Forgiveness

Last week was… busy.

My last blog post got more activity than all of my other posts combined.  I’m not sure if that’s because I struck a chord with people in a way that they can relate to or if that’s because people love any opportunity to gossip.  Either way, I chose to publicize my feelings, and for better or for worse, it reached an audience.

The day that I shared my thoughts and feelings toward my mother last week, I was an emotional wreck.  I had a breakdown at work and I had to step outside to call my wife.  I knew that it wouldn’t be fair for me to share these thoughts to the world, but not speak to my mother about it directly.  So, later that night, I called my mother and just poured out all of the pain that was buried in my heart for the last 7 years.  My mother was very apologetic for what she had done, and pleaded for me to forgive; if not for her, then for myself.  There were a lot of tears from both sides of the phone.  I truly believe that I have never cried that hard in my life.  It was so emotionally intense, that after the conversation was over, I was in somewhat of a trance.  Not psychedelic, but my mind and heart was so exhaustive that I felt like I wasn’t all there.  I felt that way for well into the weekend, just trying to process everything that was said.

I know that my mother is sorry for what happened, and I know that I should forgive her.  I just wrestled with actually doing it.  After some God-appointed encounters and conversations over the weekend, I came to the point of actually being able to let it go.  Things aren’t going to be the same between us, but we can begin to mend the relationship.

Bitterness

A couple of months ago, my pastor was teaching our young adult Bible study group about 2 types of prayer that are under-utilized in our Christian walk.  The first of which is a “centering prayer”.  This type of prayer is simply to empty your mind and just be in the presence of God.  Clear out all your thoughts and distractions.  No music, no noise, just you and God being in the same place at the same time.  The second of which is a “listening prayer”, and it’s virtually the same as the centering prayer except with the intention to hear from God.  You can ask Him questions and wait for an answer.

The first time we did the centering prayer, it was difficult to clear my head at first.  It’s not easy for someone with A.D.H.D. to completely clear their mind.  After sitting there for about 5 minutes or so, I was there – completely lucid.  Within the first few seconds, the word BITTERNESS flashed across my mind, followed by mental images of my mother.  After these images passed, God spoke to me saying:

“JT… You are My son, and I am so proud of you and how far you have come.  But we cannot go any further in our relationship until you release the bitterness you have towards your mother.”

It kind of took me aback because I thought that I had forgiven my mother already for the things that had happened in our past.  My mother and I had been through a lot together, especially when I was younger.  There were many times where we only had each other.  My mother is not a Christian, but she never forced her beliefs on me.  She always wanted me to “find my own path”, as she would say it.  We always did things together when I was a child; she used to read my sister and I stories and play video-games with me.  She worked hard to provide for us to have a better life than she did.

It seems it didn’t stay that way, though.  Don’t get me wrong; I know my mother has never stopped loving me.  But it came to a point to where, from my perspective, she started to love herself more.  My mom has always done what she has wanted to do, she’s been a rebel her whole life.  She suffered abuse from multiple people in her life and because of that she’s developed a sort of repressed depression shrouded by the thrill of spontaneity.  With all of that being said, our family slowly stopped eating together at the table and would instead just take our food into our separate rooms.  We hardly reached out to each other and be a family.  Existing in the same house, but living like we’re oceans apart.  And, just like that, our family was broken and divided.  I was the “good Christian boy”, and they believed other things.  Things that I believe to be demonic, but were masked in purity.  We had talked about our faiths many times, and as an immature believer at the time, I wasn’t ready for the spiritual warfare that I was in.  It was very emotional for me.  I can recall one Wednesday night after Church that my youth pastor, Jacob, dropped me off at home while my mother was having some friends over.  I broke down in tears and I asked Jacob, “Why won’t she just listen?  Why won’t she come?”  Jacob holding back tears himself, just listened to me – listened to my pain.

That pain didn’t go away either, it just heightened.  A week before my senior prom, my mother told that she was going away for a while and didn’t know when she was going to be back.  Looking back, I think I was in shock more than anything, that is until prom night.  My mother didn’t get to see me in my suit, didn’t get to take any pictures, send me off.  My mother was gone… for months.  Graduation day came, and when I walked across the stage, my mom was all that I could think about.  As I was walking out of the gymnasium, I saw my mother standing there, tears rolling down her face.  We embraced each other as she told me that she couldn’t miss this.  I thought things were back to normal.  I was going to spend the summer working at Camp Calvary, and then go to college at Johnson University in the fall.  One Tuesday that summer, I was at a week of camp there as a camper, and I received a text from my mother.  She asked me how I was doing.  I told her that I was having fun and enjoying my last year at high school camp.  She asked if she could swing by camp the next day to talk to me, and of course I said that she could.   She showed up in the early afternoon on Wednesday with my sister.  Sat me down on the picnic table by the cafeteria and told me that her and my sister were leaving again, this time for good.  Without getting into details, there were spiritual influences on this decision.  When they left, that was the last time that I saw them for 4 years.

