It Ain't Over 'til It's Over

I wrote this a few days ago and have been waiting to post it . . . because there is good news at the end.
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A few days ago we were visited by our foster son's adoptive mother. You might recall that I said it was "all but a done deal." No such joy now. Yesterday we got a call from the adoption agency rep. She said, "Brace yourself. You're not going to believe this." The adoption was off. Why was it off? Because the adoptive mother's parents threatened to disown her and her family if she adopted an African-American child.

I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. Here was a family who had pursued an international adoption for four or five years. They had a heart for adoption. The mother came and visited with us and absolutely fell in love with R. The children in the family had already made signs to welcome their new brother home. And then the grandparents threatened them because R is black.

I have no criticism for the family who wanted to adopt him. I do not know the dynamics of their extended family. I only know that they are heartbroken. Some might say they should just go ahead with the adoption and let the grandparents disown them. I can't make that call from the information I have. There is too much I don't know. Certainly, the relationship with parents and grandparents is important. And also certainly, the coldness R would feel over the years from those grandparents would be a burden to him, and to the family.

I can only say that it takes a small, crabbed person to despise a child because of the color of his skin.

Think what that means to their grandchildren. "Sorry, kids. But we won't speak to you again if you allow a black child into your family. No, we've never met him. We just don't like the color of his skin." This coercion, this emotional blackmail, will poison that relationship. What a legacy to leave your grandkids.

Nobody with an ounce of humanity could look at R, spend half a day with him, and see him as anything other than a beautiful, loving, bright child who needs only a good home to help him grow into a man. But, of course, they don't want to see him as a child. They don't want to see him at all.

So, now the agency starts over, looking for another permanent family for R. Fortunately, he is too young to know what has been happening. He only knows that he is with people who love him right now. I pray he is much older before he learns how small some people are.

We ask your prayers. Please pray that a family is found soon for him. Pray also for those who thought he was going to be part of their family, and those who have denied him that blessing. And pray for me. I am having a hard time letting go of my anger. And that is not how it should be.

And now for the good news. There is another family who wants to adopt R. They have been waiting over a year for a child, and will be making a trip here the week after Christmas. So the roller coaster clanks its way back to the top of the hill. Pray that this ride ends successfully.

All but a Done Deal

This weekend we met our foster son’s adoptive mother. I previously said “prospective adoptive mother,” but I don’t think that applies anymore. After just a few hours with R, we knew that this was going to happen.

She came in from the east coast on Sunday, and her first exposure to R was seeing him throw a little fit about having to leave the church nursery, where he was having a lovely time playing in the cars. She also saw how quickly his little meltdowns end, and what a loving, happy child he is. We got to spend some time with her and find out about her family, and everything we learned just made us love her more. There are already two children in their family, and they just have a heart for adoption. She told us they have been trying to adopt a child from China for several years, and she just “happened” to go online and saw R’s profile. She sent in their profile and they were contacted within two days.

God is really taking a hand in this adoption. Right now, the only difficulty is the last of the paperwork. The social worker in their area is leaving for vacation on Friday. If she gets the final home study and paperwork done by then, the new family will come out next week (they have to spend four days here in town), and will take R home with them for Christmas. If not, it will definitely happen after the New Year.

Thanks to all of you for your prayers for us and for R and for his adoptive family. Your prayers have been powerfully effective. It will definitely leave a hole in our hearts to see R go, but we know he is going to his forever family, and that it will be a blessed place for him.

A New Family?

We were contacted this week by a potential adoptive mother for our foster son, R. They already have two children, a boy and a girl, and have been wanting to adopt for over a year. They are a Christian family on the east coast. Initially they were pursuing an overseas adoption, but have turned their sights to the U.S. now. And the potential mother is coming here this weekend to meet us and R! This is very exciting for us. We're eager for R to get a new start with his permanent family, and everything we've heard so far leads us to believe this is a great one. She is coming in on Sunday. Pray that all goes well.

Another Foster Care Update

Thanks for all your prayers. The hearing about relinquishment of parental rights for our foster son, R, went through without a snag. The agency called us the other day and told us they had a potential family on the East coast who had been waiting for a child for about a year. They thought they could get this done in time to have R in his new home by Christmas. That has been our hope and prayer, too. Then, about an hour later, the same agency rep called us again. Apparently, the state case-worker has to do a new home study, and she "will not let her social life be dictated by an adoptive family." She isn't going to do a thing until after Christmas. Wonderful response from someone who is supposed to work for the health and welfare of children, don't you agree?

So . . . we will have R through Christmas. That's no real hardship for us, but it's obviously not the best thing for him. It would have been so good for him to make his Christmas memories with his new family. Keep praying for him. He is making great progress on his speech and social skills. It's as if he has turned a corner in the past two weeks. When he came to us he had about a 5 word vocabulary. Now he uses many words, and is stringing them together into sentences. He loves his little cars, and the other day he asked "Where cars, please?" We were overjoyed! He is also (slowly) learning to share and take turns. It's something he has never had to do before.

On Myth . . . and Jesus

I am very moved by myth. In our current age, the term is often used in a derogatory fashion. "That's just a myth," is used as an insult, usually against beliefs or ideas that are not ostensibly based in science. This is a commentary more on the thought of our times than on what myth really is. Myth is story that conveys truth. Myths persevere because of the truths they contain.

I have long been convinced that the reason stories speak to us so deeply, the reason myth moves us so much, is that all stories, certainly all myths, are reflections of the Great Story. The stories we love reflect the story of God, of Satan, of man, of the fall, of Jesus. This is not a new idea with me. John Eldredge illuminated this in his book Epic. Others have said it before him. But when you grasp this, it will help you see the Great Story in the small stories of life.

John Mark Reynolds says this very well in a recent essay in Scriptorium:

"Knowing Jesus must have been hard in this way. He was a walking myth . . . all the stories come true . . . once He was, the Lord of time, happy, and forever alive: the factual basis of every fairy tale. It is no wonder that people who knew Him either converted or wanted to kill Him. The symbolism of His every move could have provoked Socratic discourse to discover the deeper meaning. The gospel writer says that the world could not contain the books that could be written about His life and this is not hard to believe in a man who threatened to make every cup He used a Holy Grail."

You can (and should) read the whole thing here.

Seeking Prayers

This is just a quick update. I ask for your prayers for two things today. First, my aunt Virginia has been hospitalized with a collapsed lung. She is fighting cancer, and this occurred last night. Please pray for her health and for a cessation of pain.

Second, today is the formal hearing for the relinquishment of parental rights for our foster son. Pray that there are no snags, and that the agencies can aggressively pursue an adoptive family for him. We are praying that he is in his new home by Christmas. What better way to start a new life!

Obedience

If you love me, you will obey what I command.

Whoever has my commands and obeys them, he is the one who loves me. He who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love him and show myself to him.

Jesus replied, "If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him. He who does not love me will not obey my teaching. These words you hear are not my own; they belong to the Father who sent me.

If you obey my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have obeyed my Father's commands and remain in his love.
(John 14:15, 21, 23-24, 15:10)

These are the words of Jesus, recorded in the Gospel of John. If you read these words and took them at their face value, you would think that obedience was very, very important to Jesus. And you’d be right.

It’s not just evident in this passage from John. It’s a major theme throughout the Bible. We all know this, at least in some way. Even those who don’t profess to be believers have this idea down. We constantly hear how Christianity is all about rules and following them. That’s by no means the whole story. But when even those outside of our beliefs know this, it ought be a clue to us that obedience is important.

In fact o-b-e-y is how God spells love. At least as far as our love for him.

But this goes so much further than simply obeying the commands of scripture. I do not want to downplay obeying God’s clear commands. Not at all. There’s a reason we are given those commands. To disobey them is to place ourselves in opposition to God, and to mess up our lives. God gave us commandments to help us—sin hurts us, and it keeps us from becoming more like God, which is his ultimate goal for us.

The clear commands of scripture are good, but obeying them should be a no-brainer for the believer. Obedience goes deeper than that. It goes to the level of obeying the Spirit at any moment.

Just this week, I had a chance to exercise this kind of obedience. I was driving home from work one day, when I felt a prompting to call a friend of mine. When the Spirit speaks to me, it is usually in this fashion. It’s not a great, booming voice. It’s a small prompting, or a new thought, usually telling me to do something, perhaps something unexpected, something a bit radical, or something I’d rather not do. This friend of mine has been going through some very tough times lately, and he has been expecting either good or bad news. I was pretty sure that if he had received good news he would have told me. So I never expected this to be the most pleasant of calls. I would either hear that he’d had no news, or bad news. But I have learned that when I hear that still, small voice to obey what it says.

So I called my friend and asked him how he was doing. Immediately I could hear in his voice that things were not good. He had received word just that day of a loss, one that was devastating to him. He hadn’t even yet told his wife.

Now, I wasn’t any great fount of wisdom for my friend. I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t know why he got this bad news and not the good news he was hoping and praying for. All I could do was to tell him I loved him and that I was praying for him. We talked for about 15 minutes, and while I could not change the nature of his news, still he felt better and stronger when we were done. This was none of my doing, but simply the good grace given by a friend who cares, who understands, who shares in struggles.

And I’ll let you in on a little secret: I didn’t want to make that call. As I said earlier, I didn’t expect good news. But I was obedient to what the Spirit told me, and it benefitted not only my friend, but me.

