The Story Continues…

The difficult part about getting to this phace of the story is how to finish it, for it won’t ever be finished.  The new life that began all the way back there in that jail cell on my 40th birthday will never end.  Though this earthly existance will be extinquished one day, that new life will last for an eternity.

But, in an effort to wrap up this writing and to give a status update, there is certainly no better time to type these words than in the early hours of this Christmas morning.  In the fresh moments of this 3rd post-prison Christmas, I am humbled to look back at these 782 days and to be able to trace God’s Hand moving in my life.

Upon my exodus from behind the fences of the prison, I spent a week living in an extended stay hotel in Memphis (for I simply could not bear the thought of being housed with any other person) to be close to and spend time with my boys and my brother.  A glorious week of great meals, laughter and reconnection.

And it was during that week that my interim transportation needs were met.  A great friend with a spare car handed me keys but no time-frame.  One of the huge impediments to my transition was removed in an instant and the weeks of worry about that particular situation were proven to be a complete waste of time – God was on top of things.

November 1st found me traveling to Nashville – this time on my own, with the freedom to stop and go as I saw fit – to begin a new life.  The call to the church mentioned in the last chapter resulted in an interview for a position on the maintenance and janitorial staff of the church.  The interview resulted in a job and the following morning, as I awoke in another extended-stay hotel, I was employed and another impediment and cause for worry was removed.

During my third week in the hotel, one of my fellow workers mentioned a house near him that had just come available for rent.  My boss found out and, in typical fashion, he took the proverbial bull by the horns and, in three days, I was spending my first night in a cozy little house in a small community north of Nashville.  For the first time in almost seven years, I went to bed with no shared walls, quiet so pervasive that it was a little intimidating, and an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

Praying for You

“As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you.”  Isaiah 66:13

What a priceless gift is heart-sympathy–the love of Christ manifested! It seemed to clothe her with indefinable beauty as she whispered, We’re….

Praying For You

 

This morning as I sat in church

                I was almost unaware

Of the services in progress–

                So worn was I with care.

When a precious saint beside me,

                With spirit kind and true,

Clasped my hand, and whispered,

                “We’re praying, dear, for you.”

 

Her words a balm of healing,

                Banished my despair,

And they warmed my heart within me

                As the sunlight warms the air.

I thought of the Father’s promise

                In His sacred Word so true,

“As one whom his mother comforteth,

                So will I comfort you.”

 

How often on life’s weary road

                Have I failed to take the hand

Of that struggling soul beside me,

                Showing that I understand?

May Christ’s love so melt my nature,

                All His sympathy endue,

‘Til I’ll clasp that hand and whisper,
                 I’m praying, friend, for you! “

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For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

Also, please subscribe below for weekly updates on this site.

Kindness

Written by A Prodigal January 16, 2007, from the prison cell.

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“But the Lord was with Joseph and showed him kindness….”
Genesis 39:21a

Even in the darkest days, I’ve always been able to trace God’s hand in the situation, showing His kindness to me.  Joseph was a man of integrity doing what was right even when it was unpopular or met with disapproval from those around him.

And though his integrity landed him in prison, we know that this was all part of the Divine design – a stepping stone to the palace; a proving ground for young Joseph to be taught the lessons he would need later.

May I always be such a man of integrity.  Though my past is marred, my future can be marked by God’s presence and kindness.

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For more Ponderings, click here

With Us

Written by A Prodigal, January 13, 2007.

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I will be with you. -Genesis 31:3b

Sweeter words were never spoken.  To know that God will be with us through our days and trials and journeys – as He was with Jacob – is the ultimate assurance.

He went to bed as Jacob and awoke as Israel.  He retired with two healthy hips and arose with a limp.  As Paul’s thorn, Jacob’s hip served as a reminder – not only to him but to the nation down through history – that God is God and is in control of our lives.  Every time Jacob stood, for the rest of his life, he was reminded of that night – the night he met with God.  We all have those reminders, those “bad joints”, those thorns which serve to take us back to our encounter with the Creator of the Universe.

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For more Ponderings, click here

September 11, 2002 – II

On that fateful day for America – September 11, 2001 – I was fresh out of jail and sitting at my brother’s house, thanks to some friends who bailed me out.

As my Dad wrote this letter a year later, I was back in the bowels of the county jail beginning my prison term.

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9-11!!!!

Dear Son,

I hope you are OK!  Haven’t heard from  you yet, but maybe they moved you – maybe I’ll hear something today….

This is a day of remembrance for the arrack on America.  Big ceremonies at New York and Washington.  So man killed and now we are on the brink of another war with Iraq.

I have written “Thank You” cards to your brother and sister-in-law and your aunt for their help and generosity while I was down there.  Also, a birthday card to my brother.  He’ll be 72 this Sunday.  His wife is in France with her children which has left my brother alone.  He doesn’t do well alone.  I worry about his wife flying with the nation on “high alert” for terrorist attacks.

I’m anxious to hear from you, Son.  Whenever it’s possible.  I weep day and night over you and your Mother….and your boys.

Gotta run get these cards in the mail.  I love you, Son.  No matter what!!!

Dad

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A father’s love is an amazing thing!!!!!

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For more of the Prodigal’s Mail, click here.

September 11, 2002 – I

9/11/02

Dear One,

It was good to see you again last night, but broke my heart to see you in so much pain.

On the way home, I was listening to Family Life and someone quoted this: “After you have suffered a little while, God will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.”  No reference was given, so I got my Bible out to find it and in less than three minutes there it was!  I Peter 5:10b.  Claim it for your own.  God longs to restore all good things to you, His precious child.  He will not keep you in the “fiery furnace” one minute longer than you need to be there to learn what He so longs to teach you.  Have Him search your heart and purge all the anger and bitterness out.  I’m praying with you and for you.

Keep strong and hold firm to all that you know is real.  God loves you perfectly.

Remember the three Hebrew children prayed, “We know you can, God, but even if you don’t we will still not bow down….”  He can and will in His timing and you can.

You are loved…….

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She didn’t know it when she wrote this note – had no way of knowing…..none of us did – that the “little while” would last so long.  But, in the end, I realized how perfect His timing was.  He knew – of course He did – just when all the pieces that would make up my new life would be ready to be pulled together.

And it’s a beautiful thing.  I praise Him for His “not yet”s and His “it’s time”s.

Praise His Dear Name.

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For more of the Prodigal’s Mail, click here.

September 10, 2002

September 10, 2002

Dearest One,

I have prayed for you today and have asked the Lord for His wisdom and His words to be transmitted via this letter.  One feels so helpless in any human effort to offer a ray of hope and encouragement when a loved one is going through the “dark night of the soul”.  My prayer is that you will be able to view whatever you must face with words or Joseph ringing in your ears: “Satan meant this for evil, but God means it for my good.”

Our painful experiences can reveal God to us in new ways.  God’s love doesn’t guarantee us a shelter from difficult experiences that are necessary for our spiritual growth.  Love permits pain.  We don’t want it that way, but love and delay are compatible.  When we fail somewhere along the way to trust in God, we often get ourselves in places of difficulty and impossibility.  When a thing is impossible, then we who are so prone to move things by the force of our being can say, “Lord it has to be You.  I am utterly helpless and absolutely nothing.”  At that point of complete surrender, releasing all that we are, ever have been, and ever hope to be, we can trust His love.  We can come through difficult experiences stronger in faith and hope as we learn that God is there for us in our loss and our deepest sorrow.  What we allow Christ to do in our situation makes the difference.  When we have the right priorities, God will enable us to do what needs to be done.  Ask yourself, what am I struggling with?  Whatever it may be, give it to Jesus.  Trust in His timing and His previsions.  This may require giving up dreams and aspirations, being crucified with Christ, and learning the fellowship of His suffering, but Jesus must be Lord of all or He can’t be Lord at all.  If there is even one thing we are holding as more precious than He, anything which is outside the approval of His character and His Word, then we are still that far from His being able to bless our lives with His abundance and power over evil.  He will never over-ride our will, but our will sometimes over-rides His ability to bless us.

What Goes Around, Comes Around

“But Laban said to him, “If you will allow me to say so, I have learned by divination that the LORD has blessed me because of you;”  Genesis 30:27

What goes around, comes around.  A trite little saying that is generally thrown out upon the realization that someone has gotten the best of us.  Whether in a business deal or a realtionship, in our opinion, those who do wrong by us deserve a revisitation of that wrong.  We may very well be either powerless to affect the situation or we simply choose not to resort to retaliation.  But our sense of fair play almost requires that the “comes around” follow the “going”.

And, trite though it may seem, this idea is Scriptural.  The reaping always….always….follows the sowing.  In some form or another, we harvest – sometimes unwillingly or unwittingly – the fruit of our actions.  Examples of this are seen throughout the Bible.

David sowed adultry and reaped heartache.  Solomon planted excess and reaped near insanity and loss of a kingdom.  Joseph’s brothers sowed murder and deception and reaped half a lifetime of guilt and remorse.  Jacob sowed trickery and deception only to reap in kind.

September 8, 2002

September 8, 2002

My Dear Son,

It was so good to hear your voice this morning.  You seemed so distant.  Now I feel we can be in touch.

I went to the Christian Book Store and bought several Christian novels.  I followed the rules and had the store ship them.  Then I realized that you had no Bible so I included a little one.

I hope these items will keep your mind on things of God and will provide and give hours of enjoyment.

Son, I wish you could know how much I love you.  You will someday!!

I have asked some of the prayer warriors to keep you in their prayers.  We have many in our Sunday School class.

I am putting my faith in God!!!  You are His child and He wants you to trust Him and He wants you to be with Him in the eternity.  I plan to be there!!!  You must do the same!!!

In heaven all will be wonderful – no more tears – we all have to be there!!

I love you dearly!

Mom

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Mom took great care of me during the early years of my incarceration.  When Alzheimer’s took her from me, my step-dad stepped in and carried on.  Even during the times when I was close to despair, the weekly dose of encouragement helped me through.

I was – and still am – very blessed.

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For more of the Prodigal’s Mail, click here.

