And the last enemy to be defeated is death.

...Are Answered Prayers. (Continuation of my Sabbath Post)

 “I will not leave you as orphans; I am coming to you. Yet a little time and the world will see me no longer, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you. The one who has my commandments and keeps them—that one is the one who loves me. And the one who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and will reveal myself to him.” John 14

How is your walk with the Lord?  Do you feel his presence?  Do you feel his pleasure?  Do you hear his voice?  Is his joy in you and your joy being made complete?

No?  Join the crowd.  But before we just shake our cynical heads and plod on, shouldn’t we ask, why?  Jesus said these things were ours.  “Child, you are always with me, and everything I have belongs to you.”  And what does the Father have?  Everything.  What do we as his ungrateful children usually want from him?  Things.  Things we think we’ll make us happy.  Money, fame, power, order, comfort, peace, control, beauty, freedom, health, love.  Things.  Things we want to spend on our pleasures, to celebrate with our friends.  But what is it the Father wants to give us?

“And I will establish my covenant between me and you, and between your offspring after you, throughout their generations as an everlasting covenant to be as God for you and to your offspring after you. And I will give to you and to your offspring after you the land in which you are living as an alien, all the land of Canaan, as an everlasting property. And I will be to them as God.” Gen 17

“And I will consecrate the tent of assembly and the altar, and Aaron and his sons I will consecrate to serve as priests for me. And I will dwell in the midst of the Israelites, and I will be their God. And they will know that I am Yahweh, their God, who brought them out from the land of Egypt in order to dwell in their midst. I am Yahweh their God.” Ex 29

“And I will give to them a heart to know me, that I am Yahweh, and they will be my people, and I will be their God, for they will return to me with the whole of their heart.” Jer 24

“Behold, the days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah, not like the covenant that I made with their fathers on the day when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt, my covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, declares the Lord. For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, declares the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. And I will be their God, and they shall be my people. And no longer shall each one teach his neighbor and each his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, declares the Lord. For I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.”

“and they will not make themselves unclean again with all of their transgressions, and they will be for me a people, and I will be for them as God,” declares the Lord Yahweh.” Ezek 14

“Thus says Yahweh of hosts: ‘Look! I am going to save my people from the land of the east, and from the land of the west, and I will bring them and they will dwell in the midst of Jerusalem. They will be my people and I will be their God in faithfulness and in righteousness.’” Zech 8

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How many times I wanted to gather your children together the way a hen gathers her own brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” Luke 13 

God wants to give us… GOD!  Himself!  Think of orphan stories like Annie, My Fair Lady, Oliver Twist, Cinderella, the main characters are not the heroes.  They are victims, they are damsels in distress, they are the forgotten, the forsaken, the abandoned, the hopeless.  The heroes are Daddy Warbucks, Higgins, Mr. Brownlow and Mrs. Maylie, the Prince.  They could have given the victims of our stories a handout, even a large one, a gift to help them along and little Annie and Eliza and Ollie and Cindy would have been no better off, or at least not better off for long.  It was only in giving their Selves that changed the story for the orphans!  Could each of the orphans used money and things?  Of course.  Would it have changed their lives, maybe, but probably not for the better.  It was only by taking them out of their shame and victimhood and bringing them into a new family, a new home, giving them a new honor a new Name, the hero’s name, which changed everything! 

Brothers and sisters, we don’t need God’s things.  Not even the gifts of the Spirit we think we need when we’re all spiritually and stuff.  We need the Father!  This is the spirit of adoption Romans 8 speaks of.  This is why being given a new heart, a new name, being placed in a new family, a new home is such good news! 

So what does this have to do with the dead church I told you about the other day?  Glad you asked.  Do you know why the Bible’s favorite animal metaphor for God’s people is sheep?  Neither do I but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because they’re afraid.  Weak, fearful and dumb.  Cows are dumb too but they are powerful.  You have to respect their strength.  You can yoke them for work.  Oxen are symbols of servanthood.  Sheep, not so much.  You don’t yoke a sheep.  There’s another difference between cows and sheep.  Cows you herd, you drive them before you.  You grab the lead cow and make him go the way you want and the rest follow him. 

Sheep follow.  They learn the voice of the shepherd and they trust him.  It comes back to their fearfulness.  The shepherd reassures them.  When he is near, they feel comfortable.  They follow; they keep him in sight.  If he gets up and moves, they get up and move with him. 

Jesus fulfilled the law, right?  We are free, right?  Fully justified by faith in him and his finished work, right?  So did you ever wonder why he then turns around and says things like, “go and sin no more,”?  Why he gives new commands?  Do we now have a new law? 

