drivel

I have shoveled no snow in 5 years this coming April.  Winters in the Huntsville, AL area pretty easy, like a cold summer in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  Ya might get snow…  On the flipside, we were jolted out of REM cycle very early to tornado warnings going off on our phones.  I turned over and went back to sleep.  Beth, I guess, huddled under the covers waiting for that ominous whooshing train sound…  I’m having my second cup of coffee at 0700 feeling rested and looking out serenely through the picture window in our breakfast nook, writing drivel.  Beth is sprawled under disheveled bedding trying to locate the rest that eluded her in the wee small hours.   In a short while she will detangle her limbs and extract herself from bed, walk into the kitchen where I am, and this bubble of silent serenity will be broken.  Maybe we’ll eat something, she will shower, then we’ll quarrel about going to church. 

As this was the week of Valentine’s Day, which I slightly, but grudgingly acknowledge as a real holiday, I discovered something share-worthy in my reading. It struck in my soul like a hammer on an anvil.  I do not hate St. Valentine, or despise his plight. But this holiday we… “celebrate”…  is not about St. Valentine.  It was hoisted onto Americans in order to incite folks to spend money on frivolity in a time of the year when things are financially tight.    Regardless, I read something that I have to call attention to, that resonates not in the superficial Valentine’s Day way, but in the most pointedly authentic Valentine-y way.  Here it is:

“I do understand that you can look into someone’s eyes and suddenly know that life would be impossible without them, know that their voice can make your heart miss a beat, and know that their company is all your happiness can ever desire, and that their absence will leave your soul alone, bereft.”

It is from a book titled The Winter King by Bernard Cornwell, written about an ancient time and story that is being buried these days by fallacious reckonings.  The romance we visage in movies-the most prominent medium of story-telling today – is a shallow, distorted, and sometimes grossly absurd kind.  This quote is written in a time when people’s lives were in a fog of danger every minute, and life was so utterly valuable because lives were treated so very cheaply.  We do not know each other like this anymore.  This quote is intended to be romantic.  But the verve of it is lost in basic human connections.  Though I am tempted to loath our time in history because of the technologies that have made living so easy (irony here-I would not be alive without these technologies), I grieve that our humanness has been so corrupted by it.  Folks do not connect with each other anymore at those deep soul levels-the ones marginally revealed in this quote.  It is so prevalent and easy to privately 'cancel' someone when they do absolutely nothing for you, or you for them.  It’s not even possible for that thought to exist when you would be counting on them to help bring in your crop, protect your family and livestock from wolves or raiders, or stand in a shield wall with them defending your homestead and crops, hoping you still live to harvest… 

Not so many generations ago, living had that kind of a ring to it.  Neighbors, folks down the street, people meant something, relationship had a deeper value, or perhaps, it only seems that way.  My grandparents came of age in the Great Depression, and their lives were scented with that deeper kind of tribal-ish vibe.  That is why nonsense, or what Grandpa branded “foolishness” was little tolerated.  Foolishness has now crawled into the highest offices of the land, and from our land into the deep crevices of global humanity, ripping and destroying.  And if I did not believe in the inherency of the Bible, I could see the world soon falling into a post-apocalyptic time, worse resembling those ancient, brutal times.  “Don’t know whatcha got til its gaw-wone…” -Cinderella.  From a genre of music marked by flight from anything profound, this song hit on something real, probably by accident.

Selah…

Like it’s titled:  drivel. 

wisdom

Once there was a young man who was placed in a very difficult position.  One moment his life was completely carefree with the resources to pursue any whim. The next moment he was the king of his realm. The weight of the responsibility for an entire nation was thrust upon him.  He beseeched his God, not for riches or fame or women.  His one request was that wisdom would be given him for his lifelong task.  That he asked for wisdom exhibits his habit of seeking wisdom already, for he knew the skills he would need were far out of his wheelhouse.  He became the greatest earthly king of all time with all the riches, fame, and women.  His name was Solomon.