September 4, 2002

This is the first of this sort of give and take.  I received another wonderful letter from my dad the very day after receiving the prior.  My response, included here, was to both of the letters.

Obviously, I wasn’t able to make a copy of this letter before I sent it from the jail.  I found this letter among my dad’s effects after his death last May.  What a shock to actually stumble across this box filled with my letters.

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September 4, 2002

Dear Son,

I hope all is well today… Oh, mercy!  I can’t bear thinking of you locked up like an animal in a cage….

I was thinking of St. Paul writing his many letters from prison that the world is reading today, including Romans 8:28.  I was thinking of the “all things” in that promise.

I think of those wonderful biscuits that your Mamaw used to make for the family.  Her children and Papaw would beg her to make them (along with tomato gravy).

I used to watch her making them.  I have thought how terrible it would have been to try to eat each ingredient by itself.  But she added all the parts and “worked them together”, then heated them at just the right temperature for just the right amount of time.  The result was amazing!!  Everyone scrambled for them (even the eggs…HA!) when she called, “Biscuits are ready – get them while they’re hot!”  I can just hear her!

Dad – Part III

The next several years were spent wandering; moving from one treatment center to the next; one hospital to the next; borrowing money from family and friends with no ability to repay.

 

At one point he was sleeping under a bridge in Nashville.  Desperate, he called one of his few remaining friends—the pastor of the small Nazarene church in Danville, Virginia, we had attended during my high school days.  Rick drove all night, picked up my father and took him back to Danville.  He housed him, fed him, gave him work, and got him help.

 

His dark years were over.  He had finally reached the bottom and made the decision that nothing was worth going through that dark tunnel again.

 

As I write this, nineteen years later, my father has enjoyed those years; sober and helping others.  Now, all these years later, he is back in the ministry, preaching the gospel, exhorting people to turn to Christ and to let Him change their lives.

 

I hate the lost years.  I hate what I saw my mother go through trying to keep my brother and me clothed and fed.  I hate that I lost those years with my father.

Dad – Part II

Years later, as a senior in high school, I was caught breaking the rules—at this point I don’t remember what I’d done—and was, as customary, sent to my room to await punishment.  On that day, however, my father turned the tables on me.  He lay across the bed and made me spank him.  I never forgot that and, for quite a few years after that, strictly adhered to the rules of the house.

 

More years passed.  Pastorates came and went.  The evangelistic field was entered and left.  My college days morphed into law school days.  Then the bomb detonated.  My father’s life of deception was exposed in an instant and nothing was ever the same again.

 

While in the midst of a revival in Kirkwood, Missouri, my father—not for the first time, I discovered later—stepped to the pulpit to preach completely intoxicated.  Feigning an illness, he excused himself and returned to his hotel room.  Unlike the other instances, however, several of those in attendance that night were physicians at and employees of a alcoholic treatment center located there.  They recognized the problem, confronted my father with their diagnosis, and graciously offered to provide treatment if he would only consent.

If They Could Speak

“Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” I Corinthians 2:9

Surely we would sense afresh the wisdom of God, and see His rainbow through our tears …

    

If They Could Speak

If those dear ones we loved and lost

Could penetrate the veil,

And speak a word of comfort

To us they loved so well;

They would bid us dry our tears,

And eagerly await

Our turn to cross that river

That leads to Heaven’s gate.

They would tell us that the dreaded death

Is but an open door

That carries us from pain and toil

To rest forevermore…

They would tell us that, could they return

Upon an angel’s wing–

They would not, for ’tis rapture there

In the Presence of the King!

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For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

Also, please subscribe below for weekly updates on this site.

Dad – Part I

SON.  BROTHER.  STUDENT.  MARINE.  PREACHER. 

 

HUSBAND.  FATHER.  DISCIPLINARIAN.  PASTOR. 

 

EVANGELIST.  ALCOHOLIC.  EX-HUSDAND.

 

 

My Father has been called many things in his life, but it wasn’t until five years ago—after years of estrangement and pain—that he really became my Dad.

 

I really do not know where to start his story—in its entirety, it would fill reams.  But some background is necessary to give you a feel for how dramatically his life has impacted mine in both negative and positive ways.

 

I always idolized my father.  He was a man’s man.  Big and strong—not the strength built up in a gym, but a natural strength.  He was born with it.  It was genetic.  I always admired that about him and wished that I had taken after him in that regard.  I, instead, inherited my body type from my mother—slender with very little natural muscle mass.  I inherited something far darker from my father—a finely honed ability to deceive.

Amanda Clarke

I have great confidence in you; I take great pride in you.  I am greatly encouraged; in all our troubles my joy knows no bounds. (II Corinthians 7:4)

 

I want you to know how much I am struggling for you…. My purpose is that they may be encouraged in heart and unified in love…  (Colossians 2:1a; 2a)

 

Earlier I introduced you to Aunt Ruth and attempted to describe the impact she has had on my life.  Amanda is my mother’s other sibling. 

 

Aunt Amanda and I have been close since my childhood.  Usually living within the same State, and her only child just two months younger than I, resulted in frequent and lengthy visits during my early years.

 

However, that is not what prompts me to include her in this story.  Her inclusion here results from a piece of common ground we share.  For a large block of each of our lives we lived out a form of religion without possessing the substance of it.

 

Each of our fathers were Nazarene ministers.  Each of us suffered disillusionment and disappointment when we realized our “perfect” earthly fathers—idolized and, in some ways, worshipped by us—were not perfect but, in fact, had feet of clay.  Each of them failed, falling victim to the attack of Satan, and left a wide swath of pain and confusion in their wake.

July 30, 2002

My precious mother passed away December 22, 2008.  The awful disease with which she suffered for so long finally claimed her life.  In many ways those of us that knew her best and loved her most mourned for her long before she finally breathed her last breathe and, while we gathered with heavy hearts to pay our last respects, our sadness was more for our loss than for her passing.  You see, we all know exactly where Mom is and we have faith that we will see her again.  The only requirement is that we “stay on track.”

This letter was written to her son in jail.  Her heart was broken even as Alheimers’ stole her physical ability and mental capacity.  But though obviously affected by this disease, the message rings true and the love shows through.

I love my Mother.  And the present tense is used there on purpose, for she lives on with our mutual Savior.

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July 30, 2002

Dearest Son,

My thoughts and prayers are constantly with you.  I pray while I play the piano, I pray for you as I do my daily chores, I pray you will get your life back someday and I believe you will.  The way I look at this whole matter is that God had to bring to you your knees before He could pick you up and put you back in track.  God doesn’t waste anything.

Jack Massey – Part Two

So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall!  No temptation has seized you except what is common to man.  And God is faithful; He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear.  But when you are tempted, He will provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.  (I Corinthians 10:12-13)

 

I met John Massey in 1973, strangely, if you will remember, at about the same time as my addiction began.  Jack, Sr. was the Minister of Music serving with my father at a church in Jackson, Mississippi, and we were introduced and thrown together because of the closeness of our families—we were friends from the start.

 

Being close in age and similar backgrounds and, consequently, interests, we were inseparable.  Weekends were spent skiing around the Ross Bennett reservoir or dirt biking around the yard; fireworks in season; teen choir trips to Six Flags.  Life was good.

 

Contact was lost for several years when our family moved to Roanoke, Virginia, but we quickly caught up when our families were reunited in Pascagoula, Mississippi, in the summer of 1978.

 

I started college that fall, and Jack was finishing high school, but the summers—two of them—found us together again; working at the shipyard during the days, dating girls from Biloxi and just hanging out on the weekends.

 

Again, as my father re-entered the evangelistic field in the fall of 1980 and moved to Memphis, we lost track of each other, each involved in his own day to day life.  And so it was until December, 2003, when my father informed me that he believed Jack and his family still lived in Nashville.

Confidence

June 30, 2004 – my 44th birthday – came and went with me in a Tennessee prison.  There were no parties, no gifts, a few cards and possibly a few thoughts.  But to call it anything but dreary and depressing would be a lie.

And yet, despite the circumstances and the surroundings, there were things for which to be thankful.

In my quiet time on that day, I penned these words……………..

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If God is for us, who can be against us?” – Romans 8:31

Forty-four years ago today I was born to Bill and Gwen in Nashville, Tennessee.  They tell me it was a joyous day, though I don’t remember it.

They took me home from the hospital to the little house on Gwen Drive and began the process of raising me.  They taught me and they helped me.  They encouraged me and provided for my needs – in fact, they are still providing for my needs even today.

They loved me enough to discipline me when I deserved it and, at the proper time, allowed me to spread my wings and leave.

But today, forty-four years later, I am still the son of Bill and Gwen.

And there is nothing I can do about it!

They love me, and there’s nothing I can do about it!

They are in my corner – on my side – and, again, there’s nothing I can do about it!

Three years ago today

10,000 Page Views

This note is for those of you who have continued to view these pages and read these thoughts.  I never believed – less than a year ago – that this thing would be where it is today.

To those who have commented, thank you for your encouragement and insights.

To those who have subscribed to my feed, thank you for choosing not to merely read in anonymity, but to make yourselves known to me.  I appreciate the open support.

To those who have continued to read about this journey of mine, I hope you have been inspired and encouraged as you trace God’s hand has He has moved in and through this one life.

May God bless you all.

Frank Sullivan

If you make the Most High your dwelling place—even the Lord who is my Refuge—then no harm will befall you, and no disaster will come near your tent.  For, He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.  (Psalm 91:9-11)

 

The day I took the test to see if I was intelligent enough to serve as an aide to the Teacher’s Supervisor, my boss was to be a man for whom many adjectives have been used in description, none of which were complimentary in nature.  I’d never met the man prior to that day and would not have refused the job even if I had.  I wasn’t looking forward to the experience, though, and upon meeting the man later, I have to admit I didn’t disagree with the general consensus.

 

However, God was watching over that situation, too.  Before my first day on the job beginning the next morning, a substitution had been made and Frank Sullivan introduced himself as my new boss.

