Please feel free to patronize, ridicule or join me in the search for genuine authenticity in what is hopefully developing into a truly transparent walk.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
The Liar
I lay with Cam in the attempts to entice him to sleep as all good little 4 soon to be 5 year olds should take their naps. He holds the Daredevil in his tiny hands, opening his eyes to manipulate the figure from time to time when he thinks that I'm not looking or going to catch him. I again tell him to sleep and he quickly drops his hands as well as his lids to appease his father. This cat and mouse game continues for awhile until sleep ultimately consumes my little one.
I begin a conversation with the One and earnestly inquire Him as to how in the hell He could ever love a thing like me. I'm nothing short of a bald-faced liar, cheat, thief and certainly unworthy of the price that was paid for my restitution. As the tears begin to roll and collect at the end of my nose the answer hits me, and I mean it literally hit me. At that moment Cam decided to roll towards his old man and it just so happened that my moist nose nuzzles softly into the smooth workings of his baby soft skinned cheek. It's at this point where the words speak to my heart...
this is why...I redeemed you for this...for you to go skin to skin with me...
At this point Cam in between consciousness leans in and kisses my nose and tells me he loves me and reminds me of how he likes to snuggle with me.
this is why...I love you...I love to snuggle with you...
The rembrance of this almost brings me to tears as I write this now. I can't explain it. Nothing comes closer to a touch from the Father for me. He loves me...the liar, the cheat, the thief, the unworthy one...is loved by the One.
Yesterday's gone...and it ain't coming back, but I thought that I'd at least leave one passing remark about the day. It was pretty significant for reasons beyond the obvious. Not only did my D celebrate her 33rd year on the planet, I finally realized the hand of the Almighty at work in my life through her all those years ago yesterday.
She's perfect...for me. She loves me unconditionally and supports me unquestionably. She's got my back and does some heavy lifting from time to time. She encourages, nourishes, shelters and does so many other things that the 14k+ words that I've already written in this blog wouldn't even begin to scratch the surface as to her worth to me. She's priceless...to me.
The thing that blows my feeble mind is that yesterday I finally realized that He knew all these things from the start. He created in someone else a great work that would ultimately mold a great deal of who I was, am and will be, before I would even realize it. He placed my future bride in the womb of her mother with me in mind. He knew that one day this wonderfully knitted together babe would grow to provide a priceless service to her future family and very blessed husband.
He knew it all along...how weak I am and unable to do what He wants without her help. I thought that He knew this 33 years ago, but truth be told, He knew this before He labored on His beautiful Creation. I feel like such a fool. He knew, knows and knows still, while the enlightened one that types this just realized it yesterday...
Been reading a lot about communication lately. Funny thing is that most things that I've read and continue to read really seem to articulate feelings and thoughts that I've been dealing with for some time now. Some would call this God's dealing with me through this media and I'm not so sure that I could disagree.
Latest issue is authenticity and how we'll never be effective communicators without it. Sure, I know what ole' Abe said about fooling some of the people some of the time and all that, but what I'm talking about and longing for is true connection. To be able to drop all pretenses, be completely honest in a language that actually means something and go skin to skin with one another.
Much like the sin-less life, I'm not sure that this is totally attainable while here, but shouldn't it be our goal? Think about it. Could you go 1 day without cliche' or pat responses that don't even come close to breaking the surface? Is it possible to truly desire authenticity to the degree that we carefully examine every word that proceeds from between our teeth and are willing to speak another language that doesn't patronize or leave the recipient colder than they were?
I've seen the glazed over smiles and "warm" right hand of christian fellowship extended too many times to be able to stomach much more. It makes me sick, in very much the same way that my own meaningless dribble does. I'd almost prefer to be completely ignored or cussed out as to experience anymore of these parched and white-washed facades of fellowship.
Scrap the dung heap...
Drop the cliche'...
Be willing to do whatever it takes to rid yourselves of these dead men's bones...