Wisdom begins with the understanding that we are not enough to survive, let alone thrive on our own (Proverbs 1.7).  Add to that decisions we must make now!  We must ask our Creator for wisdom.  Then we must surrender to the lessons it teaches progressively.  If we make a decision that results in poor outcome, we must stop and ponder our steps, learn the lesson of it, redirect our energies and motivations, and try again.  It is a grueling process.  It is a metamorphing process.  It is a lifelong process.

The following photos are pages of wisdom that has helped me, written by my rough hand in a book my brother made for me.  As you read, ponder your steps, knowing that the steps of a righteous person are ordered by God.  As we are prone to wander, seek to live righteously-to do rightly, seek the desire to fulfill your purpose in being given this life.  We are our Creator's idea, not our own.  Wisdom is getting in line with the correct idea.  May we all find success in this year, 2025.

mary

   Dreams of life beginning flooded her sleeping hours.  A beautiful fresh face with soft head-turning curves developing in her unmistakably feminine silhouette, she was.  She was that pure, innocent, and obedient daughter on the brink of full-blown womanhood. She had the best grades holding her teachers' highest regard, and an utter joy to teach.  Her parents could not be more pleased with her.  Her neighbors had no worries leaving their children in her care.  Though of humble means and origin, all the people in the village expected only the brightest future for their blossoming native daughter.  No one was surprised when the smart and responsible Joseph, son of the wood worker Jacob, won her betrothal.  It was a fairy tale unfolding in the sight of a simple people in a location as obscure as it was inopportune.

   That the betrothal turned sour proved to the village that fairy tales were too good to be true.  Talk of indescretions began swirling at the well and the doorways of homes where the villagers spoke in hushed tones.  Joseph seemed displeased with his betrothed, whose curves seemed to be filling out and who began to glow in her countenance.  Could she be ... ?  The best and brightest among them was glowing, but there seemed to be a tarnish in it.  Folks dropped their heads and turned away from her when she went to fetch her household water from the well.  No one bid her good day as she passed through the market.  Even Joseph seemed distant as of late, his small graces and attentions waining.

   "May it be to me as you have spoken," was the only response her lips could speak when the heavenly visitor revealed to her Elohim's desire.  But did she know just how divergent her decision would make her appear to everyone?  Did she know her contented life would be so utterly disturbed by agreeing with God's idea, and partaking in the Divine plan?  

   Maybe.  Maybe she could already hear the whispers, feel the cold shoulders, the harsh assessments of good folks who could never understand the amazing truth of what was happening to her, to them, to the world, and the history of all mankind.

   Even after Joseph had decided to take her in marriage after an encounter by the same heavenly visitor, her way did not become easier or her vision of the future clearer.  

   As the months and years unfolded the unlikely family could only take one day at a time.  Through the mundane activities of daily life, they could only remain steadfast in their faith they were existing both in the common life they had always known and in the celestial domension of eternity.  

Mary believed, even when she did not understand or have any promise of understanding.  She lived, tended her family, and pondered all these amazing affirmations in her heart.           God did not stop evil men from doing evil.  But He let the unlikely family know they had to run for their lives to live for some years in a strange land.  God did not overtly tell His chosen people the Messiah had come.  But a twelve year old boy astounded the teachers of the law and pharisees in the temple courts by His astute assessment of the law and current events while his parents frantically searched for Him.  And in those years silent to history,  Mary watched her oldest son grow in the grace of God and in favor with men.  She watched as Joseph worked and taught the boy the family business.  She watched as He became as she once was, favored, before that fateful visit, and perhaps could not understand how his body could be pierced, or how a sword would pierce her own heart.

   She did not understand.  But she believed.  And she reported to her cousin, Elizabeth: 

   “Oh, how my soul praises the Lord. How my spirit rejoices in God my Savior!  For he took notice of his lowly servant girl, and from now on all generations will call me blessed.  For the Mighty One is holy, and he has done great things for me. He shows mercy from generation to generation to all who fear him. His mighty arm has done tremendous things! He has scattered the proud and haughty ones. He has brought down princes from their thrones and exalted the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away with empty hands.  He has helped his servant Israel and remembered to be merciful.  For he made this promise to our ancestors, to Abraham and his children forever.”  Luke 1:46-55 NLT

 

 

Do Something

 

