Discipline

     There was always a ritual to it.  That was something upon which I could count. 

     Whenever I violated a known law of the house there was sure to be a price paid and the payment of that debt always followed a ritual. If at home, I would be immediately sent to my room to await the judgment.  If in public, silence would follow the discovery of the infraction – it was a living silence pregnant with dread – until privacy permitted the ritual.

     The waiting was probably the worst part.  Sure, the paddle or the belt or the hand left a mark and an impression, but the waiting for it seemed cruel and inhuman.  “Let’s just get on with it,” I would silently shout.  Anything would be better than that anticipation of execution of sentence.
It wasn’t until many years later that I was briefed in on the real purpose of the waiting.  It wasn’t to add to my punishment – though that was certainly a by-product.  It was to give my dad time to cool down so the punishment that was deserved could be meted out without the anger or emotion of the moment of the infraction.  It was for my benefit – my safety – my good.

     How much like the Heavenly Father, who never fails to discipline His disciples.  What additional proof is needed to reveal His love and His concern for us than His discipline when we violate His Will and His Law? (Proverbs 3:11-12)

     As for the rest of the ritual?  The spanking was painful but was always followed by prayer.  And, without exception, the relationship between my dad and me was stronger and more vital as a result of those times.  While it surely pained him to punish me – something I never really believed until I was faced with disciplining my own sons – it was for my good.  And in that way my dad modeled the Father.

     I’m thankful for the example dad lived out for me.

     I’m even more thankful that God never lets me off the hook but lovingly punishes me and, by doing so, reveals His love for me and His deep desire that I live His way.

September 11, 2002 – II

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

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

---

9-11!!!!

Dear Son,

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

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

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

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

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

Dad

---

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

---

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

Lord, Keep Me Low

“If we have forgotten the name of our God, or stretched out our hands to a strange God; Shall not God search this out? For He knoweth the secrets of the heart.”  Psalms 44:20, 21

 

With the attitude of a heart ever on its knees because Thou art all worthy- because Thou hast done the “exceeding abundantly” for me….

 

Lord, Keep Me Low

 

Lord, keep me low, but ever looking up,

                If needs must be, through constant pain and tears,

Lest I forget Thy tender, patient love–

                Thy miracles throughout the trying years!

 

Lord, keep me sheltered in that “secret place,”

                When Satan as a lion would ensnare;

Sheltered, yes, but filled with the living grace

                That sees my brother’s need, and proves I care.

 

O Saviour, may I love Thee with a single heart–

                No will but Thine my life to regulate;

So broken to the yoke of love divine

                 I shall be small enough to enter that “strait gate!”

---

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

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

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.

---

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!

July 30, 2002

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

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

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

---

July 30, 2002

Dearest Son,

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

Render Unto Caesar

“This reply completely amazed them.” –Mark 12:17b

 

The day began as all the others had begun.  Before the earth He had created rotated so that the sun He created cast its light on His temporary home, He was awake.  He was praying.

This day was precious.  This day was full of promise.  This day was one of too few days.  Too few to accomplish all He wanted to accomplish.  One thousand days wasn’t enough.  In some respects – from some perspectives – that number can be daunting, seemingly endless, but His mission was vital and He felt the pressure of the brevity of His time here.

Today the sick would be brought to Him for healing.  The hungry would receive food – for both body and soul.  And there would be the questions.

He didn’t mind the questions.  In fact, He relished them, invited them, enjoyed them.  They revealed the hunger of those He came to save.  They exposed the naiveté of a nation and the lostness of an entire generation.  Teaching these lost lambs about the Kingdom of His Father was His mission, so He loved the questions.

Well, He loved most of the questions.  But today would be one of the days when Satan would send his emissaries to try and trip Him up.  Hypocrites – the religious leaders – would endeavor to discredit Him in front of those poor lost lambs.  They would attempt to cast the seeds of doubt about Him and His mission into the fertile minds of His people.

So this morning He prays to His Father for the answer to the questions – to be ready when the enemy attacked.

And then it happened.

“Now tell us – is it right to pay taxes to the Roman government or not?  Should we pay them or should we not?” (Mark 12:14b-15)

It would have been one thing had this been an innocent question.  It would have been one thing had this not touched on such a political powder-keg of that day.  But as the question was asked the crowd held its collective breath.  You could almost hear their thoughts, “Oh brother, here we go.”

