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.

Only the Good Things?

Written by A Prodigal, January 21, 2007

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But he said to her, “You speak as any foolish woman would speak. Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?” In all this Job did not sin with his lips. - Job 2:10

Of course, we all love presents – the good things.  It’s just the way we’re built.   As basically and continually selfish creatures, our main goal in life is to avoid the bad and grasp the good.  This is natural and, to a point, socially acceptable.

Because of this selfish nature, we tend to view God as a cosmic Santa.  We crawl up into His lap and spill our list of wants and wishes.  And occasionally He grants us these requests - perhaps not in the magnitude we desire, but He grants them just the same.  Shelter, food, love of family and friends.  He protects and provides.

But there are times when not only do we not get our wish, but something awful, traumatizing and soulfully painful comes into our lives.  We baulk and complain to the Maker of the universe that our order wasn’t properly filled.

But, as the pastor of a dear friend stated recently, “If God gave us all we ever asked for, many of us would be destroyed by our own prayers.”  Instead, we must ask with Job, “Should we only take good things from God?”  And that “good” as defined by us and our very limited perspective.  We must trust our Creator that breathed life into us to give us what we need and not always what we want.  What parent has ignored the need for medicine in favor of the ice cream requested by the child?

As parents, we know better.  Shouldn’t we assign the same ability – at the very least – to God?

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For more Ponderings, click here

God’s Instrument

Penned by A Prodigal on January 18, 2007, from a prison cell.

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And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life.  Genesis 45:5

God’s instrument.  Joy in a far away land.  Joseph was able to see the fulfillment of God’s plan and the reason for all his trouble.  He was blessed in this way.

Not all of us will be able to see and determine why we face the trials and tests that enter our lives.  But we can know, as with Joseph, that God has a plan and a purpose and will use each and every one to fulfill that plan.

There is nothing God can’t do with a surrendered life.

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For more Ponderings, click here

Prison to Palace

Written by A Prodigal from a prison cell – January 17. 2007.

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So Pharaoh said to Joseph, “Since God has shown you all this, there is no one so discerning and wise as you. You shall be over my house, and all my people shall order themselves as you command; only with regard to the throne will I be greater than you.”Genesis 41:39-40

From the prison to the palace.  God’s faithfulness and perfect timing works in a life committed to Him!

“Two years later….”  I’ve done twenty-four months in prison (more than that actually) but I deserved to be there.  Joseph didn’t!  I can’t imagine his fight to stay faithful to and focused on God in the face of such injustice and through such a lengthy internment.

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For more Ponderings, click here

The Way Out

We all desire a way out – of our situations, of our heartaches, of the pain of life.  We search for ways to dull the pain, rectify the situations and mask the heartaches.  It’s only natural that we should do this.  Discomfort always brings on a desire for change.  It’s where the change is sought that is crucial.

I read this recently in an old Preachers’ Magazine of my dad’s.  It seemed appropriate and on point so I share it here:

“Philosophy says, ‘Think your way out.’ 

Pleasure says, ‘Drink your way out.’ 

Politics says, ‘Legislate your way out.’ 

Science says, ‘ Invent your way out.’ 

Militarism says, ‘Fight your way out.’ 

The Bible says, ‘Pray your way out,’ for Jesus says, ‘I AM the Way out.’”

Thank God He made a way of escape for us.  Praise His Dear Name.

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For more Ponderings, click here

Treasure

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.  Matt 6:19-21.

We don’t think about it often – it’s an underlying assumption we tend to have here in America – but we tend to move through our lives in a bubble of perceived security. We are protected by law enforcement agencies, dead bolts and alarm companies. Doors and windows, gates and fences, bars and watchdogs give us a sense of security and safety and promote the existence of the bubble of belief that we, along with all our stuff, are safe and untouchable.

Recently, however, I joined the ranks of the owners of busted bubbles. A little over two weeks ago I returned home from work at the end of the day only to walk into a crime scene. A brick through a window and an involuntary transfer of possession of several thousand dollars worth of property had occurred and, like the window, my bubble of perceived security was shattered. Anger. Apprehension. Helplessness. Vulnerability. All these flooded my mind and heart as I surveyed the scene.

And a quandary – how could I restore my sense of security and protect my property?

Only This

“He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.”  Psalms 91: 11

 

My sight is so limited I cannot see beyond the next curve in the road, or over the next hill; so Heavenly Father, I would beseech Thee….

 

Only This

 

No favor would I ask, my God, of Thee

                But only that Thy Presence still shall lead,

And that Thy tender love o’ershadow me

                Though paths be rough and cause my feet to bleed.

 

I have no right to pray for carefree days,

                (Thy earthly life was marred with so much pain),

But by Thy grace and comfort, I can praise

                Through darkest vales, as well as sunlit plain.

 

There may await some mount of sacrifice

                Where I must put the knife to all I love;

But this I know, an angel can provide

                The offering that cometh from above!

 

There is a peace in knowing Thou dost care,

                Though all the winds of Satan ‘round me blow.

No favor then I ask but just to share

                The love of Christ that will not let me go!

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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.

Miracles

“The natural man received not the things of the spirit…”
I Corinthians 2:14

No miracles? Not to the blind of heart who still attempt to explain away the manger, and scoff at the empty tomb. Not for the self-righteous and the self-sufficient. Only the pure in heart see God; only the righteous behold His ….

Miracles

Many say the time of miracles is past–
That God is somehow limited in power today;
The Hand that guides the course of myriad worlds
No longer heals the sick, or stoops to save!
They think God’s love has changed with fleeting years;
So they languish hopeless in their sin and fears.

But Oh, they are in error to be sure.
God changes not! His power is just the same!
The blood of Christ still heals the sin-sick soul.
Transforms the life, and breaks each fettering chain.
These miracles are real to all who seek
Redemption in the fount of Calvary.

God is the same! He heals, and saves, and keeps–
I know, for He has done as much for me!

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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.

Distracted

Written by A Prodigal on August 31, 2006.