Don't continue to seek the dead among the living...
In a media age, we assume that...effective communication must come from a position of power.
In every age, the truth is...the best communication requires drawing near, whatever the cost.
In Mortal Lessons: Notes on the Art of Surgery, Dr. Richard Selzer described a scene he observed in a hospital room following an operation:
I stand by the bed where a young woman lies, her face postoperative, her mouth twisted in a palsy, clownish. A tiny twig of a facial nerve, the one to the muscles of her mouth, has been severed. She will be thus from now on. The surgeon had followed with religious fervor the curve of her flesh; I promise you that. Nevertheless, to remove the tumor in her cheek, I had to cut the little nerve. Her husband is in the room. He stands on the opposite side of the bed, and together, they seem to dwell in the evening lamplight. Isolated from me, private. Who were they, I ask myself, he and this wry-mouth I have made, who gaze at each other, and touch each other generously, greedily? The young woman speaks. "Will I always be like this?" she asks. "Yes," I say. "It is because the nerve was cut." She nods and is silent. But the young man smiles. "I like it," he says. "It's kind of cute." All at once I know who he is. I understand, and I lower my gaze. One is not bold in an encounter with a god. Unmindful, he bends to kiss her crooked mouth, and I am so close I can see how he twists his own lips to accommodate hers, to show that their kiss still works. I remember that the gods appeared in ancient Greece as mortals, and I hold my breath and let the wonder in. Yes, this is incarnation: conforming our lips to the distortions of another...drawing near...taking on flesh...meeting on their turf and in their terms.
In every such act, real communication is born. Suddenly, we know--regardless of our differences and the vast gaps between us--we can still come together. We can kiss. And as we do, the electricity of life and thought, ideas and intimacy flows between us.
---The Revolutionary Communicator
This is all I've ever wanted for necrotic matriculation, deathway & my life...it wasn't until recently that I've finally been able to recognize it...
What's the likelihood of you feeding 5k+ men? How bout 50? Sound a little bit more plausible? Is it 100x more likely than the 5k+?
It may sound silly to apply math to a miracle, but what if Christ was trying to, and I'm sure that He was, show us how anything is possible with the Father's help...especially when it comes to discerning His will for our life, when we bite off pieces that we can chew instead of choking on the whole ribeye of His will. I know that I've struggled big time with this and knowing what He wants for me, but the trouble is that I've longed to seethebook in it's entirety instead of patiently and consistently turning the pages that He's propped up for me to turn, one at a time.
Maybe we've taken on too much of our culture and try to juxtapose it on our Lord, especially when we want to bless Him with our service and we want to know where and when He needs our blessed service and we want to know it NOW!!! We're doing Him the favor with our obedience right?
Why else would Christ divide the crowd that day into 50's? He surely could feed the 5k+ by any means He saw fit if He really wanted to. I can't help but think that, like pretty much everything that He did or said, was purely for our benefit. The lesson to me is that there is no way I can even contemplate feeding the 5k+, but by taking them 50 at a time. I may not be 100x more likely to fathom this concept, but I'm sure that I'm somewhere close to that ballpark when considering the pieces that comprise the whole versus the whole of all the pieces.
Consider the 86,400 seconds that comprise every single day that we spend on the earth. I can't even begin to speculate what He could have in store for me come second # 2,345, 34,321 or even 85,399, but you know what...He knows and has known and will know without question. 86k+ is too big a number for me to contemplate, just as 5k+ was too big for the 12 to consider. Maybe 50's are the answer...the more I think on it, I'm sure that it is.
Please allow me Lord to focus on your will second by second, minute by minute, moment by moment...
I've always prided myself on being a great dad. I consider it one of the most important titles that I hold and take it quite seriously. If I could set aside my pride for just a moment, I'd like to say that I was pretty good at it, but as all too often happens in my life, I've been proven wrong once again.