“Beloved, I am writing you no new commandment, but an old commandment that you had from the beginning. The old commandment is the word that you have heard. At the same time, it is a new commandment that I am writing to you, which is true in him and in you, because the darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining. Whoever says he is in the light and hates his brother is still in darkness. Whoever loves his brother abides in the light, and in him there is no cause for stumbling. But whoever hates his brother is in the darkness and walks in the darkness, and does not know where he is going, because the darkness has blinded his eyes.” 1John 2 

Jesus has work to do.  “My Father is working until now, and I am working.”  Jesus has better pastures for us.  Jesus has better streams for us.  Jesus has other sheep he wants to gather.  Lost sheep he wants to find.  Jesus knows there are wolves about.  Jesus knows winter comes and we need to shelter in new places.  We fear the unknown.  We like the comfort we have, even when it’s uncomfortable.  Known is more comfortable than unknown.  We even think we’re smart enough to know better than he does.  We don’t see him.  We hide behind locked doors.  We busy ourselves in work we know.  Things we think we do well.  The old ways of pursuing life. 

But Jesus is the Good Shepherd.  He finds us there.  He feeds us there and then he asks, “Do you love me?”  If the answer is yes, then he says things like, “feed my sheep.”  “Go and sin no more.”  “True religion is too look after widows and orphans and keep yourself from all impurity.”  We, like Philip plead with him to show us the Father and he dissolves our church.  Why?

Because He’s answering our prayer!

To Philip, he said, ““Have I been with you so long, and you still do not know me, Philip? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own authority, but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me, or else believe on account of the works themselves.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I am going to the Father. Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If you ask me anything in my name, I will do it.” John 14 

Do you want more of the Father?  More of the Son?  More of the Spirit?  Is this your desire?  Good!  Then follow him!  He is not here in the darkened tomb of your old life, your old way of doing things, this empty pasture, this bitter stream.  He has moved to better pastures, he is finding his sheep, he is feeding his sheep.  Do likewise and you will see him there!  Go and sin no more is not a command, it’s and invitation to join him on mission, to Come and See the place where he dwells!  Be where he is!  Do what you see him doing!  You will “discover” he is there. 

My church called itself a church of the church-damaged.  It was full of hurting people coming to get healed.  Jesus met us there and we enjoyed his fellowship, he healed us there and we rejoiced, he told us, “now, go and tell.  Go do the things you see me doing.  Take up your mat and walk!” And we wept because we didn’t want to leave the safety of the fold, the comfort of the crib, the dark, warm fellowship as we knew it.  We may have been judged, just as Israel was sometimes judged and found to be wandering far from the God who loved them.  A wife far from her husband.  A child far from their Father.  If we turn the home God gave us into a brothel or a leper colony, we shouldn’t be surprised if he burns it down.  But this is not the fury of wrath.  Jesus took all that for us!  This is the jealous rage of a righteous husband who wants his wife back and will not allow her to be abused or abuse any longer.  If all the patients in the ward are well but refuse to leave the hospital, he has to take drastic steps.  He scattered us, yes, so we would follow him again!  Our season in that place ended, winter was over and he invited us out to see the Spring!  To once again, hear his laughter and see his face!  I have better gifts than these, come and see!

“Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.” John 15

My dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the secluded place in the mountain, Let me see your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet and your face is lovely.

Don't worry, i'm still working on the story of the dead church.  Meanwhile, enjoy this short intermission and meditate upon Psalm 43....

Judge me, O God, and plead my case
against an unfaithful nation.
From a man of deceit and wickedness rescue me,
because you are the God of my refuge.
Why have you rejected me?
Why must I go about mourning
because of the oppression of the enemy?
Send your light and your truth;
they shall lead me.
They shall bring me to your holy mountain
and to your dwelling places.
Then I will go to the altar of God,
to God, my surpassing joy,
and I will praise you with lyre,
O God, my God.
Why are you in despair, O my soul?
And why are you disturbed within me?
Hope in God, because I will again praise him,
my salvation and my God.

Some of God's greatest gifts...

“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe everything I have commanded you, and behold, I am with you all the days until the end of the age.” Matt 28

“I am the vine; you are the branches. The one who remains in me and I in him—this one bears much fruit, for apart from me you are not able to do anything. If anyone does not remain in me, he is thrown out as a branch, and dries up, and they gather them and throw them into the fire, and they are burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you want and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this: that you bear much fruit, and prove to be my disciples.

“Just as the Father has loved me, I also have loved you. Remain in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and remain in his love. I have spoken these things to you in order that my joy may be in you, and your joy may be made complete. This is my commandment: that you love one another just as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this: that someone lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. No longer do I call you slaves, because the slave does not know what his master is doing. But I have called you friends, because everything that I have heard from my Father I have revealed to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit, and your fruit should remain, in order that whatever you ask the Father in my name he will give you. These things I command you: that you love one another.” John 15

A simple servant friend of the Living God who now sees her savior face to face, used to like to ask people, “How’s your walk with the Lord?”  A gentle way she had of moving to brass tacks, an expression from the upholstery trade I think, which infers, “what’s holding you together?”  “Are you holding together or are you coming apart at the seams?”