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Early this morning while in the midst of my quiet time with the Lord, an interrupting thought intruded.  About a coat, of all things – a coat recently lost to me.

It was a great coat.  Black and waist length.  Zip-out lining that doubled as a windbreaker.  Pockets everywhere and Velcro take-ups at the cuffs.  I loved that coat.  And it was taken away from me!

I can’t explain why that thought entered my mind as I was reading the end of Isaiah, but it did.  A beautiful coat lost forever.  But the coat is only the tip of the iceberg; for once the Enemy starts me down that particular road, other things cascade in my mind.  A motorcycle with the paint job I designed.  A brand new riding lawn mower – hardly used.  The beautiful acreage.

And not only material things, but my family, my church, my career.  Gone – all gone.  Taken from me for a stupid mistake.

But, in His faithfulness, as I’m careening down that wide highway of regret heading toward the only destination – depression – God provides a place to turn around.  As I open my daily devotional book to check out the thought for the day, the Scripture sears my mind: “Forgetting those things which are behind…”  And I realize how senseless it is for me to lament over those things.  They’re gone.  Worrying won’t restore them to me.  Fretting won’t bring them back.  Being depressed only ruins today – it does nothing to alter the past.

If I believe that my sins are forgiven and are lying somewhere at the bottom of His sea of forgetfulness – and I do…. 
If I believe He makes all things new – and I do…… 
If I believe that He who began a good work will be faithful to complete it – and I do….. 
Then all I must do is “reach forth unto those things which are ahead” and keep the ultimate prize in sight.

He can restore the lost things if He chooses but, regardless, I choose to press toward the mark.

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For more Ponderings, click here

Back to Prison – Part I

We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.  (II Corinthians 4:8-9)

 

Dejected?  Surely!

 

Confused?  Probably!

 

But doubting? Never!

 

Joseph maintained his faith and started over again. Those were days and weeks and months of idleness, made all the worse coming from his place of responsibility. His nights were consumed with wondering what was going to happen and why he had been removed from usefulness and productivity.  Surely he remembered the meals in Potiphar’s house (meals he had planned) as he ate the prison gruel.  Certainly, lying on the straw mat, he thought of the soft bed he so recently had had.  He probably asked God more than once why he was being punished when he had done nothing wrong.  And Potiphar’s wife?  How long before forgiveness replaced the resentment?

 

But he waited on and trusted in his God.  And God did not disappoint—God made him a success.  A successful inmate; now there is an apparent oxymoron.  But God caused the jailer to take notice of Joseph, and, before you know it, Joseph was running the jail!

Surrounded

Read 2 Chronicles 13

Any military strategist would have to agree – this battle could not be won.

The army of Judah, impressive in its own right, was overwhelmingly out-manned and out-maneuvered.  You would think four hundred thousand soldiers would be sufficient to win the day.  Any commander would feel confident – even self-sufficient – engaging the enemy with almost half a million men.

Well, you would until you arrived at the battlefield to find the opponent had two for every one of yours.  Eight hundred thousand men.  And not just in front of you, but behind you, sitting in ambush, as well.  What a sight that must have been.  How demoralizing.  Your vast army dwarfed.  Your sure victory snatched away.  What’s the use – let’s give up and go home.

That’s what we’re tempted to do, isn’t it?  The enemy shows up with its overwhelming resources and surrounds us.  They arrive with their promises and enticements and we suddenly feel weak and insignificant.  We believe it would be better to give a little ground than to be annihilated.

So we compromise.  We do give a little ground.  We drop back and try to regroup, not appreciating the slipperiness of that particular slope.  Not realizing that that was our opponent’s battle plan all along.

The 11th Son – Part I

This is a familiar story.  It’s the story of Joseph; he of the many-colored coat fame.  It is a story of a young man whose life was turned on its head for the purpose and the glory of God.

 

He was the eleventh son of the father, but the first son of the mother.  The mother was the favorite wife, so the eleventh son took first place in the father’s heart.  All the blessings, all the privileges, all the father’s love and a beautiful robe were given to the son.  And neither the doting father nor the privileged son bothered to keep quiet about it.  Always, flaunting, always dreaming, always in the face of ten brothers.

 

So envy was born in ten hearts, and that envy turned to hate.  That hate birthed a conspiracy.  No doubt you know the story of ambush, beating, slave traders and bloody robes; of a father’s grief, and the brothers’ guilt.  But God had a salvation plan; a rescue mission only God could conceive.

 

Joseph didn’t deserve the treatment his brothers gave.  Maybe he could have been a bit more discreet; could have saved the treasured coat for special occasions; could have pondered his dreams in his heart rather than broadcast them to his brothers.  But even considering all of that, he didn’t deserve to be sold, chained, enslaved, marched through the desert, probably beaten, surely deprived of water and nourishment, and placed on the block for auction.  But by all accounts, even if a bit prideful, he was a good boy, a dutiful son, and a God-fearing man.  So why did this seventeen year old have his life turned upside down in the desert that day?  Hold to that question for a moment.

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.

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.

September 3, 2002

I had only been at the jail for a week.  On August 30th, I appeared in court and began my sentence.  This was the first letter I received.  My father wrote the first of what would turn out to be a long string of letters.  And this one, just like all the ones that were to follow encouraged and calmed.  He, more than any other person in my life at that time, knew what it was like to be away from those he loved and confined to a facility.

To know that he knew, understood and cared was therapeutic.

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September 3, 2002

My Dearest Son-

     Your brother gave me the details of your lock-up. Glad you at least have a private cell. This is an answer to prayer.

I have put off writing for a day or so – just don’t know what to say – and that’s unusual for me. Ha!

If

 

“No manner of hurt was found upon him, because he believed in His God.” Daniel 6:23

 

 God “tries” us to prove us – - that we might prove Him. Only thus can we understand that inexplicable….

 

  

If

If you never were faced with the wild sea’s embrace,

And the enemy’s shout in your ears,

Would you ever “stand still” to behold with a thrill

 God’s pathway that saves from your fears?