But Jesus just looked at them.   For a very long minute He looked at them.  Their eyes couldn’t hold His gaze.  They knew He saw through them to their motives.  Feet shuffled and throats were nervously cleared.

And His heart broke.  He loved them – hated the sin but loved the sinner.  They were His children – lost, but His.

So He answered their question with a question, “Whose picture and title are stamped on [the coin].”

“Caesar’s,” they replied.

“Well, then, give to Caesar what belongs to him.  But everything that belongs to God must be given to God.”

As we read this account, our minds should immediately jump to the next test – another attempt to trap our Lord.  We should remember the greatest commandment as explained by Jesus, “Love the Lord with all your heart, and all your soul and all your mind.”

Why were the hearers that day so amazed by this answer?  I’m amazed by their amazement.  How can we help but render – present – these things to God.  After all, He made them.  In His own image He made them.  His image is stamped all over them.

It was He who made our heart to beat in its wondrous and perfect rhythm.  It was He who made us just a little lower than the angels but worlds above the rest of creation with an eternal soul.  It was He who lit the first fire between the synapses in our brains and placed within us a will and a conscience.

He made us.  He breathed life into us.  He numbered our hairs and knew us before we were conceived.  He allowed us to make our own decisions which took us away from Him and brought death and pain into our lives.

And then He died for us.  He died to redeem us to Himself.

How can we help but render ourselves a living sacrifice unto Him?

---

For more Ponderings, click here.

August 13, 2001 (Part 4 of 4)

Son, you’re like Moses on the backside of the desert.  You’re in boot camp – you’re in school.  God’s getting you ready for a new work and a new life!

St. Paul wrote his greatest epistles while in prison.  Not a mountain retreat, but a dungeon.

And don’t forget God know how to get His servants out of prison, if He has to shake it down.  That is, if it’s His will.

Jonah disobeyed God and wound up in the stomach of a fish.  God got him out and he set out to accomplish God’s original plan and purpose.

Everything depends on what your plan and purpose is.  If it is to respond to the heart-cry of suffering men, women and children, it is God’s will that they be rescued and saved.

God can only use those who are broken through suffering.  “Even the Son of God learned obedience through the things which He suffered”, and “through suffering Christ became the Captain of our Salvation.”

Peter writes, “After you have suffered a while…make you perfect and establish and settle you.”

God has His own way of getting us fit for service.  “A vessel unto honor, sanctified and meet for the Master’s use.”

As for the pastor and people there, I’m sure they struggle with the matter of loyalties.  Your wife and the boys are the victims and they are reaching out to them which is what they should be doing.  I’m sure pastor and people feel that to show you interest and attention would be an act of disloyalty to your wife and the boys.  This is not right!

You are a victim, too!  A victim of Satan’s scheme.  The word is clear, “If any of you be overtaken in a fault (weakness – sin) ye which are spiritual restore such an one in a spirit of meekness – considering thyself lest thou also be tempted.”  Galatians 6:1.  It goes on to say, “Bear ye one another’s burdens and so fulfill to law of Christ.”  Galatians 6:2.

I, too, ran into this.  While in Nashville trying to recover, I went to a gathering at TNC when Chuck Milhuff was speaking there.  I walked up to a group of ministers, many I had know and worked with.  Twice I went to these men and put out my hand.  They turned and walked away.

Not all are like this, thank god.  Dr. Greathouse, John Andrus (Chattanooga First), Carl Sherman (Papaw’s buddy) and other, have stayed in touch with love and understanding.

As for your marriage, you must know that is over.  She is pushing for the “max” out of fear for herself and the boys.  You must pray for grace to put that family on God’s back burner.

I mentioned several pages back about the 12 steps and the 12 promises.  The first promise is this: We will know a new freedom and a new happiness. 

The second one is tougher to swallow: We will not regret the past not wish to shut the door on it.

This was the big one for me!  I choked on this, and raised the roof about it in many AA meeting.  I would say, “How am I not supposed to regret shattering the hearts of a wonderful wife and sons as well as hundreds of church people who believed in me?”  I really stormed at them until an old-timer with 25 or more years in recovery said, “Bill, everything you lost is what it took to get you where you are today.  It took what it took!  You can feel sad for the hurt you caused others, but don’t regret the price you paid to get straight and sane in your thinking!!”  Then he said, “Don’t shut the door on your past, leave that door ajar – just a crack – because God might just bring back some of those things or people when God feels you are ready for it.”