 

Frank and I were, and still are, I guess, the same age.  Really, our only two differences of any consequence that I can recall were: a) he was a former Baptist minister; my background was Nazarene.  However, we both served the same Lord and the doctrinal differences never made any difference; and b) he was not incarcerated while, of course, I was.

Billy Garrison

I am sending an angel ahead of you who will protect you as you travel to the place I have prepared.”  (Exodus 23:20)

 

The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble.  Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, Lord have never forsaken those who seek you.  (Psalm 9:9-10)

 

One night in May, 1997, Billy Garrison, a deputy with the Sheriff’s office in DeSoto County, Mississippi, crossed several lines.

 

The first line of the night (a night that would forever change the course of his life) was the Tennessee State line as he entered the State with a friend to attend a bachelor party.  His life was on track with his plan, and in a short two weeks his plan was to move to the Mississippi Gulf Coast and begin a new assignment as beach patrol with one of the gulf-side counties. 

 

Somewhere during that night he crossed the line between sobriety and intoxication.  This was a line he had crossed so many times in his young life that it was just a way of life; no second thought; all in the name of fun and a good time.  But tonight would be the last time…ever!

Rick McKeel – Part Two

If I am like a deaf man, who cannot hear, like a mute who cannot open his mouth; I have become like a man who does not hear, whose mouth can offer no reply.  I wait for you, O Lord; you will answer, O Lord my God.  For I said, “Do not let them gloat or exalt themselves over me when my foot slips.”  For I am about to fall, and my pain is ever with me.  Many are those who are my vigorous enemies; those who hate me without reason are numerous.  Those who repay my good with evil slander me when I pursue what is good.  O Lord, do not forsake me; be not far from me, O my God.  Come quickly to help me, O Lord my Savior.  (Psalm 38:13-22)

 

I met Rick McKeel during those first sixty-nine days at “201”  He was one of the four of us who had the smallest something in common during those days, and we would play cards, laugh at our mutual misery and talk about the stupid things that got us where we were.

 

He was moved out of my pod shortly before Tim bailed me out and, good intentions notwithstanding, I lost track of him.  So on October 24, 2002, fourteen months later, lying there absolutely freaking out, the very last face I expected to see in my small window was that of Rick McKeel!  He was another of God’s special angels, and was proof that even then, God was in control—not me.  I wish I had come to that conclusion sooner, but more about that later.

 

Anyway,

July 20, 2001

The days were moving so slowly.  Every minute seems a lifetime and there certainly were a lot of lifetimes.  Understandably, I was completely consumed by my own situation and problems.  They dominated my thought and prayer life.  I wondered where all my friends were.  I wondered why people weren’t being more attentive to me and my needs.

In short, I was self-absorbed and completely unable to grasp the way I had rocked everyone’s world.

A glimpse of this is seen in my mother’s letter.  Words like “constantly” and phases like “every waking moment” hit me hard and widened my vision a bit.

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July 20, 2001

Dear Dan,

I have been thinking of you every waking moment.  You are constantly in my prayers.  I have been so concerned for you.

One day I called Mrs. V. H. Lewis (the widow of Dr. V. H. Lewis – General Superintendent).  She and I had a wonderful season of prayer and since that day I have had a peace that I really needed!   Mrs. Lewis is a prayer warrior and she has agreed to keep you in her prayers.

Nothing that you can do could change my love for you.  I still have great aspirations for you.

I understand from your brother that you need some money to get things from the store in the jail.  I’m sending this for that purpose.

Love you!

Mom

P.S. Please pray and keep in touch with God!

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For more of the Prodigal’s Mail, click here.

Ruth Simmons

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and deeply loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.  Bear with one another and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another.  Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.  Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace.  And be thankful.  Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom.  (Col 3:12-16a)

 

My mother’s younger sister became my port in the storm.  You never know when your life experiences—the trials and storms through which you’ve traveled—are going to provide the tools needed to guide another through their times of trouble.

 

My Aunt Ruth is a perfect example.  After years of tumultuous marriage to my uncle, he, having found another, walked away from their marriage.  She was left to face many years of loneliness, heartache, education, and preparation which had given her a huge capacity to provide encouragement, empathy and the straight “I’ve been there and done that” talk which I needed so desperately during that period of time.

 

Upon my release from jail, I lived with my brother and his family for six weeks.  While I was so thankful for them and their hospitality, I began to feel my presence there was causing conflict in their marriage and disruption in their lives.  It was time to go.

 

Ruth, still living alone in a beautiful house situated on a lake outside Memphis, graciously took me in, gave me the downstairs master suite and fed me for ten months. 

 

From her recent letters, I feel confident she would agree that we helped each other in a symbiotic way through those months.  She provided a safe and stable home environment – a serene haven where the weekly visits with my children could occur within the terms of the court decree.  I helped with the upkeep of the property and was a companion to fill some of the lonely hours.

 

Together we ate, watched television, went to church.  We wept, laughed, prayed and rejoiced.  She advised, chastised, instructed and loved me through those days, and she will never (this side of heaven) fully comprehend how much I appreciate and love her for her help, love and sacrificial spirit.

 

She was my third angel!

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Go on to Chapter 37….

Navigate here for the Deception Home Page.

Fellowship with Him

“And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness.”

Ephesians 5: 11

 

The questionable thing is often the last stronghold of the enemy in our souls. It may be a matter of our very survival to continue to nurture its….

 

Fellowship With Him

 

“No fellowship,” dear God–not just with sin–

But all that bears not fruit for Thee alone;

How easy just to drift until we’ve grown

                Shallow, lean, and cold, and Christ within

                Is grieved with our divided love for Him!

 

How tempting now to choose the fruitless way,

The “pleasures of the world” within our gates;

The thing that’s maybe good, but satiates

                Our thinking ’til the best has fled away!

                (You warned us, God, to ever watch and pray!)

 

Thy fruit is goodness, truth, and righteousness,

Which leaves us no excuse in choice to err;

Lord, let not compromise become the subtle snare

                That robs us of the knowledge Thou dost bless-

                Outside Thy will, there is no peace or rest!

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For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

A New Holiday

Regrets
          Renewals
                    Rewards
     This shouldn’t be as difficult as it’s turning out to be. And, as opposed to the normal writing issues, the difficulty here comes not from having nothing to say but from having too much. I simply can’t include it all.
     The humbling part of all this is the realization that it was one year ago today that I was released from prison, walked out of that gate and into the arms of my three sons and my brother. In many ways it seems like an eternity. In others it seems just a blink ago.
     There are the natural regrets: a way of life lost; the disintegration of a family; disappearance of material possessions; the years wasted languishing away in the prison.
     But the focus cannot stay there for that is counterproductive and dibilitating. The focus must – and does – shift to the renewals: revived relationships with my children; work to accomplish with my mind and hands; friendships forged, both inside and out, that endure; and most vital of all, the renewal of my relationship with my Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ – without having to endure the things listed in the regret column, I wonder if I would have ever been truly free and completely His.
     And there are rewards. Even this early on I can see that the story I have been given through this time is one that has the potential to help others. My prayer is that I am able to find the channel by which I may accomplish that.
     But you’re wondering what this new holiday is. It is my personal emancipation day. It is a personal Thanksgiving – a time of remembering the past, even as painful as it is, so that the mistakes are not repeated and the renewals and rewards are not taken for granted.
     One year ago today, the stress was thick and excruciating. No home. No mode of transportation. Very few worldly possessions. No job. Very little money. Only questions and apprehension.
     Today I enjoyed a vacation day from the job where I have progressed from janitor to administrative assistant. I slept late – 8:30 compared to the normal 4:20. I drank an entire pot of freshly ground Starbucks coffee brewed in my own coffee-maker in my own kitchen. I listened to beautiful and uplifting music on my own stereo in my own living room. I had lunch with a friend. I vacuumed out my car. I shopped for groceries and am now attached to a wireless Internet account writing this entry.
     So many simple things. So many things taken for granted and unappreciated.
     Not me. Not now. Not today.
     I’m free. Free from prison. Free from sin. Free from guilt and shame. Free from hiding and secrets and the pain of living a life away from God.
     On this new holiday – one that will be spent as a time away from the norm every year – I am free and thankful.

Fellowship

“That I may know him, and the fellowship of his sufferings…” Philippians 3:10

 

Just as Earnest looked at the Great Stone Face, until unknowingly he reflected its image, so shall we become like the adorable, tender Jesus if we maintain with Him a constant …

 

Fellowship

 

Eventually there comes to all who pray–

                Who bear a burden for the souls of those in need,

And spend themselves in tears both night and day

                Before the throne, His mercy there to plead–

A greater revelation of the love of God,

A clearer comprehension of the road He trod.

 

They share His lonely vigil as Jerusalem sleeps,

                And grieve with Him for children lost in sin;

They suffer His rejection as He sadly weeps

                For wayward ones who will not enter in!

His passion was for souls until the end of time;
The sharing of His passion must be mine.

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For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

God’s Faithfulness

Do not be far from me, for trouble is near and there is no one to help.  (Psalm 22:11)

 

The faithfulness of God was evident through these days in spite of my actions, in spite of my lies and in spite of my feeble and misguided attempts to manipulate the outcome of all of this.

 

It didn’t take long for me to determine that the consequences of breaking the law outweighed any actual or perceived benefit from doing so.  It’s probably not too far from the truth that such an epiphany was reached my second night in the Shelby County jail.  I was too freaked out that first night to think about much at all. 

 

Anyway, as I said, God was faithful even during this time; time when I surely did not deserve His protection and provision.  So through the rest of this story I will introduce you to some wonderful, and, no doubt, God-sent people who entered my life just when I needed them the most.  Some are Christians—some are not.  But all were just what I needed.  Their appearance in and effect on my life can only be described as miraculous!

 

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Go on to Chapter 34….

Navigate here for the Deception Home Page.

August 10, 2001

Another sweet note from my mother to get me through another day.  At the time it certainly didn’t feel like my life was just beginning – it seemed as though all was lost and life as I knew it was over.  And that was not entirely inaccurate for the old life had been laid open for all to see and then stripped away.  What Mom knew then – and what I have since discovered to be true – is that the new life, a life of promise and fulfillment unlike anything I had ever before experienced, was, in fact, just beginning.