 

  

If you never were out in the dark den of doubt,

With the lions tossing their manes,

How then could you guess God’s angel could bless

 By using miraculous chains?

    

If you never were caught in that furnace white-hot

Of suffering beyond strength to bear,

Could you quite understand how real is the Hand

And the Presence that comforts you there?

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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.

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.

Jack Massey – Part One

Be on your guard, stand firm in the faith; be men of courage.  Be strong.  Do everything in love.  (I Corinthians 16:13-14)

 

After the denial of parole in the fall of 2003, Frank used his influence to get me transferred to a minimum security facility in Nashville.  I had another two years until my next possibility for parole and I could not bear the thought of serving that time in the hyper-structured routine of West High. 

 

So, on November 7, 2003, I followed Billy, who had been gone for weeks, and rode the prison bus to Nashville to begin the next phase.

 

The benefits of the new facility were numerous and immediately observable.  The openness and freedom of movement were wonderful.  Virtually unlimited access to the weight room and exercise areas was unbelievable.  Meals were better.  The whole atmosphere seemed more relaxed.  The thought of leaving the compound during the day to work like Billy did, and maybe to make it into one of the thirty work release spots available in the whole State, outweighed the minor negative aspects of open bay living and the complete lack of privacy in the rest rooms and showers.

 

Through the fall, winter and early spring, Billy and I would work our jobs during the day and spend the evenings and weekends walking the compound’s perimeter planning the future.  He would be out in May of 2004, and, surely, sixteen months later I would make parole.

 

It was during the fall of 2003, shortly after arriving in Nashville that, at my father’s suggestion, I wrote a strange letter.

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Go on to Chapter 43…

Navigate here for the Deception Home Page.

Suddenly

In June of 2006, I was in Henning, Tennessee.  I was in prison.  I was in II Kings.  I was in despair.

Those ingredients yielded this thought.

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“…water suddenly appeared.” –II Kings 3:20

            Waiting is the most difficult part.  The waiting for something to happen.

Prison is about a lot of things – survival, boredom, inhibitions, adaptation, submission to authority, reevaluating your self-image and adjusting to the extreme downward swing of self-worth.  But, in my opinion and experience, waiting is the hardest part of it.

My prison experience has been like a ladder.  In the beginning, standing at the bottom, looking up at the top rung of freedom, the climb seems long, steep – impossible.

And on each rung there is an interminable wait required before the next rung can be realized.

After beginning my sentence, the three and a half months spent in the county jail lasted a lifetime.

Time seemed to speed up slightly after the move to the penitentiary, but the acceleration was short-lived.  A parole hearing loomed nine months away and the foolish concentration on that top rung seemed to trivialize the steps I was able to make there – a job, a small paycheck each month, and a better visitation environment.  I was waiting for parole.

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!

Watch This

I was in trouble…big trouble.  I knew – I had been in trouble before and recognized the feeling.  Like the time I had been throwing the tennis ball against the side of the house – a direct violation of the rules – and lost control of it and broke not only the living room window, the big one in the middle, but the Hummel thing that Gram had given Mom the Christmas before.

Then, to make matters worse, I lied about it and told Mom it was one of my friends that had thrown it.  I didn’t know at the time that Mom had been watching me from the bedroom.  That was trouble – I could still feel the paddle hitting my backside.

But even that didn’t compare with the beating I was about to get.  Usually the peacemaker, I would go around the block to avoid, or prevent, a fight.  But when I saw Buddy, the school bully, picking on Pete, it was more than I could take and I just had to open my big mouth.

Of course, now, staring into his eyes – up into his eyes – and seeing the hams he used as hands clinched angrily into huge fists…Buddy was in the fourth grade and the rumor was that he’d been through the fourth grade twice before.  And to my skinny, third grade – for the first time – eyes, he looked like a giant.  I suddenly knew how David felt as he confronted Goliath.  This was going to hurt.

The only thing I could think – over and over again as I stood there waiting for the pain to begin – was, “Where is the bus?”  It was late and because it was late I was about to get my clock cleaned, my bell rung.  I was about to get the taste knocked right out of my mouth.

I was acting more brave than I felt.  I WAS standing there – on the outside anyway.  On the inside I was running for all my might.

Whatever He Wants

This Pondering was penned July 24, 2005, while in a prison in Nashville, TN.  Since I wrote this – since God put this things on and in my heart – I have been able to track a little of His moving in my life and circumstances.  I am amazed and humbled that He loves me so and provides for my needs.

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Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. –Romans 8:26-27

 

 

 I was reading along in Romans – that’s where I needed to be today – I’m doing the read-through-the-Bible-in-a-year thing and that was today’s passage.  I was headed toward my favorite scripture passage – the one to which I was grasping with all my might – Romans 8:28.  You know it.  I know it.  And I’m relying heavily upon it for there has to be some good come out of this mess I have made of my life.

Well, I’m reading along and, out of the blue, this scripture, which I have read many times, jumped off the page at me.

You see, I’ve been praying one certain prayer for months…even years.  The prayer that God would act, through His great love and mercy for me, and make a way out of this prison for me.  And here, right in front of my favorite verse was a passage telling me something very disturbing.

Rick McKeel – Part Three

What then shall we say?  Is God unjust?  Not at all, for He says to Moses, “I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.”  It does not, therefore, depend on man’s desire or effort, but on God’s mercy.  For the Scripture says to Pharoah:  “I raised you up for this very purpose, that I might display my power in you and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth.”  Therefore, God has mercy on whom He wants to have mercy, and hardens whom He wants to harden.  (Romans 9:14-18)

 

Freedom wasn’t God’s will and two days after the hearing, on December 12, 2002, I returned to West High to start my life in prison.  And Rick was there.  He arranged for me to share a cell with him.  He got me a job (a big deal here due to the sentence credits awarded in exchange for menial tasks); first as the flunky who cleans up the trays after meals, and later as a library clerk. And he introduced me to the next of God’s special people.