Operation Appalachian Compassion 

Saturday, September 28th, 2024 – I woke up Saturday morning, had my coffee, did some reading, and perused the news.  I began seeing videos of the devastation that had taken place as a result of Hurricane Helene.   The images were shocking, and it rocked me to the core.  Most of what I was seeing came from the mountains in North Carolina, some were my old haunts.  I was born in North Wilkesboro, NC and I have family around that area that were cutoff as many others were because of washed out roads and bridges.  I vacationed at Cherokee as an adolescent, went to youth Camp in Whittier, learned to ski at Beech Mountain.  I have floated those rivers, hiked those trails, wandered those mountains and valleys, rivers, and streams, and they are as much a part of who I am as the branches on my family tree.  I saw houses floating down rivers or smashed at the bottom of steep slopes.  I saw the utter loss and bereavement on the face of a man who couldn’t find his wife and child.  I felt that unbelievable hopelessness creeping in.  Then I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, “Whatcha gonna do?”  I didn’t know, but I had to do something, and I had to do it quickly.

Being raised in a Pentecostal denomination, I both greatly appreciate it and am annoyed by it.  I have never fit in that organized, starched, pressed, folded, and complicated institution we call the Church today.  My religion is more St. James-y, and it is because of the 2^nd Chapter of Acts.  You believe in God? (This is me talking to myself.)  You have had a supernatural Holy Ghost experience?  That’s great!  Now whatcha gonna do?  Faith without works…  Things I have learned:  Holy Ghost experiences are experiences and not the point.  The very beginning of the Bible teaches us how it is supposed to work.  Formless, void, darkness and the Holy Ghost takes a hover (because … no feet.) Genesis 1.  Works followed and everything we see, smell, hear, touch, taste, and that 6^th one… came into being.  And of course, everything He does is good. There must be works.  You must have that experience, and then you must do something!  The point is to become an agent through which God can show up and rescue, teach, heal, chastise, protect, soothe, restore, etc., etc.  The point is to become His idea of you so you can:

1. Be who He made you to be and

2. Do cool stuff He wants you to do.

(This is how I preach to myself.  No worries, I’ll send myself an offering if it was a good sermon.)

So, feeling that I had to do something, I thought I would procure my son’s pickup truck and fill it with stuff.  Then I thought, “that might last 20 people 2 days.”  I definitely needed something else.  I know some pastor dudes, so I thought I’d give them a call and see if we couldn’t put something together.  I called pastors from two Churches of God and one Assembly of God.  They all were compelled to send texts, emails, social media posts, etc., to engage the Saints.  And they were very engaged.  Friends, family, and coworkers were also sending gifts of money to make this mission be accomplished!  I procured a truck from the Penske company, which after learning what I planned to do with it, charged less than half what other companies were charging, one of which is a company I am employed with full time!  God already had put it on the hearts of everyone else even before I saw that first video on Saturday, the 28^th of September.

There’s more.  A few weeks before, Operation Compassion, a para-Church of God ministry for emergency relief in Cleveland, TN was seeking a space that would facilitate their operations better.  They found it.  They gather, store, and deliver donations via trucks and the information they receive from boots-on-the-ground pastors and others within the areas of need.  Weeks later, on the 29^th of September, the day me and my son, Caleb arrived at Operation Compassion, the Director of Operations, Tony Clanton, informed me that they had just obtained the use of the warehouse we delivered to, and that the other one would not have been able to facilitate all the donations from all over that were coming in.  Again, God sees around the bend of the river and goes before!  We say that it is amazing, but amazing is just God being our Good Father.

On Sunday the 29^th of September, Caleb and I drove around to the churches and loaded up all the donations.  By the time we loaded items from the 2^nd church we realized we were going to be out of room in the truck for the 3^rd church and the golf courses.  So, a brother from the 2^nd church donated his vehicle, time, and fuel to take the overflow to Operation Compassion in Cleveland, TN.  Because of this we were able to load items donated to all the churches, one coffee house here in Huntsville, AL, and two golf courses.  Once folks heard what we were doing, they piled on! 