 

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For more of the Prodigal’s Mail, click here.

More Than Enough

            I know how it happens. It happened to me in my days before prison.  What once was good enough suddenly isn’t anymore.  The big TV is dwarfed by the really big one in the store.  The SUV that was just fine is not as big as the one in the magazine ad.  The walls of the adequate house start to close in.

The magnificent becomes mundane.  The wondrous turns worrisome.  The fabulous fades to inadequate.

It happened to a woman living in Zarapath.  The famine had reduced her resources to alarming levels.  In fact, by the time Elijah came along after his days living by the brook, she had already resigned herself to the horrible death from starvation for both her and her son.

Imagine how she must have felt – the sharp pang of the reminder of her fate – as Elijah requested something to eat.  Feel her embarrassment at having to admit what she must have perceived as her failure to adequately provide for her son.

            And her amazement at the miracle as day after day the dry flask produced oil and the empty flour sack yielded what she knew to be absent.

Now I won’t presume to speak for you, but that would have been enough for me.

Or would it have?

            That surely would have convinced me of Elijah’s standing with God and of the awesome power of the Lord.

Or would it have?

Well, you know the story.  Her son died, she blames Elijah, Elijah restores his life by the power of God and then…then she exclaims, “Now I know for sure that you are a man of God, and that the Lord truly speaks through you.” (I Kings 17:24)

Don’t be too hard on the poor old widow.  It happens to us all.  What once amazed us, bores us.  What once awed us and was given the designation of a miracle of God, loses it’s punch after it has been experienced for a while.

The job for which we prayed so long is taken for granted, or even despised, as we long for the next.  The financial blessings of yesterday are forgotten in the face of new crises.  The deliverance from that horrible situation dulls as we seek yet another deliverance.

Let’s not be this way.  Let’s not forget God’s provision we are enjoying this moment.  Let’s not let the miracles of yesterday be forgotten in light of today’s challenges.

            The God of yesterday is big enough for today and all of our tomorrows.  He sees.  He cares.  Praise Him for what He’s already done and wait patiently on His timing for the next miracle.

            He knows what you need.

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For more Ponderings, click here.

9 – 146 – 5000

Strange title for a blog entry, I know, but very significant.

Nine months ago today I was just 120 hours out of prison.  As it always seems to be with time, in some ways the time as flown by.  It has passed in a blink and I still feel that it was just so very recently that I was locked away from all I hold dear.  But the time has plodded along at it’s ordained and steady pace and God has blessed and provided in so many ways, most of which you have read about if you have visited here much at all.  So many wonderful and unbelieveable people have entered my life over the last nine months.  So many stages of transition have been experienced in the whirlwind that as become my new life.  Nine months.  Such a short time for so much to have happened.

This effort was initiated in December of 2007, and this is the 146th post made to this weblog.  And the words – so many words – have not been mine, but God’s.  The things written about and commented upon in this endeavor are things He has brought to my mind.  I am merely the conduit through whom He has chosen to speak these things.  Hopefully – and prayerfully – as I have written them and posted them, someone else has found them helpful during their dark days of confusion and despair.

Five thousand.  The pages of this weblog have been viewed five thousand times in this short time span.  To those of you who have returned again and again to read of this Prodigal’s journey into and then out of the pit, thank you.  You have encouraged me and have kept me on the task I feel God has given me.

9 – 146 – 5000.  All milestones.  All successfully negotiated hurdles.  And it continues………..

July 22, 2001

During the early days of my incarceration, shortly after I re-committed my life to the Lord and received His forgiveness, I wrote out my story.  It was in very rough form and was certainly nothing of admirable content or talent, but I felt the need to get it out.      I sent this draft to my Dad.  Of all the people in the world, he had the ability to truly empathize with me.  He had already proven his love by driving a thousand miles to pray for and hug me in those first horrific days.  He had already expressed his forgiveness as we wept and prayed that day in the visiting room of the jail.      Now he would know the whole story – the only one so far.      I received this letter in return.

 

July 22, 2001 My Dear Son,      I received the manuscript late Wednesday eve… What a story!  And what courage it took to write it!  No greater relief than to get totally honest – with yourself – others and God!  I, too, have been down every rocky, dead-end road and am acquainted with total failure and shipwreck.      I’m sure my reaction to this is much different than your mother’s.  I have thought of her through this and can only imagine her shock.  I have prayed for her and Jerry everyday – also the others…..  According to your brother, your wife and children seem to be holding up, but they are all suffering a pain that will not go away for the rest of their lives.      I know your feelings of isolation, desolation and desperation.  Five lockups in treatment centers and general hospitals, halfway houses, and rescue missions for periods of from 30 days to 6 months.  Six months in Rick’s church basement.  Six months in a boarding house, etc.  After staying in the Hyatts and Hiltons and Embassy Suites over the years and driving plush cars and wearing new clothes and eating the best food – what a disaster!      I felt like filthy, greasy rags on the floor of an old abandoned garage, forgotten and worthless.      But someone was there all the time.  I just didn’t know.  The Lord had me surrounded by His special instruments.  “God works in mysterious ways His wonders to perform.”      I was bottomed out in an intensive care unit in Nashville Veterans Hospital – borderline brain convulsions – tubes, wires, etc.  I kept thinking of you boys – how I had hurt and disappointed you.  My pillow was soaked with tears and I was all alone.      I started quoting the words (out loud):           “God uses best the broken things            The contrite heart – the battered wings            Of our poor selfish pride –            Ah, yes, and even scars we hide,            He blesses for His own.            If in the breaking I might be            A better vessel Lord for Thee            Then crush my stubborn will,            And all of self that lingers still;            Anoint my eyes that I may see            A vision of Your plan for me            ‘Til Thou shalt call me home.”  (one of Mother’s poems)      A nurse was standing nearby and heard me – she rushed to my side and asked me to quote those words again.  She got a piece of paper and wrote them down and exclaimed, “It’s just what I needed.”  And left the room.      I’m thankful He led me into AA with people with my problem that could identify.  God used those people and I was not alone.  Five years at the Harbor and four years teaching at the hospital enabled me to help others which helped me stay on track.   September 8th will be 11 years of freedom from that addiction that destroyed my ministry, my marriage and the trust of all who have ever known me.  I owe it all to God’s love working though people.      I’ll write you again.  I have been very sick.  I love you….always!  Always!  Always! Dad

 

He had been there and he knew.  By God’s power working through him, he had overcome his addiction and had lived to help others and further the Kingdom of God through his work.      That was my father’s prayer for me over the next seven years and was one of the last things on his mind as he died.      He is in Heaven and my prayer is now that his prayer will be answered – that I be used of God and that this ordeal through which I have come will not be in vain but be beneficial to those who need to find their way to their Savior.

Because He Lives

“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for the former things have passed away.”

Revelation 21:4

 

Jesus has made all the difference in my life! From the hour He saved my soul, He has been unfailing in His love and goodness.  In trial, He has strengthened and sustained me; in sorrow I have leaned upon His everlasting Arms to find comfort and renewal.  I am undeserving of His special care, but life would be insupportable without it. When my little day here is ended, I shall go to live with Him forever ….

 

Because He Lives

 

Because He lives, my darkest hour shall hold no terror;

                His healing balm shall soothe my keenest pain.

Beyond life’s toilsome road, I glimpse that fairer,

                Eternal City where my Lord doth reign!

 

Because He lives, my earthly cross shall be, tomorrow,

                Transmuted gold in His redemptive crown;

His Hand shall wipe away all tears of sorrow

                When I shall finally lay my burdens down!

 

Because He lives, there is no death–just parting

                At some bright crossroad ‘neath the setting sun;

Because Christ lives, eternal life imparting,

                I shall behold His Face when day is done!

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For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

Blessed Be the Name of the Lord

The words of Job are the shining example of trust in God.  Circumstances didn’t seem to matter.  His faith was not situational.  “Though He slay me, yet will I serve Him.”  Wow!  That’s amazing.

However, even despite his incredible faith, the humanness of the man had to have desperately sought and desired to know the reason behind the awful travail through which his family was asked to go.  Here was a man of God.  Prosperous, blessed and fortunate are all words that jump to mind as we read the beginning of his story.  And from all that we know, he deserved it.  A wonderful man, wholly and unreservedly committed to the Lord. Not the least uncertain from whom his bounty came.

Then disaster struck.  In the space of days his children were dead, his possessions lost and his wife gone.  And with failing health and with the ridicule of friends, he found himself homeless and alone.

But His faith never faltered.

How are you doing?

Abraham, journeying through the promised land, getting along in years, finally, as God had promised, has a precious little boy.  The boy through whom the promises of God were to be fulfilled.

Then came the day when his world fell apart.  “Sacrifice the boy to Me”, he heard God say.

“Why?” he cries.

“Trust Me,” is the only reply.

So up the mountain they go – just the two of them.  The father in him was surely dying inside.

The child in him chose to trust.

How are you doing?

Jephthat made a promise to God.  The battle was imminent and a promise was made.  From a father’s point of view – really, from anyone’s point of view – a terrible promise.

“Go before me into battle and, when I come home, the first thing out of the house will be sacrificed to You.”

Imagine the horror of seeing his daughter – his only daughter – bound out of the house, tambourine in hand, to greet her victorious father.

“Why?” he cried.

“Will you trust Me?” is the only reply.

As we read, we just know that an alternate sacrifice will be found to spare the girl.  After all, God did it for Abraham, why not for Jephthat?

You can read the story.  No alternate was provided.  The only daughter was killed.

How are you doing?

Are you in a situation you don’t understand?  Looking for – expecting – an answer from God?  A miracle of deliverance?

“Why?” you cry.

“Trust Me,” is His reply.

And you can.

Job said it.  “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.”

That could be a fatalistic statement taken alone.  But the next phrase changes it to the most amazing evidence of faith ever expressed.

“Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

Is God worthy of your trust?  Of course He is.

Will you continue to trust even when the answers don’t come and the heavens are silent?

I hope so.  It’s the only way.