 

I’m ashamed to report I’ve lost track of Rick.  He made parole, and the last I heard, he was living in Memphis.  I hope he reads this and knows how he positively affected my life.

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Go on to Chapter 40…

Navigate here for the Deception Home Page.

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,

Ole Bill’s Perspective – “Divine Disappointments”

Divine Disappointments often precede Divine Appointments!

Disappointments are ‘divine’ because they are the methods God uses to bring us face to face, in full surrender to the only one who is not a disappointment!  We try in our own strength to find and perform the will of God, but like Abraham going in unto the handmaiden Hagar only produced an Ishmael, which was a curse there and ever since!  Oswald Chambers reminds us of the important truth!  “Waiting on
God for His instructions, then obeying those divine orders implicitly produces the Isaacs of holy purpose in God’s grand scheme of redemption.”  Oswald Chambers underscored this great truth, “That our way is the way of the flesh and brings forth the Ishmaels’ of failure or second best, while obeying and waiting on God for the divine miracle, which truly happened in the loves of Abraham and Sarah when Isaac was born; that our God is glorified and the work of the kingdom is enriched beyond measure!”

So God lets us fall on our faces and this is ‘divine’, for it is His way of getting our absolute attention so He can really help us help others.  How many times did we fall as babies in our attempt to walk instead of crawl?  The mother eagle lets the eaglets plummet nearly to their death before breaking their fall by her powerful talons and wings.  Oh, how helpless and how powerless we feel when we have fallen short of the mark of God’s first and best plan!  Romans 8:28 kicks in which reminds us, “All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.”

God Did It!

David said, “God has burst out against my enemies by my hand,

like a bursting flood.” – I Chronicles 14:11

 

The parsonage sat on a beautiful lot in an older neighborhood of Roanoke, Virginia.  From the back yard, Mill Mountain was breathtakingly beautiful but that sight was completely ignored on that sunny afternoon.

The men of the family were all in the backyard.  Shooting basketball.  Dad and I were trying to prove to each other who was the best shot by taking the long tries from outside the hard-packed dirt where grass refused to grow.

The little guy – my younger brother, only four at the time – didn’t have the option of picking from a variety of shooting spots.  His little arms were barely strong enough to get the ball to the rim when standing directly under the basket.  But that’s where he stood and, when his turn came around, would valiantly try to immulate the grown-ups, slinging the ball up toward the rim.  Failure didn’t seem to affect his determination, but his excitement knew no bounds when, suddenly, one of his shots found the mark.

Turning toward us with the biggest grin on his cherub-like face, he proudly announced, “God did it!”

Having found the range, the next two or three attempts met with similar success and each time he would proclaim that God had made the goal, not him.

Rick McKeel – Part One

O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger or discipline me in your wrath, for your arrows have pierced me, and your hand has come down upon me.  Because of your wrath there is no health in my body; my bones have no soundness because of my sin.  My guilt has overwhelmed me like a burden too heavy to bear.  My wounds fester and are loathsome because of my sinful folly.  I am bowed down and brought very low; all day long I go about mourning.  My back is filled with searing pain; there is no health in my body.  I am feeble and utterly crushed; I groan in anguish of heart.  All my longings lie open before you, O Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you.  My heart pounds, my strength fails me; even the light has gone from my eyes.  My friends and companions avoid me because of my wounds; my neighbors stay far away.  Those who seek my life set their traps, those who would harm me talk of my ruin; all day long they plot deception.  (Psalm 38:1-12).

 

Through the fall of 2002, I sat idle in the bowels of the Shelby Country jail, more commonly referred to as 201 Poplar (or simply “201” to those unfortunate enough to have resided there.)  As I sat, I waited; waiting for the unfolding of events I was certain would result in my release.  I was looking forward to reliving the feeling of freedom I’d experienced the previous year.

 

Disgusted—downright angry—over the ineffectiveness and inattention of my attorney, I had engaged the services of another. 

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….

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Past Experience Determines Future Actions

It’s part of the human condition.  Unless there is a mental defect that causes us to ignore what has gone before, the things we experience tend to affect future decisions and actions.  We don’t touch the red-hot burner because we’ve been burned before.  We don’t speed through a certain stretch of road for we’ve been stopped there before.  We don’t take that deduction due to the audit it caused before.

And this is the way it should be – the way God intended that it should be.  The learning curve – while longer in some – is God’s way of teaching us the important lessons of life so we can avoid the pitfalls that have the potential to harm us.

But it’s interesting (at least to me) that, while we can remember not to clip that toenail too short (ouch!) or take that big swig of steaming coffee (ouch again!) or stick our tongue on the frozen flag pole (duh!), we don’t remember the faithfulness of God in the past when we’re faced with new challenges.  We are all poster children for forgetfulness and we all seem as geese and wake up in a brand new world every day, forgetting how He made a way through those deserts in our past.  We haughtily scoff at the poor children of Israel when we see them repeatedly turn from God at the advent of every new trial while we do exactly the same thing in our day to day living.

Just once I would like to be able to face down a trial and the potential for depression and despondency by pointing back to His faithfulness and deliverance and sustaining grace that have not just punctuated, but have characterized my life, especially of late.  If I stop to think about it, He has provided in such wondrous and miraculous ways through out my life.  He has protected me and the ones I love even as I was doing my best to destroy all I should have held most dear.  He was carried me through the deep waters and the long nights and has placed me in a place of safety and met all my needs when I probably deserve it the least of anyone I know.

And yet, just as the Israelite whose sandels were still dusty from the floor of the Red Sea voices his desire to return to bondage, I seem to face each new situation with dread and fear.

When will we learn?  When will I learn that He is able and willing so handle every situation and provide for every need according to His riches?  When will I realize once and for all that nothing surprises Him or catches Him off guard?  When will it sink in that He never thinks, “Man, I didn’t see that one coming!”?

Ouch and Duh.  Maybe next time………..

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For more Ponderings, click here.

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.