Now, I am no giant when it comes to hearing the Spirit speak. I have been blessed at times with hearing from God’s spirit. It doesn’t happen nearly often enough. And I frequently wonder if I do hear the Spirit at times, and just ignore it as one of the many thoughts that come to me. You may even say that this was merely a thought from my own mind. I won’t argue the point. It’s way too subjective for a good argument anyway. I will say that when I do listen, and when I am obedient, I’ve seen many, many good things come from that obedience. The longer I live, the more convinced I become not in just the reality of the Spirit speaking to us, but that he speaks a lot more than we listen.

How many times have I passed up the opportunity to help someone, to honor God, to lift up my own soul? Far too many to count, I fear. But I know that when I am obedient, when I do show God the love he deserves, I tend to hear the Spirit easier the next time.

Obedience. It’s how God spells love.

Another Short Foster Care Update

Thanks to all who have been praying for our foster son, R. He is doing very well. We have him in speech, physical, and occupational therapy. I'll bet you didn't know a 2-year-old could have occupational therapy. It's really about his fine motor skills. He really loves his speech therapist, who just happens to be our daughter-in-law. I think my son has a new rival for her affection . . .

R has also discovered that he likes attention very much, and is ready to pitch a fit if things don't go his way. Shan, acting on an idea from the occupational therapist, made him a little mat, which she carries in the diaper bag. Whenever R throws a fit, she gets it out and sits him on it. The consistency of being made to sit on the mat really lets him know he's in unacceptable territory.

His speech is really starting to improve, and he is starting to use sign language as well. That helps him communicate when the words just won't come.

We found out last week that the adoption agency got the official paperwork, and they are looking for a family for him now. We also discovered that there is one promising potential family for him. These folks will be in town over Thanksgiving weekend, and we will hopefully get to take R to meet them.

This whole process has been tiring, especially for Shan, who has R basically 24 hours a day. But she is a warrior and a great mother, and she is doing so much good for him.

We're praying that this will be the right family for him. We'll miss him, but that has been the whole point of fostering him—to give him a new family.

More Than Meets the Eye

The other day a couple of colleagues and I were talking about health care. It's a big topic these days. As part of the conversation, one of the men said he thought that overweight people just needed to be educated. He pointed to some of his in-laws who worked out at the gym but couldn't lose weight, "because they go home and eat donuts afterward."

Now, this man is a good person, and since this was a business relationship, I merely said that wisdom did not equate to intelligence. But I really wanted to say a lot more. Basically, he was saying that overweight people are either ignorant, stupid, or both. Following his line of reasoning, Nobel Laureates should all be very fit. They're not. Doctors should not ever have weight problems. But they do. And if his premise were true about overweight people, would it not also apply to alcoholics, smokers, drug addicts? Doctors, dentists, and nurses are particularly at risk for drug addiction. Is there any class of people who is more educated about the risks of drug abuse? I wanted to ask if another colleague, a very talented, bright, well-educated man with a severe weight problem were either ignorant or stupid. The obvious answer is "no."

Human behavior is far, far more complex than that. There are as many reasons for unhealthy behavior as there are people. We are all different.

But it is so easy to forget that. Hollywood sure doesn't help. All the successful, smart, happy people are good looking, fit, trim. Those Hollywood wants to make fun of are ugly, fat, stupid, or usually all three. For women it's many times worse than it is for men. The ideal female body image promoted in the media is so thin that only a starveling can qualify—unless of course the females in question have hyper-inflated breasts. We do cut them some slack for that. It has reached the point that even stick-thin models are Photoshopped to make them look thinner.

And we all do the same thing in our personal lives. It is very hard not to judge people based on their appearance. We tend to drop people into convenient categories—successful, old, thin, young, loser, beautiful, ugly, sexy, bald, alcoholic—you get the point. We look at the outside and decide instantly who is interesting, who is not, who is worthy, and who is a waste of time.

James talked about this, in terms of rich and poor, but it applies also to fat and thin, young and old, pretty or plain:

Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man in shabby clothes also comes in. If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, "Here's a good seat for you," but say to the poor man, "You stand there" or "Sit on the floor by my feet," have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?
James 2:2-4

James doesn't pull many punches, folks. You can see what he calls this: evil thoughts. Just in case you didn't know, when the Bible calls something evil . . . that's a bad thing.
It is good to be fit. It's good to be free of addictions. It's good to be whole, and healthy, and strong, and emotionally stable. But everyone is coming from a different place. Everyone has different strengths and weaknesses, differing desires and dreams.

Everyone has a back story. Some stories are horrible. Some seem pretty normal to us. But everyone has some kind of wound, and if we knew the story, knew the wound, we might not be so quick to judge. But whether or not we ever hear the story, we know that there is more there than meets the eye.

Foster Care Update

We have had our foster son for almost four weeks now. (I'll call him R as I'm not sure I should publish his name.) He has really made a home in our hearts. His speech development is about 12 months behind, but he is rapidly adding vocabulary. When he first came to us, he could care less about books, and we were very surprised at how much he played by himself. Now he brings us books constantly, and he has learned that he really likes attention and demands a lot of it.

Our dogs have taken to him like a duck to water. He loves to throw the ball for them, and they get to clean up the snacks he drops. Murphy, our littlest dog, absolutely dotes on him. He will come and poke us to let us know R is awake from his nap. Murphy is eating better, too. R makes sure the other dogs give him his share.


Last weekend we thought we were going to have to take R back to his mother because of some holdups in the paperwork for his adoption. We weren't happy about that, as the situation described to us was not really the best. I can't in good conscience get into the problems, but there were problems. However, by Sunday things had been straightened out and the paperwork is starting to get done. In a week or two the agency will be able to try to match him up with a family, and he can begin his new life.

That will of course leave a hole in our hearts. We love this little guy immensely. When we thought he was going back into a difficult situation, we grieved. But it will make a lot of difference to know he's going to a good home with people who want him very much. Some family is going to get a great kid.

Since we started this we've had a lot of people tell us how wonderful we are for fostering him and helping him to get a new start on life. That is very nice to hear, but to be truthful we don't feel like we're making any great sacrifice. I certainly don't. My wife is bearing the lion's share of the workload. What I do know is that we are getting a lot of love and satisfaction in return. His smile is worth everything.

And I have memorized Go Dogs Go!

Forgiving

For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.
Matt. 6:14-15

Just a few simple words. Part of what we usually call The Lord's Prayer, but which probably should be called The Disciples' Prayer. After all, it's how Jesus told us to pray.

Nonetheless, those simple words are perhaps the hardest teaching of the whole Bible. Because if we don't forgive, the Father will not forgive us. Jesus basically told us it is our jobs to forgive. Just go around forgiving 24/7. Because there will never be any shortage of offenses to forgive. Oh, no! We're stuck! We have to forgive. So, let's just do it, right?

Would that it were so easy. Forgiving is hard to do. God has the ability to remember our sins no more, but we're somewhat limited in that capacity. We remember, and the memory rankles, and it builds up into resentment, and before you know it we're harboring un-forgiveness in our hearts . . . even after we've said, "I forgive."

I have some experience with this (he said in an amazing display of understatement). A few years back I went through a process that revealed to me that I had not forgiven something that happened to me a long, long time ago. As in 35 years ago. I'll write here about that sometime. It is a story that still astounds me. I don't want to dwell on those specifics at the moment. I'll just say that the result of my lack of forgiveness was buried anger that bubbled up to the surface in specific situations. And I didn't even know I was harboring those feelings. When they came to light, I was intensely surprised.

Recently, the need for forgiveness has come home to me again. I was hurt by someone's actions, someone I would never have thought would hurt me in that way. Immediately, when I learned what had happened, I knew I needed to forgive. And I told God, "I forgive." But it has still bothered me. Satan keeps bringing it up, and I have to fight my own human tendency to dwell on it and get angry all over again. And frankly this was a minor thing as offenses go. Millions of people go through worse every day. That just goes to prove how difficult forgiveness is.

So, how do we forgive? What is the process?

I'm not sure I know all about this, but I can tell you what isn't part of the process. It doesn't require the other party to ask for our forgiveness. The other party may not even know of the offense. Or if they do, may not consider it an offense, or just don't want to talk about it. Those crucifying Jesus did not ask for forgiveness. He asked the Father to forgive them anyway. If I remember correctly, Jesus is supposed to be our guide in such things.

Neither does forgiveness depend on a feeling of forgiveness. If we wait for that, we may be waiting a long, long time. Meanwhile, the acid of un-forgiveness will be eating away at us, tearing up our lives. I guarantee the resentment and un-forgiveness I held for all those years didn't hurt the other person. That person never even knew what was going on. For that matter, I didn't consciously know what was going on.

No, forgiveness, like love, is a choice. It's a decision to never hold that offense against the other person no matter what. Most times it must include a decision never to speak of the offense. There are exceptions to that. A parent who is hurt by a child may forgive the child, yet still correct the child. Forgiveness is truly offered, but correction must come for the child's own good. We see that also in how God deals with us. He forgives sin, but consequences still come.

In addition, forgiveness must include a decision to continue to forgive. The feeling of forgiveness will eventually come, but only if we continue to make that choice. This, too, is much like love. We love each other even when things go wrong, even on days when we don't feel very loving. It's a conscious choice, and from that conscious choice, the feeling of love grows and increases.