A two-hour trip turned into a four-hour trip from Huntsville, AL to Cleveland, TN because of that infamous span on I-24 at I-59 to the I-75 junction in Chattanooga.  Once we arrived and unloaded the truck, all were amazed at the amount and variety of donated items.  People can be very thoughtful.  Looking at the mound of items donated in a very short amount of time really boosted my confidence in people, and not all of them were believers or church-goers.  And, we all spoke of the grace of our Good Father and Holy Spirit moving the hearts of so many people, and different kinds of people, to help in the hour of need. 

I hesitate posting this report because I am always checked by the Word Himself telling us not to do our “good deeds” for others to see.  But I desire to relate this small thing in order to share a real-life example of how God knows what we have need of before we even ask and lines everything up to work for His glory and the relief of His children, believers or not.  This is our Creator, our God, our King!  It is an utter joy to be a part of what He does on this earth.  And I admonish you, listen to that still small voice when it speaks.  Let your faith be engaged and act upon those nudges.  God has already gone before and is waiting on us to be and to do what He has purposed-for the good of others, and for His magnificent glory!

buried

"Unless a seed falls into the ground and dies..." Tough words. Nothing, nothing good comes easy. Being saved is easy from the pilgrim perspective. Confess with your mouth and believe in your heart. The evidence is everywhere. There is nowhere that you can look without seeing the Designer's signature. "Only a fool says in his heart there is no God." There it is. But, to go beyond that, beyond the altar of forgiveness, it takes something more. What is this seed anyway? Every person is given a gift, something that is deep inside us, that dream, that fire, that passion, that when it is tapped enables us to do more, reach further, to come into a level of living that is beyond what seems natural. This gift is given to us by the Designer and it causes us to hunger for eternal things. If we begin to engage it, it brings us into the eternal realm. Once we go there, we are forever marked, changed because of it. This gift, this seed is faith.

Much has been said and written about faith. People who talk about having faith can mean confidence in their own ability and persistance to attaining some their goal. Others' ideas about faith has to do with some mysterious afterlife, some out-of-body experience that caused them to "have faith" that life on this side is more than we make of it, more than we can see. But those are only shadows, cheap imitations of the real gift that still lies deep within each individual. "Broad is the way that leads to destruction..." 

The vast majority of us never even begin to search for it. Most of us are consumed with trying to please surface demands-measuring up to family expectations, our own expectations, or just getting by and having at least a little superficial enjoyment here and there. It is so easy to go the way of the world, not questioning, not pressing for truth or reason. Its comfortable and very deceptive. But, underneath all that self-satisfied effort and "progressive" dribble, there is the real question of life and the Answer waiting to reveal Himself.

But we keep busy, running around, doing our job, providing for our families, doing some charitable giving, going on vacation, etc. We keep the most amazing, humbling, fulfilling, audacious gift buried under a mountain of musts that never really brings us to the place where we know we have done something that matters, something with roots in the eternal.

"But narrow is the gate and straight is the way that leads to eternal life..." For those few who have dared to dig down into themselves, to find the real kind of faith and to engage it, eureka! Nirvana! All that stuff and more. It takes guts to find it. But it takes more guts to use it, because once its found, it has to be buried in a different place, a place of His choosing, not ours. And to do that, we have to be willing to bury ourselves. We have to die to our dreams and allow them to be buried along with our "old selves" like a kernel of corn dropped into the ground. We have to trust in the promise that He will make it grow and bear fruit. Which will create more seed. What to do with my seed of faith? I have to bury it.

blink

She used to tell me I'd think this way, that I would be dazed and amazed about where the time went. Blink. "Prepare for the future you want, don't just let it happen," she would say, or something like that. Blink. "When do you think you'll start having kids?" Blink. "You have 2 now, trying for a girl?" Blink. Now we do not talk very much. She was right about the time thing. I can see why parents try to live vicariously through their children. But my life is not interesting enough, nor is it one of grand influence that a parent would relish boasting about. I did not prepare for my future near as well as I could have.

I was young when youth was in the throws of death, the generation after "if it feels good, do it." That was what we were all weaned on in the '80's. Our M-TV generation accelerated the boozing, sexing, and doping, and coined the motto "whatever." "If you want to dress like a woman and wear panty-hose, man, whatever." "If you dig communism, whatever." "If you want to worship the earth and say God does not exist so you feel better about your twisted lifestyle, hey, who am I to judge? Whatever."