Gene Lee

God is our refuge and strength, an ever present help in trouble (Psalm 23:20)

 

See I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you.  (Exodus 23:20)

 

The county jail in Shelby County, Tennessee, ranks in the nation’s top five for both internal violence and size.  The number of inmates housed in those seven stories averages around 4000.

 

I spent my first ever night of incarceration on the lower level of that imposing facility which is more like a dungeon than anything I’ve ever imagined.  I was on suicide watch.  This meant I was issued neither sheets nor blanket and was awakened every fifteen minutes all night.  I reckon someone figured that at some point through that night, lying on an old bare State mat, shivering in that subterranean hell-hole, I would realize the severity and desperation of my situation and decide to end it all.  The thought never crossed my mind.

 

The next morning I was moved to a pod (or group) of cells on the third floor of that behemoth.  I’d heard the stories.  I was nervous, but the day passed without incident.

 

Morning #2 found me moving again.  It wasn’t a big deal, you understand.  I mean, all I “owned” was a couple of pair of County-issued clothes.  I didn’t even need a bag.

 

Anyway, I guess it was in my file that I needed my Celexa (the “wonderful” anti-depressant) which surely kept me from doing something really stupid, so I was assigned to the second floor.  Floor two is where all the inmates receiving medications are congregated in order to ease the severely overwhelming burden imposed on the nursing staff by reducing their travel time.  I’m being a bit facetious here but the wide-spread disbursement of the drugs would certainly have medications being sold and exchanged more than already occurs. This latter reason for the special existence of that floor is dubious.  Drugs—both legal and illegal were readily available.

 

The point of all this is to introduce you to my first “angel”.  Gene Lee and I could not have been more different.  He was black—I was not; He was the father of thirteen children by four different women—I had only three by one; He had been incarcerated multiple times aggregating to over twenty of his forty-six years—I was a rookie; He was a self-admitted drug addict who was never sober unless he was incarcerated—I’d never even seen drugs unless they were prescribed; He smoked—I didn’t; He was a gang member—I was scared to death.  However, in spite of our differences, I thank God for Gene Lee.  He was quiet and steady and, for some reason, took me under his wing and taught me how to “jail”.  He spread the word that I was to be left alone.  He taught me some card games, and we would sit in the cell, play cards and talk about God. He helped me survive those first 69 days and taught me things that continue to serve me well.

 

I left Gene in the jail on August 25, 2001, but I stayed in touch with him.  When he was later transferred to the Penal Farm (a work camp in the county), I was his only visitor.  When it came time for him to be released, I was able to take him some “street” clothes (since his had been lost in the system), outfitted him with some of the necessities from K-Mart, ate Church’s fried chicken with him and delivered him to his aunt’s house.  The last time I heard from Gene, he called to tell me he was being baptized at the little church he had been attending.  And, even though I have not heard from him in over six years, I consider him my friend and thank God for him. 

 

Maybe he’ll read this and get in touch with me again.

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Go on to Chapter 35….

Navigate here for the Deception Home 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….

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Trading Burdens

Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.  Matthew 11:28

            I have never worn a yoke.  Obviously.  And I don’t know anyone who has.  But I’ve seen them used and I know how they work.

I know if they are not fitted properly damage will be caused – serious damage.  The yoke must be made for the animal.  A yoke is not a “one-size-fits-all” device.

I have carried – and am carrying – burdens I was not designed to carry.  The evidence is there in plain sight.  Sores where there should be none.  Ugly scars, rubbed places, even some wounds that simply refuse to heal.  Without some lightening of the load, I will eventually die broken and scarred.

I remember an old episode of “Star Trek”.  Part of the original series – not one of these new imitations.  In this particular episode, the noble crew of the Enterprise encountered a being from another world who had a very special gift.  She could, by a simple touch, transfer any injury, whether external or internal, from the afflicted one to herself.  Then, as you watched, the injury would repair itself.

Amazing.  Miraculous.  “Interesting” was Spock’s word.

            But there was a problem.  The use of this gift drained the being to the point that, late in the show, she died, unable to heal herself.  She had limitations and those limitations were revealed as we watched.

            Stephen King later wrote “The Green Mile”, which dealt with the same theme.

But isn’t it funny how most good stories were told first by God?

Take this one, for example.  I know a being who can do exactly what this fictional character did in the show.  He takes my wounds on himself.  My pain becomes His pain.  My failures become His.

The regrets and failures of the past are taken.  In their place is forgiveness.

The pain and confusion and stress of the present are taken.  In their place is understanding and strength for the day.

The anxiety and worry of the future is taken.  In their place is peace.

Why do we insist on struggling so?  Why do we refuse to enter into this incredible deal being offered to us by our Savior?  Why do we insist on wearing this yoke that was not fitted to us and carry the load we were never intended to carry?

He is waiting.  The offer is on the table.  It’s been there for a long time – our whole life – but many of us refuse to close the deal.  We refuse even when the upside is so huge and the downside is non-existent.

Regrets, failures, pain, confusion, stress, anxiety and worry.

Forgiveness, understanding, strength, peace.

What’s your choice?  You have to decide – not deciding is in itself a choice.

            And the really good news is that, unlike the being from “Star Trek”, or the big hero of “The Green Mile”, the One who wants so desperately to trade burdens with us will never grow tired.  He is the eternal One and is certainly more than able to handle anything we could possibly be dealing with.

Come on.  Make the deal.  Make the trade.  Watch your wounds heal and your scars fade.

The choice is yours.  What will you do with His offer?

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For more Ponderings, 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.

A Morning Prayer

 This is not original.  This was heard by this Prodigal through the tape ministry of the College Church of the Nazarene, in Olathe, Kansas.  This was played over and over as I sat in the cell of a State Penitentiary.

And the trust I so desparately needed then in that environment, I still need today almost eight months after my release.

Learning to lean on the Savior is not a once done, always have thing.  It is a daily choice and I need His help and His guidance.

Maybe this prayer of this godly man will help focus your prayer for trust as it did mine.

