Weird Dream 12/17/07

The morning is cold and the wind outside is roaring through the treetops. My last dream before the alarm was of my dead father...

...he called me on the phone to tell me that the “procedure went well,” as if he was calling from a hospital. I recognized his voice right away. I asked him if he knew the month or the year and he stammered and finally admitted, “No.” I asked him how he was able to make this call (implying, Hey dude, you are dead); again he didn’t sound certain or avoided the question. Everything would be okay, he said, “the answer was in the air.” Jessica was waving at me to get off the phone because she wanted to talk to her mother, who was on call waiting, I guess. I was thinking, How often does my father call, lady?

Prior to that, the dream was of happy times with Jessica and the children.

When I woke up I felt a little spooked, because even in the dream I wasn’t certain that voice was my father’s. I’ve dreamed of him before, but never that his ghost (or some other entity) contacted me. Once I was on my feet and headed for the coffee pot, my thoughts went to the story of Saul’s visit to the witch of Endor. Not that anyone had done any conjuring, nor was the message of the dream specific or clear at all. It was just weird.

Had he lived, my dad would have been 59 years old on this Wednesday, 12/19.

September 17, 2007

Nothing very insightful or encouraging to report lately, though there have been some good things going on.

For one thing, the people of our church provided us with a very nice vehicle, a Chevy Suburban Pastor John purchased off eBay from some hotshot Yankee who works in big oil. I flew up to Massachusetts on my birthday to bring the thing back. It’s been cared for and all that.

I confessed to the men’s group that having outside parties take care of our transportation needs is something I really don’t like, something very humbling--even frustrating. I try to believe that God will always take care of me and my family, but sometimes I’m not sure He will. There’s a conflict, I guess, because there’ve been times in my life when I didn’t have something I really needed--medicine or clothing, for example. When you’ve suffered lack in some way it seems harder to trust that God is a good father.

The men’s group has become a source of frustration for me. I feel like it’s going nowhere. One problem on my end is that I’m the youngest dude in the group: most of the men have grown children and are established in life. Two of them are even veterinarians, doctors. They don’t seem to be haunted by a lot of the struggles I face, yet I’m the one who’s expected to lead the thing and carry it along. We canceled the Daugherty conference because nearly everyone in the group was dreading it, including me.

Right now I just wish I knew someone my age, in similar circumstances. A guy, of course. Someone I could take a road trip with. I want to go camping somewhere for a weekend and just forget about all the trouble for awhile. I suggested the idea to the men’s group on Wednesday night and they seemed excited, but by Sunday they were rethinking the matter. I was hoping for two nights in Shenandoah Valley over in Virginia, but now they’re saying they want one night at Camp Arrowhead in Lewes, Delaware. Talk about awful. Because they’re getting old and decrepit, I guess.

Ryan is growing nicely. He’s a sweet little boy. Jessica is a near-perfect mother. Rebekah is being an awesome “big sister” this time around--now that she’s old enough to help out with the baby. We’ve never experienced any of the sibling jealousy that’s supposed to be a danger whenever a new baby enters the family.

The HR lady at Pepsi is trying to block Ryan’s health insurance coverage. I’m fighting the thing. Jess and I may even pursue legal options to make sure his medical bills get paid.

I am so tired of Pepsi, so tired of going around in circles. I really hate my job.

I am tired of working so hard, yet never being able to get ahead. I am tired of church. I am tired of God, of trying to be good. I am tired of uninspired people. I am bored with my life.

I have an idea for a novel, if I’m willing to get it going, but I was telling Jessica last night that writing, too, is probably a dead end. Can I work for thousands of hours on something if I’m not sure it will pay off at some point?

Direction, purpose, vision. All the things a relationship with God is supposed to bring are all the things I’m missing. I can’t remember the last time I felt truly happy, not that happiness has anything to do with anything.

But why?

Meant To Live

Four A.M.

Had disturbing dreams through most of the night of a girl I loved in easier, unhappy times. She's a ghost now, a shadow in my subconscious, yet she still walks the dusty earth.

Help me, Father, to embrace your will for me today, whether it means comfort or suffering. Protect me from the snares they have laid for me.

I woke up with the chorus of this Switchfoot tune stuck in my head:

Meant To Live

Fumbling his confidence
And wondering why the world has passed him by
Hoping that he’s meant for more than arguments
And failed attempts to fly, fly

We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside
Somewhere we live inside
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside

Dreaming about providence
And whether mice or men have second tries
Maybe we’ve been livin with our eyes half open
Maybe we’re bent and broken, broken

We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside
Somewhere we live inside
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside

We want more than this world’s got to offer
We want more than this world’s got to offer
We want more than the wars of our fathers
And everything inside screams for second life

We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
We were meant to live
We were meant to live

My first day back to work after ten days off was much, much worse than expected. But like most days or events, it could have been worser still.

Sunday morning went fine. People laughed, people cried, one guy fell asleep. But edification was rampant.

I'm getting a toothache in the uppermost molar on the left side of my cranium.

My sister and her family left a couple of hours ago to make their way back to North Carolina. Their visit was really nice, though tiring (for me). We went to the beach, and to Trap Pond. We destroyed a gas grill, caught Delaware on fire, got wicked sunburns, and killed two troublesome chickens who had the audacity to poop all over our steps and walkway. The kids got along and there were no outbursts or any crazy dramas, which is rare where family is concerned. Rebekah and I shed some tears when they left.

I have to preach tomorrow morning, and I haven’t finalized a message yet. I may go to the church for a couple of hours this afternoon to pray and type out some notes.

Two families in the church were somewhat traumatized yesterday when a young couple who’ve been engaged a long time broke off their marriage...though I guess it’s more accurate to say the groom broke off the marriage, and he did so in a cowardly, hurtful way. I don’t judge him for being an inconsiderate bastard, because I’ve been one at times. But he threw an entire community of family, friends, and most of the members of our church into turmoil. The wedding was scheduled for today, and he told his fiancé last night that he “wasn’t ready” to get married. Of course the bride and her family (our next door neighbors) are agonized and angry.

All that to say, people are going to be coming into the church with that in their hearts and minds. So I’m feeling some pressure. Father, what do You want me to say? What’s on Your heart?

Jess and I have been blessed by acts of kindness and grace this week.

Jesus was a rotten preacher...

...and He probably would have flunked seminary.