I will recommend a few other things, too. First, pray about it. Ask God to help you forgive. He is eager to do so, and he wants you to ask him for your every need. This is a big one. Second, speak your forgiveness out loud. There is something powerful in speaking the words. I can't explain this, but I've felt it and seen it in others. Third, if at all possible, tell someone you trust of your decision to forgive. Sometimes you can't do this because to do so would betray the confidence of the person you are forgiving. But it helps to have someone else hold you accountable. And this can be a sounding board for you. If in telling your story you find you're still holding resentment, that should be a clue that you have more work to do.

So I'll continue to forgive the one who hurt me. It gets easier every time I do it. And I'll continue to tell Satan to drop it. The feeling of forgiveness will ebb and flow until one day it will just be the way things are. On that day, I will thank God again for what he has forgiven me.

Oh, and if you think this is about you . . . please forgive me.

Our First Foster Child

My wife and I have been certified for foster care for over a year, and now we have our first child! We wanted (and still want) to do short-term newborn care, taking care of newborns and helping them get their start for a couple of weeks while the new adoptive parents are doing final paperwork and getting ready for them. But we work with a small agency, and we haven't had a baby yet.

Two weeks ago, we picked up this beautiful little two-year-old boy:


Actually, he's not so little. He's very tall for his age. He's also a happy child who has shown absolutely no fear of anything. We have three dogs, ranging in size from about 15 pounds to 95 pounds, and he thinks they're the greatest thing ever. They think the same about him as he loves to throw the ball for them and he's the Keeper of the Cheerios.

We will have this young lad a minimum of two more weeks, and perhaps longer, as they don't have an adoptive family for him yet. Please join me in praying for him, for the parents who have surrendered him for adoption (a VERY hard choice), and for his adoptive family.

And it is very interesting having a two-year-old in the house for the first time in about 14 years . . .

Ouch Moments

Some people have "Aha" moments. You know, when something becomes clear to you in an instant, or when you finally discover something you've been searching for or thinking about for a long time. Rather like Archimedes crying "Eureka!" (I've found it!) when he discovered that he displaced water when he got into his bathtub. Or those folks in the cartoons who get little lightbulbs above their heads. We think, "Aha!" as the idea comes to us.

Well, I have those, too. But I also have what I call "Ouch" moments. Those are the times when you read something or hear something that is obviously pointed directly at you and your own behavior or attitudes. It's typically something that you realize is true about you, but which is rather unflattering. I get Ouch moments sometimes while listening to our preacher. I haven't yet figured out why he's preaching directly at me, but he does it with distressing regularity.

I had an Ouch moment the other day, and it was in concert with a friend's Ouch moment, too. My buddy was telling several of us about some time he'd spent alone with God. He was seeking to hear from God, and he opened his Bible to read this passage in Isaiah:

And now the LORD says—
he who formed me in the womb to be his servant
to bring Jacob back to him
and gather Israel to himself,
for I am honored in the eyes of the LORD
and my God has been my strength-
he says:
"It is too small a thing for you to be my servant
to restore the tribes of Jacob
and bring back those of Israel I have kept.
I will also make you a light for the Gentiles,
that you may bring my salvation to the ends of the earth."
Isaiah 49:5-6

Except for one small glitch. In verse 6, my friend read two words out of order. I was listening rather than reading along, and didn't notice it at the time. He read, "Is it too small a thing . . ." instead of "It is too small a thing . . ." That turned a statement into this question: "Is it too small a thing for you to be my servant to restore the tribes of Jacob and bring back those of Israel I have kept?"

My immediate response was "Ouch!" In fact, I said that out loud. That verse, when put that way, hit me squarely between the eyes. Now there is no disputing that the verse doesn't ask that question. For Isaiah, that wasn't an Ouch moment. (He had plenty of others.) Isaiah heard it correctly. We didn't. But hearing it incorrectly had a big impact on my friend, and on me.

Please, please don't misunderstand me here. I'm not suggesting that we try to misread scripture and draw lessons from it. But the principle expressed by that question is one that is found throughout scripture. God told David he was not to be the one to build the temple. He told Paul that God's grace was sufficient, and he wasn't going to heal him. In addition, this principle is something we all should recognize and feel in our bones. We often want God to do one thing for us, or with us, or through us, and God tells us that he has something else in mind. And he gently tells us that he has blessed us in other ways, given us other talents, performed other deeds through us. "But that's not what I wanted," we whine. So God gives us that Ouch moment.

I've had lots of Ouch moments in my life. Some are painful, such as the time I heard and saw myself scolding my son on videotape. That was me? I really sounded like that? I hate it when people sound like that with their kids. Ouch! That left a mark.

Some Ouch moments are hilarious. One of my favorites is from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. (How's that for a theological movie?)

In the film, the peasants have brought a woman (whom they have dressed like a witch) to Sir Bedivere, crying "A witch! A witch! Burn her!"

Bedivere asks, "How do you know she's a witch?"

One of the peasants (John Cleese) replies, "She turned me into a newt!"

His Ouch moment came when all of them look at him in his obvious non-newtness.
After a moment of embarrassment he mumbles, "I got better." And they went on to more silliness, eventually deciding that if the woman weighed the same as a duck, she was a witch.

Our Ouch moments are teaching moments, if we have the wit and courage to recognize them.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go bandage up this wound . . .

Two by Two

After this the Lord appointed seventy-two[a] others and sent them two by two ahead of him to every town and place where he was about to go.
Luke 10:1

While I was reading this passage the other day (actually listening to it on my iPod), I was struck by the fact that Jesus sent his disciples out in pairs. Two by two. It was a little thing, but it brought home to me how much we need each other in the battle we call the Christian life.

So many times, we try to do everything on our own. Not only do we try to do things without God, but we try to do them without another brother or sister. But Jesus didn't send the seventy-two out separately. He sent them out together. Because they needed each other.

How do we miss this? The scriptures are absolutely full of reminders of this.

As iron sharpens iron,
so one man sharpens another.
Prov. 27:17

Two are better than one,
because they have a good return for their work:
If one falls down,
his friend can help him up.
But pity the man who falls
and has no one to help him up!
Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.
But how can one keep warm alone?
Though one may be overpowered,
two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.
Ecc. 4:10-12

Remember the story of David and Jonathan? Could they have done what they did alone? Or even the story of Jonathan and his armor-bearer battling the Philistines in 1 Samuel 14?

Jonathan climbed up, using his hands and feet, with his armor-bearer right behind him. The Philistines fell before Jonathan, and his armor-bearer followed and killed behind him. In that first attack Jonathan and his armor-bearer killed some twenty men in an area of about half an acre.
1 Sam. 14:13-14

Jonathan didn't go it alone. He had his armor-bearer at his back.

The early Celtic Christians had a concept and a practice that we would do well to revive. They called it the Anam Cara. It means "soul friend." It actually stems from pre-Christian Celtic thought. Your soul friend was your teacher, companion, and guide. He (or she) was one to whom you could say anything. You could confess to him, lean on him, ask him advice, for help—anything. Your Anam Cara would hold you accountable, speak truth to you, even tell you the hard things that you really didn't want to hear, but needed to hear. It not an authoritarian relationship, but complementary. Usually one was older, wiser, more practiced in spirituality. But learning flowed both ways, accountability and truth were spoken and heard by both.

We all need an Anam Cara. We all need someone who can say anything to us, and receive anything we can say back. We need someone who knows us as well as we know ourselves, and probably better. We were never intended to go through this life alone. Isn't that just about the first thing God said about Adam? "It is not good for man to be alone." We need each other.

Usually, I suggest that men choose an Anam Cara from among men, and women from among women. That's not to say that our spouses cannot be our soul friends. Quite the contrary. But we need someone else who can see our relationships from the outside. Men need other men to stand with them. Women need other women. One of the problems with out society today is the lack of real friendships outside of romantic involvement. Especially for men.

When Jesus sent them out two by two, he knew exactly what he was doing. (Doesn't he always?)

Who is your Anam Cara?

Marred Clay

This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the LORD : "Go down to the potter's house, and there I will give you my message." So I went down to the potter's house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.

Then the word of the LORD came to me: "O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter does?" declares the LORD. "Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel. If at any time I announce that a nation or kingdom is to be uprooted, torn down and destroyed, and if that nation I warned repents of its evil, then I will relent and not inflict on it the disaster I had planned. And if at another time I announce that a nation or kingdom is to be built up and planted, and if it does evil in my sight and does not obey me, then I will reconsider the good I had intended to do for it.
(Jeremiah 18:1-10 – NIV)

There is so much here that it's hard to know where to begin. I could talk about nations repenting like Ninevah did in the book of Jonah. I could talk about nations that are blessed by God turning away and abandoning God. I could speak of how God actually changes his actions based on the actions of nations.

But I'm going to talk about marred clay. Have you ever seen a potter working on a wheel? The clay starts out as just a lump, but soon, under the pressure of the potter's hands, it begins to rise and form into a cup, a pitcher, a jar, a bowl. Sometimes, though, there's a weak spot in the clay, or the potter presses a bit hard, and the clay collapses in upon itself. What was going to be a beautiful vessel is suddenly just a misshapen lump of clay again.

So, does the potter yell at the clay, pluck it off the wheel and throw it away? No. He changes his strategy. Sometimes he starts over, patting the clay back into its initial shape before trying again. Sometimes he takes what was going to be a tall vase, and makes it into a short, broad bowl. The point is, he makes something useful of the clay that was marred in his hands.