His ways are higher than our ways and His thoughts are higher than our thoughts.  Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

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For more Ponderings, click here.

Footballs & Blessings

It’s a beautiful fall day.  Picture perfect even.

There is a little chill in the air.  Not much.  The climate here is always fairly mild, but a little chill is present, nevertheless.

And the excitement.  Oh, yes – excitement is there keeping the chill company.

The crowd is gathering in.  They know what to expect.  They’ve all seen it before – well, most of them have.

Two rich men are preparing to play the game.  Others have roles to play as well, but it’s the two rich men who are the center of attention.

And it’s not entirely accurate to call it a game, either.  It’s a serious business to the two rich men.  A game to some but not to them.

The two of them have been preparing for this day for a very long time.  A lifetime.  An eternity, some would say.  And they’re ready.

A hush falls on the crowd.  They all appreciate the importance of the next play.  It’s success or failure will have huge consequences.  The stakes are high and, regardless of the outcome, many people will be affected.

So here it goes….let’s listen in….

Tom:    This is it, folks.  It all comes down to this.

Chris:   You’re right, Tom.  It’s third down and fifteen from the Giant’s 29.  And, with only 25 seconds remaining, the Cowboys have got to get this first down and stop the clock in order to stay alive.

Tom:    Aikman is set.  He takes the snap and drops back into the pocket.  He’s looking downfield.  Here come the Giants.  Aikman fires.  Irving is in the end zone.

Chris:   O, my God.  Michael Irving never even looked back.  He turned at the corner of the end zone and the ball was right there.

Tom:    A picture perfect pass and a trademark finger-tip catch as Irving falls out of the end zone.

Chris:   The official is running down the sideline.  TOUCHDOWN!!!  The Cowboys have won.  The Cowboys have won the game.

Tom:    It just doesn’t get any better that that Aikman/Irving combination.

Chris:   You’re right, Tom.  That was a beautiful sight to see.

 

That game being over, you grab your remote and begin channel surfing.  Another scene grabs your attention.

It’s a beautiful fall day – well, it could have been fall..  A picture perfect day.

There is a little chill in the air.  Not much.  The climate here is always fairly mild, but a little chill is present, nevertheless.

And the excitement.  Oh, yes – excitement is there keeping the chill company.

The crowd is gathering in.  They know what to expect.  They’ve all seen it before – well, most of them have.

Two rich men are preparing to play a game.  Others have roles to play as well, but it’s the two rich men who are the center of attention on this day.  And this is definitely not a game, but there are rules that must be followed.

The two of them have been preparing for this day for a very long time.  A lifetime.  Some would say an eternity.

A hush falls on the crowd.  This is it.  The moment.  Most appreciate the importance of this play.  It’s success or failure will have eternal consequences.  The stakes are high and, regardless of the outcome, many people will be affected.

So here it goes….

Let’s listen in….

 

Rich Young Ruler:      Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?

Jesus:   Why do you call me good?  No one is good – except God alone.  You know the commandments: ‘Do not commit adultery, do not murder, do not steal, do not give false testimony, honor your father and mother’.

Rich Young Ruler:      All of these I have kept since I was a boy.

Jesus:   You still lack one thing.  Sell everything you have and give to the poor, then you will have treasure in heaven.  Then come, follow Me.

 

Scripture reports that when he heard this he became very sad, because he was a man of great wealth.

 

You can almost hear the great cloud of witnesses gasp as the play fails.  How tragic.  How utterly tragic.

Aikman launched a ball.  Christ launched a blessing.

Irving followed his instructions.  The rich young ruler did not.

Irving turned the right way and caught the ball.  The rich young ruler missed the blessing by turning the wrong way.

Aikman connected with his receiver.  Christ was unable to connect due to the exercise of the free will God has given each of us.  The blessing was there but the intended receiver was not in the right place.

One took a risk, the other elected to play it safe.

Don’t we tend to do the same thing?  We go our own way and then ask God to bless us.  And when the blessings do not come as we think they should, we get mad at God.  Blame Him for our failures and our situations.

Don’t get mad at God – follow His route.  His planned path.

The blessings are there waiting – follow His leading.  His direction.

“In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.”

Connect with Jesus – the consequences are eternal.

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This thought was written while I was in the jail in Shelby County, Tennessee.  The date was December 15, 2002, and my effort to avoid prison by being granted probation had failed.  Things were dark but the Lord was there.

Blessed be the Name of the Lord!

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For more Ponderings, click here.

With Thine Eyes

“Giving thanks unto the Father, which hath made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light: who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son: in whom we have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins.”
Colossians 1:12, 14

Even as Elisha pled for a double portion of the blessing of Elijah, may we have some infinitesimal portion of Thy Divine vision that sees….

With Thine Eyes

God grant that these poor mortal eyes of mine
Shall see beneath the shallowness and sham
Of every needy soul, and with thine eyes divine
Behold the possibilities of man:
The soul’s intrinsic value when possessed
By Thy dear Spirit, cleansing all desires,
Breathing on the heart Thy perfect rest,
Instilling holy purpose that inspires.
May I see in the unfaithful, lost, and blind
The transformation that is glorious and free,
Remembering that one simple touch of Thine
Can make the basest soul of worth to Thee!

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For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

July 4, 2001 (reprise)

On the same day my brother was typing things off his chest, our mother, in her still beautiful handwriting, spoke again from her heart.

My Heart Is Fixed

“My heart is fixed.” Psalm 108:1

We are living in a day when bloodless cults are finding easy access to men everywhere around the earth, but….

My Heart Is Fixed

I would not change this walk of faith,
For one of groping doubt;
No creed or dogma could attract
That leaves my Saviour out.
No bloodless cross could set me free,
Or satisfy my soul–
It took the Fount of Calvary
To make this sinner whole!

I want for nothing, but His smile,
His grace to meet each day
With quietness and expectancy–
He answers when I pray!
My heart is fixed, my faith unmoved
By skeptic’s mocking jeer,
For Oh, His Presence is to me
A taste of Heaven here!

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For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

All Things

“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God.” Romans 8:28

 All things! What comprehensive words! The cross that weighs so heavy; the wound that goes so deep….yes,

 All Things

All things work together for our good–
Believe this promise in the trying hour!
The bitter test may not be understood,
But faith can triumph over Satan’s power
If we but cry, “Lord, I will trust in Thee,
For surely Thou hast deemed this best for me! “

 All things work together for our good–
The broken dreams and sorrows that life brings;
The secret pain that none but God can see
May be His means to open faith’s rich springs;
And often we must suffer utter loss
To apprehend the victory of the cross!

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For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

Brakes (and Breaks)!

     The squeak coming from the front end of the car signaled the need to throw some money at a brake shop.  I purposely waited until after the first of the month so my personal coffers would have something other than the customary dust bunnies in them and I took the poor little ten year old thing to the shop.  Lifetime brakes would run me just under $200, and, while I didn’t have that kind of cash just lying around, I could always charge it and pay on it for a bit.  That was preferable to rear-ending someone when the brakes finally gave up the ghost altogether.
     Thirty minutes after dropping it off the phone rang and the service manager might as well have slugged me between the eyes for I certainly saw stars and heard train whistles when the figure of $940 rolled off his tongue.  It seemed that the car, now with just over 87,000 miles, had never – apparently – had any sort of maintenance done on the brakes.  Complete rebuild from the ground up was required.  Looks like those payments will stretch out a little further than I had originally planned.
     But, as I was lamenting the huge (for me) outlay of cash and fighting the temptation to develop a bad attitude, I was reminded, by the Holy Spirit, no doubt, of where I was now compared to this time last year.  A year ago I would have gladly paid someone to have a problem of this nature.  This was nothing.  It isn’t even a blip on the radar screen.  I have had so many breaks in the last seven months – so many evidences of God’s handiwork in my life – that I have absolutely no reason to complain or lament.
Just the fact that I have a credit card with a limit high enough to allow me to have this work done is a break in and of itself.  Not to mention the fact that within a few days, thanks to the President’s Economic Stimulus Plan, I will have $300 dollars deposited into my account – money I wasn’t counting on even a couple of months ago.
     So my focus changed and I began to count my blessings and the breaks I have been undeservedly granted, and my mind turned to the biggest break of all.  A break offered freely and with no requirement of merit of any kind.  The Break of Salvation and the road it took to get me into a mindset to grasp hold of it is the break of more than a lifetime – it’s the eternal break.
     After that, what else matters really?

His Mother

“But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.” Luke 2:19

Before Bethlehem, no religion of this world offered hope for depraved humanity. Mary couldn’t but know the human race was starving for a Redeemer and endeavoring to subsist on vain philosophies, fine arts, and pagan religions which left the race without inner peace, and victory over self and sin–because she was ….

His Mother

On that first Christmas morn
When our Saviour was born
In the stable in old Bethlehem,
Did the dear mother guess
That the Child at her breast
Would die to redeem sinful men?

Did she know that her Babe
In the crude manger laid
Would one day suffer our shame?
Did she think as she kissed
Each sweet precious fist
That men would reject His dear Name?

Could she glimpse in her mind
All the sick, lame, and blind
His divine touch so wondrously healed?
And each sin-burdened soul,
Through the ages made whole–
Were these to her heart all revealed?

Could her eyes see the Cross?
Did she reckon her loss
As she gazed on that life just begun?
Yes, I think that she knew,
And smiled, knowing, too,
When she gave to the world God’s dear Son!

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 For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

Because You Cared

“Evening and morning, and at noon will I pray and cry aloud; and He shall hear my voice.”
Psalms 55:17

Somewhere a heart had yearned for my soul; somewhere a voice had been lifted in importunate prayer! A new name was written down in heaven ….

Because You Cared

Because you cared enough for me
To travail daily in your secret place of prayer
With blinding tears, and heart poured out in agony,
I came in deep contrition to the cross, to live anew!
My sins are gone; old things have passed away
Because you cared enough to pray!

Because you cared enough for me
To plead again with unrelenting zeal
That I should know that glorious touch of blessed purity,
I came in deep contrition to the cross;
Christ reigns supreme! 
His Presence giveth victory day by day,
Because you cared enough to pray!