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Heavenly Father, I ask Your forgiveness for the many times I have failed to live in perfect trust.  I confess that I often find myself anxious and fretting and worrying.  I pray today that you will teach me that You will give to me the grace to trust You more.  Not more as in quantity, but in quality.  May my trust be more deliberate. 

Give me the patience to wait through the times when it feels like nothing is happening.  Give me the courage to believe in the promises of Your word.  You have demonstrated Your faithfulness so many times in the past and yet sometimes my memory is so short. 

Remind me this morning to trust in You,

          to commit my way to you,

                    to delight in you,

                              to rest in you. 

Teach me and show me how, through the power of Your Spirit, to trust more perfectly.  I commit to You the unanswered questions and unsolved issues of my life, the frightening things that seem to wait out on the horizon of my life.  I offer them all to You this morning.  Help me to trust that You will see me through – that You will care for all that is involved in my life.

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.

Helpless

For not in my bow do I trust, nor can my sword save me.  But You have saved us from our foes, and have put to confusion those that hate us.  In God we have boasted continually, and we will give thanks to Your Name forever.  (Psalm 44:6-8

Rouse Yourself, why do You sleep, O Lord?  Awake, do not cast us off forever.  Why do You hide Your face?  Why do You forget our affliction and oppression?  For we sink down to the dust, our bodies cling to the ground.  Rise up, come to our help.  Redeem us for the sake of Your steadfast love.  (Psalm 44:23-26)

I have always been self-reliant, self-sufficient, a self-starter, self-this, self-that, self, self, self….

Do you see a pattern?

I knew about God, knew a lot about Jesus, claimed trust and faith in Him, paid my tithe, attended church, prayed over meals (probably more from a perceived need to set an example for my children than from any real desire to thank God), taught Sunday School Classes (in my own strength), led Church Boards (in my own wisdom).

God gave me talents, abilities and intelligence and I, in turn, took God off the throne of my heart and replaced Him with the very gifts He had given me.

But today I am in a place where my talent is unappreciated, my intelligence is of very little use and my abilities are unable to accomplish anything of much value.

Funny how quickly a self-based life can crumble and leave you on the bottom with no where to look but up.  No one to whom to look but God.

Today the words of the Psalmist have a new ring: “I do not trust in my bow, my sword does not bring me victory; but You give us victory over our enemies, You put our adversaries to shame.  In God we make our boast all day long…”

I am helpless.  Unable to accomplish anything but to place my faith in God.  He is mighty.  He is able.  He is the Deliverer.  He is my rock.  He is my salvation.

So I pray with the shepherd boy, “Awake, O Lord!…Rise up and help us; redeem us because of Your unfailing love.”

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This was written during the early part of 2003 as I sat on a prison bunk awaiting the deliverance I thought would surely come just any moment.  But, while my situation has now improved dramatically, the overwhelming (and spiritually healthy) sense of helplessness still prompts me to daily cry out to God from Whom all blessings flow and Who is more than able to accomplish what concerns me (and you) today.

For more Ponderings, click here.

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.

Always On Time

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”  Psalms 46:1

 

I thrill to think of the faithfulness of God–how He is not only mindful of my every care and problem, but in the emergencies of life, has been….

 

Always On Time

 

The prayer you have prayed these many long years

                To an empty horizon of dreams and of tears,

Shall come to fruition, I know, friend of mine,

                For our Father is faithful, and always on time.

 

How often when testings unlimited come,

                And it seems that the battle will never be won,

The Hand of my Saviour has reached down for mine,

                And lifted me up in an instant of time!

 

What glorious rest when the mileage seems long,

                The mountains loom high, and the giants look strong

To know that my Saviour sees each need of mine,

                And praise His dear Name–He is always on time!

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?

God Stepped Down

“For He hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.”
II Corinthians 5:21

Surely it was the greatest humbling known to man when…..

God Stepped Down

My Lord stepped down that He might lift me up,
Impoverishment, He bore to make me rich!
Though God incarnate, He became a Man;
How can I grasp a wonder such as this?
He fought temptation, suffered burning thirst–
The enervating weakness I must bear;
The conflict I must face, He conquered first,
And so I know He understands my care!

I see Him toil to hew a simple yolk
As Carpenter in humble Nazareth–
He who fashioned worlds whene’er He spoke,
And healed the sinful anguish in my breast!
He stooped to wash the feet of friend and foe–
The Sovereign of the Universe became
A lowly Slave, that somehow I might know
The path to Heaven wends from lowly plain.

My Lord stepped down to mend each broken heart,
And bless the little child who sought His arms;
To heal the sick, and by His love impart
Deliverance from the power of Satan’s charms;
My God stepped down to suffer all my shame;
They say sin killed Him there on Calvary,
But He killed SIN, and vanquished death to reign
Forevermore–for He abides with me!

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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.

Will God Change His Mind – Part IV

I had a good life.  I had a good marriage, three beautiful little boys, a thriving law practice and an overall influential life.  Very active in church, both musically and administratively.  By all outward appearances I was at the top of my game.

But something was wrong.  Wrong on the inside.  The outward success had no foundation – no spiritual basis – no real relationship with God to hold up the massive structure being built on top.

Come On In

     “These things we pray in the blessed name of our risen Lord, Jesus the Christ.  Amen.”

     The wizened old man looked up and smiled at the small group.  Diversity was the only commonality.  No, that’s not quite true.  Each face was radiant with a supernatural glow.  That, in addition to the diversity, made this little group truly intriguing.  But it was the leader I was most interested in.  He looked up, his eyes brimming with tears – not of sorrow, but of joy – and said, “Beloved, that will have to do for tonight.  We should not stay out too late these days.”

     Turning to a youngster sitting at his knee, he continued, “Marta, please blow out that candle before we open the door.”
     And with a puff from that small child, we were all cast into darkness.  I heard shuffling as those around me moved toward the door and departed.  I, however, was riveted.  I had to know more about what I’d just heard and seen.

     So I waited.