We are all marred clay. The potter picked us up out of the mud (what do you think clay is?) He took us and began to lovingly shape us into a beautiful vessel, fit for the home of a king. Instead, through our own failures, and through the action of God's enemy, we were marred in the potter's hands. We didn't fulfill the destiny that God originally had for us.

But God does not throw us away. He wastes nothing, not even the sins that marred our lives and turned us away from his original plan for us. He uses everything in our lives to build us up. He takes every sin, every virtue, every bad decision, and every good one and makes something to bring himself glory. It may not be the thing it could have been, but it will bring glory to God.

No matter what you have done in your life, God can use you. And he starts anew right where you are.

Joy and Sorrow

Yesterday I received some very bad news. My aunt Ginny, who has been very much a mother to me in the past 30 years, raised my sister, and has been a grandmother to my children, has terminal cancer. What she initially thought was a rotator cuff problem turned out to be a bone tumor, which was actually a secondary tumor, having spread from one in her lung. We got through the initial shock of that, and she was starting radiation for the shoulder, when more tests turned up tumors in her brain, liver, adrenal gland, and lymph system. The estimate is that she has between 3 and 12 months to live.

Needless to say, it has been a hard time for all of the family, none moreso than her husband Jim. I've been fighting a sense of deadness over this news. I haven't really been in denial, but I've had trouble grasping the reality of it. This is a vital, vibrant woman. She has had some tough times in her life, but has always fought back hard, bringing joy and blessing to all those around her. And she will continue to do that, I'm sure. It's not within her to be morose and self-pitying. Her biggest concern is for those she will be leaving.

It is hard for me to imagine a world without Ginny. She has been Nana to my kids since my oldest was born. After my parents died, she traveled down to Mexico to take care of my sister Alison, who was injured in the crash that killed our parents. She and Alison have shared a special bond since then. When my new wife and I moved to this area, we naturally leaned on Ginny, and really chose to go to Richland Hills Church of Christ because she was there. What a blessing that has been!

It was in this semi-dazed, somewhat mournful frame of mind that I went to our Wednesday worship service. I spoke to a couple of people coming in, answering their "How are you's?" truthfully with "I've been better." As the worship started, take a guess what the first song was.

The Joy of the Lord.

Here I am, grieving over the news I still have not completely taken in, and we sing The Joy of the Lord. If you're not familiar with the song, these are the beginning lyrics.

The joy of the Lord will be my strength

I will not falter, I will not faint.

He is my shepherd, I am not afraid

For the joy of the Lord is my strength.

It continues in that vein. As you might guess, it is a very joyful, exuberant song. Not exactly in line with my mood, right? And yet as we sang the spirit of the song overtook me, and I began to sing wholeheartedly and with conviction. Before long I lost myself in the joy of the Lord, in praise and worship of the one whose gift is joy.

Joy comes not from easy times, or from a life that lacks hardship. There is no such life. Joy is sometimes unexpected, but always welcome. It can come through new life, as when a child is born. It can come through beauty, as when the sun shines through clouds to highlight a flower. It can come through laughter, through meeting old friends, through victory, through learning. It can even come through sorrow.

I am reminded of the time the family had gathered for my Grandma Gill's funeral. It was a time of sorrow, to be sure. We were saying goodbye, and that always hurts. But a time of joy also came out of that sorrow. Several of us gathered at Grandma's house (a trailer, really), and went through her things. Understand that Grandma was not wealthy by any means. She had no great store of possessions, and what she did have was of no great quality. But there was meaning there. We all found little things that meant something to us, often gifts we had given to her and Grandpa over the years. I came away with a cheap weather set, barometer, thermometer, and hygrometer, which I had give to Grandpa for Christmas many years before. We found old snapshots, jars of Grandma's pear preserves, rusty knives, beat up fishing lures. All worthless, all precious. And we found joy in the midst of sorrow.

That's not quite what it was like for me as I sang last night. The joy I found came not from memories. It came entirely as a gift from God. I cannot truly explain it, but I did feel joy in the moment, joy in praising God, and strength that came from somewhere else. It certainly didn't come from me. It didn't eliminate my sorrow. But it made the sorrow seem more distant and infinitely more bearable. It's odd, but joy and sorrow can coexist. But joy so outshines sorrow. Sorrow becomes like the moon in daylight. You can see it, but it's not the light source.

There's more here, I know. There will be more sorrow coming. That is the condition in which we live. And there is more God wants to teach me about both joy and sorrow. Because sorrow, too, can be from God. I pray I am open to the teaching. And I pray peace for Ginny, Jim, and our whole family. I ask for your prayers as well.

One Day at a Time

Ask anyone in recovery, whether it’s a member of Alcoholic Anonymous, a person in drug rehab, or a man struggling with porn addiction, and they’ll say this: you have to do it one day at a time. It’s no good looking far into the future and imagining what it’s like to be free of whatever addiction or demon besets us. We can only live in the moment, and do our best to make good decisions today, this day. We’ve all heard this so often that it has become something of a cliché. One day at a time, we hear from counselors, from friends, from mentors, from out accountability partners. We hear it so much that we are a bit dead to it.

But it’s not mere cliché. For that matter, a saying only becomes a cliché because it contains truth. If there were no truth there, it wouldn’t be repeated enough to become cliché. A cliché is a proverb that has had a lot of success.

In the case of “One day at a time,” the cliché originates with . . . Jesus. He said it in Matthew 6:-34:

“Therefore don’t worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

In the midst of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus told us not to worry about tomorrow. It’s another way of saying one day at a time.

And it’s great wisdom. We cannot change tomorrow. Yet. We can only change tomorrow when it comes to us. We must receive the blessings and trials of each day as they come.

Easy said, right? Not so easy to do. But, really, what else can we do? We are all locked within time. Not a one of us can reach forward to tomorrow or backward to yesterday.

Also, look at the verses just before this in Matthew. Jesus is talking about worry and how it is contrary to dependence on God. The pagans worry, he says. But God knows what we need, and we should be about seeking the Kingdom.

So, we should deal with one day at a time when it comes to our food and our clothing. Makes sense that it should apply to the strength we need to resist temptation or do the right thing, too.

For that matter, even God deals with each day as it comes. I know, you’re going to say that God is outside of time, that he’s eternal. A day is as a thousand years to God.

And you’re right. God is outside of time. But we are not. So much of what God does uses, even depends on us. He used Noah, and Abraham, and Jacob, and Joseph, and Moses, and Joshua, and David, and Solomon . . . you get the point. God is outside of time, but we are locked in it. And God has always, since he created Adam and Eve, worked with the people he created. Sinful though we are, frail and foolish as we are, he works with us. He created us to be his allies. And since the day when we turned against him, he has worked to make us strong allies, soldiers in his war against Satan and the third of the angels who rebelled with him.

There can be only one reason for this. He loves us.

And because he loves us, he provides for us, works through us, and lives in us.

One day at a time.

So, the next time someone tells you to live one day at a time, take heart. Know that God is living this day with you. Look beyond the cliché, and see the one who made this day. He’ll make another one tomorrow, and give you everything you need to get through it.

Resisting the Devil

Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.
James 4:7

Something I heard recently has bearing on my last post, Pray Hard. I am very familiar with this verse, and I've quoted it to a lot of people. Unfortunately, my understanding of this verse (and I'm not alone) has been somewhat inadequate. It all stems from translation and not knowing the culture in which this was originally written. Thanks to Patrick Mead for pointing this out to me in one of his recent lessons.

There are a lot of sporting terms in the New Testament. That's hardly surprising. The Greeks, if you remember, started the Olympics, and they had conquered everything from the Adriatic to India. Greek was the language of trade and literature, and Greek social customs and terms had filtered out into all the cultures they touched.

When James speaks of resisting the devil, he is using a sporting term. It is from a type of wrestling where the participants wrestle to the death. It had a specific meaning to James' readers, but over the intervening years and through translation we have lost that meaning.

That kind of puts a different slant on "Resist the devil," doesn't it. We have had this idea of just saying, "get away, Satan", and he heads for the hills, screaming like a little girl. That couldn't be further from the truth. What James is saying is that we have to fight hard against Satan, resisting him even to the death, and he will flee. We have to be willing to give everything, even our lives, in the battle against him.

Really, this should not be shocking to us. Look at 1 Peter 5:8-9:

Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.

I don't know about you, but I've never lived in a place where lions roam. We think of lions as those big, placid cats at the zoo. Those who live with lions know to fear them. An adult lion can be over 450 pounds, and can kill and carry off a grown man with as little trouble as a cat playing with a mouse. Does it make any sense that you can just resist a lion with a glance or a word and it will leave you alone? In addition, look at the last part of those verses. Do you think those folks being persecuted could just say, "leave me alone, Devil," and their persecution stopped?

Look also at Hebrews 12:4:

In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood.

Umm . . . didn't that say something about shedding blood?

This is not a picnic day in the park we have signed up for. It's a battle. God is at war, and we are soldiers in the line. Nobody said it would be easy. There will be casualties. Our leader and savior was crucified. He told us that we needed to pick up a cross to follow him. I think that might be a hint.

Pray Hard

When he rose from prayer and went back to the disciples, he found them asleep, exhausted from sorrow. "Why are you sleeping?" he asked them. "Get up and pray so that you will not fall into temptation."
Luke 22: 45-46

It's funny how you can read a passage of scripture repeatedly throughout your life, and then one day it will just jump out at you. That happened with this passage. And I wasn't even reading the passage. I was actually listening to Luke on my iPod.