She was supposed to help me move into college, kiss me goodbye, wish me luck, be at home for me on holidays… there was so much pain in me, and it formed into a depression – a depression that led me down the darkest road in my walk with Christ.  It all came to a peak of rage when my mother and I had a rather unpleasant phone call that ended with us not really being on speaking terms.  I felt lied to, betrayed, and abandoned by the woman who was always there for me and now wasn’t at all.  I stopped reading my Bible, stopped praying, didn’t go to class, became paranoid, lashing out at friends irrationally.  I was in the pit of a chaotic and wounded spirit.

That depression eventually passed (although it comes and goes in waves), but it morphed into a different monster – apathy.  Apathy is such a difficult obstacle in life, because you know it’s nature and damage, but you don’t care enough to remove it.  I know that if I read my Bible, I’ll feel better, but I don’t care if I feel better.  I know that if I just go to God with my pain, He’ll help me overcome it, but I don’t care if I overcome it or not.  It’s such a danger struggle because you don’t care to defeat it.

The next time I saw my mother and sister was at my sister’s wedding.  It was a beautiful wedding and reception, but the after party was hard to stay for.  There was drugs and alcohol, and I had never seen that side of my mother and sister.  I was going to stay and be a witness of God’s grace to everyone present, but it became too much for me to emotionally handle as I saw my family drift further and further into delirium.  I began my 10+ hour drive back to Evansville late that night, and I called my wife on the way back.  I sobbed into the phone, the pain of everything past had  blasted through the wall of apathy that had built up in my heart.  And like a virus, the apathy built a stronger wall the second time so thick that it would take an act of God to break through.

2 years passed before I saw my mother again, this time it was for my wedding.  And when I saw her, I felt nothing.  No joy, no pain, just nothing.  I know that is terrible thing to say, but I’m just being honest.  I was glad that my mother was there, don’t get me wrong, and she went to great lengths to make sure that she was there.  But I still felt nothing.  The wall was so thick, and it still is.

I confused apathy for forgiveness.  I thought that because I didn’t feel any pain anymore, I forgave her, but really I just hid the pain down deep.  Over the course of the last couple of months, I’ve been searching for the healing that will break the wall down that apathy built around my heart and I came across this song.  I’ve heard it before, but it popped back up in my life and I think I’m more receptive of it now that this wall is breaking down little by little.  This song is about how NF’s mother overdosed on pills, and he is venting the bitterness that he has toward her.  NF knows that his mother loved him, but she just couldn’t pull herself away from satisfying her addiction in pursuit of her children.  Although the context is different in my life (my mother is still alive and she didn’t drift away from me due to drugs, but rather in pursuit of “divine” aspirations that she wasn’t able to fulfill anyways), the bitterness and pain is exactly the same.  In my heart, it’s as if my mother, the one who raised me, has died and a shadow of herself is all that is left.  I’m tearing up just thinking about this.  My spirit mourns for the woman that I used to know and I’m afraid that I’ll never see her again.

Pit-Pat, God’s in that.

A couple of weeks ago, a group of men from my Church and myself went to a cabin that sat on the shore of Lake Barkley in Eddyville, KY (yellow).  It was a rainy weekend there.  There was a point on Saturday that the rain cleared up and it seemed that there wasn’t going to be any more rain in the area until late that evening.  So, being the geniuses that we are, we took to the lake on a pontoon boat.  For those of you who are acquainted with boating, a pontoon is a flat-like boat that floats on tubes.  They are leisure boats, not built for speed… or rain.

So there we are on this boat, heading toward Kentucky State Penitentiary (it’s this really old prison that sits on the shore of the lake).  As we are venturing on this quest to KSP, we look back behind us and we see rain – a lot of rain.  Upon our arrival at the prison, we noticed that the rain was getting closer.  The rain was getting closer to us faster than we could go on the boat.  So we headed to the closest marina (light blue) to park while the rain passed by.  The rain never reached the marina because it was going across the lake (dark blue) instead up the lake.  When we realized that it was going to be raining for quite a while, we decided to head back to the cabin while there was at least a gap in the storm.  As you can see in our path (red), we had to stop and wait for the rain to pass and then press on during the next gap in the storm.  When we stopped the third time and watched as the rain poured out on the lake in front of us, I happened to glance over to our left.  I saw a wall of rain heading right for our boat from the side.  Once we realized there was no getting around this, we decided to face the rain head on and make it back to the cabin as quickly as possible.  Going 20 mph, every millimeter of our bodies was getting pelted by rain.  I have a video of us while this is happening that I would love to show you, but unfortunately I can’t upload it to this blog due to not having the upgrade to do so… but you can imagine it.