I watched a church die once.  It had been sick a long time and on life support.  It was a sincere church, like Phillip and Thomas, we honestly wanted to see the Father, to be with Jesus.  We prayed for it earnestly, we longed for a greater knowledge of Him.  We longed for a greater experience of the gospel.  We knew we were sick and longed to be healed and prayed for it fervently and fought our impending doom with bitter tears.  And lost.  In the end, level heads and sincere hearts pulled the plug and monitors recorded the last desperate beats and then the long, thin, unbroken wail of flatline.  The lights were turned out and no one mourned because everyone was in the casket.

A church however is a collective organism.  A body made up of parts attached to a whole.  When the body died the parts were scattered in disarray.  They spun out into the void like asteroids of an exploded planet, searching the dark for their savior and begging a single question:

“Why?”

The answer which comes, always comes in a whisper, so soft it can often be missed for a long spell over your own wails, over the tumult of life, over the Vegas Strip of vice and distraction gauntlet the world, the devil and desire make a christian run.  The answer is always a variation of the same, simple message:

“Because I love you.”

The world asks, “Why do bad things happen to good people?”  Christians should ask, “Why do bad people call good things bad?”  Job asked, “Indeed, should we receive the good from God, but not receive the evil?”  The answer is of course, yes and I will tell you why:

Because it’s good.

“Therefore if you, although you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the Father from heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?”  How can a good God and loving Father; how can the Father that Jesus showed us and spoke of constantly give us anything but good?  No really!  Go and find a quiet place, if you can, and stew on that!  That’s the main point here, if you get nothing else you read, consider and take to heart that!  Is God good?  Is God holy?  If you’re his then your conscience will not let you answer either of those in anything but the affirmative in which case, How Can A Good God Give You Anything But Good?

“But my life sucks!”  I get it.  I hear you.  I cry that all the time too.  So let me finish the story of the dead church.  There is a stigma that attaches itself to a dead church, like any roadkill, it has a stink.  That stink is shame.  Catholics cross themselves and Protestants whistle as they hurry past our grave.  Other churches where the asteroids land, look at you like, “wow, what did you guys do wrong?”  It is the stink of judgment.  God went all Revelations on us and removed our lampstand.  Spit us out of his mouth.  We are a hissing and a desolation.  We must be forsaken.  Even I believed it.  As a recovering legalist, it is easy for me to believe.  We were a leper colony not getting better, not getting it right, God had enough.  But is that true?  Were we forsaken?

Was Job forsaken?  This is where it gets good. 

For the sake of Zion I will not be silent,


    and for the sake of Jerusalem I will not maintain a quiet attitude,


until her righteousness goes out like the bright light,


    and her salvation burns like a torch.


And the nations shall see your righteousness,


    and all the kings your glory,


and you will be called a new name


    that the mouth of Yahweh will designate.


And you shall be a crown of beauty in the hand of Yahweh,


    and a headband of royalty in the hand of your God.


It shall no longer be said of you, “Forsaken,”


    and it shall no longer be said of your land, “Desolation!”


but you will be called “My Delight Is In Her,”


    and your land, “Married,”


for Yahweh delights in you,


    and your land shall be married.


For as a young man marries a virgin,


    so shall your sons marry you,


and as is the joy of the bridegroom over the bride,


    so shall your God rejoice over you.  (Is 62)

But Zion said, “Yahweh has forsaken me,


    and the Lord has forgotten me!”


Can a woman forget her suckling,


    refrain from having compassion on the child of her womb?


Indeed, these may forget,


    but I, I will not forget you!


Look, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands;


    your walls are continually before me.


Your children hasten;


    your destroyers and those who laid you waste depart from you.


Lift your eyes up all around and see;


    all of them gather; they come to you.


As surely as I live,


    declares Yahweh,


surely you shall put on all of them like an ornament,


    and you shall bind them on like a bride.  (Is 49)

God cannot forsake His own!  If he could, he would have axed Adam and Eve in the Garden.  He wouldn’t have had Noah build a boat.  He wouldn’t have brought Jacob out of Egypt.  And He Himself, would not have hung on cross and be the only living person in the history of humanity to ever cry these words and have them be true, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabacthani!”  My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?  The Father forsook his own Son so he would never have to forsake you who trust in that son!  The father took the first curse, death, what could be more evil, more bad than death, and gave it to the only good person who ever lived?  When his son knelt in a garden and asked for good gifts from the Father, the Father gave him death.  The Father judged him.  The Father spit him out.  He became a hissing.  The Father removed his love and his light.