When I had questions, I could not find the words to ask. Once I found my words, I was convinced no one cared to listen. There is the problem in communication. I think this was the epidemic of my generation, the curse. The ones who should have engaged our questions were too busy working on the cure for the epidemic of their generation. And the ones who did listen to our questions and dared to give answers were, themselves, full of questions, thus, highly unqualified to give real answers. We took their que and modified the parts of their answers we did not like. This could be how our once God-fearing nation is being reduced to a paltry piece of what it was.

Now, phew! Time sure flies. What's that, son? You need to talk?

audit 2023

Today is the last day of this year, 2023.  It is 31*F and sunny at 0710.  I am having a cup of coffee and sponging the tranquility of this morning moment.  This is my favorite time of day, I think.  Or at least I think so at this moment.  The dew is still glistening on the roofs and ground because the sun has not risen above the tree tops on the eastern horizon.  All is quiet and still, and it is good.

Christmas has come and gone for the 53^rd time in my life.  New Year’s celebrations have mostly been a bummer because, well, either too religiousy, too drunky, or too dull.  Maybe five times in my lifetime have I experienced a joyous ringing in of the new year, and been properly motivated to face the unseen challenges of it.  But I can’t remember which years or even where it was.  This time of year feels more hollow than most.  I can remember a hundred Christmas mornings.  I have no interest in remembering New Year’s nights, rehearsals for disappointment.  Yeah, that sounds a little dark, but honestly. 

I do have New Year’s traditions, processes.  But they are all inward.  There’s the yearly audit of significant events.  There’s the yearly audit of significant triumphs, and defeats.  I feel the frost of mundanity.  “Vanity, vanity, all is vanity.”  Did I make more money?  Did I spend too much?  What increases have I?  What increases may come?  Have I been impacted by the life of another?  Have I made an impact on the life of another?  What have I created?  What have I destroyed?  What have I hated?  What or whom have I lifted?  Have I been a better husband to my wife?  Have I been a better father, son, brother, uncle, cousin, nephew?  How many times did I put my foot in my mouth? How many times did I lie (for those interested in cold, hard truth)?  What sins have I grappled with most this year?  Where have I become unfeeling?  Whom have I, perhaps unconsciously, cut off from access to me?  Who has cut access off to me?  Why?  Remedy? 

A mountain of disappoint in myself pulverizes down.  Some audits bring a glint of satisfaction, some nausea.  It all settles down, driving, pressing, pushing.  I groan under the weight of pressure trying to crush me.  Sometimes I want it to crush me.  Every year I screw up enough to deserve to be crushed entirely, and sometimes, I wish to surrender to it. Then I remember those who are counting on me.  Whatever trespasses I have committed, (and there is always more than good deeds done), I have to maintain a certain mental and spiritual stability-for them. The only shield between my immediate family and utter chaos is me.  My sins are mine, not theirs.  I must stand and fulfill my vows, my responsibilities.  I have to.  Let the mountain try to crush me.  I’m dumb like a rock.  Where sin abounds… 

The giant orb of energy does its thing to the earth.  I’m reminded that God brings sunshine and rain to the just and the unjust alike.  The sun will come out tomorrow.  It’s a reminder to my dismal auditing that there’s another Auditor Who’s reckoning is more perfect-and His mercy and grace pierces my darkness like the rays of the sun bringing warmth and energy to sleeping earth.  The standard He uses in calculating my life is not transgressions versus good deeds as it is with humankind.  It’s the Son.  When the rays of the Son break my tree line I have to respond to His mercies (withholding deserved punishment) and accept His grace (endowing unmerited favor).

Whatever your audit turns up, the only thing that matters going into this new year is the Son arising on your situation, and you receiving the energy of His life into all the areas of your yard.  Next time you sit with a cup of coffee on your front porch surveying your lawn, maybe you will think about how God blesses because of His great love for us all, and how He sent His Son to invalidate our audits.  Just as the giant orb of energy in the sky just keeps doing it’s thing, God loves simply because that’s just the way He is.  It’s what He is.  It’s Who He is.

Happy New Year.