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;

USS Laodicea – The Modern Day Church

Last week FOX NEWS carried the story of the USS INTREPID, one of the mighty aircraft carriers of WWII and Korean War fame, getting stuck in the mud while being towed up the Hudson River.  The Intrepid was involved in many strategic battles and logged an outstanding combat record winning many battle citations and commendations.  For the past twenty-five years she has been a floating museum taking on board thousands of tourists and history buffs to take photos and to just look and remember the glory days of this magnificent floating fortress.

     I remember well, our ship, the heavy cruiser, USS PITTSBURG CA-72 operating alongside the INTREPID while serving together with taskforce 77 with the 7^th Fleet during maneuvers in the Mediterranean Sea.  I remember seeing its massive flight deck filled with powerful jet interceptors constantly roaring off the catapults destined for far away objectives.  I remember the bristling guns and swirling radar units searching the heavens as well as the ocean floor for any signs of an enemy craft.  What a floating city with such destructive power waiting to be released on a second notice!  What reports of ‘victory at sea’ came from the INTREPID’S captain during those great battles.  But now, it’s unthinkable that this mighty ship is ‘STUCK IN THE MUD.’

     I THINK OF THE CHURCH

The Hidden Path

“Your road led through the sea, Your pathway through the mighty waters – a pathway no one knew was there.” (Psalm 77:19)                

Have you ever actually stopped to consider the scene?  It’s mind-boggling! 

The four hundred or so members of Jacob’s family ended up, through an amazing set of circumstances, in Egypt.  Times were good – great, in fact.  Joseph was in charge.  No one in the entire country, except Pharaoh himself, had more power than this exiled former slave.  This ex-shepherd.  This ex-houseboy.  This ex-inmate.

This man of God!

But now, all these years later, that tiny band has grown and, by God’s mighty power displayed through His servant Moses, has escaped from Egypt.  That safe haven of the time of Joseph had turned cruel and harsh.  God heard.  God cared.  God provided the way.

So consider the scene: this over-sized family, that only hours before had made a joyous and triumphant exodus from the land of their captors, standing on the shore of the great sea, mountains on either side and the most fierce and feared army of the day bearing down from their rear.  I imagine the singing stopped.  I hear the panic in the voices of the women as they ask their husbands what’s to become of them.  I recognize a familiar chorus, one that will be, unfortunately, replayed many times in the coming years, “Did God deliver us from Pharaoh only to kill us in the wilderness?”

Can you blame them?  Would you have responded any differently?

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. 

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.

Something’s Different

Something is different this morning.  It’s just another ordinary Thursday here in the middle of January, but there is a distinct feeling – undeniable, really – that God has just done something incredibly God-like.  I’d explain it if I could.  I can’t.  Not fully.  But there is a thought in my soul that a question with which I have been dealing for several years has been answered. 

Maybe the feeling’s wrong.  Maybe the filter through which I am looking today is affecting my vision a bit. 

But I don’t think so.  It’s more than a feeling.  It’s more than an emotion.  Sort of a quiet confidence that He has done something big – that He has taken a moment to speak to my soul and share part of the plans for good that He has promised He has for me.  I sense that something shifted in the night and that, because of that shift, life is going to be different from this point on. 

I’m amazed by Him this morning – by His care and provision and the simple ways He employs to bring about change and healing in the lives of those He created.  How He, with a heavenly breath and in an instant of time, can replace hopelessness with hopefulness.  I’m amazed by Him this morning. 

I’m amazed by a certain creation of His.  More about that later on. 

For now……I hope your day starts as wonderfully as mine did!

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.

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.

On The Way

Before he had finished speaking,…
Genesis 24:15

There have been many times in my life when I desperately needed God to work – to solve a problem or resolve a conflict or make provision for my survival – but, being the in the very midst of the situation and often feeling overwhelmed by it, was unable to even know how to pray.

It has been during those times when I have fallen on my face before God and cried out for help.  Being unsure of how any solution could even be possible, my cries have rarely been specific but more akin to the groaning of a soul in need of the wisdom and guidance of a Creator even in terms of how to pray for and about the matter.

How comforting to know that God’s answers are on the way before we even utter our prayers.  In the Scripture, the servant is far from home, on a mission for his master and unsure of where he was going or who he was looking for.  But he trusted that God both knew where he was and that He had the answers to the questions with which he was dealing.  So he stopped.  He prayed.

And before he had even completed the prayer, the answer was walking up in the form of Rebekah.

We frequently feel abandoned and alone – stuck to deal with our circumstances on our own.  But the reality is that God is answering our groans and cries before we even know how to pray or complete the prayers on our lips.

Trust in Him.  He cares for you!

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For more Ponderings, click here.

God Provides

Abraham said, “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.”So Abraham called that place “The LORD will provide”
Genesis 22:8, 14a

     A scene in a movie always jumps to mind when I read this great story.  Indiana Jones is standing on the edge of a great and seemingly bottomless chasm.  He needs to cross this span to complete the journey on which he has embarked, but there seems to be no way.  At one point we think he’s going to try to jump it using his own strength – how he does most things in those movies.  But he realizes just how futile that attempt would be.  Ridiculous to think he could cross that distance.  He’d have to be Superman.
     Finally he pauses for a moment and then quietly, if timidly, steps out on faith.  And just at the moment we all think he will plunge to his death, a bridge, hidden until that moment, appears to bear him across the distance.
     At the last minute.
     I can’t imagine the faith it took for Abraham to bind Isaac and lay him on that altar.
     How many times in our lives have we stood on the edge of a precipice, wondering how we would ever cross?  How many times have we contemplated our eternal predicament and fretted over how we would ever satisfy the Holy God with our puny little selves and our flawed and inadequate attempts?
     How many times have I visualized myself in the place of Indy and wondered if my faith would be stout enough to tap into the limitless resources of my Heavenly Father.The bridge is already there.  The provision has already been made.
     Truth produced and performed a song a number of years ago with the hook line of, “Step out and the bridge will appear.”  So true.  God wants – even demands – our faith and trust.  He’s standing there with the bridge in place waiting to see if we trust Him enough to step out when all we can see is the chasm.
     “God, I trust in your faithfulness to change both my attitude and my circumstances.”