These are difficult words to digest but so true.  He said, “You leave the door open a crack for another reason.  You will remember people you hurt or things you did that you need to apologize for and set records straight.”

We sang the words for years, “Whatever it takes…”  The main thing is that we are under the Blood and ready for Heaven, and that we are serving Him until He calls us.  It’s hard for us to see God’s “Big Picture” of things.

I’ll pick up on this in another letter.  This is getting long and it’s getting late.  I have gotten your letters and appreciate hearing from you.

I love you and pray daily.

Always,

Your Dad

P.S. Remember….

F  alse
E  vidence
A  ppearing                “FEAR is the ‘dark room’ where all our negatives are developed.”
R  eal

                                                Pretty good, huh?

 

P.P.S.  So glad you are reading and praying!

---

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

Read Part 3

August 13, 2001 (Part 1 of 4)

This was the second letter I received from my Dad during those days of lock-down in the Shelby County jail, but it was – and is – one of those incredible and wonderful works of art filled with all the love and encouragement that a father could pack into one after he had traveled some of the very roads I had trod.

He knew better than anyone what I was going through and what was facing me in the short-term as well as the long-term.  The short-term would not be pretty or enjoyable, but the reward, if I stayed true to God and followed His plan, would be something beautiful that would be nothing short of miraculous.

Even now, with Dad gone on to Heaven, this letter still speaks to me.  I hope it will resonate with you as well.

---

Monday, August 13, 2001

My Dear Son –

I have written to you dozens of times – but just can’t get it on paper.  I bleed for you until there is no blood left.

I know I deserve all of this, but it doesn’t make it any easier.  After “preaching to others” I became a “castaway”.  I have lived with this torment, and will until my last breath.  Realizing that I have failed others – even my own family – has been more than I can bear.  (See?  Me, too!)

King David got caught in that powerful trap and fell to the bottom of shame and failure.  History states that he lived in a cave for years – so beaten and overwhelmed was he over his downfall.

Then he fell a second time, this time it was before the Lord!  The church and the world have been blessed ever since by the heartbroken cry of the 51^st Psalm.  Millions have found their way back to God by reciting the words of that prayer.  That prayer would never have been written had David not failed.  “Where sin abounds, grace doth much more abound.”  David rose above his failure and helped millions through the ages, but the cloud of sorrow and suffering remained with him until he died.

His enemies never forgave him.  The Psalms written after his downfall breathe with his torment caused by the “back-biters” and “wagging heads”.

His own son organized a rebellion and fought against his father – later dying hanging from a tree limb shot through with arrows.  David cried out, “Absalom, would God I had died for thee!”

David committed adultery and murder yet God forgave him – he served again, perhaps in a greater way than had he not failed.  But he suffered as a result of his sin until his death.

The sins of the parents are passed on to the children.  “The parents eat sour grapes and the children’s teeth are set on edge.”  So true!

Then the parents grieve and weep!  We cry loud and long, “I wish I had done things differently!  What was wrong with me?  Why did I do those stupid, foolish things?”

Sadly there is no going back.  What has been done is final and fixed forever!  At least in that sense of the word.

There are not only 12 steps in recovery, but also 12 promises.  (I had no confidence or appreciation for the 12 steps until one day during a lull at the Harbor, I found a little booklet in one of the desk drawers in which someone asked Dr. Bob – a medical doctor and co-founder of AA – where they got the 12 steps, and if he wrote them.  He replied, “No, neither Bill nor I wrote the steps…”  They asked, “Well, where did you get them, where did they come from?”  Dr. Bob – now an old man – replied, “For years in the early days of AA Recovery, Bill and I would sit for hours through the night reading the Holy Bible – the Gospels, Corinthians, the Book of James, the Psalms – we didn’t have to GET the 12 steps.  We already had them!”)

WOW!  Did that ever make a difference in my attitude and thinking!  (I was 2 years sober.)

Then I discovered that the church has accepted the 12 steps.  It’s called “Overcomer’s Anonymous,” and is endorsed by Dr. James Dobson of Focus on the Family.