The first thing that hit me was that the disciples were exhausted from sorrow. They were grieving because Jesus was grieving, and that wore them out. If you remember, this was in the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus prayed so intensely that his "sweat fell like drops of blood." Apparently, the disciples weren't up to this. They fell asleep.

But Jesus was up to it. That tells me what a mighty man Jesus was. The disciples were a rough lot. Most of them were zealots, most of them men who made their living with their hands and their strength. But Jesus prayed intensely while they fell asleep.

But the thing that hit me hardest was what Jesus said to them. "Get up and pray so that you will not fall into temptation." How many times have I read that and missed it? None of us wants to fall into temptation. We all want to have the strength to resist. So, what's the secret?

Pray.

That's it. Just pray. I'm assuming that Jesus wouldn't have told the disciples to do it unless it was effective against temptation. Pretty safe assumption, wouldn't you agree? There we have it in Jesus' own words. Pray so you will not fall into temptation. Considering what Jesus is going through here, I suspect he's not talking about a quick "Help me, God. Amen." He's talking about struggling in prayer, wrestling in prayer. Praying against resistance.

Praying hard.

Generally, we fall into sin because we are weak, or because we are willful. We've all seen both sides of that coin.

But maybe, just maybe we didn't pray enough, or hard enough.

Bring Your Hoe

Notice there's an "e" on the end of that word. I'm talking about the garden implement, not . . . never mind.

I was talking with a friend today, a man who has been at Wild at Heart Boot Camp a couple of times. We were talking about how Satan deceives us, and how we miss the glory that God sees in us.

At the Boot Camp, they show that scene from Braveheart where William Wallace is riding back and forth in front of the assembled Scotsmen, inspiring them to stand and do battle with Edward the Longshanks' soldiers. It is an amazing, stirring scene, one that makes us want to stand up and shout, "Freeeeedom!"

The Boot Camp instructor for that session, a man who has been involved in Wild at Heart for years, confessed something to them that day. He said that when he sees that scene, it's hard for him to put himself in the picture as one of the brave warriors at the front of the line. He sees himself not as a William Wallace with his greatsword, or as one of his companions with a battle axe or a mace. Instead, he sees himself as "that little scrawny guy in the third row carrying a hoe."

That was evidence to him that we really don't see the glory God has in mind for us. We don't see how we reflect God's glory, how we are allies with God, warriors in the battle against Satan. We're not the big, brawny soldiers, but the little shrimpy guys, poorly armed, untrained, inadequate.

I'm going to have to take exception with that. Not with the fact that we don't see God's glory in ourselves clearly. That's pretty evident for most of us. We need others to show us how that glory is reflected in us. It's one of the reason we need true friends, brothers and sisters who can come alongside us and show us what we really are.

No, what I take exception with is that the little guy with the hoe was somehow less glorious than Wallace and his companions. Far from it. That little, scrawny guy was there.

He willingly chose to come to the battle. He willingly chose to stay and fight. He didn't have armor, or a shield, or even a real weapon. He wasn't big and strong. He wasn't well-trained. Yet he chose to expose himself to the deadly shower of arrows the English launched toward him. He stood his ground when the heavy cavalry charged, shaking the very ground. He even chose to taunt the overwhelmingly superior English by mooning them.

Talk about glory! That guy waded into a maelstrom of battle, swinging his hoe. He was a man's man, full to the brim with bravery and boldness.

We are in a battle. Not all of us can be Braveheart. In fact, few of us can be. Not all of us even have a proper weapon. But we can all bring our hoes, rakes, and pitchforks to the battle. We can all stand between the enemy and our families. We can all fight alongside the greatest hero the world will ever know. We are allies with Jesus in the battle against Satan.

Bring your hoe, brothers.

A Man After God's Own Heart?

In 2 Samuel 11 and 12 is one of the most amazing stories of the Bible. David, the king of Israel, a man after God’s own heart, the little boy who had enough faith to take on Goliath, commits adultery and murder. He takes Bathsheba, probably against her will (who can resist the king?), and after finding out she’s pregnant, tries to get her husband Uriah to sleep with her so the baby can be passed off as his. When that doesn’t work, he orders Joab to set Uriah up so he’ll be killed in the battle.

Now, what is amazing is not that David committed these terrible sins. What is amazing is that God forgave him. Not only did God forgive him, but David is held up in scripture as one of the heroes of the faith. And to add to the strangeness, God continued David’s line on the throne by making Solomon, the son of Bathsheba, king after David.

Now, that is scandalous to the nth degree. Look at what he did! He committed adultery (maybe rape), and murder! He tried to sweep it all under the rug. Does God not care about sin?

Hardly. There were terrible consequences for David and for those around him because of his sin. The son of his union with Bathsheba died. David’s concubines were taken by Absalom, who had sex with them in a tent on the palace roof so everyone would know what was going on. Absalom took the entire kingdom during his rebellion, and many, many people died.

Oh, God cares about sin. He hates our sin. It’s something he cannot help. Sin is simply the opposite of God’s nature.

But he loves us more than he hates our sin. Because he loves us, he does not keep us from sinning, like robots. He permits us to either choose him, or to choose sin. At this point in his life, David chose sin. But look at what he wrote after that:

Psalm 51
For the director of music. A psalm of David. When the prophet Nathan came to him after David had committed adultery with Bathsheba.

Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your unfailing love;
according to your great compassion
blot out my transgressions.

Wash away all my iniquity
and cleanse me from my sin.

For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is always before me.

Against you, you only, have I sinned
and done what is evil in your sight,
so that you are proved right when you speak
and justified when you judge.

There’s a lot more, and it would be a good passage for all of us to memorize. But I really want you to consider the note at the top, where it begins "For the director of music." David published and distributed this Psalm. He went public with his sin. He confessed it freely, and then he wrote a Psalm about his sin and sent it to the director of music to be performed.

Don’t hold back. Don’t let shame keep you from proclaiming the grace and freedom you have received. We, too, can be men and women after God’s own heart. In spite of our sin.

My Sister's Keeper

This has been a summer of great movies for me. I’m not a big movie-goer. It’s not that I don’t like movies. I do. But I resent the amount of money it takes to see a film, and don’t even get me started on the price of a soft drink and popcorn.

As an aside, have you noticed that movie popcorn is yellow? Even the unbuttered kind is yellow. When I pop popcorn at home, it’s white. But movie popcorn is popped and seasoned with so much yellow food coloring it looks like it ought to be banana flavored.

Anyway, let’s leave the snack bar and return to the theater. I usually get around to seeing the flicks I want to see when they’re at the Dollar Theater, or when they’re out on DVD. This summer there were several I really wanted to see right away: the new Star Trek flick, Pixar's Up, and the newest Harry Potter film. Two down, one to go. Then there was My Sister’s Keeper. The previews I saw intrigued me, as they did my wife and daughter. So when we decided to drop 50 bucks (that’s at matinee prices) on a movie and popcorn, we chose My Sister’s Keeper.

I had not read the novel by Jodi Picoult, so I didn’t have to worry about unhappy comparisons with the book.

In this age of in-vitro fertilization, embryonic stem-cell research, and promised miracle cures, no thinking adult should miss this movie. This is not a movie that makes you cheer, as Star Trek was. It’s not a movie that leaves you with good warm feelings, as Up did, although there are plenty of warm moments in My Sister’s Keeper. This is a movie to see, to think about, to feel. It will raise questions for you that you probably haven’t considered. For example, what are the rights of a child to her own blood, bone marrow, even her kidneys? When is it time to say, “Enough” to what extreme medical measures can do for a sick person? This movie will not only tug on your heartstrings, it will yank them so hard you’ll check for a hole in your chest. Especially if you are a father with a daughter, it will reduce you to tears of sadness and of joy. I speak from experience here.

I will print no spoilers. There is no need. Young Amanda Breslin and Sofia Vassilieva give superb performances as Anna and Kate. There really aren’t any bad performances here. I especially liked Joan Cusack as judge De Salvo. But there are two things I missed in this movie. The first is Jesse’s story. I suspect a lot of his story was left on the editing room floor. It seems vague and incomplete.

The biggest thing I missed, though, was God. There was a little talk of “where you go” after death, and a vague understanding of “I’ll be okay,” but that was all there was of the afterlife. There was virtually no mention of faith of any kind, and none of the comfort or understanding, or even the struggle that faith brings. I’m not talking about the soft, mushy, Precious Moments faith that is the background of a lot of vaguely Christian films, nor the obvious evangelizing of films like last year’s independent surprise, Fireproof. Nothing against Fireproof. It was a good film that hit its mark very well. But that wasn’t what My Sister’s Keeper was about. This film was a perfect opportunity to show how faith bears on the biggest questions of our existence, questions about sickness, suffering, death, and duty. Now, I suppose it is too much to hope that Hollywood would have dealt with these things well, but I can dream, can’t I?

Go see My Sister’s Keeper. It will make you think, it will make you feel, and you won’t regret it.

Eyeglasses

I've been thinking about eyeglasses lately. The other day I was listening to Matthew on my iPod. (Don't you just hate those cutesy product names with a lowercase letter before an uppercase one?) At any rate, I was listening to Matthew, and came to the place in Matthew 20 where Jesus heals two blind men. And I began to wonder if they were totally blind, or if they just had such bad vision that we would call them "legally blind". There are lots of folks in the world who have some vision, but cannot see well enough to work. And this was in an age before there were eyeglasses, so even with a fair level of vision, they would still be called blind, I think.