And.  It.  Was.  Good!

It was the answer to his prayer!  And that dead church which had prayed to see Jesus, to truly have the life abundant that God promises through Jesus, they got their prayer too!  How?

I’ll tell ya later…

Sing it with me...

Call them. Better yet, go visit.

It's very easy for an ol' self-pity junkie like meself, to read this verse and wonder, "yeah, where are my friends?"

But how many of them are wondering the same thing about me?

Who has ever given to God that He should repay him?

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; A broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

Caught myself subliminally trying to "pray right" today.  Bribe God?  Yeah, good luck with that.  i think that might be why there are so many verses which implore us to "wait on the Lord."  Part of that implies a servant attitude but the main thrust is, no, really, shut up and sit tight and let God be God.  

Is it hot in here?

You cannot stop up the Word of God.  Ask Jonah.  The more you know the Truth, the more the lies of this world are going to offend.  The more you know the sweet grace of the Father, the more odious the sin of this world will be.  The more you know the Peace of God, the more thin and ridiculous the peace that men speak of will be.  The more you know the next world, the less substantial this one seems.  Vapor, a vain chasing after the wind.  Only the good which God does through us is permanent.  Only that which glorifies God will last.  Monuments built to our own cleverness are sand castles and the tide is coming in.  The pyramids are the most lasting human endeavor ever built but they are crumbling, soon the desert will swallow them but that which is good, that which loves another in Jesus' name, the least kindness done for the least of these, a cup of cold water for your thirst enemy, a hug for a hurting stranger, to mourn with those who mourn and celebrate with those who celebrate, the planting of a seed of truth in a bed of lies...

Those are monuments which shall stand for eternity.

So yeah, why not?

About to return to the mothership.

Since i have forsaken Forkbook and i don't really want to clutter up my flikr account with post-its (then folk might miss the beautiful pictures of legos ;)  i guess this is the new home of the Post Office.  Maybe it'll keep me blogging too.  That'd be good.  Writer's gotta write.  So if you care about such things and feel so inclined, tell the good folk back home to stop by and check it out.  

And if you're new to the Post Office, lemme fill you in on the backstory.  Oh yes, there is a backstory!  

A long time ago, in a state far, far away...

There was a mother and a son.  There was another son and a dad too but this story isn't about them.  Oh and a dog.  But she doesn't factor in here either.  Now this mother worked... a lot.  Then she would come home and work on dinner and cleaning and laundry and sewing and whatever domestic things women used to work on back before it became fashionable to do almost nothing around the house but complain about how much you had to do around the house.  Heck, quite often she was doing the traditionally manly stuff around the house too cuz Dad was a sailor.  (Hey, Dad snuck into the story, there you go)  So this mother loved her sons (guess that other kid shows up in the story as a cameo too.  Still don't think the dog will though but let's watch and see) but she wasn't the most expressive mother and she didn't have a lot of time.  What she did however was make their lunch for them every day and on the plastic bag their sammich was packed in, she would write a note (at least, i assume she wrote on my brother's lunchbag too.  Gosh, if she didn't this is all gonna end real ugly when he reads this!).  We're not talking Shakespeare here, i don't remember a single one, i'm sure "I love you very much" came up a lot but it was the idea.  The impression it left was indelible.  It was a reminder that no matter how unloved and alone you may feel where you physically are at, someone in the universe thought about you and loved you.  As the great bards, Confederate Railroad have said, "Mama and Jesus always loved me.  (Coincidentally, or not, this is a great reason why you should carry a Bible and read it.)

Many years passed and the son (the one the story is about, not the brother in the cameo) had sons of his own who went to school and took lunches.  Being trapped in a mindless, creativity-less doldrum of a job, in a burst of frustrated energy, he started drawing pictures in his sons' lunches.  At first, with the mustard right inside the sandwich.  i doubt anyone knew about those until now.  Then on the plastic sammich bag and sometimes on the paper lunch bag.  These came to be his version of the Mom's notes.  Little, one frame stories about his sons or their lives or something going on inside his head.  And balance was struck in the universe....

Until one day!

Tragedy struck!  The youngest son, Rascal, decided to start taking his sammiches in a rubbermaid container.  Alas and alack!  Whatever was this young father to do?  Where would all his creative energy find release now?  How would he tell his son daily that he was thinking about him?  What would the lad chew on over lunch other than the inanity of his lunch table conversations?  Grabbing his trusty markers and a post-it pad, the father exploded into action.  Each day, Rascal would open his sammich box to find a picture on a post-it note stuck to the lid.  Each day, these slightly damp and stained little post-its got stuck to the fridge when he got home or in the morning when he remembered to empty his satchel.  Or days later when he finally brought the sammich boxes home from his locker.  After a month or so, the fridge was looking like a colorful shag-bark hickory tree.  And while none of these sketches were Rembrandt, some were good enough to show folk without too much blushing.  So the man began scanning them and posting them and because he liked clever names for things, what else would you call a daily posting of post-it pictures but ...