Anyways, that’s not why I came to phone/laptop screen today.  When I first arrived at the cabin Friday afternoon, it was raining lightly.  After taking my tour around the cabin, I headed down the path to the dock.  While I was down there staring at the lake, I noticed the raindrops falling on the lake with the ripples of their impacts bouncing off of each other, disturbing the stillness of the water.  And God came to me in that moment:

“My ways are not your ways, you cannot comprehend My thoughts.  I have given each drop a name, I know it’s exact size, I know it’s destination, I know how big of splash it will make and I can measure the ripple it will create.  It may seem irrelevant to you, after all, it’s just water falling into more water… but that raindrop has a purpose that I have given.  I care for it.  How much more do I care for you?”

Guys, I don’t know about you, but that changed my entire outlook on life.  God knows me, I mean, really knows me.  He knows how many breaths I will take, how many steps I will make, my inner-most thoughts, beliefs, and struggles.  He knows every failure and achievement I will ever claim, every word I will ever speak, and every minute of my life.  He cares about the birds, the grass, and the raindrops… He cares about me so much more.  He would sacrifice everything just to be with me.  I hope you find encouragement in this today and that you know that God knows you and cares for you.

Broken… a poem.

Sometimes life’s tough, and it sucks.
And it tires me out because I feel like I’m under pressure.
At a junkyard, I feel like an old set of tires.
I’m deflated like I’m under-pressured.
So, with Your gauge, engage.
Check my P.S.I. A.K.A. my tire pressure.
And I know this letter’s depressing,
But I press you to check my P.S. –
I can’t find enough energy to even sigh.
Life’s got uneven sides as if it ain’t fair.
I’m suffocating from a lack of O2 in this atmosphere.
At most, fear has got feeling I’m on Patmos, here.
I’d pat myself on the back for making it this far,
But this pawn can’t yawn with no oxygen.
I feel like I’ve been put into this stupid, little box again.
This box I’m in is pushing me to pick up gloves and box again.
I’d box a man, but then again, I’m too weak.
Circumstances been getting under my skin for the past two weeks.
And the pastor speaks about having peace,
But why don’t you preach about how to seek it?
How to speak it or how to breathe it?
I’m barely breathing,
Because the bleak one leaks into my meek soul
And it makes me weak to peek into it.
And I’m wishing that I could just get myself into wishing,
That I had enough intuition to complete my mission.
But it seems my intuition is in remission,
And it won’t come out without administrative permission.
And I forgot the password… call the hotline?
Nah, I’ll pass.  Words coming in and out of mind, but I’ve lost my grind.
Lyrics come and go, but I’ve lost the flow.
I never knew that I’d be at a new all-time low…

I can’t believe it, though.
I’ve made it to the Final Round.
Angels are cheering me on, but I’ve tuned out the sound…
We pound our fists, we’ve begun Round 10.
It’s all or nothing, I either lose or win!
But I’m losing wind, and the evil one breaks that right hook!
[Thud]  Look, I’m suffocating in sin.
The ref begins to count from 1 to 10:

One.
It’s over.  I’m done.
I lean over and pick up the gun.

Two.
I hate this life I knew.
My last prayer is only that the pain’s subdued.

Three.
I can no longer see,
What God ever thought that He saw in me.

Four.
I check the chamber,
Of this 9 millimeter as I close the door.

Five.
All my life,
I never thought this would be how I’d say, “Goodbye.”

Six.
One final gaze upon that dusty crucifix.
And I wonder what ever happened to the justice of it?

But just at Seven, I’m feeling strength.
Adrenaline beginning to flow through my veins.
I look up and I see a Holy hand.
Nah, literally.  I mean a holey hand,
To hold my hand and reach to pick my feet up and help me stand,
And help me withstand the devil’s gloves.
He whispers in my ear, “Enough’s enough.”
I was expecting Him to help me guide my fists,
But He actually stepped in front of me and died for this.
He took my hits, and fist by fist,
He cried out from this bloody mist and black abyss,
But wrath’s punches lacked a miss across this back of His…
Jesus went to bleed to save me from my own self-inflicted catastrophe.
In my past, I see the stupidity in the life I lead.
But the past I see has been forgiven and it’s in the past of me!
So, Master, please!
I’m broken so mash each piece into a masterpiece!
I was so quick to blast this piece that I forgot that my God is a God of Peace!
And I got to please and appease the God who hears my pleas!
So, God, I plead… that You make strong like Hercules.
That’s quick to listen and slow to speak, the opposite of Hermes.
At the very least, make me the very least of these least of these.
And last, but not least, make me authentic like how America used to be.
Not like a bald eagle trying to fly wearing a hairpiece.
I used to be cold and sore like I had herpes.
But then I became like that prostitute who fell to her knees.
She asked for forgiveness and a clean slate.
I used to think that my life was a mistake,
But like Charis said: “this life ain’t mine” to take.