Today I was reading an essay about sermon preparation. Here’s the conclusion:

“Sermon preparation is a five-step process that includes selecting a text, studying the text, developing proper applications, organizing the sermon and preparing for sermon delivery. The preacher begins by selecting a text that relates to the spiritual needs of the audience. A careful study uncovers any timeless principles contained in that text. If a principle is relevant to the audience, the preacher must develop appropriate applications based on that principle and then verify them by personal experience. The material is then organized into an outline that captures the results of prior study and articulates them in terms that everyone can understand. Lastly, the preacher practices sermon delivery to optimize oral communication of the message.”

I read it and a bunch of red flags jumped out. How do we determine whether a text is “relevant to the audience?” What does “personal experience” have to do with truth? Is it really possible to articulate truth “in terms that everyone can understand,” since truth is apprehended by faith and not discerned by the natural man?

By these standards and expectations, the Sermon on the Mount (and most of Jesus’ other teaching) was a beastly failure. He often seemed to have no central thesis, His points did not move logically and topically, He tended to skip around, and a lot of times His answers to people's questions seemed to have no relevance whatsoever.

Most shocking, He spent His ministry talking right over people’s heads, which is unforgivable in Christian circles. People couldn’t understand what the heck He was talking about and He was constantly misquoted and misunderstood. (Nothing really changes.) He was frustrating to listen to. No wonder His poor disciples finally said with relief, “Lo, now you are speaking plainly and not using a figure of speech.”

---

1 Corinthians 2

And when I came to you, brethren, I did not come with superiority of speech or of wisdom, proclaiming to you the testimony of God. For I determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and Him crucified. I was with you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling, and my message and my preaching were not in persuasive words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith would not rest on the wisdom of men, but on the power of God.

Yet we do speak wisdom among those who are mature; a wisdom, however, not of this age nor of the rulers of this age, who are passing away; but we speak God’s wisdom in a mystery, the hidden wisdom which God predestined before the ages to our glory; the wisdom which none of the rulers of this age has understood; for if they had understood it they would not have crucified the Lord of glory; but just as it is written,

“THINGS WHICH EYE HAS NOT SEEN AND EAR HAS NOT HEARD,
AND WHICH HAVE NOT ENTERED THE HEART OF MAN,
ALL THAT GOD HAS PREPARED FOR THOSE WHO LOVE HIM.”

For to us God revealed them through the Spirit; for the Spirit searches all things, even the depths of God. For who among men knows the thoughts of a man except the spirit of the man which is in him? Even so the thoughts of God no one knows except the Spirit of God. Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may know the things freely given to us by God, which things we also speak, not in words taught by human wisdom, but in those taught by the Spirit, combining spiritual thoughts with spiritual words.

But a natural man does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him; and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually appraised. But he who is spiritual appraises all things, yet he himself is appraised by no one. For WHO HAS KNOWN THE MIND OF THE LORD, THAT HE WILL INSTRUCT HIM? But we have the mind of Christ.

With Shouts of Joy

The LORD your God is in your midst, A victorious warrior. He will exult over you with joy, He will be quiet in His love, He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy. - Zeph. 3:17 NASB

Yesterday the Lord entrusted to me a second son, Ryan Benjamin. Jessica’s labor was short and the delivery was very fast. The boy is active when he’s awake; Jessica says he’s “all movement,” flexing his arms and kicking the air non-stop, just like he was in utero. He’s going to be a little tank.

My sister Teresa, her husband Chans, and their three offspring are thinking about coming up from North Carolina to visit for a few days, perhaps on Wednesday. That would be nice.

I have a lot to do on my week “off.” I need to make up my mind whether I’m going to study Bible at Regent University (I was accepted as a student) as there is paperwork I haven’t completed. I have to prepare and finalize notes for a sermon on next Sunday morning, and consider options for acquiring a van to accommodate my family of six. If my sister comes with cousins, Catherine will celebrate her sixth birthday on Thursday. I need to make contact with Daugherty and do a brochure or something for the purity conference scheduled in late October. And sometime or other I’d like to meet with the Pastor and his associate to air my concerns about the two of them.

I need to hear the whispers of the Holy Spirit this week.

The LORD thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing. - Zeph. 3:17 KJV

Whispered Truth

To hear the voice of God, we must intentionally deny a million other voices all around us. When I look at the media, the things that are being said in the world, the things that are being said in the church, it's reminiscent of the daily scramble in the New York Stock Exchange, or a Where's Waldo? book. People waving and screaming. Clamor. Frenzy. Nothingness.

Jesus walks somewhere in the chaos, unassuming. Wisdom calls, "Will you come and follow Me?"

Is it any wonder that so few hear, and even fewer say "Yes?"

Here I am on the eve of becoming a father again. I took tomorrow off from work, and all next week--nine days. This will be the most time I’ve had off from work since I quit running freight for Swift and came back home over a year ago. I don’t take off unless I’m very sick, because I can’t afford it.

There’s a good chance Jessica will be induced tomorrow sometime. I’m not really nervous about it...why would I be? I’m not the one practically having my body split in two. Jess and I have prayed about her labor and the delivery. That’s all I know and that’s probably enough.

Another baby coming, no increase in income, no prospects. We need a van and more living space. I have a constant desire and frustration to speak to the people of God so that I can grow in service to the Lord, yet God Himself seems to be limiting me. I’ve prayed about all these things, and beyond that I don’t know what I should do.

My next door neighbor is a man whose decisions have blessed my life. He and his family are in a difficult situation right now: his financial resources are being drained. It occurred to me today that I need to have faith for him because his faith is my faith. That is, in many ways I’m trying to be obedient and trust the promises and Word of God in spite of contrary circumstances, and in spite of the fact that I don’t see a lot going on (especially in finances). He’s in a similar place on a much grander scale. More zeros at stake.

Tomorrow I will hold an eternal soul in my hands and welcome it to existence.

A Familiar Sentiment

“All I really want is to be loved, but I feel very uncomfortable whenever anyone tries to love me.”
-– Sierra Sinn, a former porn star trying to leave the industry, as interviewed on XXXChurch.com

The Holy Spirit and Fire

I’m physically tired and mentally confused, but alive to God.

Being alive to God doesn’t mean life is easy.

I met with the pastor last Sunday for the purpose--as I remarked to Jessica, tongue-in-cheek--of “bad-mouthing his hired goon.” His associate pastor loves God. He’s also a wimp, a spiritual sham, and a bastion of regurgitated confusion, and I want to confront him about it. I’ve tried to arrange a meeting with him but he’s avoiding me, probably because he’s a bit fearful of subjection to the Berean nobility. So I met with his mentor, the lead pastor, to delineate my concerns. He agreed with most of what I said, telling me we’d have to arrange a conference with the three of us so I can get it all out and reality can sunrise on this dude’s denial.