Now, before you go thinking the wrong thing, I have no doubt that Jesus could heal someone who was totally blind. No doubt at all. In one healing, Jesus not only heals a man's eyes, but he heals his brain as well. Check it out. In Mark 8, Jesus "spits on the man's eyes and put his hands on him," then asks if he can see. (It's interesting that he had to ask, don't you think?) The man says, "I see people. They look like trees walking around." Then Jesus laid his hands on him again and he could see everything clearly. This seems to me to indicate that Jesus healed his eyes, but his brain at first could not interpret what his eyes were seeing. I don't know the name of the condition that causes this, but it's not all that uncommon.

Still, the fact that Jesus could heal someone who was totally blind doesn't mean it happened that way in every instance.

And that thought led me to be very, very thankful. You see, I'm one of those people who can't see well without some sort of corrective lenses. I believe the technical term is "four-eyes". If I was living in an earlier time, say, the Middle Ages, or the time of Christ, I would be very much restricted in what I could do, how I could work, how I could live.

I'm a recreational shooter, and I'm not bad, really. (Not all that good, either, but you get the idea.) Without eyeglasses, I wouldn't be just bad, I'd be dangerous. Nobody would volunteer to go to the skeet field with me. In a more primitive era I wouldn't be one of the guys who shoots a bow well enough to stay out of the line of battle. I probably wouldn't be in the line of battle, either, as I might have a hard time telling friend from foe. I wouldn't be able to see the mountains in the distance, or the ship coming over the horizon, or the sheep that was starting to wander toward a cliff. Maybe, just maybe I could make my living in a profession that didn't require great vision, as a potter for instance. But more likely I'd be the guy who was told to go dig a ditch, or carry rocks, or shovel manure. There is nothing wrong or belittling in any of those professions. It's just that my choices would be limited, as would my appreciation of such things as a mountain vista or the shape of clouds in the sky.

Yes, I'm very, very grateful that I was born in a time and place with not only eyeglasses, but antibiotics, computers, universal education, motorcycles, and air conditioning. We are all very blessed. I've heard it said that we are in many ways richer than Solomon ever was, because he never had the opportunity to ride in an airplane, or eat ice cream, or listen to a symphony.

But consider this . . .

Solomon did live without all those things. As did David, and Job, and Elijah, and Moses, and Jesus. They seemed to do all right without them. We have some great things, to be sure, wondrous things. But in the final analysis they are just things. No amount of things can make your children grow wise, or your spouse love you, or your favorite dog live forever.

But God can. And God loved those blind men no less than he love you and me. He loves us all, yet the blessings he grants us are not all the same. We all have different measures of wealth, health, and happiness. So the essence of God's love, his richest, truest blessings cannot consist of those things.

Still . . . I'm happy for eyeglasses. And so are the folks who shoot with me.

The Impact of Two Lives

This past Friday, we were privileged to witness the marriage of my eldest son and his new wife. It was a beautiful, joyous occasion to witness the union of two great young people. It is so clear that they love each other and love God. What more can a father ask?

And yet . . . I received much more.

I was able to witness how many good friends they have, and what great friends they are. As parents, we have always prayed that our children would have good friends who would help point them toward God and walk beside them in truth and light. That prayer was answered in spades. Many of these young men and women I already knew, of course, since they were my son's friends growing up. Some were his bride's friends, and I have only recently begun to know them. But all of them show a quality, a grace, and a beauty that is obvious. How blessed we are that our son and new daughter have such people alongside them.

I was able to see the love that my son and his wife give to others. Everyone I met had great things to say about them, and it was easy to see that they were genuine, not just the vague things you say about folks when you're trying to be polite. At the rehearsal dinner, we had a microphone set up for folks to say a few words about the couple. It was clear that even in their short lives, they have both had a profound effect on people. Their love for children was evident, as was their love for God. That was a huge blessing to me.

I was able to hear my new daughter's thoughts on the man she wanted to marry, and how my son filled all those desires. What impressed me most was the fact that she was looking for a beautiful soul who shared her love for children, and her desire to minister together. That was marvelous.

I was also able to hear my son speak of five men who had shaped his life. I was in that list, and that alone is enough to fill my heart with joy. But the others who were in that list, two of his youth leaders and the fathers of his two best friends, were an even greater indication of the way he has been blessed. It's expected that a father have a good influence on his children. In my own small way, I've done that. But the other good men who have influenced him are icing on the cake. I commend those men, and thank them for their love for my son. I pray that their children can say the same thing about me.

It is great to have a new daughter in our family, especially one this sweet, kind, and joyful. But it may be an even greater blessing to have my son grow into the man that he is. They do grow up. They go away as children and come back, hopefully, as friends.

May you all be so blessed.

Mordecai and Obama

Anyone who knows me, knows I'm not a fan of President Obama. I didn't vote for him, and won't when he runs in four years unless he changes his politics drastically. That much change would be less like the proverbial frog turning into a prince, and more like the frog turning into an interstellar spaceship, so it's not likely.

Okay. You get the point. Still, as a disciple of Jesus and a believer in the scriptures, I'm obligated to obey the laws of our land, even when I don't agree with them. Further, I'm obligated to pray for Obama and for all our leaders.

This has posed a problem for me. Obama stands for many things I oppose, and stands against many of the things I support. (This applies to many others in government, but let's just confine this to one official for now.) Some of the things he stands for are just plain wrong, and some—not to mince words—are evil.

But I am not freed of my duty of praying for him, showing him respect, and even doing good toward him. I've struggled with this, and I've been able to pray for him, but it hasn't been a terribly pleasant duty, and it has been hard to put my heart into.

The last thing I want to do is to mouth insincere prayers.

Lately, though, I've received some help in this from what some might call an unlikely source: from Summer Spectacular, our church's version of Vacation Bible School.

Now, when I say "Vacation Bible School", many of you have an image of a group of sweaty kids singing If You're Happy and You Know It and Kum Bah Ya or watching a teacher with a gray bun putting Noah's ark up on a flannelgraph. And you couldn't be further from the reality of Summer Spectacular. We go absolutely all out for Summer Spectacular. It's a full musical performed over three nights (actually performed twice over six nights), with classes for all the kids and the adults, autographs from the characters, prizes, games—the works. It really is as spectacular as the name says.

This year, we put on the story of Esther. For those of you unfamiliar with Esther, it's the story of a young Jewish girl who is selected to be the new queen of Xerxes, the ruler of the Medo-Persian empire. The Jews have been in captivity for many years, and their original captors, the Babylonians, have been supplanted by the Medo-Persians.

In the story, Mordecai, Esther's cousin, saves the king from a plot against his life. This is the same king who keeps the Jews from returning to their homeland, who gets rid of his first queen because she won't appear before him and his nobles at a drunken party, and who has an entire harem of young, beautiful girls, most of whom he sleeps with once and then sends away. He's also the king who later issues an edict to kill all of the Jews in the empire and allowing those who kill them to take all their property.

Let's just say Xerxes is not the world's nicest guy. Let's go a little further and say he makes Obama (or any President I've ever known) look like a saint. And really, you wouldn't expect the king of a great, expanding empire to be a nice guy. It's unlikely he got to such a position by kissing babies and making speeches. Far more likely that his ascent was a bloody one. And yet Mordecai not only saves his life, but honors him as king and ruler.

Now, I've known this story for a long time. But seeing it played out brought it home to me in a new way. A big part of the story is that Mordecai does not give honor where honor is not due. He refuses to bow before Haman, who comes up with the idea of killing all the Jews. But he does honor Xerxes. And the Bible is full of other stories that bring this home in the same way. Joseph honored Pharaoh, even though he was enslaved and imprisoned falsely. Daniel honored the king in the same way that Moredecai did, even though he was sent to the lion's den for refusing to stop his prayers.

Suddenly, it's not so hard to pray for Obama. Now, unlike Mordecai, we live in a representative republic. We get to participate in the political process and even vote. As I understand it, we have a duty to do so. So I'll continue to work for the things I think are right and against those I think are wrong. And I'll cast my votes for those whom I think are best suited to govern. But no matter who wins or loses, I'll continue to pray protection, wisdom, peace and strength for our leaders.

There is a lot more to the story of Esther. It's a great story of courage and deliverance. I found myself cheering for both Mordecai and Esther. But I'll always remember Summer Spectacular for what Mordecai taught me about honoring rulers. Even those I oppose.

Father's Day Thoughts

Becoming a father was the most life-changing thing that ever occurred to me. I say this even though I probably should be saying that my salvation was the most life-changing thing. But I'd have to lie to do that. You see, God has taught me so much through my children, and I firmly believe that only through my children have I come to understand who God is and what his love means. I can't credit my children with saving me, but they helped point me in the right direction.

Becoming a father changes absolutely everything. Much of this may sound a bit mystical to some folks, but it is a true and necessary mysticism. From the first moment I held my firstborn, I knew that a change had come over me. The full nature of that change didn't come to me right away. But change was obvious. I was a bit of a reluctant father. Shan and I told each other we would wait five years after our marriage before having children. It seemed the best choice considering how young we married (I was just 19). Even when that five-year deadline came to pass, I was still unsure about becoming a parent. Shan was the one who brought the subject back up. I agreed, but it was more for her than for me.