The Post Office!  

And that's pretty much it.  So, there you go, enjoy.  You've wasted five minutes of your life reading about one dysfunctional family's multi-generational communication system.  Enlightenment is everywhere.

We are more than conquerors.

As the great philosopher Genghis Khan once noted, "There comes a time when a man has to dump his Facebook account and focus on what's really important."

What do you mean he didn't have a facebook account?  Were you there?  No?  Then shut up.

Ghenghy went on to conquer the known world and found the largest contiguous empire ever.  Not bad for an illiterate hillbilly horse farmer from a grassy backwood so small it didn't have a post office or a starbucks.  That's probably why he wanted an empire.  Someplace to buy coffee.  Too much yak milk.

Anyhow, with that as my inspiration and a host of negatives hot on my trail i finally cried, Uncle.  i'll miss parts of it, i'll miss the all-too-infrequent interaction but i'm not getting anywhere spinning my wheels except axle deep in the mire.  And as that other great philosopher, Matthew Quigley once said, "Don't know where we're goin' but there's no use in bein' late."

Seamus speaks

"i didn't notice the bridges burning until i woke up on an island."

Who's winning the war?

Confidence is a mystery to me.

i don't have it.  i don't know where people get it.  i tend to think those who appear to have it either have the introspective powers of a particularly dense avocado or they're bluffing.  Hoping everything will turn out and no one will know they had no idea what they were doing.

Maybe it's a lack of caring.  Freedom, Mr. Kristofferson tells us, is nothing left to lose.  i've been there, calling out a bully who had been harassing me for months.  i didn't want to fight him.  i didn't have any confidence that i would win.  i strongly suspected he would back down though i didn't know this for sure but i had reached my limit.  i no longer wanted to keep living as we had been and was ready to welcome any change in the relationship.

Do you know the difference between tactics and strategy?  Tactics is winning the battle.  Strategy is for winning the war.  i'm long on tactics, strategy, not so much.  i won that encounter with the bully.  He backed down.  He lost face.  He changed tactics.

Bout a month later he jumped me and put me in the hospital.  i won a battle but lost the war.

Strategic thinkers have to have confidence.  Supreme confidence.  They can accept losses, lost battles, setbacks, lost resources because they have a goal in mind, a plan and they follow through on it.  Sure, they have to be flexible to adjust the plan to unforeseen circumstances which may arise but they keep their eyes on the outcome.  They believe in the mission.

They believe in the mission.

No, not a cut-and-paste typo, i meant to repeat the words, "they believe in the mission," because they are now repeating like an echo in the hollow dome of my empty noggin.  Sometimes whilst writing it seems i get the answers i seek.  Believe in the mission.  Is this where confidence comes from?  Belief?  Some have confidence in themselves, they believe in their abilities.  They trust their own cleverness, skills, strength, character.  Some have confidence in authorities.  They obey because they are assured those in power have their best interests in mind.  That they see the picture clearly and wholly, whilst the boots on the ground see only in part.  Strategy vs. tactics.  Or maybe they trust the cause, the law, the movement, the belief in the greater good gives them confidence?

i find it interesting then that our culture is intent on tearing down all authorities.  No one is to be trusted, Scully.  Governments, churches, corporations, the police, the UN, no one.  You can only trust yourself! the world preaches.  You and you alone know what's best for you.  What you choose is fine as long as you don't impose your beliefs on someone else.  It's an interesting philosophy.  It's even arisen inside the church.  If someone dares to teach, it is without a doubt there will be a kraken's worth of well meaning tentacles reminding the teacher of their sinfulness and warning them of self-righteousness to drag them back down.  i wonder what war it's trying to win?  Where will we be when there are no more reasons for confidence?  When no one has the authority to do anything?  When no one has the confidence to teach?  When each does what is right in his own eyes?

i am god in a church of one

You cannot be born alone.  Chances are your mother was there, if not others.

Hopefully you were born into a family, but even if your mother abandoned you, you are still here so someone took care of you.  You were born into a group.  You were born under authority, someone to watch over and show you the way.  Regardless of how good a job they did, it was someone’s responsibility.

You went to school, even if it was at home, you had teachers, you were under authority, someone to watch over you and show you the way.  Regardless of how perfect they aren’t, it was someone’s responsibility.

It is virtually impossible to make a living apart from others.  Chances are, if you work, you work for someone, with someone, there are authorities, people to watch over you and show you the way.  Regardless of whether or not they are qualified, it is someone’s responsibility.