Week later, nothing else has been said about it.

Then there’s my journals. I shut down my Journalspace writings, and I redirected the URL to this one. The purpose was to shake off the readers, the people with interest. Which sounds odd, but I’ve done it several times before whenever a journal becomes problematic. I’d grown accustomed to using my Journalspace account for fun, just goofy writing and silly stuff. I use my Blogspot to spout my diary-ah: it’s just a regular journal for catching all the little happenings in life.

But last week I realized I’m too Christian to be acceptable to the world and too worldly to be acceptable to the Church. I’ve never really tried to censor myself, not when I was 15 and first started writing in a journal, not now. I prefer using web space and programs to spew my personal drivel, just because it’s easier. So I guess I’ll just try to keep my readership to a minimum.

Jessica seemed saddened by the prospect of my not writing silly stuff anymore. I am always making her laugh with my crazy thoughts, toilet humor, and wholly inappropriate anecdotes.

I don’t know. I’m confused. I woke up to this strange, funny arrangement--I didn’t create it. How do I change the way I perceive things? Should I even seek that? After working very hard for years to “find my voice,” practicing for hours and hours in the pursuit of something that sounds real and natural, should I choke it? How can I ever paint an accurate picture of life on this earth without using some dark colors?

Anyways.

Scott wanted me to get together with his wife and an old friend of ours who’s in town this weekend, but I didn’t want to. I don’t have anything in common with those guys anymore. Sometimes I feel guilty about not doing more to keep that relationship alive, but then I wonder whether the “growing apart” isn’t just part of the story of grace. My whole thought process--the aim of my life--is God-ward. Scott likes to talk movies and TV and pop culture and all that. He spends his free time eating, watching TV, and surfing the net. None of those things are necessarily wrong, but in his case they are very near idolatrous. Whenever we’ve gotten together in the past several years, that’s the only thing he has to talk about. It’s just empty to me. Eventually I’ll have to just spill the beans, like I will with the associate pastor.

Stress, baby. Burn, fire burn.

I think fire and separation are going to be themes in my next talk to the church, which will be on August 12.

And now also the axe is laid unto the root of the trees: therefore every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance: but he that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear: he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost, and with fire: Whose fan is in his hand, and he will throughly purge his floor, and gather his wheat into the garner; but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire. Matthew 3:10-12

Today, like the start of most days, I went to work with dread tempered by acceptance. They let a trainee ride with me as a helper--a real yahoo, but any help is appreciated.

While moving some empty cases from a store in Bridgeville, a small package fell out of a case to the floor at my feet. I recognized it immediately as a pornographic DVD--the kind magazines are inserting as a bonus these days because the internet has caused magazine sales to slump. The thing was porno pink and had the outline of a woman’s silhouette and “Hustler Video” emblazoned across the back. Kinky, exciting stuff.

I picked it up and it felt heavy like Sauron’s ring, or maybe Sennacherib’s letter to Hezekiah.

I put it in my pocket, left my helper in the cooler, and walked outside. It was 8:30. I phoned Pastor John’s cell phone. In one breath I blurted,

“Hey Pastor John I don’t have much time to talk but I was just moving empty cases of Pepsi and a pornographic DVD fell out onto the floor right in front of me and I took possession of it so no kids or anyone would find it and I’m going to take it home for Jessica to destroy. I just wanted to let someone know to take some of the edge off the temptation I feel.”

He said okay, and that was it. Simple. I thought about it once or twice during the day but for the most part the glittery satanic ploy was impotent, and I think it was because I quickly got someone else in the know.

I find it somewhat encouraging that I’ve been targeted by the enemy of souls in a way that’s obvious and relates specifically to my area of weakness. Makes me feel like I’m on the right path.

Friday, July 20, 2007, 4:45 A.M.

Wednesday night’s meeting with the guys was interesting. Some issues were raised that have the power to bring some much-needed change to our church. Nothing new, really. Same stuff I’ve been ranting about to my poor wife every Sunday for ten years, except it looks like God is stirring the hearts of others to hunger for more out of the church experience--enough discomfort and frustration, hopefully, to get us to discuss it and be open to the responsibilities lasting change must bring. But more about that later.

After the meeting, Joel K came up to me to tell me he thought the Lord had given him a message intended for me. In a nutshell he said he believed God said that He’s going to bring me into a job that I like, that provides for my family, and that allows me to move more in my ministry. It was encouraging because it was another voice saying, “The season you’re in is just that--a season.” Which resonates with me. A couple weeks ago, I was killing myself in the heat, staring at a massive wall of Pepsi 12-packs I needed to unload, praying, and I suddenly thought, “When God moves me on, I’m going to miss this time.” I’ll probably look back on this period of my life as one of the sweetest, even though it’s been hard.

In January, Pepsi officials told us their goal for drivers was an average of 450 cases and 14 stops for a day’s load in summertime. Ten or eleven hour day. Yesterday I had 27 stops, 500 cases. It took fourteen hours before the truck was empty. Back at the plant, I glanced at the load sheet for today: 566 cases.

I was so delirious when I finally clocked out last night at 8 P.M. I’d been up late on Wednesday for the men’s group, so I was really looking forward to some rest. But when I got to my car, the right rear tire was flat.

Funny thing, though. In spite of the process, I was joyful. I was just conscious of God’s closeness all day yesterday, and nothing I encountered really riled me--not even having to change a tire at the point of greatest weariness.

For the second night in a row, I didn’t get to sleep last night until 10:30. I just have to make it through today and then I can rest a little. I am striving to enter God’s rest.

There remains therefore a rest for the people of God. For he who has entered His rest has himself also ceased from his works as God did from His. Let us therefore be diligent to enter that rest, lest anyone fall according to the same example of disobedience. Hebrews 4:9-11

Kyrie Eleison

A few posts back in my post about The Call in Nashville, which was held on 7/7/07, Sarah left a comment that she was holding out for 8/8/08. I laughed, because it was obviously a joke. But guess what? I heard in church today that something's actually being planned for 8/8/08.

I leaned over and whispered in Jessica's ear, "Jizzamn. How long can this go on?" (Even though I know the answer is "Forever and ever, world without end.")

She said, "Well, they can't do anything with the numbers in 2013."

Light at the end of the tunnel, I thought. But watch them find a way.

Sunday, July 15, 2007, 8 A.M.