Where Does Your Trust Lie?

Before I moved to Evansville, IN in 2014, I lived a comfortable life.  I had money, I had a good job, a good car, and absolutely fantastic credit for someone my age.  In the fall of 2014, however, I felt God pull me to Evansville.  I wasn’t sure why yet, but I was going to trust Him.

A dear friend of mine that I met was going to let me stay at his place until I could find my own crib.  All I had at the time was a duffel bag of clothes and a holey air mattress that didn’t stay inflated over the course of the night.  It was very humbling, but it would do until I could get a place to bring furniture in.  My first job here was in a distribution center, and it was by far the worst job I’ve ever had, and I’ve had some bad ones, believe me.  Within the first 2 weeks in the city, the transmission in my PT Cruiser went out, causing me to find another job, which I was fine with.  I started working at a juvenile detention center that was 2.5 miles from where I was staying.  Without a car, I had to walk there and back, and this is in the dead of winter, mind you.  It was about an hour commute there, worked a 12 hour shift, and an hour commute back every day.  It was a big pay cut from what I was making where I grew up and there were a few months that I couldn’t pay my friend rent.  In January 2015, I started a new job as a door-to-door salesman during the week and the detention center on the weekends.  Almost immediately after starting my new job, my license expired.  When I switched states, the State of Indiana required that I bring my birth certificate to get a new Indiana license.  The problem with that was that I had already been trying to get my birth certificate for years, and I still wasn’t able to get it.  So I could commute to sales job, I moved in with a friend that helped me get the job, and  I was still walking to the detention center every weekend as well.  I convinced one of my best friends at the time to move here and get a job doing sales like me, so we became roommates in March 2015.  In May 2015, I started talking to who would become my future wife, and in June 2015, my roommate and I parted ways over a discrepancy.  My new manager at the sales job would become my new roommate, and at this point, I’m struggling to pay for my bills.  The sales job wasn’t going well, but I couldn’t leave without getting my I.D. first… so I was stuck.  It was so bad that we were 3 months behind on rent at one point and we were given an eviction notice multiple times.  My future wife paid over $700 for the fix on my PT Cruiser so I could get it back, just for it to be repossessed shortly afterwards.  Things were looking real rough, and there were many times that I questioned if I had made the right decision in moving here.

But then God…

I finally got my birth certificate which allowed me to get a new license, so now I was able to find a new job.  I ended going back to the juvenile detention center full-time in January 2016 until God opened another door for me.  Sometime in the spring of 2016, I was given a free car by some family, that opened the door for me to get a job anywhere in the city.  In the fall of 2016, I started a job at Blue Beacon Truck Wash, and within my first four months, I was promoted four times.  In March 2017, I married my best friend and we began our life together, and in December 2017, I left my supervisor job at Blue Beacon to start a career at OneMain.  In February 2018, my baby daughter was born.

Philippians 4:6 says, “Don’t worry about anything, instead, pray about everything.  Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all He has done.”

I have needed to remind myself of this verse and remember where God has brought me from multiple times in the past few years, and today is definitely one of those days.  There are some things happening at the moment that, honestly, have broken me all the way down this morning.  I found myself overwhelmed at my desk in tears.  It’s imperative to recall the blessings that God has given you in the past to have hope for what He will do in the future.

“Don’t worry about anything…” – This literally means anything.  When you have God on your side, there is nothing to stress about and there shouldn’t be anything to fear.

“…instead, pray about everything.” – Go to God directly with your fears.  He loves to listen to His children and longs to help them.

“Tell God what you need…” – Let God know what it is that you are in need of.  God may not always answer in the manner and timing that you think He should, but He loves to listen to our requests.

“…and thank Him for all He has done.” – It’s not enough to just ask God for things that you need, you must also thank Him for the needs that He has already provided for.

Fatherhood? Yes, please.

Dead asleep.
1:30 a.m..
Introduce crying baby.
Wife irritated.
Baby finally falls back asleep.
Repeat in 2 hours.
My life the past 2 weeks.

Our daughter is 4 days away from being 7 months old… just typing that is blowing my mind.  7 months since my life changed forever.  7 months since my beautiful baby girl was brought into this world by the grace of God.  7 months since I became a father.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be a father.  Since I’ve been in my early teens, I’ve been counseling and teaching children; and as I’ve grown, I’ve been able to do the same for teens and young adults, even some grown men at times.  Because of this, I’ve always had an attachment to children.
So innocent…
So energetic…
So transparent…
So curious…

Maybe it’s because they are what I long to be: innocent, energetic, transparent, and curious.  Jesus speaks about children in a very interesting passage.  Matthew recalls a conversation that Jesus had with his disciples.   This conversation that begins Chapter 18 is right after a conversation that Jesus had about paying the Temple tax.  So, Jesus has Peter off to the lake to catch a fish that has a silver coin inside that will be enough to pay taxes for the both of them.  It doesn’t say exactly how much has passed since this, but it says “about that time“, so it’s safe to say that Peter is still at the lake fishing when the rest of the disciples approach Jesus with a question:  “Who is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven?”