At only four weeks into the pregnancy, we got a scare. Our doctor (Shan's obstetrician as well as our GP) scheduled a sonogram, as he was concerned it might be a tubal pregnancy. Thankfully, the sonogram revealed a normal pregnancy, and at four weeks we could see a heartbeat on the monitor. We still have a black-and-white Polaroid picture of that little bump that was our son Brian. I knew then by the fear in my heart that I was a father, and a different man. We went through all the pregnancy rituals; childbirth classes, talking to the baby, acquiring the myriad of stuff that babies require.

But when I held that perfect little person, felt the warmth of his skin, and the beating of his heart, and the movement of his little arms and legs, I was lost forever. Such a wave of love came over me as I had never felt. In that one moment, I knew just a bit of how God loves us. I knew I would gladly trade my life for my son's. It was stronger, in a way, than the love I felt for Shan. It was instant, and total, and completely involuntary.

I felt that same thing with my other children, first Duncan, then Rachel. Instant love, instant responsibility, instant willingness to take on the world to defend that little life.

My kids aren't so little anymore. My youngest is 16. But I still have that same willingness to sacrifice anything, even life, for them.

And it is a sacrifice to be a father or mother. For our children we give up time, money, attention, sometimes even our dreams. Having a child changes your life totally. And I wouldn't go back for anything. In spite of the problems, in spite of the mess, the expense, and the time, I wouldn't trade any of the time with my children. Just the opposite. I wish I had spent more time doing the little things with them—reading a book, playing a game, listening to them talk, just sitting with them. There never seems to be enough time. But I take satisfaction in knowing that my time with them is not over. No, they aren't little kids anymore. Now they are becoming more like friends. That's good, too.

There are lots of folks who will not willingly make the sacrifice that children require. There are lots more who start to do so and fail to keep their commitments down the road. Neither of those alternatives has any appeal to me. My greatest joys, my greatest triumphs have come to me through fatherhood. Also my darkest times and greatest failures. And I'd never want it to be any other way.

Happy belated Father's Day to all the fathers. And to my children: thank you for making me the man that I am.

A Mighty Man and a Woman of Great Strength

Here is the updated post about Jimison and Connie Clark . . ..

Last night I was privileged to attend the testimony of a friend of mine, Jimison Clark, and of his wife Connie. Jimison is a man who has been part of the Pure Iron Men, a support and accountability group that I facilitate at my church, Richland Hills Church of Christ. Pure Iron Men is for men who are coming out of pornography and other sexual addiction. Jimison has felt for some time that he needed to go public with his struggle and do something to help other men who are caught in that same web of bondage. It's a vicious addictive cycle, and it's something virtually all men are vulnerable to.

I've talked to Jimison many times over the past year or so, and prayed for him often about this. This is something that takes a lot of courage. Porn and other sexual addictions are the great hidden sins. You can go to a lot of churches and find help for alcoholism or drug addiction, but most won't offer any help for sexual addiction, and most don't even want to hear about it. I don't know how many times I've had men come to Pure Iron Men who simply can't get any help at their home church, and have encountered roadblocks that range from "Oh, we don't have that problem here," to "You must not really be a Christian if you like that stuff." It makes my blood boil, sometimes.

Jimison's church, Abiding Word, isn't like that. When Jimison spoke to the church leadership about what he wanted to do, they supported him and basically created a special service just for him and his wife, Connie. More about Connie later.

Jimison invited me to hear his testimony, and I was excited and happy to do so. One of the best things about being involved with Pure Iron Men is seeing one of my brothers start a group or ministry of his own. It has happened several times in the past few years, and it fills me with joy and pride.

After a scripture reading, a song, and some prayer, Jimison got up and related how he had grown up in a good home, but had fallen in with a friend who got him in to gangs and dealing drugs. God saved him from that, and he didn't carry any of those problems with him into adulthood. But porn addiction did. He was very open about his addiction and how it took a mighty effort on his part and a mighty work of God to free him. But free he is, and God impressed on him the need to go public and start his own ministry, Thirteen to Thirty, to help others gain freedom.

I was so proud of him! It takes great courage to admit to any fault and to admit to sexual addiction is way over the top in terms of difficulty. But he did it, and his testimony was very powerful.

Then Connie began to speak. I had never previously met Connie. I knew little more about her than her name and the fact that she was married to Jimison, and freely forgave his sins against her with pornography. That right there was enough to make me a big fan. But there was so much more.

I can't go into Connie's story here. It's hers to tell. I will tell you this: Connie's story made Jamison's look tame. She has overcome so much! What a mighty family! It is my honor and privilege to know them and to have had some small part in Jamison's freedom.

Jamison and Connie have both created websites to help those who struggle as they do. For Jamison's site, go to www.13233.org. For Connie's site, go to www.dndm.org.

I pray that their stories help you with yours.

Surprised by Despair

Sometimes I surprise myself by how clueless I am. Allow me to elaborate, if you will. Lately I've been plagued by a feeling of malaise and pointlessness. It isn't debilitating, and it only seems to appear when I am not caught up in all of the usual things that keep me busy. Between work, family, ministry, and even a hobby or two, I have a lot going on in my life, and I am usually quite busy. And when I'm not busy, I'm ready for some rest.

But as I said, lately whenever I've had some down time, I've been fighting this feeling of pointlessness, even of despair. It's almost like a mild depression. I start to dwell on things that have not turned out as they should, on the roadblocks in my path, on failures, hurts, setbacks, and losses. I find myself focusing on physical pain, and feeling sorry for myself. I know, intellectually, that I am blessed beyond measure, and that God is really looking out for me. But in the quiet, inner places, I still feel this malaise. I've chalked it up to illness, or weariness, or just a response to things that really have gone wrong. And it keeps coming back.

Now, I'm fairly attuned to spiritual warfare. I know God has an enemy, and the only way that enemy can hurt God is to hurt his children. That's you and me, in case you didn't know. Satan likes nothing better than to hurt those who follow Jesus. If he can't keep you from being a disciple, he'll do his best to make you ineffective (usually through sin and addictive behavior), and if he can't do that, he'll steal your joy. I know these things. I've seen them many times. I speak into the lives of others who are under this kind of spiritual oppression, pray for them, and frequently see them set free.

So, why didn't I see it for myself?

I began to get a clue when I realized (thank you, God!) that God wasn't happy with the way I was feeling, but Satan would be. God doesn't want his children to be swallowed up in despair. He wants us to succeed at the tasks he has given us. And we accomplish little when we're sitting around bemoaning the past and worrying about the future. Then Satan tipped his hand. He went a bit too far, and started to remind me of a situation where I thought I was wronged. The idea was, "If you can't have that, what good is it to go on? You deserve better than that."

Nice try, but no dice. That really let me know the source of my troubles. No good purpose is served by rehashing old slights and hurts. No good purpose is served by feeling sorry for myself, or by seeing a brother or sister as my enemy. The only purpose those things serve is to make Satan laugh.

You see, I'd been neglecting to pray about such things, to ask God for protection from such spirits. I'd neglected to take hold of God's promises and instead I'd listened to accusation.

I quickly remedied that, asking not only for protection, but for deliverance. And I'm still asking, because it is going to take more than one quick prayer. I'd allowed despair to establish a beachhead, and now it was going to take some time to drive it back into the sea.

And I'm asking God daily to reveal to me any other footholds I've given to Satan. You see, Satan, being the father of lies, knows how to come after us. He doesn't start with some strange, wild accusation. No, he takes truth and twists it just the slightest bit, at first. Over time he twists it more and more, until truth is standing on its head. I still have physical pain, I still have setbacks, and roadblocks, and losses, and problems. Those are inevitable. What is not inevitable is yielding to despair. God has an enemy and so do we. This is a broken world, and Satan has no reason to stop coming after us. But God ultimately wins.

And we win, too.

Lifted Up

For once, I get to review a movie before my son does. Hooray!

My wife and I went to see Up this weekend, and it gets my highest approval rating. Pixar is a company of geniuses when it comes to animated film, as proven by their unbroken string of great flicks. (Well, A Bug's Life was just okay.) Up trumps them all. Rarely have I been so uplifted by a movie.

And that is the point. The idea that a movie or play or book or story should lift our spirits has gone out of fashion. Hollywood and the critics in particular have decided that only dark stories and those about twisted, tortured characters are worthy of their respect and their accolades. If you leave a movie feeling disturbed, saddened, and sickened, they feel their work has been well done. Look at the films that win the awards and the acclaim.

At the box office, many of those films do well, but not as well as the ones that leave us cheering, smiling, and hopeful. Up is one of those, and I predict it will be a box office smash as well.

The movie also puts to rest the idea that animated characters must be cute and cuddly to be sympathetic. Carl Fredricksen is neither cute nor cuddly. He's 78 years old, stubborn, crotchety, and pugnacious. He's also totally, completely dedicated to his late wife Ellie, and a man of his word—to a fault.

The montage that chronicles Carl and Ellie's life together—encompassing their wedding, their first (and only) home, the loss of an unborn child, their dreams of living by Paradise Falls, and Ellie's death—covers just a few minutes with no dialogue at all. Yet it manages to convey all of their hopes, dreams, heartbreaks, triumphs, and tragedies in a way that most full movies can never approach. It is pure storytelling genius.