The work week was butchery. Because we’re down six drivers, Pepsi is heaping extra stops and cases on those of us who remain. For me, that translates to several additional stops in Salisbury on most days. And even with 12-14 hours on the clock, going as fast as I can, I’ve still been one of the lightest-loaded trucks. This coming week we’ll be down two more drivers: one has quit and the other will be on vacation.

For three months now I’ve been writing on my daily driver’s report that my truck needs a new starter. For three months the maintenance guys ignored the message; one even said he checked the starter and couldn’t find anything wrong with it. On Friday the truck finally died and left me stranded behind Bridgeville’s Fire Hall. I had to sit and wait over an hour for TC, the maintenance dude, to come out and help me get the engine started.

Once the truck was running, I asked him, “So, what was it? A loose wire or something?”

He mumbled.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“We’re probably gonna have to put a new starter in her,” he said.

“No way,” I said. Boy, was I shocked. I called my boss right away to tell him how on-the-ball the maintenance guys are. “Pepsi is running a well-oiled machine here, that’s for damn sure,” I said. "Next time this happens, I'm going to shit in this truck, leave it right where it is, and go home."

"Please don't do that," he said. But I made no promises.

After I’d blown some sarcasm, I made my last five stops and finished my route, finally clocking out around 7:30.

I wish Jessica would have the baby so I could take a week off. Yeah, a baby disrupts your life and all, but a baby ain’t heavy.

Yesterday I felt pretty wasted by life and just sat on my ass, doing nothing. The pastor interrupted my zen laziness when he phoned and inquired about the men’s meetings. I told him some of the stuff we’d talked about and he told me to be careful “we don’t get a critical spirit.” Which is probably good advice, but which I also don’t understand. Maybe an advantage to pretense is that you can also be considered uncritical?

I understand where he’s coming from, I think. I’ve seen church splits, divisions, and denominations. I’ve heard the news from Iraq.

Group A gets dissatisfied with how things are going. They express their concerns to Group B. Group B says, “What the hell’s wrong with you? Everything’s great!” Group A gets stomped, silenced, pushed out, or murdered; so they go across town and start a new church or country or whatever.

Well, bleh. My name’s not Absalom. Leading any kind of rebellion is not my forte, not my interest. All I want to do is sit and play video games with my son, truth be told. I never wanted to lead a men’s group in the first place. I never wanted to be honest.

It’s what I got forced into. By God. I didn’t want to be part of a men’s group, but I needed to be a part of one, or at least to have meaningful connection with brothers.

My assessment of the thing so far is that some guys are encouraged and have appreciated the opportunity to share more of themselves, and others feel threatened by the experience because it has potential to really shake things up in their lives and in the church.

But I don’t want to cause problems with my critical spirit. I could just sit in a dark corner eating gummi worms, watching the show and praying for a miracle: for the church to somehow get out of the way and let Jesus through the freaking door.

I’ve always been disheartened and dissatisfied with the “church experience.” Poor Jessica has gotten an earful almost every week I’ve gone to church for ten years now. She says she thinks a lot of the inner tension I feel regarding church is from the Lord, but I don’t know.

I don’t know anything. That’s the problem. I only know what’s painful. I want to avoid pain. Church is often painful because it feels like we’re all puppetmasters trying to get the dry bones to look like flesh, and the flesh to look like spirit.

What’s God’s angle here, man? I was telling Jessica yesterday that the only reason we’re staying in this area is because of the church. I’d really like to move to North Carolina and be near my mother, brother and sister. My family. Drivers are in demand, and I could get a dead-end job like I’ve got now anywhere in the country, especially in North Carolina.

But God keeps me here. He’s set me in the church. Why?

Anyway, enough of that. Yesterday while I was sitting around doing nothing, I did one thing at least. I finished an excellent book called Messy Spirituality, by Michael Yaconelli. Don G loaned it to me last Sunday, and it was profound in its simplicity. I read good portions of it out loud to Jessica while she was cooking and washing dishes and we both blubbered and snotted because the grace of God is so amazing, unfair, irresistible, dogged, and awe-inspiring. He loves us, and He never stops.

I will close to pray for grace to embrace His will today.

Just a couple of funnies...

Monday, July 9, 2007, 8:15 P.M.

I got off work at 3 P.M. and came home in time for Jessica to go to her ladies’ meeting at the church. (She got home around 7:45--ugh.)

I made an early dinner and talked with the kids. They went to Lewes Beach today with Jessica and her mother. I wasted some time this afternoon surfing journals and playing games and generally avoiding myself before I finally shut the computer off and prayed for a while. I feel so desperate in my spirit lately, desperate in prayer, as if I’m living one long sigh. A few times today I’ve felt almost on the verge of panic, just a rising anguish in my soul.

For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them. Ephesians 2:10

Woe to the one who quarrels with his Maker–-an earthenware vessel among the vessels of earth! Will the clay say to the potter, “What are you doing?” Or the thing you are making say, “He has no hands ?” Isaiah 45:9

I did the dishes and listened to the Benedictine monks of Santo Domingo de Silos. Gregorian song is the oldest surviving music in the Church, dating back to the 11th century. I hear that music and to me it sounds like faith: calm, resolute, unified, worshipful, awestruck voices. Simple. Nothing like it seems to be produced anymore in the Church--nothing that serene or contemplative, nothing so “at rest.”

Today’s worship leaders are rock stars. You have to pay to see them do their thing. True spiritual inspiration has been replaced by appeals to the soul and the flesh.

* * * * *

“Enoch walked with God, and he was not.”

The pressure I’m feeling is from Him. The circumstances are from Him. The “good works” are His.

“He must increase, but I must decrease.”

At the end of every precious day...

I reminisce and try to get it all down for posterity.

Fusstration & Random Notes

I can no longer doodle in church because my wife gets laughing so hard at my designs that she fears incontinence in her pregnant state. So now I crouch over secret notes, noted below in italics.

The Church needs a crisis of truth. [The world really doesn’t need to be prayed for at this point in Church History, contrary to what the Christian parrotheads say. Even Jesus had his limits when it came to the world. Jesus had His priorities right: John 17:9.]

Those who seek satisfaction outside of God and His will deserve to be punished by not finding it. [Not sure where this came from...de Caussade, mayhaps?]

*** “FUSSTRATION” *** [The speaker couldn’t say “frustrated;” I like “fusstration” better anyway. My greatest fusstration right now is determining how much to say, and when, and to whom.]

I go to church and my eyes are assaulted by a tall brunette, her T&A near bursting out of a tight black package and “fuck me” heels, delirious with new and unrestrained power that's blossomed along with her curves. Thank You God for the gift of astigmatism.[I took my glasses off. I’m SO spiritual.]