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For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

Gratitude or Grumbling

     I wondered how it would be.  As my out date from the Department of Corrections approached and my mind began to focus more and more on life after prison, I wondered how I would react to freedom and the accompanying stress.
     The possibilities were many, each with a blend of circumstance and dilemma, but they can all be reduced to two general categories: gratitude or grumbling.
     Would I be like Peter who, released once from the prison of brick and mortar and later from the prison of his failure, spend my life in grateful service to my God?  Or would I be more akin to the children of Egypt who weren’t out of sight good before they started in on poor Moses?
     Would I be thankful for the blessing of release and employ my God-given talents to help others – a modern-day Joseph?  Or, to pick on the poor Israelites again, would my attitude turn sour at the first setback, disappointment or difficulty?
     Well, on this day which marks the six month point of my post-prison life, I can answer that question.  Not that this is the only time this question will need to be addressed for there is a lot of life left if God allows it, but, as with the first one hundred days which was the subject of another article here, this milestone is a big one – if only to me – and I feel the need to report for the glory of God.
     My answer to the question of which side of that fence I am on is resoundingly gratitude!
     There have been – and will surely continue to be – challenges and trials as the readjustment continues.  There will probably always be a little financial stress.  There will surely always be times of loneliness for my children and the life that could have been had I not allowed the enemy of my soul to gain that foothold in my life.
     But I am, indeed, grateful.  As I stepped out of my little rented house in the country setting north of Nashville this morning at just after five to head to work, I couldn’t help but pause to give thanks for all He has done for me.  In the quiet, early morning moment, as the birds celebrated Spring and the sleepy community began to come to life, I was again humbled – as I have been many times over the past six months – by God’s love, His provision, and all that He has restored to this once-shattered life.
     I am very grateful.

Because He Came

“That he would grant unto us, that we being delivered out of the hand of our enemies might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness all the days of our LIFE.”
Luke I:74, 75

Life is fraught with beautiful value and meaning, and we are conscious that God has not deserted us, but is working that one day the forces of hell will go down to ultimate and conclusive defeat ….

Because He Came

Because He came, the stars of heaven shine more brightly
Across the troubled night of this old earth;
Though chaos reigns, and hearts fail for the future,
The Christmas chimes still herald Jesus’ birth!

Each tinkling bell assures us “God is with us, “
And naught can thwart His great eternal plan;
V{hen heaven touched earth the hour of Jesus’ coming
Eternal hope became the gift of man.

Because He came, the power of sin is broken,
His strength is ours for all life’s weary race;
Because Christ came, the Christmas bells are ringing,
And my heart sings of His redeeming grace!

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For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

Trading a Toilet Brush for a Keyboard

In 1985, as I waited in the line of candidates for the Juris Doctorate in the auditorium in the School of Law situated on the campus of University of Memphis, the possibility that I would be earning a living with a toilet brush was absolutely the farthest thing from my mind.  I had my education.  I had a good job with a prominent law firm.  I was young and the future was a bright and shining star.

But some really poor decision-making altered that future.  Stupidity changed my plans.  Sin blocked the road on which God had set my feet and the required detour was long and painful.

And, though I have been forgiven by God and restored to Him;

Will God Change His Mind – Part I

It was a terribly hot day, hotter than was normal for the region.  The old man sat in the shade of the great trees that were to be found scattered throughout the area.

His wife was also out of the sun, but was keeping herself busy in the tent.

He couldn’t really say where they came from but he was suddenly aware of the three men standing out in the heat.

“Please, gentlemen, come in out of the heat and allow me to share my provisions with you.”

They had to be hot. 

The First 100 Days

The importance of the first one hundred days of any new venture, whether it is a newly inaugurated President or Congress, the beginning of a new job, or any new plan of action and course of conduct, can be traced back to the days of the Great Depression and President Roosevelt.  Those days were days filled with uncertainty and turmoil and a new plan was needed in order for the country to survive and that new plan needed to be implemented quickly to stave off the internal strife and unrest that threatened the very fabric of our nation and its democratic form of government.

The new president entered his term of office with unmitigated zeal and unbridled enthusiasm and the first one hundred days saw a change of direction the benefits of which are still evident in society today.

This is an election year and the candidates are stumping around, rattling their respective sabers, making outlandish – and certainly, unkeepable – promises in order to secure the election.  But if you’ve paid attention in years past, those promises are rarely honored and we see, during the first one hundred days, that everything returns to business as usual.

I am so glad to be able to report that that is not the case with this life God has restored to me. 

Blow Your Horn

When you go to war in your land against the adversary who oppresses you, you shall sound an alarm with the trumpets, so that you may be remembered before the LORD your God and be saved from your enemies.  Also on your days of rejoicing, at your appointed festivals, and at the beginnings of your months, you shall blow the trumpets over your burnt offerings and over your sacrifices of well-being; they shall serve as a reminder on your behalf before the LORD your God: I am the LORD your God.  Numbers 10:9-10 

     I began playing the trumpet in 1970 – I was 10 years old.  My father bought me a horn and gave me my first “lesson” in the church fellowship hall that sat behind the parsonage where we lived.  It was a pathetic but fondly remembered affair.  Dad knew absolutely nothing about the trumpet.  A true case of the blind leading the blind.

     But just six short years later, I was firmly entrenched as the solo trumpet player in the Stage Band of my high school – a great honor and reward for many hours of ear-splitting and agonizing practice, which most would probably simply refer to as noise.

     Throughout history, trumpets have been used for all manner of purposes.  Celebration and alarm.  Commemoration of joyous events or the announcement of the entry of someone in authority or command.  In the old west, a cavalry commander could get his men to do just about anything by having a certain series of notes sounded on a trumpet.

     Of all the instruments, the trumpet is the most piercing, attention-gathering. 

One Hundred Dollars

The return trip from Memphis and my semi-monthly visit with the boys is always a bit of a bummer.

Add to that the unavoidable fact that Monday always follows Sunday which means that my normal 4 AM wakeup is waiting for me in the morning, and that, since this is the 27^th of January, payday is still a week away and there has definitely been more month than money this month, the result is only a small step above depression on the emotional scale.

As I drive up the highway toward the house, I decide, in a poorly veiled effort to delay my return to the uninhabited rooms of my home, to stop by the Post Office to check my box.  I can see the house from the parking lot.  It’s sitting over there mocking me – “Come on in….loneliness is waiting over here!”

A feeling of aloneness washes over me unlike anything I’ve experienced since those early post-release days that found me sitting in that hotel.  “How am I ever going to make it on my own?” kept running through my mind, augmenting the separation anxiety that is customary after my visits and enhancing the unsettledness that rides with me on these return trips.

So now that you have a picture of my frame of mind as I approach my mailbox, you will know that I expect very little as I turn the key and open the door.  Maybe a bill or two.  Perhaps just emptiness staring back at me.

Neither is the case. 

You see, a friend, knowing my situation and my borderline despair, had been praying.  I didn’t find this out until after the fact, but he had.  Without saying anything to anyone other than God, he had brought my situation before the throne of God and, as only God can, He answered.

As I open my box, I see a single envelope awaiting my arrival and my attention.  Without return address, with overtly disguised handwriting, it sits there.  Curious, I pick it up and open it.

I pull out two blank pieces of paper and a single One Hundred Dollar bill.  And, like I wrote after a similar experience  earlier in the month, tears fill my eyes and gratitude swells my heart.  I’m not alone.  God is providing.  Through someone, the identity of whom I may never know, He lifts my head and my spirits just when I need it the most.

Suddenly the house isn’t so mockingly empty.  Suddenly the bank account isn’t as much of a concern.  Suddenly, in the way only God can do it, my lonely heart is filled with His peace and His presence.   He will provide a way where there seems to be no way.

Christmas Eve’s eve

I have to work in this afternoon. 

Remember?  It’s to facilitate the week-long holiday.  Consequently, the eve of Christmas Eve will be spent in a manner other than what you might consider normal holiday fare. 

Monday – Christmas Eve proper – will probably be filled with last minute preparations so everything will be perfect for the boys’ arrival on Tuesday.  Grocery shopping.  Cleaning.  Making beds and doing a couple of loads of laundry. 

Again, not typical holiday stuff. But I am so thankful for the opportunity to do something other than sit on a prison bunk and wish for happier times.   The sadness of yesterday – alone in the crowded mall – has been supplanted by the deep peace of God.  I know there will be times like last night.  Seasons of remorse for my actions.  Times of regret over a life thrown away.  Periods of loneliness in the absence of my children. 

But the real condition, the situation of my heart, is one of peace.  I am free – both inside and outside.  I am thankful for all that He has provided.   Two months ago I was wondering how things would work out after I left the prison. 

What a difference two months makes. 

God’s Confluence

Do you believe in coincidence?  Luck?  Fate?  Kismet, Karma, Happenstance?

I don’t!!  God is in control and knows where we are and everything that concerns us at every moment of every day.  We are subject to His will and His way and His direction.  We can choose to yield to that will or we can spend years – or a lifetime – beating ourselves against that will.  Yielding brings peace and fulfillment.  Rebelling only causes pain and havoc here and an eternity without Him.  The choice is ours and I will have more to say about this in the days to come, but I would like to provide an example of how wonderfully God can and will work all things out for our good if we will only choose to follow Him.

On December 13^th, I was informed by my boss at the church that, if the entire crew would work on Sunday, the 23^rd, to get the facilities cleaned up from the weekend services, we would be allowed to take the entire week of Christmas off.  There was no debate among the gang and it was settled.

And when we all discovered that the time off would be with pay, the excitement began to build and I, for one, since this would be the first Christmas outside a fence in five years, was anxious to spend the holiday in Memphis, with the possibility of seeing my children at some point during that week.

If that wasn’t enough of a blessing, God moved again.  This time in the heart and schedule of an ex-wife.

On Sunday, December 16^th, I received a phone call from the mother of my boys.  She informed me that the family would be celebrating Christmas on the Eve of the day and, if I wanted and was willing to meet her halfway, I could have the boys – my precious sons – the week of Christmas!!!!