Now, if we’re going by the last conversation, they are in a house that is probably filled with the disciples and other followers of Jesus.  Every one is sitting around Jesus as he is speaking with them.  After the disciples bring this question to Jesus, I can picture Jesus smile and call for one of the children in the house to come to Him.  Jesus takes a look at the child and sits him/her down in front of Him facing the crowd of people, and says:

“I tell you the truth, unless you turn from your sins and become like little children, you will never get into the Kingdom of Heaven.  So anyone who becomes as humble as this little child is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven.  And anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf is welcoming me.“

That sounds so nice doesn’t it?  So, if I become like a child and conform to that innocence, exhibit that energy, present that kind of transparency, and possess that curiosity… then I will inherit the Kingdom of Heaven?  Jesus doesn’t stop there, however; He continues to give a warning:

“But if you cause one of these little ones who trusts in Me to fall into sin, it would be better for you to have a large millstone tied around your neck and be drowned in the depths of the sea… beware that you don’t look down on any of these little ones. For I tell you that in Heaven their angels are always in the presence of My Heavenly Father.”

This brings me to my point:  It’s not enough to just become like a child, you must also teach children correctly.  Proverbs 22:6 says: “Direct your children onto the right path, and when they are older, they will not leave it.”  I used to read this just from a parent’s point-of-view, but now I read as a Church member.  The Church is a family (check out Does Your Church Qualify as Family? blog entry) and as family, they are also responsible for the direction of the child, which is why baby dedications are a thing.

Now, as the father of my daughter, I am most responsible in directing her onto the right path.  This can be stressful at times, to be honest.  That’s a lot of responsibility to have on someone shoulders.  It’s a blessing, don’t misunderstand me, but it’s also a job.  Even as young as she is, I still find myself thinking:
Am I doing enough?
Does she feel loved?
Is she getting what she needs?
Are we teaching her good habits?
Do I work hard enough for her?
Those fears are not from God, I know, but they are still a reality for most fathers.  It’s, honestly, a common thought pattern for most husbands as well, in regards to their wives.

So, what’s the answer?  The answer, as men, is a serious evaluation of our relationship with Jesus.  Is your relationship with Jesus where it should be?  If it is, then the overflow of that relationship will pour out in your effort, your love, your provision, your teaching, and your work, because that all comes from Him anyway.

17 years…

Patriot – “a person who vigorously supports their country and is prepared to defend it against enemies or detractors.”

Today is Patriot Day.  When you hear the word “Patriot“, you may think of soldiers that give their lives on the front line of battle.  Mel Gibson may come to mind due to the movie “The Patriot“, which also featured Heath Ledger; or you may think of the Television show titled “Patriot” starring Michael Dorman.  Perhaps you think of the New England Patriots, the notorious NFL team headed by, who many call the G.O.A.T. (not by me), Tom Brady.  But this day commemorates the specific acts of heroism performed by military personnel, first responders, and civilians during the tragedy of the World Trade Center, Pentagon, and Flight 93 attacks on September 11th, 2001.  Numerous theories about this day float across the web, but today I would rather just lift up the stories of a few of those heroes that gave their lives saving innocents from terror on that day.

Welles Remy Crowther (24 years old):  Welles was an equities trader for Sandler O’Neill and Partners located on the 104th floor of the South Tower of the World Trade Center.  He was a graduate of Boston College and played on their lacrosse team.  Due to his experience as being a volunteer firefighter, after Flight 175 crashed through the floors of 78-85, he proceeded to save 18 survivors, including carrying a woman down 17 flights of stairs to safety.  He is remembered for wearing a red bandana across his face, the same one his father gave him when he was 6 years old.  For more about his legacy, visit: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Welles_Crowther

Thomas Edward Burnett Jr. (Top-Left, 38 years old):  Tom was the C.O.O. of Thoratec Corp.
Jeremy Logan Glick (Top-Right, 31 years old):  Jeremy was a sales and marketing executive for Vividence.
Mark Kendall Bingham (Bottom-Left, 31 years old):  Mark was the founder of the public relations firm, The Bingham Group, which has since folded following his death.
Todd Morgan Beamer (Bottom-Right, 32 years old):  Todd was an account manager for Oracle Corp., and also served regularly in his Church.
These four men led the charge against the hijackers of Flight 93, ultimately leading to their passing due to the plane crashing over Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