“God’s not after perfection, He’s after what we can do for Him.”[AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!]

Good-intentioned, mindless contradiction. Is this the Word?

Faith Adores the Divine Will (de Caussade)

The reign of faith is death to the senses; it is their spoliation, their destruction. The senses worship creatures; faith adores the divine will. Destroy the idols of the senses and they will rebel and lament, but faith must triumph because the will of God is indestructible. When the senses are terrified, or famished, despoiled, or crushed, then it is that faith is nourished, enriched and enlivened. Faith laughs at these calamities as a governor of an impregnable fortress laughs at the useless attacks of an impotent foe. When a soul recognises the will of God and shows a readiness to submit to it entirely, then God gives Himself to such a soul and renders it most powerful succour under all circumstances. Thus it experiences a great happiness in this coming of God, and enjoys it the more, the more it has learnt to abandon itself at every moment to His adorable will.

I delight to do Your will, O my God; Your Law is within my heart. Psalm 40:8

Jesus said to them, "My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me and to accomplish His work." John 4:34

For they exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever. Romans 1:25

* * * * *

I spent many years in the sensuous idolatry of worshiping the female form. In my own heart I erected shrines to Aphrodite, a modern-day Asherah pole in the high places of my thoughts and affections.

This morning I found a journal on Journalspace where the owner, a very beautiful and intelligent woman, a lawyer, posted several pictures of herself in short skirts and high heels. I looked for a few moments, feeling an old ache in my soul, a flooding desire to possess her. I hit Alt+F4 and asked God to help me, and I remembered a sentence from Abandonment to Divine Providence that struck me when I read it a few days ago: “The senses worship creatures; faith adores the divine will.”

When that old lust rises up, that strong desire to possess and indulge, I try to remember that in the end it possesses me. The old gods are always clamoring to take me away in chains, seeking their pound of flesh. The siren’s song is always very near. But the grace of God is closer.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies... Psalm 23:5

Go To The Call, Thou Sluggard

Well, here it is. Seven-seven-oh-seven. Let every good Christian fast seven days, march around the country seven times, and toot on a ram’s horn seventy-seven times. Maybe we’ll finally wake God up.

Having a God who’s slow and deaf is such a pain in the bahakas, don’t you think? That’s what the prophets of Baal decided just before Elijah hacked their heads off. And in the American church, we’ve arrived at something similar. El-Olam, the everlasting God who created all the universe has somehow become like us: a dull old croaker, impossible to rouse.

"You thought that I was just like you..." Psalm 50:21

You guys go ahead. Fast, I tell you. Flagellate yourselves. Shun your meats and sweets, your pork chops and cheesecakes. Yeah, verily, behold: ‘tis a good repose from the untold years you’ve glutted those bodies and sullied those minds. Go on, now.

I’ll be right over here, praying and watching, munching on steak and gummi worms.

Once we’ve wearied ourselves of being busy spiritual supermen we may finally hear the still small voice, together.

I spent this all-important cosmic day chatting on the phone with DG and my sister, playing a video game with my son, and making my wife laugh so hard her pregnant belly nearly exploded. Tonight we’re going to Perdue stadium to watch the Shorebirds and see some fireworks. I’ll stay up till midnight so I can stumble into church tomorrow, unwashed and fifteen minutes late.

Let Me Know You in the Now

And behold, a voice out of the heavens, saying, “This is My Son, the Beloved, in whom I am well-pleased.” (Matthew 3:17 NASB)

This affirming word to Jesus comes from His Father before He actually does much in terms of all the amazing things that lie ahead with His earthly ministry. At the outset the Father is already pleased with Him.

Why so? What was He doing up till this time that was so wonderful, so pleasing?

Eating, drinking, working, bustling around in the carpenter shop, being a son and an older brother to Mary’s other children, chatting with friends, reading, learning, praying, laughing at jokes, making jokes, weeping when He suffered heartaches like when Joseph died, sleeping, bathing, going to synagogue (church), going to the bathroom. Emmanuel. God residing in man’s fragile frame. In short, being alive. Mundane, normal, unknown.

Everyman.

Jesus spent 90 percent of His earthly life learning how to live in circumstances that were just as humbling, boring, joyous, tragic, and altogether human as ours. He learned to live a wholly sanctified existence, to live for the pleasure of the Father whether He was chewing at a hangnail or contemplating the eternal Word.

It was all the same to Him, and it was established before He set even one calloused foot into the muddy Jordan to be baptized by John the Baptist and “fulfill all righteousness.”

It’s not flashy spiritual stuff that makes a godly man. It’s not miracles and prophecies and teaching. It’s not a martyr’s death.

It’s learning to live. It’s being alive to God in what Jean-Pierre de Caussade called “the Sacrament of the Present Moment,” and what Michael Card mused as a prayer, “Let me know You in the Now.”

Father help me, Your little tottering child, to walk as You do.

In What Perfection Consists (de Caussade)

The designs of God, the good pleasure of God, the will of God, the operation of God and the gift of His grace are all one and the same thing in the spiritual life. It is God working in the soul to make it like unto Himself. Perfection is neither more nor less than the faithful co-operation of the soul with this work of God, and is begun, grows, and is consummated in the soul unperceived and in secret. The science of theology is full of theories and explanations of the wonders of this state in each soul according to its capacity. One may be conversant with all these speculations, speak and write about them admirably, instruct others and guide souls; yet, if these theories are only in the mind, one is, compared with those who, without any knowledge of these theories, receive the meaning of the designs of God and do His holy will, like a sick physician compared to simple people in perfect health. The designs of God and his divine will accepted by a faithful soul with simplicity produces this divine state in it without its knowledge, just as a medicine taken obediently will produce health, although the sick person neither knows nor wishes to know anything about medicine. As fire gives out heat, and not philosophical discussions about it, nor knowledge of its effects, so the designs of God and His holy will work in the soul for its sanctification, and not speculations of curiosity as to this principle and this state. When one is thirsty one quenches one’s thirst by drinking, not by reading books which treat of this condition. The desire to know does but increase this thirst. Therefore when one thirsts after sanctity, the desire to know about it only drives it further away. Speculation must be laid aside, and everything arranged by God as regards actions and sufferings must be accepted with simplicity, for those things that happen at each moment by the divine command or permission are always the most holy, the best and the most divine for us.