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For more Ponderings, click here.

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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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.

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.

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. 

Still In A Cell

It’s Monday, November 5^th, and the alarms on my watch and phone sound signaling the beginning of my second day of work.  And, as my eyes open and I take a moment to look around, I realize that, despite the recent moves and improvement in circumstance, I am still living in a cell.

The neighborhood is much improved.  The neighbors are of a different – not necessarily better – class and are quiet, not to mention that my proximity to them is more to my liking.  There’s no one in the room with me for whom I need to be quiet or who will get in my way as I prepare for the day.

I make my coffee in a real coffeemaker and use the real stuff as opposed to the instant variety I’ve choked down for the past five years.  The news is on the television and there is no need for headphones.  Exactly when I want to, without anyone’s permission, I wander into the bathroom for a shower (without shower shoes).

But, in spite of the improvements, it’s still a cell.  A temporary dwelling.  A transitional domicile.  A lot of my belongings are here and there’s barely room to move about, though I seem to manage.  Yet I long for the day when I will be in an apartment of my own – a place where I can start to get things organized and begin to think of as home.

I know… it’s only been two weeks.  But I’m tiring of the cell life.  Sue me!

Blood For Life – God’s Covenant

For your own lifeblood I will surely require a reckoning: from every animal I will require it and from human beings, each one for the blood of another, I will require a reckoning for human life. “As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you…”  Genesis 9:5, 9 

We have a covenant-making God – One Who can be trusted. 

At the very beginning of time He initiated the requirement for blood sacrifice for the atonement of sin.   Blood had to be shed to pay sins’ penalty.  When the sin of man became too great for Him to endure, He sent the great flood to obliterate all life on the earth – all but that of the godly Noah and his family.

After the ark was reopened and the voyagers released from their floating home, He made a promise and put a bow in the sky to seal that promise with a visual sign.  Never again would the earth be destroyed by water and He has kept that promise.

When the repetitive offerings required by the law became burdensome and ineffectual, He graciously sent His Son to be the “Once and For All” blood sacrifice to, like the ark of old, save all the people in the world.  And this same Jesus, with a radiance that will pale the most vivid rainbow, will come again from heaven to take us home, once and for all.

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Good or Best?

^“…and Abel for his part brought of the firstlings of his flock, their fat portions. And the LORD had regard for Abel and his offering,…”  Genesis 4:4

One brother brought a gift from his excess.  One brought a gift of his best. 

Reminds me of a credit card statement.  These things come in every month and offer a choice.  I can choose to pay the minimum payment and live under the rule of debt or I can sacrifice and give from the deeper pocket and strip that burden from my life.

Through this time I have reaped the benefits of a lifetime of choosing not to deal with the minimums when dealing with God.  Even though I fell away from Him and chose the wrong life path for a while, He has protected and provided even here. 

Give of your best to the Master.  You’ll never be sorry you did for you will surely pass through the deep waters at various stages of life and you will need His protection and provision, regardless of how self-reliant you may feel at the moment.

Deep waters….I’ve been through some pretty impressive floods these past years.  And He has been true to His Word: my troubles have not overwhelmed me.  By and through Him, I will overcome this thing, living under His control, in His plan and because of His forgiveness and gracious forgetfulness.

He didn’t wait with crossed arms and a scowl on His face.  Mercy came running to this prodigal.  The prisoner of sin has been set free!

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At The Bottom Again

It’s Friday.  It’s early November.  It’s a beautiful day and I head off to my first day on the new job.  So many thoughts rush through.  All I used to have.  All I gave up.  All that’s lost.  All that’s ahead.

The emotions pound as I drive to work.  Anger at myself for being so stupid.  Remorse over the sinful and criminal acts.  Loneliness as I realize that, at least for the foreseeable future, I am alone.  Fear over how I will make it at the new pay scale.  Apprehension which accompanies every new job.

Those are the negative emotions, but there are some positive ones, as well.  Gratitude to God for providing once again.  If I’m worried about finances now, how much worse would it be if there were no job and I was having to beat the pavement to find a position only then to have to try and convince the boss that I was worth the risk.  I am grateful to Him.

And I am grateful to so many who have made the choice to believe in me and have been so faithful to give me the much needed assistance and always just at the moment I have needed it the most.  Never late – thankfully – and never early – isn’t that frustrating sometimes – He, through them, have provided for all my needs.

So, on this 2^nd day of November, 2007, ten days out of prison, I arrive at the church a few minutes before the hour of eight and start over again…..at the bottom.

Job Interview

During my time at the facility in Nashville, I was introduced to Cornerstone Church – via television – by a fellow inmate.  The pastor, a former inmate himself, was very open and frank about his crime, his conviction, and his incarceration.  I enjoyed their services (limited only to the preaching portion of the services) and planned to visit the church upon my release to take in the entire package.

This church and that intention was pushed far to the back after my relocation to West Tennessee.

Several weeks before my release from the “gated community”, my Nashville friend made contact with the pastor of the church, Maury Davis, and made inquiries about any assistance the church could offer me to help in my reintroduction into society.  My friend, overwhelmed by the sincerity and kindness of this man, told me of the pastor’s offer to hire me as part of the janitorial staff there at the church and of other possible assistance once he had met with me and determined needs and abilities.

Armed with this assurance, on my first morning in Nashville, I made my way to the church in an attempt to meet with this man of God, and, after being informed that both Pastor Davis and the administrative pastor were out of town, met with the Facilities Manager – the man who would turn out to be my boss.  After a short interview, I was told to report for work the following morning.

And just like that, due to the heart of a pastor, the outreach of a church, the sensitivity and care of a friend, and the overarching leading of a compassionate God, one of the most difficult hurdles confronting a newly released felon – employment – was behind me and an income stream provided.

Thank you, Lord!