When you come to the end, you will need someone, someone with authority over you, to watch over you and show you the way.  Regardless of whether they do it in love or obligation, it is someone’s responsibility.

No where in our lives do we ever go it alone.  No one, anywhere is an authority unto themselves, we call those who think they are tyrants. 

No where in our lives are we ever under the authority of perfect people.  All of them make mistakes.  All of them do both good and bad, damage and help.

And yet, when it comes to God and faith, suddenly we think this occurs in a vacuum.  We are under no authority.  No one can teach us.  No one can show us the way.  No one is qualified, no one is loving, no one is good, no one is perfect enough.

Except us.

The last days

It had been coming for some time.  The anxiety, the fear had been building like a mob gathering numbers in a square.  So he was pleasantly surprised to find the day they finally came, all he felt was relief.  He only wished he had had enough time to text or call his family before they took his phone.

“Would you mind coming with us, sir.”  And that was it.  A short car ride, a brief time in an interview room where no one interviewed him, a night in the drunk tank and then he boarded a bus with no windows.  The bus was full of others, some quiet and placid like him, others though were wild eyed, weeping, praying.  He wanted to help them so he started singing.

“When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll…” they took it up in dribs and drabs until nearly the whole bus was singing.  Their guards stood up and the billy clubs began their work.  So he sang louder and was tazed.

When he didn’t come home she thought he was working late.  He didn’t answer his phone but that was par for the course.  After dinner however she called everyone she could think of to call.  No one had seen him.  He had been working alone.  Fearing he had had an accident, she drove out to the site but his car was gone.  She checked the hospitals.  Then she called the police.  The voice on the line sounded incurious and overworked as they took the relevant information and hung up.

Days passed.  She slept very little.  She moved around in a numbness.  Packing lunches, sending the kids to school, going to work, making dinner and still he did not return.  No word.  No call.  What finally shook her awake was the grocery store.

“I’m sorry ma’am, your card was denied.  Do you have another?”  She did.  That card was denied too.  As was her bank card.  “Could you step out of line ma’am?”  The manager apologized and tried her cards again at the desk with the same results.  She had no cash.  No one did.  It was all counterfeit these days.  They began to look at her suspiciously, she was too tired and confused to get angry so she left the groceries there at the desk.  Driving home she realized she still needed them though so she tried another market.  The eyes were more sympathetic but the results were the same. 

“I don’t understand,” the manager there said, “this should work.  You did re-register with the new system didn’t you?”  She finally got angry.

“Your family will starve,” said the well-fed man in the suit.

“They may,” he answered.

“You haven’t asked for a phone call.”

“You haven’t charged me with anything.”  He stared with the serene indifference he’d been blessed with these past few weeks into the eyes of the man across the steel table.  It was the first time anyone had attempted to talk with him.  It was the first person he’d seen since they put him in his cell.  It was the first time they’d let him out of his cell.  It was a day of firsts.  He smiled.  The man in the suit just stared.

“Is something funny?”

“Probably not.”

“You can save them.”  The smile sank.  Now the man in the suit smiled.  An actor’s smile.  A smile of pity.  “All you have to do, is call them, tell them to register.  Tell them it’s okay.  They’re credit will be unfrozen.”

“You won’t let me go though.”

The man in the suit shook his head, “no, I’m afraid not.  Your kind is too dangerous.  We’ve done the psych evals.  But there’s still hope for them, they’re not committed terrorists, they haven’t been brainwashed by your medieval brand of ignorance and hatred yet.  Tell them it’s okay, tell them to register and they can live.”

The phone rang.  She didn’t answer it.  She’d forgot what it was.  It hadn’t rang since people found out.  They’d tried talking her into registering.  They’d tried convincing her she didn’t have to live like this.  Her mother was hysterical.  She had tried to take the children from her, have her declared unfit.  So she ran.  In the middle of the night she loaded them in the car with what little food a friend had given them and left.

She had nowhere to go.  They stuck to back roads, slept in out of the way parking lots.  Though she still didn’t sleep much.  Every time headlights would wash over them she panicked.  She didn’t know what she would do if they took her children.  They were lethargic and whiney much of the time now.  They kept asking her why?  She kept giving them every answer but the one on her heart. 

This was his fault.  He was the one who wouldn’t register, didn’t want her to register.  He was the one with all the whacked out beliefs.  They had fought.  They had fought bitterly, she had threatened to register her and the kids anyway but something had always stopped her.  Something stopped her now.  She wasn’t angry at him for stopping them, she was angry at him for giving her these doubts.

The phone rang again.  She recognized it this time, his face showed up on the screen.