Seven Random Points from a French Catholic

These are a few summations from a book by Jean-Pierre de Caussade, a Jesuit ascetic writer who died in 1751. The book is called Abandonment to Divine Providence; I first heard about it from an article in Christian History magazine. I’ve read some of it online at www.ccel.org, but I’m thinking I might like to own a copy next time I have a few bucks to blow at Amazon.com. All of it is thought-provoking and some of it even shocks me. (Point 3, for instance.)

1. We must put all speculation aside and with childlike willingness accept all that God presents to us.

2. What God arranges for us to experience at each moment is the best and holiest thing that could happen to us.

3. Any soul which has once and for all completely submitted itself to God should always interpret everything favorably.

4. There is absolutely nothing that gives more peace or does more to make us holy than obeying the Will of God. [The text implies that understanding God’s Will isn't necessary.]

5. If we see the Will of God in the most trifling affairs, in every misfortune, and in every disaster, we shall accept them all with an equal joy, delight and respect.

6. We must completely forget ourselves so that we regard ourselves as an object which has been sold and over which we no longer have any right. Once we have this foundation all we need to do is spend our lives rejoicing that God is God and being so wholly abandoned to his Will that we are quite indifferent as to what we do and equally indifferent as to what use he makes of our activities.

7. It is really useless to become agitated, for all that happens to us is like a dream. Shadowy images come and go and dreams passing through our sleeping mind give us both pain and pleasure. Our soul is the plaything of these phantoms, but when we awaken we know at once that they have not really affected it.

Monday, July 2, 2007, 4:45 A.M.

Yesterday I stayed after church awhile chatting with TK; to my surprise, he initiated the conversation. Also to my surprise, he let his guard down a little and shared some real stuff with me. I told him about my frustration with so much of what’s going on in the church, about things like The Call in Nashville and the fact that we–-the church at large–-seem to have our wheels stuck in a spiritual ditch. I tried to explain the sense of emptiness I feel with church.

I was thinking this past week of how the disciples were with Jesus for just 3 or 4 years before they were totally released into ministry, from fishers and publicans to apostles. Not that they had become perfect, or had “arrived,” but He considered them able to teach others and transmit the word of Christ, the word of salvation, after a very brief period of time.

“Yeah, but Jesus was actually present with them,” said TK after I shared that thought.

I understood what he meant, but then I thought of Paul after his conversion. Paul also spent three years learning to hear the voice of God in the quietness of a desert place.

But when God, who had set me apart even from my mother's womb and called me through His grace, was pleased to reveal His Son in me so that I might preach Him among the Gentiles, I did not immediately consult with flesh and blood, nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were apostles before me; but I went away to Arabia, and returned once more to Damascus. Then three years later I went up to Jerusalem to become acquainted with Cephas, and stayed with him fifteen days. (Galatians 1:15-18)

The physical presence of Jesus shouldn’t make a difference. He has given us the Holy Spirit to teach us all things, to lead us into all truth. So the natural question, when I’m looking around at all these faces I’ve seen in church for ten, fifteen, twenty years is, why are we still spiritual babies? Why aren’t we progressing beyond the elemental things? Why are we perpetually stuck in the introspective, woe-is-me-I-am-undone spiritual atmosphere that constitutes the foundational beginning of a walk with God? What’s the missing piece here?

Concerning him we have much to say, and it is hard to explain, since you have become dull of hearing. For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you have need again for someone to teach you the elementary principles of the oracles of God, and you have come to need milk and not solid food. For everyone who partakes only of milk is not accustomed to the word of righteousness, for he is an infant. But solid food is for the mature, who because of practice have their senses trained to discern good and evil. (Hebrews 5:11-14)

TK said he thinks everyone in the church is frustrated, just as I am.

“If that’s true, how come no one’s talking about it?” I asked.

We watched a movie about the life of Martin Luther yesterday afternoon and I was reminded of why I’ve always identified with him, with the anguish of his search to know God and possess truth.

I want to take the next step. We need direction. We need to hear. I am expectant.

“You have circled this mountain long enough. Now turn north.” (Deuteronomy 2:3)

Sunday, July 1, 2007, 9:18 A.M.

“Now in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was tetrarch of Galilee, and his brother Philip was tetrarch of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias was tetrarch of Abilene, in the high priesthood of Annas and Caiphas, the word of God came to John, the son of Zacharias, in the wilderness.” Luke 3:1, 2

After a list of qualified rulers and educated ministers, the word of God arrives in the heart of an unknown in a desert place. And it isn’t the first time this happens in Scripture (“Samuel, Samuel!”), or in history recorded since (Martin Luther).

My pastor asked me about the origin of the spoken message I delivered last week, wondering if maybe something he said prompted the thing. “No,” I said, “the truth is I sat down in a huff when the worship leader started his spiel about praying for America and the world and everything. I was frustrated, asking God to help me and somehow, miraculously, to break through upon His people. When I shut up, I heard.”

He listened, and then started talking out the experience as he thought about it, about hearing the voice of God when we’re angry and dissatisfied; in other words, when we haven’t “prepared our hearts” according to normal expectations. Finally, he said, “So there are times where, by not participating, we are in a better place to hear the voice of the Lord.”

I was glad when our conversation was interrupted because it was getting uncomfortable. Light was dawning, and it was freaking me out (him too, I think), because the implication is that all the normal “fluff stuff” we do in church might actually be getting in the way of our spiritual receptivity. Maybe we need to get a little stranger in how we live, take a step back. Maybe what we need is to become “a voice of one crying in the wilderness.”

* * *

Wednesday morning I was feeling rather worn down by my job. I work for the only local beverage company that doesn’t hire summertime helpers for the drivers. Most companies do so to alleviate some of the stress drivers are under in the busier summer months, and to help avoid fatigue and injuries. The company I work for chooses to save a few dollars by not hiring helpers. (It costs them more in the long run, but like many corporations, they’re penny wise and dollar stupid.)

Anyway, I wasn’t actively thinking about it, but in my soul I am often troubled by where God has placed me. Wednesday morning, I came to these lines in Psalm 30:

What profit is there in my blood, if I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise You? Will it declare Your faithfulness?
Hear, O LORD, and be gracious to me;
O LORD, be my helper.
You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
You have loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness,
That my soul may sing praise to You and not be silent
O LORD my God, I will give thanks to You forever.

“Oh LORD, be my helper.” I read it and laughed out loud, it seemed so ridiculous.

But all week long it was an encouragement and a prayer on my lips. It struck my spirit like an unexpected note from a lover. Just God reminding me, “I know you. I know where you are. I’m with you. I want to be your Comforter, your Paracletos, the One who’s alongside you, yoked with you. Enjoy the relationship and leave the circumstances to Me.”