It was way past dark-thirty the other nite when Cam paid us a visit to snuggle the rest of the nite away. He hadn't been there long when I felt him jump the first time. I woke in time to catch him desperately searching the sheets for bugs that weren't there. He jumped the 2nd and 3rd times with me fully awake and fully embracing his tiny frame with mine in what turned out to be a very, and I mean very, feeble attempt to calm his fears. I thought that it would simply take me calming him, then waking him, then loving him back to sleep again, but as I've mentioned time and time again I was wrong.
I hope that I never have to experience what took place again anytime in the near or distant future for the simple fact that it terrified me. I held my only son in my arms and tried everything that knew that I had within my power to do for him, but he could not be consoled. All my attempts to calm his fears went to no avail. He shivered, jumped, screamed and cried with eyes wide open and I lay helpless to do anything about it. After this went on for what seemed like lifetimes, the words came to me... "Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!...after these bounced around in my head for a while and my tears subsided I could hear it or Him to be more exact...
You're not me...I am...I am just as I told so many before you and I am still. The thought that should ultimately comfort me, still honestly terrifies me somewhat. I can't be everything to Cam that I wish that I could be, but He can. I can't solve everything for him for He can. I can never be the father to him that He can... this I am. I covet my little Cam and for this I need forgiveness and can rest assured that I am.
We had our 2nd installment of the nite before and overall I thought that it went well. It was stripped down compared to the 1st, (due to lack of time for band prep) but it allowed for a more intimate service. The music was just James and his guitar, or at least that's all that I could see. It wasn't until now, when I sit and reflect on it all, that I realize that there was much more there than I had first realized. The seats in the audience & sound booth held another 12 souls which is something that would disappoint some, but it didn't matter a bit to me. I'd be a liar if I said that this would not have bummed me out major just some 6 months ago, but not now. I met with the creator of the universe last nite and I wouldn't trade that for 120 folks in the house. The difference between last nite and what's going to happen in way too many congregations across the country in the next few hours on Sunday morn is quite apparent to me now. It doesn't have to do with style, taste or appearance, even though all of these will be vastly different and most folks will swear this makes the difference, but I know better. The contrast is and should be evident to all, but most may never know it. I know that I mechanically worshiped the Father for far to long to just now realize what it means to hold Him in my gaze and leave amazed at His wonder. More important than my pleasure about the experience, is His pleasure in our offerings from the service. The plate never passed, but I can tell you that sacrifice was brought into the storehouse of the Lord last nite. David tells us that the sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, and that He will not despise. I believe that our worship leaders showed us the way with contrite hearts that only aimed at pleasing our Father. You can't expect to lead people to a place in worship that you've never been before, so I was thankful for 2 who had very apparently traveled our road of journey previously. This service could become robotic and meaningless like so many others have, but I somehow doubt it. Personally, I believe that God's got big plans for this thing, if we'd be faithful and let Him lead us. May we always offer our bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to Him--for this is our spiritual act of worship.