The characters are funny, quirky, and approachable. Even irascible old Carl becomes the gruff but loving grandfather we all wish we had. Russell, the young Wilderness Explorer, is impossible to resist. He's rather like a puppy. Dug, the dog with the translating collar and the squirrel obsession really caps it off. All of the characters ring true, but Dug is absolute doggie truth. Any of you who have had a dog know what I mean.

But the story and the message are what Up is really all about. Some will say that the messages about the importance of marriage, family, and stability will be lost on children, or too much for them to grasp. I must disagree. It is children who need these messages the most. They will take from this a better understanding of what it means to love for better or for worse, and of the importance of just being faithful and true to those you love.

A lot is being written about this movie, and I won't go further. I especially won't print any spoilers. Frankly, there aren't a lot of big surprises anyway. They aren't really needed when you have a story as perfect as this.

The Ranger Game Updated

It turns out that Darrin Ellis did record us at the Ballpark on Friday. He posted it up on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsJOY-4J7rs

He was up in the stands with a hand-held video recorder, so the sound quality isn't great, but it sure sounded good from where I stood!

Pulled the Last Post

I realized that I might have stolen a bit of Jimison and Connie's thunder with my last post, so I pulled it. I'll write later about their testimony in perhaps less detail.

I want everyone to know that I love and respect Jimison and Connie greatly. They are truly doing a great work, and they are awesome folks. Sometimes miscommunication happens.

Singing at the Ranger Game

Just a quick update. Last Friday (5/29/09) I was privileged to be part of a group that sang the National Anthem at the Texas Rangers game. My praise team from church (it's not really mine, just the one I'm part of) has done this several times, and it is always a lot of fun. We had a great arrangement with some really tight, beautiful harmonies. It's kind of barbershop-quartet-like at times, and at times very jazzy. Last time we did this the mikes didn't work well and the pitch was hard to hear, so it was a bit of a train wreck. Not bad, jut not really good.

This time it came off flawlessly. These folks I sing with are absolutely top-notch! I had people stop me in the stadium to ask if I'd sung for them that night, and all of them were very gracious. Unfortunately, we didn't get it videotaped as we planned. Maybe next time.

And the Rangers won both games! How cool is that?

The One

You remember the story. It’s recorded in Matthew and in Luke. The details, the back story, are different in Luke. In Luke it's also told as part of three stories that illustrate how precious we are to God. Perhaps Jesus told the parable more than once. But in Matthew, the disciples had just been asking Jesus who was the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Jesus called a child to come stand in their midst and told them they had to be like little children. Then he said,

“What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, I tell you the truth, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should be lost.” (Matt. 18:12-14)

He did what? He left the ninety-nine? Without a shepherd? Alone? In case you’re wondering, domestic sheep aren’t any safer from predators in a flock of ninety-nine than they are on their own. Oh, maybe a little bit safer. The big ewes and rams are a little better at facing down a wolf or a jackal than a lamb is, but without that shepherd, they can still get picked off, still fall down a cliff, still drown in a flash flood, still get stuck in the mud of a wadi.

Still, the shepherd leaves them and goes off after the one. This doesn’t make any sense in our economy. You don’t trade the safety of ninety-nine for the rescue of one.

God doesn’t think that way. To God, the one and the ninety-nine have the same value. Individually or corporately, they’re all worth searching for and rejoicing over. And it’s a good thing, or you and I would have been picked off by the jackals a long time ago.

You see, we are the one. We—all of us—are the straying sheep. There’s not one of us who hasn’t strayed away from the flock, looking for a better patch of grass, an easier way up the hill, a warmer bit of sunshine. Paul says it in Romans, quoting David:

As it is written:
"There is no one righteous, not even one;
there is no one who understands,
no one who seeks God.
All have turned away,
they have together become worthless;
there is no one who does good,
not even one." (Rom. 3:10-12)

I don’t know about you, but I strayed a lot from the flock. I never went very far, but I spent years heading over the hill whenever it suited me. Then I’d get scared, or tired, or just sick of being on my own, and I’d run back to the flock. And I was pretty good at it. I could find the flock most of the time. Or at least, that’s what I thought I was doing.

It turns out that I never once found the flock on my own. Every time I came back, it happened because the Shepherd sought me out and brought me back. Without him, the first time I left, I would have kept on wandering until I got swallowed up.

But the Shepherd kept coming after me. Gradually, I have learned this is where I belong. I’ve lost my desire to head over the next hill.

Something else I’ve learned. The other sheep didn’t come looking for me. It was the Shepherd. Oh, certainly there is value in being part of the flock. There is safety in numbers . . . at least for most of them. Have you ever watched lions hunt? Sometimes they stalk close to the herd in heavy cover. Sometimes they drive the herd toward another lion. Sometimes they just wait for that one antelope to wander a bit too far from the rest, looking for the best grass. Occasionally, the herd comes to the defense of the victim. Have any of you seen the Battle at Kruger video? That shows a herd of Cape Buffalo rescuing a calf from lions. But not every Cape Buffalo is safe. Some still get eaten. And for the one that gets eaten, the herd wasn't very safe, was it?

That's the way it is with sheep, too. Except when there is a shepherd. The shepherd not only looks for the straying sheep, but he drives off the lion, the wolf, the bear, the hyena. Do you remember what David said to Saul before he went out to battle Goliath?

But David said to Saul, "Your servant has been keeping his father's sheep. When a lion or a bear came and carried off a sheep from the flock, I went after it, struck it and rescued the sheep from its mouth. When it turned on me, I seized it by its hair, struck it and killed it. (1 Sam. 17:34-35)

David was a shepherd. Apparently he was a good shepherd. He went after the lion or the bear and rescued the sheep.

I've been rescued, too. Except my rescuer didn't use a sling or a staff. He used a cross. And one day he'll return with a sword.

I am the one. So are you.

Renouncing Lies

In an earlier post, about telling our stories, I said I would get into this soon. Well, here we are.

First, a little quiz:

Q: What did Jesus call Satan?
A: The father of lies.

Q: What does Genesis 3:1 say about Satan?
A: He is craftier than all of the other creatures. (Serpent, Satan—they're the same thing.)

Q: How did Satan trick Adam and Eve? (Remember, Adam was right there with Eve.)
A: He lied. Maybe more specifically, he said that God lied.

Who do you think is happy when we believe a lie? Is it Satan, or God? DING, DING, DING, DING! Right. It's Satan.

And that's what renouncing lies is all about. All of us have been lied to our whole lives, and we have believed some of those lies. Lies about ourselves. Lies about God.

When we began this exercise of renouncing lies, one of our brothers again led the way. During an intensive spiritual retreat (okay, it was Wild at Heart Boot Camp), he began talking to one of the other men there, and after a few minutes the man stopped him and said, "I've heard you say several thing about yourself that I suspect are not true, and I know you've said things about God that are not true." Another man got involved, and after a while it became clear that there were many lies, not just one or two.

That day my brother took the time to write out all the lies he had believed over the years, and once he started, he filled pages with them. He showed the notebook to us, and it was amazing to see how much falsehood had been in his life. He renounced them all, and his healing was begun.

So, when we got together a couple of weeks ago to renounce lies, we were all supposed to come with our own lists. Now, I had a hard time putting such a list together. I asked, "Is this lies we believe now, or what we used to believe, or what?" I've always had a difficult time with listing out things like this. If you ask me to tell you the three best things that have happened to me this week, I'll hem and haw. I'll think of a thousand things and reject them all with the idea that maybe there was something better. I hate making lists. And I put it off.

The day we met, I got some news that really floored me, one of the recent setbacks I wrote about earlier. I was hurt, confused, and very, very low. Satan used that and began to shake me like a terrier shakes a rat. In the thirty minutes I had to get ready for our meeting, I sat and wrote out a list of things that really felt true to me, things like, "I'm forever destined to be second place." That was at the top of my list and it really hit me hard. It continued with such things as "I'm a bad father," and "I'm selfish."

When the time came, I told my brothers of what had gone on before the meeting, and how I'd made my list in about 10 minutes. I read it out to them and they all saw them as lies. Lies that I had accepted, and built my identity upon.

That's the key right there. When I wrote "I'm selfish," I knew there was an element of truth in that. Which of us has never been selfish? We all fall into that sin at times. God knows that, and he forgives us. The lie comes when we let Satan identify us by that sin. We make an agreement with him. It's not "I've done something selfish," or "I've had a selfish thought," but it's "This is what I am."

And that's a lie. We are who God says we are, nothing more or less. When we gave our allegiance to Jesus, when we surrendered to him, we became brothers with him, and sons of God. You are not what you do. You are what God does for you.

That is a concept I have fully embraced—in my mind. But until that night, I realized I had not fully embraced it in my heart. Deep down I felt I was a selfish, pig-headed, perennial second-stringer. Satan had done a good job on me.

But the funny thing was, I have learned not to accept that condemnation in parts of my life. God has freed me of so much. I've known for a long time that conviction comes from the Spirit, and condemnation comes from Satan. Yet I still held onto this identification that Satan had pinned on me.

I renounced every lie on that list. I renounced them out loud in Jesus' name. And I asked forgiveness for believing Satan and not God. My brothers prayed powerfully over me, and I left that place healing from something I didn't even know about 24 hours earlier. I've been through that before, and let me tell you, it feels very, very good.

Sometimes (always?) it takes others to see the lies we have believed. It did for my brother. It did for me. I wrote those things because they felt true. My brothers told me otherwise. May you find brothers and sisters who will do that for you.

No more lies!