Monday, June 25, 2007, 7:45 P.M.

Scattered thoughts on this early summer evening.

Time gets away so quickly. I feel like I should update this journal more often, since a lot of stuff is going on in my life and I’ll forget the journey if I don’t record it somehow. I’m such a slave of time. I hate feeling like everything in my life is governed by the rigid clock.

Yesterday morning the Lord expressed a prophetic utterance through me in the church service. That hasn’t happened in many years--probably because I haven’t been listening to God much. It’s a strange sensation. Before I speak I feel very nervous and my heart pounds as if it will burst from my chest. Afterwards, I tremble. And when it happens it’s very forceful, different from my normal manner of speaking.

A friend asked me later about the process and I wasn’t really sure how to answer him because I don’t know. It’s not something I understand. It just is, like faith itself.

The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit. (John 3:8)

It was good to discover that the gift is still present, though I feel its operation or function has very little to do with me. Hopefully God will use it even more. A danger of spiritual gifts is that Charismatic types sometimes mistake them for true spirituality, for living a life separated to God.

Another driver put in his notice today at work. That makes us short six drivers out of 17 routes, and makes everyone else have to shoulder the burden.

I felt melancholy for much of the day, as if I could cry. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was just Monday. I kept praying and asking God to speak to me, to help me through this stage of my life. Every moment in a believer’s life is holy: there is no mundane, no time when God is not present and active.

For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them. Ephesians 2:10

Last Thursday and Friday, I was thinking about this:

He who conceals his transgressions will not prosper, But he who confesses and forsakes them will find compassion. Proverbs 28:13

I had a slip Thursday evening--a site I stumbled on that proved to be a stumbling block. I may need to resolve to just stay off the computer when Jessica isn’t home.

Jonathan Daugherty is coming to Delaware in late October. I’m excited about it, though I hope to see breakthroughs in men’s lives (and my own) before then.

Having God's "Unreasonable" Faith (May 21)

Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you —Matthew 6:33

When we look at these words of Jesus, we immediately find them to be the most revolutionary that human ears have ever heard. "...seek first the kingdom of God..." Even the most spiritually-minded of us argue the exact opposite, saying, "But I must live; I must make a certain amount of money; I must be clothed; I must be fed." The great concern of our lives is not the kingdom of God but how we are going to take care of ourselves to live. Jesus reversed the order by telling us to get the right relationship with God first, maintaining it as the primary concern of our lives, and never to place our concern on taking care of the other things of life.

"...do not worry about your life..." ( Matthew 6:25 ). Our Lord pointed out that from His standpoint it is absolutely unreasonable for us to be anxious, worrying about how we will live. Jesus did not say that the person who takes no thought for anything in his life is blessed—-no, that person is a fool. But Jesus did teach that His disciple must make his relationship with God the dominating focus of his life, and to be cautiously carefree about everything else in comparison to that. In essence, Jesus was saying, "Don’t make food and drink the controlling factor of your life, but be focused absolutely on God." Some people are careless about what they eat and drink, and they suffer for it; they are careless about what they wear, having no business looking the way they do; they are careless with their earthly matters, and God holds them responsible. Jesus is saying that the greatest concern of life is to place our relationship with God first, and everything else second.

It is one of the most difficult, yet critical, disciplines of the Christian life to allow the Holy Spirit to bring us into absolute harmony with the teaching of Jesus in these verses.

--from My Utmost For His Highest

Angry at the Blab

I’m frustrated.

No, frustrated’s not the right word.

I’m pissed, hot and streaming.

Jessica goes to a women’s meeting on Monday afternoons at four. I’m all for such things: connection, reflection and discussions are good things.

But it drives me crazy that the meetings last three or four hours, cause her to miss dinner with the rest of us, and leave me without ten measly minutes to shower or even slam out a mean-spirited post to my blog because I have to make dinner, do dishes, bathe children, take out the garbage, and pick up three days’ worth of their mess, which is strewn everywhere I look. All after rushing frenetically through nine hours of heavy lifting for Pepsi (since five a.m.), limping around with a deep gash in my foot, looking forward with great anticipation to the time when I get home, so I can “rest.”

I lead a men’s meeting on Wednesday nights. We meet at seven, and I told the men up front that the meetings would be over by nine or thereabouts, barring some emergency situation (such as Jesus appears in bodily form to say something, or for some inexplicable reason--probably severe mental illness--I suddenly feel like droning on for four hours...pray for me, brothers). Most of us have very demanding schedules, and are trying to juggle families, careers, ministry, relationships and personal devotion. Everyone nodded in agreement at the time limit. Two or three were visibly relieved. Eight to ten guys usually show up, and I make sure everyone shares something related to the topic (bringing them back if they go down rabbit trails), we pray, it’s real, dudes feel blessed and challenged, and guess what? We get done around nine.

Women’s meeting: four or five women. One for each hour.

It’s now 7:45 and if my wife were here RIGHT NOW to watch the kids I’d have time to shower, shave, brush my teeth, and read for ten minutes before going to bed.

I express my anger about this nearly every week, but I guess she doesn’t care enough to make any boundaries. Boundaries, you understand, are only for men.

In other news, I just filled out an online application for admission to Regent University. I want to learn some things.

Pete the Porno Puppet

Cool Site

I discovered this site yesterday. It's obviously received some media interest from the major news outlets and places like Playboy magazine, but I--as always--am a little behind.

www.XXXChurch.com

Naked and Not Ashamed

Things are starting to get heavy again at work. Won’t be long before all I’ll have time to do during the week is eat, sleep, and go the bathr...

...no, wait. I won’t even have time to do those things. I won’t have time to do anything but work, sweat and groan.

Anyway, a few small developments...

In terms of the purity struggle I’m doing a lot better than I was a year ago, in spite of a bad day now and then. I was telling Jessica awhile back that I might have several days in a month where I’m really tempted or can’t seem to stop thinking about Inscrutable Girl. But several days a month is better than every single day.

God can restore innocence and peace to a person’s mind. Not to say I’m naive or think I’ve arrived or anything, but I can often look at a pretty girl these days and not think something obscene. That's an improvement.

I’ve had some failures, some fits and starts in the process, but that’s normal. Even after we got SafeEyes and I knew Jessica could see all the websites I visit, I still found a few outlets (one being Journalspace) where I could feast my eyes. And it was only two weekends ago when I was alone in the house and thought, “If I could, I’d look at porn right now.”