Dave Karnes (Left):  Dave, at the time, was a former Staff Sergeant for the U.S.M.C..  He watched the events in NYC on the television at Deloitte & Touche in Wilmore, CT, where he worked as a senior accountant.  He didn’t hesitate to put on his uniform and make the drive to Ground Zero, where he met Sergeant Thomas and found Port Authority Officers William Jimeno and John McLoughlin.
Jason Thomas (Right):  Jason, at the time, was a retired Sergeant for the U.S.M.C..  He heard about the events after dropping his daughter off at his mother’s house in Long Island, NY.  After putting on his uniform that he kept in his trunk, he drove toward Ground Zero, where he later met Dave Karnes.

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I am in humble honor to share these stories.  God Bless America.

 

Does Your Church Qualify as Family?

A few days ago, my wife and I were discussing plans for my birthday that was coming up.  She said that she thought about asking the Church if we could use the building to have a little get together with family after the service that day.  Our Church has a fellowship meal on the last Sunday of every month for all of us to hang out with each other.  With my birthday being on the second-to-last Sunday of the month, I said that we should see if the Church just wants to move back their fellowship meal a week early so that our family can fellowship with them too.  And she said something along the lines of that she wanted it to be just family there to be more intimate.  Now, I know she didn’t mean anything by it, she is absolutely in love with our Church.  She was meaning that she wanted for it to be biological and extended family there for that kind of occasion, which is fine.  My initial reaction was, however, “They are our family.”

We are blessed that my wife and myself go to a Church that we are close with.  As someone, who has felt severe distance with my biological family, the Church has become my family over the years.  Not just my home Church, but rather the entire body of the Church, I consider to be my family.  Pastor Jeff is rather like Uncle Jeff in my head; and I see guys like Logan or Ryan, who both go to a different Church than me, as brothers.  When you take a look at the Church as described in the first few chapters of the book of Acts, it becomes clear what they had was so much deeper than the typical “Christian church” experience in today’s age.

“All the believers devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, and to fellowship, and to sharing in meals (including the Lord’s Supper), and to prayer. A deep sense of awe came over them all, and the apostles performed many miraculous signs and wonders.  And all the believers met together in one place and shared everything they had.  They sold their property and possessions and shared the money with those in need.  They worshiped together at the Temple each day, met in homes for the Lord’s Supper, and shared their meals with great joy and generosity, all the while praising God and enjoying the goodwill of all the people.  And each day the Lord added to their fellowship those who were being saved.” – Acts 2:42-47

According to this passage, the early Church was incredibly close, even closer than a lot of our biological families.  So, how did we get from selling all of our possessions and spending and eating everyday with each other… to the point of just sharing a few hours a week with our Church?  A lot of excuses are out there, but the Big Dog of them all is: TIME.  “We just don’t have that kind of time to do that.”  “I simply don’t have enough time to be close with other members of my Church.”  Honestly, the excuse is the same when it comes to other aspects of the Christian life.  “I don’t have enough time to read my Bible every day.”  “There’s not enough time in my day to devote to meditation and prayer.”  The problem with this excuse is that it’s not true.  The reason is clear: APATHY.  We, honestly, just simply don’t care enough to form a relationship with our Church body anymore.  Oh, we might be friends, with one or two people, but the entire body?  That’s just sounds like a lot of work.  Why is that?  Are we really that asocial?  I don’t think so.  I think the problem is that the Church has strayed away from being approachable and the idea of being comfortable with one another.  You either go to a huge mega-Church (this is not a diss track) with so many people that if you spent one night with a different member of your Church, it would take years to go through everyone… or you go to medium-sized Church, but maybe you have your group of people separated from the rest of the congregation… or you go to a small Church, and the idea of spending 30 minutes speaking with the Church grandmother while slowly inching from the conversation doesn’t sound appealing to you after service, so you dip out of there before she can catch you.

Being a part of a Church requires intentionality.  Not only should you want to form a relationship with your Church, you must.  This is a basic Christian principle.  When we are called “The Bride of Christ”, when did that become “The Brides of Christ”?  “Well, we’re the Bride on this side of the sanctuary,” or “We’re the real Bride of Christ.  That denomination isn’t.”  How are we supposed to show the world that what we have is amazing and needed, when we portray it as… a hobby?  There is a quote that I’m stealing (joking) because I don’t know where it comes from that says “Christianity is the worst hobby you could ever have, but it’s the most popular.”  If you aren’t close with your Church, what are you doing to change that?

Am I an Oxymoron?