Needless to say, I DID want.  I DID meet her halfway – at Exit 108 on Interstate 40.  I DID have my sons in my home – for that’s what it is when they are there – for four glorious days and nights.

An entire week off from work – with pay – and then the boys get to come up, too?  Coincidence?  Do you really believe that?  How sad if you do.  My God is in control and orchestrated the whole thing.  Praise His dear Name.

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Where God Wants Me is a poignant PowerPoint presentation dealing with the question of Coincidence.  I don’t believe in coincidence, as you have just read.  God is in control.  Enjoy this and think about it.

Keys

It’s something I do a hundred times each day so I can’t determine why this one time made such an impression.

The church where I work stays locked up tighter than Fort Knox.  It’s a serious thing if you go through a door and fail to lock it behind you.  The mantra is, “If it has a lock, lock it.”  The boss is adamant.  We all comply.

But a ring with that many keys on it will, from time to time, become tangled.  Solution: shake it out.  Again, it’s something that I do frequently throughout the day.  No big deal.  Something that happens automatically.

But today, approaching a door, tangled keys in hand, the unique sound of the shaking of the keys took me back three months to the prison.  There, that sound was one I came to hate.  All day – every day – the guards would walk through the housing unit and shake their keys.  Something they did to annoy and aggravate.  Something that said, “I have the key and you don’t.”  Something that made us all resent them.  Something that reinforced the division and the station we endured.  All through the night the keys would sound.  It would wake me up from a dead sleep and I would wonder if they were coming to my cell for some reason.

A horrible way to live.

But today, fifty-one days after my release, I was standing on the outside of a secure door – one of many on this church campus – and realized that the locks were now there for my protection, as well as the protection of the others working with me.  I realized that I was responsible – in both a small and very big way – for the security of this facility and all those in it.

I realized that I had the keys and was again amazed and humbled by the transformation and the opportunities afforded to me.

No Coincidence

Tryouts for All-West Band were scheduled for December 8^th, in Jackson, Tennessee.

A cooperative Christmas concert was set for December 9^th, at Opryland here in Nashville.

A coincidence?  I don’t believe in them.  If you continue to read these posts and, through them, come to know me and see how God is working in my life, you will learn that I believe that God is in control and that He orchestrates the lives of men to achieve His good purpose.  Occasionally, in those very special moments in a life, He allows us to see Him at work and experience the wonder of His workings in our lives.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, then, at how the weekend turned out.

After the auditions, my precious children drove to Exit 196 on Interstate 40, which sits just west of Nashville.  I met them there and, with my youngest in the car with me and my twins following in their truck, we made our way to Greenbrier and my little house.

We quickly dumped the luggage and piled in the same vehicle and made our way farther north to the catfish restaurant in Springfield where we did the things we do the best: act silly, laugh uncontrollably, eat, and enjoy being in each others’ presence.

With stomachs full and laugh lines fresh, we returned to the house where something absolutely amazing happened.  For the first night since June 8, 2001, my children slept under my roof.  It was the best night in six years. It surpassed the preceding 2190 by far for my three wonderful boys were with me again.  And the little house finally became home.

They say home is where the heart is and last night my heart was in this little house for the first time.

It’s awfully nice to be home!

Six Weeks

December 4, 2007.  Six weeks.  In many ways it seems it’s been longer than that since I was behind the fence, but in many others – and in reality – the time is very short to be where I am today.

Six weeks ago I had no thought of what I would do for employment or how I would make a living.  I have just received my first paycheck and worked a very full day today.  Not my ideal situation but so much better than where I thought I would be at this point.

Six weeks ago I was living in a twelve by eight cell with another man and a toilet.  Today I look around my little home – for that is what it’s becoming for me – and see all my earthly belongings under one roof.  These seven little rooms are exactly ten times the square footage of my previous abode and the views, the neighbors and the quiet are so much improved.

Six weeks ago I was to a very large extent estranged from my three boys.  Not because of them but the completely untenable situation.  Today I am able to speak with one or more of them every day and can see them several times a month – and in a location and with activities of our own choosing rather than the environs and inactivity of the prison visitation gallery.

I have recently been tempted to become impatient and discouraged with the progress I have made in the re-entry process.  But for 42 days I’m feeling pretty blessed and, well, downright amazed.

The Privilege of Worship

In the quiet moments before the service begins I pause to reflect. It was such a short time ago that I was prohibited from being in a setting such as this. Longing for the peace and calm of the sanctuary in the midst of the noise and confusion of the prison, I felt at times that this day would never arrive.

Yet here I am – in the Lord’s sanctuary – preparing for worship and I am so grateful.

But it doesn’t just happen, does it?. It requires effort and purpose. It can’t be accidental. It must be intentional. After a long week of work the thought of getting out early – especially on a cold a rainy day such as this – requires a certain level of commitment. But, oh, is it ever worth it…….

Here I am. So thankful. So joy-filled. So at peace with my life. And He gets the praise.

The First Paycheck

My first post-prison paycheck was deposited on December 1, 2007.  Quite a reality check.  After working all month – after working harder than during any other time in my life – the net pay deposited into my checking account seemed paltry by comparison to my former life.  Doing the math on the matter, it is quickly determined that I am now making less than ten percent of what I used to make.  A tithe.

It occurs to me that there is a message in this.  Before June of 2001, living with all the material possessions and blessings that the world seems to covet and strive for so, I was miserable, stressed out, financially strapped and mentally exhausted.  I was slowly killing myself to maintain the lifestyle to which I and my family had become accustomed and there was little to no satisfaction in life.  The money was good – great, in fact – but the trade off was far from a bargain.  I was no good to anyone other than as a provider of a paycheck.  I was no good to God for I was living like hell and hypocrite fails to adequately describe the divergence or my actions and my thoughts.

Now, seven years later, alone, broke, living in a rented house, driving a borrowed car, working as a janitor, far from just about everyone I love, I can testify that I have never been more at peace.  Never in my life have I experienced the joy and contentment I have at this moment.

God will – and is doing so – supply all my needs according to His boundless riches in glory. For the first time in my life I can report that I want what I have and I am so grateful for all that others so generously give.

Praise His Dear Name!

Fulfilled Promises

And he believed the LORD; and the LORD reckoned it to him as righteousness.
Genesis 15:6

God is unpredictable.  His ways are higher than our ways and His thoughts light years beyond our feeble capabilities.  So, with that in mind, it should not surprise us – it is the next logical conclusion – when promises He has made to us are not fulfilled in the way we expect them to be. 

But that head knowledge rarely translates into heart acceptance, does it?  And we plan it all out and become discouraged, disheartened and disgruntled when He doesn’t agree with us.

Choosing to believe God – to view Him as the ultimate promise-keeper – in spite of circumstances and failures and setbacks is the essence – the very definition of – faith.  Without faith no man shall see God is more than a promise dealing with eternity.  It is a promise that renews itself each and every morning.  Our faith allows us to see Him move in our lives and in the lives of those around us even when by earthly standards the situation seems hopeless.

By exercising our faith, we allow God to be God in our lives, in all that that entails.  We allow Him to use us to bless others.  We allow Him to use others to bless us.  These things are not possible without faith.  That is not to imply that unless we believe God is handcuffed.  Much to the contrary.  But it does prevent His blessings and provision from being manifest in our lives.  And it hinders the fruition of the amazing plans He has in mind for each of us.

Believe in the Lord.  Have faith in Him.  And watch how He will work.

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For more Ponderings, click here

Could Life Be Any Better?

Could a day be any better?

Could I be any more grateful for my circumstances and surroundings?

Could I be any more aware of God’s working in my life?

The answer to all three has to be a resounding, “No!”

One month after the big day, and I was hyper-aware of the change in the circumstances and surroundings.  Riding around Memphis with my brother and nephew.  Breakfast at Waffle House with real stainless eating utensils, toast that had actually seen a toaster rather than just being stale bread, eggs over easy with the yolks runny just like I like it, sopping the yolk up with the toast, real Concord Grape jelly, and hashed browns made especially for me rather than mass produced by people who just didn’t care.

Our errands of the day took us next door to a Starbucks and I had to have some.  Better than even the grocery store brands, and worlds away from the instant swill I was stuck with just a month ago, each swallow was enjoyed – savored – and the awareness rushed in upon me again.

Back to the house and a hot shower and shave later and I was in the car headed to Pizza Hut to meet my boys.  As we were eating the large Pepperoni Lover’s and Ultimate Supreme pizzas with a not-so-healthy bucket full of Dr. Pepper, I reminded the guys where we were exactly one month before – eating our first meal together at the Texas Roadhouse.

After the pizzas were demolished, we ended up at Barnes & Noble and another Starbucks and comfortable chairs in a quiet atmosphere and an hour and a half disappeared as we laughed and generally acted stupid for those precious minutes.

So when the questions are asked or when someone inquires about my day…….I am so blessed.  That really sums it up.

My Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving Day 2007.  What a day.  What a milestone.  Several things come to mind as I work my way through this day.

I awoke this morning in a rented house containing very few pieces of furniture and all the ones present on loan from friends.  But unlike a month ago, I am not sharing walls, floors, ceilings and a cell with others.  Even the hotel where I slept for the first couple of weeks after my release was inferior to this lovely little house on this beautiful and open lot in this tiny and homey little town.  And I’m thankful.

I loaded up a few items and drove to Memphis.  The leaves were in full change and the scenery on the way down was spectacular.  To be free and traveling again is such a wonderful thing.  And I’m thankful.

I spend most of my off-work time alone these days.  I am often lonely and I wonder if there will ever be a significant other in my life.  But I am thankful for my situation and my freedom.

I have to remember those I have left behind.  Chris E. and Lane L. are enduring another Thanksgiving Day in Henning.  Charlie H. And Bill D. are doing the same in Nashville.  And no one understands what it’s like unless you’ve been there.  The despair and loneliness.  The feelings of utter abandonment and futility.   My heart goes out to my friends and their families.  This is the worst time of the year to be behind the fence.