But I’ve had victories, too. I have an opportunity nearly every day to go back to the old ways, to flirt with a girl who thinks I’m sexy, to pick up a porn magazine (most of which come with free DVDs now), or to call Inscrutable Girl. No one else would have a clue. But I would know, and God would know, and that’s just enough to make me miserable. I don’t want to go back to the agony I was in for so long. If I’m going to suffer, I want it to be for the right reasons. Not just because I’m an idiot.

A positive effect of the men’s meetings on Wednesday nights is that I have to lead them, and I know I couldn’t do that if I was toying around with all that glitters. I have to keep it real in God’s eyes, and in the eyes of those guys. We’ve been having some pretty productive discussions, though a couple of the guys are still “hiding.”

I had some email exchanges with Jonathan Daugherty, the guy from San Antonio who led the Every Man’s Battle conference I attended in Sterling, Virginia, last May. My pastor approached me one day and asked about what I thought of our having a “purity weekend”–-something we could invite guys from our church and other churches in the area to participate in. He showed me some material from some ministry, but I said, “I know someone who’d be great leading this thing,” and I told him about Jonathan. I emailed Jonathan and he said he’d love to be a part of it. I sent him the pastor’s contact info and he said he’d call this week. It’s still in the planning stages; I hope schedules work out. The Lord’s work through Jonathan’s message and ministry affected me quite powerfully–-changed my life, even. We’re talking about conducting this purity conference sometime in late September or October.

Us: from fig-leaved and ashamed, to naked and ashamed, to naked and NOT ashamed. That’s the journey. Transparency feels excellent.

When Porn Strikes...

Can it, Bildad

The men’s meeting last Wednesday was a beastly travesty.

A dude who’d never been there before showed up. As I tried to get the guys to talk about real-life stuff, this guy decided I needed a good straightening-out, and he spent about a half-hour in a frenzy, ranting at me personally (as if I was the only guy in the room with issues), pointing his finger and telling me to have faith and not give up, and that when I got to be his age (46) I’d be wise and wouldn’t have such struggles. He told me I don’t know my calling and purpose in life, and that’s why I’ve got problems. No one else around the table was able to get a word in during his speech, which was like a spinning top. I felt drained, dizzy, dry-mouthed and angry. I couldn’t wait to escape.

I listened patiently, but I wondered if he’d continue his spirit-filled tirade if I got up and went to the bathroom for awhile. Instead of testing the thing, I simply waited for him to take a breath so I could quickly dismiss the meeting.

It was a half-hour past the regular hour (9 P.M.) when that time came.

Essentially the guy railroaded the meeting and invalidated its stated purpose and function (which he’d never been there before to hear about).

Beyond that, several guys echoed his idea that they’re not going to share their hearts with others unless they feel “led” by the Holy Spirit. Well, touche. That’s one awesome cop-out for being a guarded asshole. Men love to share their strengths and victories while minimizing their faults and weaknesses.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do. The time I’m stealing to be at these meetings is at the cost of sleep: I got four hours that night before I had to be up on my feet and driving 53,000 pounds of freight on the busiest day of the Pepsi week. I had a headache all day Thursday: I felt hung over.

Frankly, if the meetings aren’t fulfilling their purpose, I’ll nix them. There are other options. I’m the type who’d be happy with talking to one or two guys interested in pursuing reality, rather than a group of guys who want to fold their arms and stay status quo.

The most satisfying conversation I had in the past week was with an atheist, a writer friend of mine. How am I supposed to get through life in church when I can only handle Christians for very short bursts of time before I’m going berserk with frustration and anger?

I’m writing this at the church in the hour before the men’s meeting occurs.

I’m in a lot of pain today. I’ve never found other words to express the state of sighing and sadness that comes over me some days except to say, “It hurts.”

It’s been one of those days. For one thing, things are tumultuous at work. I’ve had an icicle up my ass ever since two months ago when I realized Pepsi is a dead-end job. I’ve got a bad attitude and I’m sure it’s visible to those around me, including my supervisors. And that pisses me off because I don’t want to have a bad attitude. I want to believe in my heart what I know in my head: that I don’t work for some mad frenzied corporation driven to fits over lucre and mammon. That I work for God. That each day, my only aim should be to please Him, secure in knowing He’ll worry about tomorrow. But it’s hard.

Today they had the most negative guy in the whole company riding with me as a helper, which was draining. He kept telling stupid jokes and pointing out pretty girls and gossiping and complaining and making with tons of coarse sexual commentary. All of which I don’t need. I outright lied to someone about something minor because I didn’t want to have to deal with the corporate bullshit--I just wanted to get home. Plus another driver showed me a brief pornographic clip on his cell phone which, when I realized what it was, I quickly walked away from, cursing.

Cursing. That’s another thing. I have such an unclean mouth. I’ve lowered myself to the level of the mob. God’s definitely pointing it out to me, too. He wants purity to go beyond skin-deep: He wants my heart pure, holy, and innocent.

But it’s not. It’s just not.

Anytime I come to the church anymore I have a hard time because D lives so close. My nose is stuffed up and I’d like to go to Wal-Mart here in town and get some Sudafed but I’m afraid I’ll run into her, and that wouldn’t leave me feeling real super-stable just before I lead a men’s meeting. I’m so frustrated that I still think about her, that I miss her. It’s wearisome.

I’m frustrated with not knowing when and how everything will work out.

Tonight’s topic is about our identity in God, and how God uses our personal pain and weakness to display His strength in our lives. I’m all about His purpose.

Long Time, No Post

Six months since I posted anything to this account. Maybe I was waiting for some of the frenzied personal hype to die down before writing here again. I don't know.

I've been working hard for Pepsi, and am trying to break into some part-time freelancing. Jessica and I are doing pretty well, expecting our fourth child.

A few weeks ago, I wrote to Jon Daugherty and thanked him for the work of his ministry. I may try to interview him eventually for some query ideas I have.

I'm leading a men's group at church now.

And finally, I'm still struggling against thoughts of the girl I loved. Nearly every day, sometimes all day long, I'm slogging through, wondering if the hurt will ever leave. Yeah, to some extent it's diminished. But it's still here, and sometimes it's frighteningly powerful.

The last two times I left the church--just today, in fact--I saw her car drive by and had to wonder if that could possibly be a coincidence, that kind of perfect or hellish timing. Today while walking into WaWa to get a cup of coffee I thought I saw her sitting in a black SUV, eating a hot dog. It wasn't her, but I'm sure I made whoever it was quite nervous as I slowed down and eyed her through my black sunglasses.

I can't understand why these feelings are still so strong.

Nevertheless, feelings are inconsequential at this point. There's no going back. I have destiny to fulfill.

Monday's her birthday.