It’s good to be back… I’ve been gone for a quite a while now, and to be honest… I’ve missed doing this.  I can’t stress the importance of reflecting on your life.  Looking back to your past helps you appreciate your present and prepare for the future.  The clearest moments of life and clarity for the spirit is in the midst of reflection.  It’s great for your relationship with God, as well.  In the presence of anxiety, stress, and fear, it’s amazing to look back and see all God has done for you so far.  God has always shown up and delivered what you needed because if He hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here reading this right now.  Anyways, on to my thoughts for today…

So, to help you play catch up if you were following my life before, I work at OneMain Financial as a debt collector.  Yes, you read that right: I am a CHRISTIAN debt collector.  And just like that, all of those irritating phone calls come flooding back into your mind.  “Hello, is *insert name here* there?  My name is *insert name here* with *insert company here*, and I’m calling about a personal business matter for them.”  “How could someone possibly do that job when they claim to love the Lord?”, you may be asking yourself.  I can tell you that it’s difficult.  Not just for the obvious reasons, but for some subtle ones as well.  Here I am, a college drop-out with thousands of dollars of debt that I’m not able to pay back, calling people on disability and social security asking people to pay theirs… sounds hypocritical, right?  It feels hypocritical too, at times.  Even with Scripture on my the walls of my cubicle, I feel like I’m doing something wrong.  I mean, look at Matthew, a tax collector.  Everyone hated him, except for Jesus.  When the only people you get on the phone are folks that either hang up on you or cuss you out, it’s easy to get discouraged and feel like this isn’t what God wants of me.  But I have to keep in mind that even though I know that this isn’t the most glamorous job in the world, it’s the one God has given me.  On a shelf, I have a picture frame with a white piece of paper inside, and I have written in Sharpie on the glass:

MY GOALS

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LOVE JESUS
LOVE MY FAMILY
LOVE MY FRIENDS
LOVE MY CHURCH
LOVE MY JOB

That last one gets forgotten a lot of times.  There’s only a few jobs that I’ve ever had that I have truly loved:  Youth Minister and caretaker/guard at a juvenile detention are a couple of them.  But door-to-door salesman, factory employee, supervisor at a semi-truck wash, and now I can add debt collector onto the list of jobs that aren’t naturally enjoyable.  But it’s important to learn to love your job if it doesn’t come natural to you.  Some jobs are easy to love, but some take some time and a lot of patience.  It’s not just better to love your job, it’s actually Godly.  God has given you the job that you have to provide for yourself and your (future) family, and we’re called to be a good steward of it.  I hope you find encouragement in this today and every day that you need it.  When you feel down about your job, just know that there is a brother-in-Christ getting cussed out on the phone by people that owe a debt… and he loves it.

What About George Washington?

[Mr. Black and Mr. White are sitting at a coffee shop having their weekly catch-up.]

Black:  “Did you ever get your car fixed?”

White:  “Nah, I found out that it’s going to cost more to fix it than it’s worth.  I’m just going to look around for a new one.”

Black:  “Well, that stinks…  how’d you get over here today, then?”

White:  “I took a cab.”

Black:  “Why’d you do that?  You know that I would have given you a ride, if you had asked me.”

White:  “Eh, that’s okay.  I didn’t want you to go out of your way.”

Black:  “Well, I appreciate that, but we’re friends.  If we’re meeting up to hang out, I don’t mind coming to get you… especially since you’re without a car.”

White:  “Thanks, I appreciate you.  You’re a great friend.”

Black:  “Nah, I’m not great, but rather the One who is in me.”

White:  “What is that supposed to mean?”

Black:  “Well, I mean everything great about me came from the God that lives in me, and that’s Jesus.”

White:  “Man, I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but why do you have to always bring ‘God’ into everything?  Can’t you just take a compliment like a regular person?”

Black:  “How?  Like, ‘Thanks!  I am pretty great!'”

White:  “Well, no, but you could just accept it, you know?”

[Server shows up with the coffee drinks.]

Server:  Venti caffe macchiato?

Black:  “I’ll take that…”

Server:  “And… a medium black coffee?”

White:  “That’s me.  Thank you… you know, you’re a great server.”

Server:  “Thank you very much.  I hope you’re a great tipper.”

[They chuckle as the server walks away.]

White:  “See?  Did you see how she just accepted the compliment and walked away?”

Black:  “What’s your point?”

White:  “My point is, I think you make things more difficult than they need to be by involving ‘God’ into the conversation.”

Black:  “You may be right, but I could flip that point and say that you make things more difficult than they need to be by not accepting God into the conversation.”

White:   “Look, man.  I don’t mind you believing in some higher power, but the issue is based on opinion just like these coffees here.  You like your’s a certain way and I like mine a certain way.  That’s all there is to it.”

Black:  “What do you believe in?”