“Baby, it’s me…wait, wait, baby wait.  I have something really important to tell you.  Are you listening?  Kay. 

Endure.”  The phone went dead in his hand.  The man in the suit shook his head sadly.

“You could have saved them.”  The guards came.  They took the phone and lifted him from his seat.

“If she listens to me, then she will be saved.”  They put him back in his cell.  That was the worst time of his captivity.  Would she listen?  Would she endure?  Would they take his children and re-educate them?  It wasn’t in his hands.  He could only hope and pray the life he had lived before was enough of a witness.  Two days later they came and got him again.  This time he was put in a line and marched single file up some stairs and up to a large room where they were put side by side with three other lines of half-starved prisoners.  Each line was made to stand before one of four doors.  He looked around at the others, happy to be seeing someone at all.  There were men and women of every tongue, tribe and nation but one thing was uniform.  The two lines to his left were successfully taller and the one line to his right was made up of people about six inches shorter than he and his line.  It meant something but he was far too addled by this point to figure out what.

The doors opened and they marched inside.  It was buzzing, dark, dank and narrow; the walls rubbed their shoulders.  Their slippers rang hollowly on the metal floor.  There was a single row of red fluorescent lights down the center and by it he could see the only feature of the corridor was a track to either side about neck high.  The first person came to a wall and stopped, the guards kept packing them in until they were pressed so tight they could barely breathe.  He couldn’t move, there was nothing to see to either side so he looked up. 

The lights he thought were red weren’t really.  They were just covered with something red.  The buzzing he saw wasn’t just flickering flouros.  There were flies too.  He looked again at the tracks.  He looked up at the flies on the red stuff on the lights.  His smile came back. 

“My sin, oh the bliss, of this glorious thought, my sin, not in part but in whole…”

This time the song was cut off when their heads were by the steam driven cable running down the tracks.  The bodies were pressed so tightly together they just stood there until the floor opened and they fell with the other four lines into the truck bed below.

It finally occurred to her to chuck the phone after his call.  It was probably being tracked the whole time she ran.  They could have taken her at any time.  She drove all that day until she couldn’t see straight anymore.  She parked on a scenic overlook and watched the sun set into the sea.

“Mom?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Can we be done driving?”

“Yeah, honey.  We’re done.”  They were out of gas anyway.  They slept in the car that night.  The only cars she saw were tractor-trailers, the kind they use to take refuse to landfills.  There must be a dump nearby.  The next day she packed up everything they had into one little bag and they started walking, she had to carry her daughter she was so weak.  She found she couldn’t carry her far though as she didn’t have the strength.  They sat under an outcropping and slept and ate the last of the food.

“Mommy, why are you crying?”

“Let’s sing a song.”  She racked her brain for a song.  She had no memory for lyrics.  Especially ones her children would know and draw hope from.  In a weak but confident voice, her daughter began to sing,

“Jesus loves me this I know…”

Rejoice! You suck and so do i!

“Therefore, so that I would not exalt myself, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, a messenger of Satan, in order that it would torment me so that I would not exalt myself.8 Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would depart from me. 9 And he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, because the power is perfected in weakness.” Therefore rather I will boast most gladly in my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may reside in me.” (2Cor:12)

It’s usually my policy to not speak of myself too much here.  This is for two reasons, one is that I’m really not that interesting.  Two is because I’d like to be.

I am a small man.  I don’t mean short, though in God’s humor, He chose to make me that too.  I am small in dignity.  I am not confident.  I have no claim to greatness.  I have no claim to honor.  I need constant reassurance, an emotional parasite from a line of emotional parasites.  I am self-absorbed.  I have little to be proud of and often combat this by taking far too much pride in the few gifts I have been given.

Why am I telling you this?  Again, two reasons: “16 Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed.” (James 5) and because, like Paul, I am learning to boast in my weaknesses.

Only Christians can do this rationally.  I am easily overwhelmed.  A harsh word, a small opposition to my plans, a little thing that goes wrong and I come apart.  Why would I boast of this?  Because sometimes I overcome!  How?  Did I cease to become a small-minded, self-seeking, easily overwhelmed weakling?  Heck no!  Gimme a few minutes and i'll prove it.  Christ overcame me!  He not only overcame the resistance, He overcame me!  And He does this all the time!  So to boast of my weakness is to simultaneously boast of His greatness!

It has been my pattern, being a self-seeking, small-minded man, to see this as growth.  I’m getting better.  Bah!  Thank the Lord that He keeps knocking me back down!  Otherwise I would be insufferable!  My heart wants to take the victories of Christ in me, the times He overcomes me and my weaknesses, the Power of God in me, for myself!  I am so pathetic I would take credit for what God has done for me and through me!  I am so wretched I would accept the glory for things I had nothing to do with!  Any time I overcome myself, it is not me but Christ in me!  So I will boast in my weaknesses, my lack of education, my lack of resources, my lack of strength and stature, because the Power of God, the Victory of Christ and the Spirit of Love shine through these things!  God is making much of Himself not through our supposed aptitudes but through the very things we most hate about ourselves!