Anyway, they hit me with that first step: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol and that our lives had become unmanageable.

The first step is the only step where alcohol is mentioned.  The other 11 steps tell how to get out of the trap.

Other groups have endorsed the 12 steps and leave only a blank where “alcohol” is written.  So it’s “powerless over _______.”

For years while in the ministry, I would go out in the woods or cemeteries and scream out to God for deliverance.  I would pray, “Deliver me or kill me!”  Neither would happen.

Years into recovery it dawned on me – “God only works through people – Human instrumentality!”  God used physical demonstrations of His power in the Old Testament.  The parting of the Red Sea, the Bread and Quail from Heaven, the Burning Bush, etc.  People still rebeled and went astray.

Then God said, “I’ve got to go down there among them and touch them and love them and die for them.

So we had Bethlehem and Christmas and a young man that gathered the crowds of simple, hurting, discouraged people around him and spoke to them in simple language that they understood.  About the fields of flowers and the changing of the weather.  He ate with them and touched them;  He healed and blessed them and entered into their sorrows and pain.  He taught them a new way of thinking and living…..then He died for them!

---

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

Go on to Part 2…

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.

July 16, 2001

As I was completing my first month of confinement, still unsure as to my future – both immediate and long-term – my mother wrote again.  Her handwriting was already starting to suffer and the mere fact that she repeated herself several times during the course of the letter was evidence that the Alzheimer’s, that would eventually rob her of even her ability to speak, was already taking hold.  But her words, written from a heart of love, were a balm to my soul during those early days.

July 16, 2001 Dearest Son,      I got your letter today and cried all the way through it.  Your brother had sent us the letter pertaining to your addiction to porn.  I must admit that I was shocked by it since I never had a clue all those years that you were addicted to pornagraphy. I cried as I read your letter.  I know it is difficult to admit such a thing, but you have done the right thing to come clean.  God has forgiven you and so have I.  I have had some of my closest friends praying as well.  I feel so badly that this addiction was not discovered in the early years before it became such an addiction.  I’m sure that you have lived with a lot of guilt – living a double life – pretending to be a Christian and serving in that capacity knowing your guilt.  I am sure you feel clean after confessing your guilt and coming back to God.  Isn’t it wonderful that He will forgive and allow us to make a new start.  I am proud of you!      We don’t know what the future holds for you, your family, and, for that matter, for us.  But it is so comforting to your Mother’s heart that you have made peace with God!!  At least we will enjoy eternity together if we all stay true to God.      As you know, I have made mistakes in my life.  Nobody is perfect, but thank the Lord that He is willing to forgive when we come to Him in repentance.  Many prayers have gone up in your behalf and we will continue to hold you up.  As you already know, your life will be different after this incident, but God has a way of putting lives back together again and using a willing vessel in ways that honor Him.  You have a brighter future than any of us can imagine at this point.  Just trust Him and stary true and you will see better days than you have ever seen.      I love you dearly!  Stay true! Lovingly, Your Mom

We certainly do not know the future.  It’s twists and turns baffle and the mystery of it can be frightening.  But, as I read her words, sitting on an upper bunk in a tiny cell on the second floor of the jail, I knew the One Who did know the wheres and the hows and the whens of my future.      And now, on the backside of that particular nightmare, I can testify that her words were right on point.  The future – now the present – is indeed brighter than I could have ever imagined.

July 10, 2001

As I was wrapping up my first month of confinement, desperate for some ray of hope or some sense that everything was going to work out, my precious Mother, once again, provided just the ray for which I had been searching.

 

 

July 10, 2001 Dear Dan: Just a note to let you know that I love and we are praying for you.  I realize these are tough times. Now that you have commited your life to God, things are going to be better. I love you dearly and am proud of your new life! Keep praying and keep your chin up! Love and Prayers, Mom

 

 

It was about this time that I began to believe that something would happen to spare me the horrors of prison.  I had never been in trouble in my life, no one was actually harmed despite my efforts to the contrary, and surely prison time would not be the end result of all of this. I began to believe – foolishly – that since I was forgiven, that all would somehow revert to something similar to the life I had just left. How stupid we can be sometimes.

July 4, 2001 (reprise)

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