White:  “I believe in certainties.  Things like facts, logic, common sense, and instinct.  Those things I can believe in because they actually exist.  I can’t believe in a book that’s thousands of years old and has been translated and interpreted so many times.  God was made up by people who didn’t know any better to give people some sort of false sense of hope.”

Black:  “Okay, let me ask you this:  What is a fact?”

White:  “Something that has or can be proven.”

Black:  “Alright, what about George Washington?”

White:  “What about him?” [chuckles]

Black:  “Like, do you believe in George Washington?”

White:  “I don’t understand the question.  I don’t believe that he’s ‘God’ or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Black:  “No, but you do believe that he was real?”

White:  [starts laughing] “Wait, are you telling me that you don’t?”

Black:  “Just answer the question.”

White:  “Yes, I believe that George Washington was real and he was the first President of the United States.”

Black:  “Okay… why?”

White:  “What do you mean, ‘why’?  There are facts that prove his existence.”

Black:  “Alright, like what?”

White:  “Man, I don’t know.  Books, documents, stuff like that.”

Black:  “What?  You mean, like textbooks?”

White:  “Yeah.”

Black:  “Do you know who wrote those textbooks?”

White:  “No, I don’t.”

Black:  “So, why do you believe them?  How do you know they didn’t make him up?  Were they actually there to see him?”

White:  “Probably not, but they have sources that they cite in their books.”

Black:  “Like what?  Have you checked out those sources yourself?”

White:  “No, I haven’t.  What’s your point?”

Black:  “Just humor me, please.  Let’s just say that those sources they cited checked out: who wrote those documents that were cited?”

White:  “I’m sure George Washington wrote some.  Probably some other people that were there to see him and experience him.  I mean, the guy was a General and a President… I’m pretty sure that someone saw him.”

Black:  “Are you pretty sure or do you know for a fact?”

White:  “I know for a fact.”

Black:  “Because you believe those guys that lived hundreds of years ago?”

White:  “Yeah.”

Black:  “Why?”

White:  “Because they were there!”

Black:  “But, how do you KNOW they were?  Because they said so?  I can write down that I saw an alien from Saturn, but that doesn’t make it true, does it?”

White:  “Okay, what about signatures?  Or pictures?  I mean, being the first President would be a pretty large cover-up to keep.”

Black:  “Signatures could be easily forged, and none of those pictures are photographs but paintings.”

White:  “What’s your point, man?”

Black:  “Hypothetically, what if I told you that I believed that George Washington was made up?  That he was created to strike fear into the invading British army, and to stir up fearlessness inside of the militia of the Colonies.  So the powers that be developed this idea of a man to lead us into the Revolutionary War.  What if I said that he was a figment of our imagination?”

White:  “I would have to disagree.”

Black:  “But could you prove me wrong?”

White:  “I guess not.”

Black:  “So what used to be a fact to you… might not be after all?”

White:  “Yeah, but George Washington as opposed to ‘God’?  A man as opposed to a celestial being that created everything?  There’s no comparison.”

Black:  “It doesn’t matter.  Whether you admit this or not, you have to believe everything that you consider to be a fact.  That’s called faith.  Even though you agree that I could be right about George Washington, you still have faith that I am wrong.  Hundreds of years ago, people saw a Man that could do miracles.  They saw a Man that talked about loving each other and serving one another.  They saw a Man that was crucified and risen from the grave three days later, and they wrote about Him.  And a lot of people didn’t have to wait 2000 years to choose to disbelieve, they did it right then, right there.  A lot of those people that witnessed God were tortured and executed because of Him.  Because they refused to say that He wasn’t real.  All I’m saying is, I’ve seen God.  Felt Him.  Experienced Him.  Witnessed Him at work.  He is real… just as much as George Washington.  I can see the effect of God’s presence just like you can see the effect that Ol’ Georgie has had on this country.  The question is: what is preventing you from believing?”

White:  “…”

Black:  “I’m sorry, man.  I don’t mean to throw this on you.  The reason I constantly bring God into the conversation is because He’s already there, you just haven’t noticed.  And I know what He can do in your life.  Let me put it like this: how can you explain what sight is to a blind man?”

White:  “You can’t, because there aren’t words to describe it.”

Black:  “Exactly.  The truth is… you’re blind, but I know a doctor who can give you sight.  Here’s the catch: you have to believe He’s there first.”

[Mr. White inhales deeply, then exhales.]

White:  “…I don’t know, man.  That’s a lot to chew on.  I think I’m ready for that ride home, if you’re still offering?”

Black:  “Of course, I am.  I love you, man.  You’re my best friend, and I only wish the best for you.  Make sure you leave her a ‘great’ tip.”

[They chuckle as they get up from their seats.]

White:  “That ought to be enough.”

[Mr. Black writes something on a napkin.]

White:  “What did you write down?” [As they walk out of the restaurant.]

Black:  “God bless.”