This Master Thief of mine not only stole my pain away He's stolen quite a bit of other stuff too Matter of fact, He continually steals from me whenever we are together How He does this I haven't even a clue
I guess I should have known better, judging from His history I knew He had taken stuff before I just never knew how much He would or could take When He knocked and I opened the door
I'd heard He took a long awaited promise away with His very presence I also heard He took away people's perception Of an apparently misunderstood prophecy Leaving us with a perfectly fulfilled reflection
He took away the power of the pious and the proud He took away barriers and fed the hungry crowds He took away guilt and showed us how to truly live He took away our sin and left us with a gift only He could give
He continually takes from me and I'm glad that He does He takes all my crap and still gives me unconditional love He takes my selfish pride of an unbended knee And yet, He's still there waiting patiently
He takes my ugliness and covers it with grace He steals away the blackness of sin and leaves not a trace He took away the promise of my death Leaving me with a desire to one day see Him face to face
This Master Thief is to be admired and so much more He should be all we want, need and live for He truly adored His creation and still does How could I not, above all else, only Him love
I never figured thievery for an attribute to find admirable, but as all too often happens to me, I find myself re-thinking my original position. As a matter of fact, I'm even considering taking up the trade as I've recently thought of One who was quite possibly the greatest of all at this particular craft. He was a true mastermind and in a class all His own when it came to the stealth-like attributes of the thievish. I could never hope to be His equal though. As much as I hone my skills and submit myself to the discipline, I won't even come close. He's still my idol and the ideal to which I pattern my life. I found what works for me as I've heard one say of me, while I follow this master thief. Maybe the irony of His death is that he spent His last hours between 2 other thieves. These couldn't hold a candle to my Master Thief though. You see, as the song plays and I think of how He was held (nailed) high, it proclaims:
I wanted you to know, I love the way you laugh I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away
I'm starved and it looks like it's just You & me. It's not supposed to be this way. This hunger is not to be carried alone. You looked down and said that it wasn't good Yourself. You've known this all along. You still know this. Why don't we? After all, You came to establish the Great Feast that awaits, but will we ever get to experience this in some small part here? I mean, we see in part now, don't we? The answers I seek lie within myself, no matter how I deny it. Instead of helping to comprise your pure bride all in white, I'd rather occupy the corner awaiting my john in fishnet. I hate the rest, because I hate what I become as well. My vertical hunger doesn't always carry over to the horizontal and I'm much the less for it. Dying on the vine carries so much more weight in this context. You say "taste & see", but do I have to eat alone? I long to share your table with the family, but either I or them have opted to watch the ballgame and to hold the couch instead. I continue to seek ways in which this hunger can be satisfied in company, but I've not much success so far. I've vowed to trudge onward and to never stop, but is a meal shared here or there to much to ask? I'm very much helpless in this endeavor. My helplessness threatens to handicaps me. It pushes to hopelessness. Cynical hopelessness cripples my walk...confines my gait. Are there any crumbs at all to consume from this elusive horizontal communion? You've paid too high a price for these private meals to continue. I'm begging for the words to make them stop.
Well, it looks like the trip to Seattle that I've been jonesin' over is off for now. It just doesn't seem like the right thing to do amid all that's going on right now. Cam overheard us talkin' about it at the dinner table and started to get a little moist and said that he'd miss me if I flew on that plane. Life's been so crazy lately that I think that I'll err on the conservative side this time. I just don't know...sometimes when it just doesn't make since, it's turns out to be the right thing to do... I say we bring back the whole idea of casting lots like they did back in the day. His will would be so much easier to discern this way. I'm constantly at battle with this...do I want to do it because it's what He wants or what I want? would He have me say this or that? or do this or that? or etc., etc., etc. The possibilities I find myself entertaining from time to time are enough to make me go out of my mind. Am I the only one that does this? I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do--this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God's law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God's law, but in the sinful nature a slave to the law of sin. I can relate Paul...sometimes I just hate myself!
I'll admit it. I'm terribly addicted to habit and ritual of my own making. With that being said, and the full realization of Ivan's aftermath, there's no other way to explain my absence from this forum, but that I've taken a headlong tumble from the proverbial wagon and have quite possible been run over by it in the process. As I struggle to regain what I lost, all is being re-evaluated and put in proper place. I just pray that my relationship is stronger than ritual and is not handcuffed by habit, but I've found that it is not totally exclusive from them and that scares me a bit. I've always longed for others understanding and through all of this I've found that maybe my own understanding of self is what I've longingly desired all the while. I've got this long running fear that the deception lies somewhere in my being, undetected and festering, and this last series of events concerns me somewhat. Maybe this is just my cross to bear? My thorn in the flesh? I dunno, but I covet relationship that overcomes all, especially these wood-born entities...maybe by learning to embracing the wood, we truly learn what it means to embrace the One?