This is a lot of exclamation points.  But this stuff excites me.

Now, I will not boast in my sin.  And these weaknesses have been used as engines of sin in me.  When I try to make people like me.  When I try to take credit for God’s gifts.  When I seek the approval of men and God.  When I become self-righteous.  “34 With those who scorn, he is scornful,

    but to those who are humble, he gives favor.” (Prov 3)

In my weakness, I have allowed sin to power and corrupt even the good in my life.  I have loved only to seek love.  This is not love.  God, who is love, loves those who cannot love Him.  Who cannot benefit Him.  God does not seek us to fill some hole in Himself.  He seeks us to fill a hole in US!  This is love!  Not to be worshiped for how great I am but to give up my greatness, to use my greatness (I’ll get to that) for the good of the other!  That my friends, my brothers and sisters, is Love!  That’s why love isn’t proud, why it doesn’t keep a record of wrongs!  It’s not seeking anything but the good of the other, it’s not considering itself at all. 

I would tell you to love like that but that would be stupid!  You can’t!  You are too weak, I am too weak.  And that’s exactly where we need to be!  Now we’re ready.  Only a Christian is greatest when they come to the end of themselves. 

“And this is the victory which has conquered the world: our faith. 5 Now who is the one who conquers the world except the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?” (1John:5)

When we confess our weakness to God and each other, God is free to move!  Why would He bless us if we take credit for His work?  No one's is going to be saved by thinking we're awesome.  You are no one's savior!  We must confess our weaknesses, foremost and first among them being, We cannot save ourselves!  Only by Christ are we saved and redeemed!  We must boast of our failings and flaws before men (we might as well, they see them eventually anyway) so that men will see our good deeds and say, “That’s awesome!  He’s a total jerk so that must be the finger of God!”  The Father and Son are in us.  They have given us the Holy Spirit, the mighty right hand of God!  The greatest power in the universe is in us!  God says to us, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” (Luke 3)  “‘Child, you are always with me, and everything I have belongs to you.” (Luke 15)  Humility isn’t thinking less of yourself; it’s thinking of yourself less.  We are simultaneously worse than we think we are and greater than we can possibly imagine!  God has given you your weakness as well as your gifts!  Stop using them to build tin tiaras, reverse the polarity on the engines of sin and focus on Christ!  Learn from Peter, don’t take your eyes off Him.  The crowns we wear are His gifts!  They are the works God’s Spirit does in us!  Throw them at the Lamb’s feet, rejoice that He has chosen you, do good as He makes you able and worship!  How could you not??

Lord of the Piston Rings?

So i was looking at a leaf spring from an old car in my yard, yes, i am a redneck, get it out of your system now, moving on, and suddenly i pictured this guy.  This Uruk Hai but not in Middle Earth, Last Earth: Post Apocalyptic Earth.  My fancy gave him a 3/4 inch rebar arrow and then took off trying to re-imagine the Lord of the Rings in this new setting.  What if hobbits were halflings readapting to a pastoral setting after the technological breakdown?  What if Sauron was pushing to reinstate the techno-industrial empire?  What if his "eye" was a remaining satellite?  Goblins came out of tunnels, basements and sewers?  Man was easily lured back to his glorious past, forgetting the evils he had wreaked upon the world?  i'm still fuzzy on elves but they'll come.  What do you think?  What would this world look like?  How would it effect the story?  What would the ring be if magic was symbolized by something else?

i Love Those Stories

A distraught customer brought me into her dining room and showed me the damage.  Apparently the brush her elderly husband had used to polyurethane the trim had previously been used for painting something white.  The effect he had achieved is sometimes called "pickling," ghostly white streaks all over the dark, wood casings and chair rails that can only be removed by sanding everything back to bare wood and starting over.  She was less than reassured.  In fact, she was mortified.

"Every time we have someone over, the dinners, I just want to die," she confessed in a conspiratorial whisper even though her husband can barely hear you if you yell in his face.
"Well, just invite over people you like," i quipped because my go-to response to other people's agony is poor humor.
"Oh, it's only ever family, my children."
"Then they don't care," i assured her, "someday it'll be just another funny story about Dad."
She heaved the sigh of someone carrying the world, "There are too many of those stories."

It didn't occur to me right away, these things rarely do, that's why i'm a writer and not a great conversationalist.  i just lost a man i called Dad last year, my wife's father.  A man i'd known and loved since i was fifteen.  One thing has become clear to me since then.

There are never enough stories about Dad.