way, I might interject a life lesson or two… “keep the meat and throw away the bones” would be good advice for those times. Keep in mind that I am not gifted with words. So I trust love will cover a multitude of sins in that regard.
You may receive these little parcels in a jumbled up order. It is sort of how memory flows, rarely in a strait line, but sporadic and faded. I hope to somehow bind them together somehow someway.
Love,
Dad
Sometime back the idea of watermarks flashed across my mind while contemplating some childhood memories. The idea seemed to fit how I look at my life.
Why watermarks? Formal documents are often decorated with a watermark. Some appear to be a small stain. Most frequently, you have to hold them in a particular light in order to see them. Most forms of US currency have some kind of watermark in order to prevent duplication as well as to establish authenticity. So it is with a life, in certain “light” a life observed becomes uniquely real. Experiences provide a backdrop for respect, appreciation and deeper understanding.
The first time I really began to understand what I just wrote is while my children (Caleb and Lacy) were asking their Grandmother questions about her childhood. She was reluctant to go very deep, but I knew the deeper reality of her unfortunate upbringing. As guarded as she was with my children they too understood the power of life events on personal history.
That day, I also got a glimpse of another form of watermark; this one much more distinct and visible. Like lines on a building denoting the flood levels reached in a storm, I saw the impact of pain, deep pain and sense of loss. Those waters in her life had long receded, but the marks were real, all too real. Etched into the landscape of her soul was her history. Yes, the marks had long faded, but the memory of such pain was still evident. Sadly, eighty years gone, and so many had not gone to the well of her heart to taste her sweetness, myself included.
What is to follow are simple and crude excerpts from memories and life events that I am compelled to share with you my children. Why? History! Personal history. I know so very little about my father and mother. For one reason, I failed to inquire about their life. I am not writing to peak your curiosity, but rather to pry the lid off my own heart and soul and give you something to pass along if so inclined. My memories are fragile and often pastel in color, rather than high definition. Sometimes along the way, I might interject a life lesson or two… “keep the meat and throw away the bones” would be good advice for those times. Keep in mind that I am not gifted with words. So I trust love will cover a multitude of sins in that regard.
You may receive these little parcels in a jumbled up order. It is sort of how memory flows, rarely in a strait line, but sporadic and faded. I hope to somehow bind them together somehow someway.
Love,
Dad
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