I am thankful for the friends who have stuck with me through these long years.  Three men who are like brothers to me: Billy M. who has been there and has been a constant source of encouragement and inspiration.  Phil R. who has been a spiritual brother and invaluable help to me these last few years.  Eddie W. who remains so steady in spite of the turmoil of his own life.  I have never considered that he would refuse anything I asked of him.  For these men I am so very thankful.

Other friends have held on as well.  Terry K. and Janet C. and Sheila S. have prayed, encouraged and remained faithful to me as the time has passed.

My family has been incredible.  My Dad has prayed untold hours for me.  He’s had his own setbacks in life and understands better than most how the loss of everything held dear can leave you feeling helpless and alone in the world.

My Mom and Step-dad have loved and supported me in such an unbelievable and undeserved manner.  Always there to encourage and love, they have been there for me.

Aunt J. has been an invaluable source of insight and spiritual direction as well as a cherished pen pal through these years.  I am so thankful for her life, the way she has persevered in her struggles and the example she maintains for me in my spiritual walk.

My brother and his family have been so helpful, loving and encouraging.  From weekly phone calls that helped me maintain my sanity as my time grew short, to the ride from the prison on that special day, to being made welcome in their home on the weekends I am able to visit Memphis, they have gone above and beyond the call of duty and have shown me love and acceptance when I felt the least loveable and unworthy.

For all these I am thankful.

My wonderful, incredible and amazing boys exceed the hopes and dreams.  Their love, forgiveness for all the pain I have caused them and their unabashed pride in me and willingness to share me with their friends have both amazed and humbled me.  I am so very thankful for them.

As I traveled to Memphis today, I was listening to a CD by Don Henley (Inside Job) and was struck by the words, “To want what we have.  To take what we’re given with grace.”  That’s my prayer on this Thanksgiving Day.

I am so blessed.  And thankful!

A Good Hard Day

The evening of November 20^th there was a huge dinner at the church – a thank you to the leadership of the church for the service of the year and a celebration of what God accomplished through them during 2007.  Over seven hundred people were in attendance and, due to the size of the crowd, the sanctuary was chosen as the venue.

While that is said in a few words, the activity – the man hours – it took to accommodate that event was incredible.  Over six hundred chairs which are usually arranged in that room for church were moved, eighty tables arranged and close to eight hundred chairs replaced in the new format.  It was done, the room looked good and the event came off well.

Now we hit the day after and for every set up there is a tear down.  And the aftermath of an event like that borders on horrifying.  Carpets marred by spilled drink and ground in food.  Paper and utensils strewn from wall to wall.  Chairs overturned and tables disarranged.  As I stood at the back of the room this morning at a few minutes after six, I knew it would be a hard day.

And it was – but it was a good hard day.  The team pulled together, rolled up their proverbial sleeves and set about the task of restoring the place to order and a state of readiness for the services of the weekend.  Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and the day after is a free day so time was of the essence and everyone was motivated to get it done.

Then it was done and the holiday weekend began.  I was tired and filthy, and as I drove up the highway toward my little house, I took a minute to assess the current state of things.  I was alone – there was no one waiting at home with a smile, a kiss and a “how was your day.”  I was broke – the first paycheck was still over a week away and things were tight on the financial front.

And I was at peace.  My situation was so much better than just the month before that I simply could not be depressed despite the aforementioned matters.  I was free.  I was forgiven.  I was working and I had a place to call my own.  It was perfect. 

A long hot shower, taken when I wanted and for as long as I wanted, eating what I wanted when I wanted, even though it was all alone, made the day just perfect.

God’s Provision

Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. 
John 12:24

This is out of sequence and I really don’t care.  It is important and so much so that it bears immediate attention.  Besides, it’s my weblog so I get break the sequence if I choose, right?

I just finished writing the previous post dealing with the execution of the lease and the wondrous movement of the Spirit of God in my life.  Thinking I would get out for a minute to get some fresh air, I stopped by the Post Office to check the mail, only because there is really nowhere else to go and, with gas at close to three dollars a gallon, too expensive to get there even if there were.

As I stepped in front of my box and turned the key, my expectations were low.  There’s never anything in there.  Sometimes I wonder way I bother to stop in at all.

Now I know why.  It’s for moments like this when the evidence of God’s amazing and miraculous “just on time”-ness is experienced in such a vivid and overwhelming way.

My finances this month are a bit challenging.  Details aren’t the point here, but it’s the 12^th of the month and the bank account is already down to double digits.  Nineteen days till payday and I’ve been wondering……

In the box today, sitting there keeping my gas bill company, was a card from a person I watched grow up.  I was there shortly after his birth.  Probably changed a diaper or two.  Took pride in his accomplishments, usually from afar due to circumstances.  And have watched as his life has blossomed into a life of ministry to others for God.

His identity will remain undisclosed for now for I don’t believe he did this for any recognition but only out of love for me and a heart of service to God.  His note touched my heart in a way it hasn’t been touched in a while as evidenced by the sudden flow of tears blurring my vision as I read his words.  Words of confidence and faith in me at a time when that is such a rare thing.  Words of blessing and hope for the future I desperately needed at just that moment.

And a check .

The Voice of the Spirit.  The Hand of the Father.  The love and provision of the Son. 

Indeed!

Voice Of The Spirit

And it came to pass, in the fullness of His time, that on the morning of the 13^th of November, 2007, as the day dawned and I began the morning process of getting ready for work, the Spirit’s work was about to be made known.  My work schedule had been arranged to allow me to leave for the day at two o’clock and, as I pulled out of the parking lot of the church and turned right to head to what would soon be my new address, I still had no idea how heavily involved the Holy Spirit was in this one situation of life.

I firmly believe that the Father and the Son and the Spirit move in and through and among us constantly to guide and direct and correct and nurture us.  But to experience it in the fashion of this day is something extraordinary – exciting…..even humbling.

I met the property manager after work and picked up a key to the house.  The third trip from the motel to the house moving some of my belongings put me at the new place just before I was to meet the property manager and the landlord there to sign the lease so I stayed and waited.

The landlord pulled up a few minutes early and, as I walked outside to meet him, I had this sense that I had met him before – somewhere in my former life.  He was friendly, easy to talk to and had an openness that I perceived immediately.  In short, we seemed to hit it off from the jump.

After the lease signing and the general conversation, the property manager left and the two of us were alone outside when he shared his concern about me.  All day he had been plagued with uneasiness over leasing his house and forming this relationship with a felon.  He knew some of my history.  He didn’t know me and so, in the absence of information, substituted the stereotypical convict in that mental picture and put my name on it.

As he drove to the meeting that night he had prayed for God to somehow give him a peace about the matter and to speak to his spirit as to whether this should be done or not.  As he pulled into the driveway and I walked out to meet him, he was expecting long hair, tattoos, piercings, and attitude.  Of course, none of that really applied (thank goodness I had cut my hair) and he reported to me that at that moment the Spirit of God gave him the peace for which he had prayed.

The Voice of the Spirit.  The Hand of the Father.  The love and provision of the Son.  What a triple threat to have on our side.  Praise His Name.

Finding The House

My first full day in Nashville seemed to solve my housing problem.  Spending $900 per month for an extended stay motel couldn’t last long. My budget was screaming and I was tiring of the noise.  I went to see a friend from the “gated community” who owned a condominium in a town north of the city.  We had talked two years before about a possible rental situation and I would have certainly accepted his offer had the Parole Board seen fit to release me then. 

Now, two years later, the place was rented, but during our short visit, I discovered that she was behind in the rent and was on her way out.  I would soon have a place to live.  

After another week in the motel and the out lay of another $230, I found out that that was not to be.  My friend caved to a sob story and my apparent answer turned out to be the wrong answer.  

My next stop was an apartment complex down the street from my job.  I stopped in during a lunch break, made application, paid for credit and background checks, and was notified that very afternoon that I would not be invited to live in the community.  But that’s already been discussed. 

So it was back to the “cell” for the foreseeable future and, in God’s glorious timing, that future was closer than I ever dreamed. 

Today – being the 12^th of November – a co-worker told me about a small house he had seen down the street from his home.  A “For Rent” sign had just gone up over the weekend and he gave me the phone number and directions.  I figured to drive by after work and check out the situation and the surroundings. 

That wasn’t to be, either. 

My boss, the poster child for Type-A personalities, caught wind of it, knew about my need, and by 1100 we were in his truck headed to the house.  We met the property manager, made the deal, and scheduled a time for tomorrow to sign a lease. 

Questioning the goodness, providence and provision of God?  Let’s review for a moment: 

·         Instead of a one-bedroom apartment where my boys would have nowhere to sleep but the great room, there will be two bedrooms and room for my children to visit.
·         Instead of a two-story condominium, there will be everything on one floor.
·         Rather than sharing walls with others, there is now a free-standing dwelling that is all mine.
·         And, as a bonus, it turns out that I will be living in the same small town with my boss and several of my co-workers, not to mention that I will be outside of Davidson County with all that that entails. 

I’m glad God is in control of things.  His ways are truly higher. 

Handling The Blessings Of God

I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. Genesis 12:2

What a promise!  A three-fold promise to the aging man.  A great nation.  Blessings.  Fame.  What a deal.  Where do I sign up?

But before we all pile into the line that is now forming, be sure to notice the requirement at the end of the verse.  How are we to handle the blessings of God?  Are we to hoard them, wallowing in the God-given gifts or are we to pay them forward and use those gifts to bless others?

Well, given those two choices, it’s obvious, isn’t it?

One other thing, though, I want you to realize here.  For those of us past the 40 mark in our lives, it is easy to believe that we are past our prime, over the hill, ready to be put out to pasture, or some other euphemism signing a general uselessness.  Don’t subscribe to that.  That is a whisper – or possibly a shout – from the devil. 

Consider Abram.  At the ripe old age of 75 he started his journey.  At the advanced age of seven score and five, he receives the Word from the Lord that he – Abram – will become a great nation.  At three-quarters of a century, Sarai’s husband is told to expect an heir.

We are never too old to obey God or experience His blessings on our life.  Look for it.  Listen for it.  Expect it.  You’ll know when God’s finished with you.  You’ll be in heaven.

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