Don’t Be Afraid

Written by A Prodigal January 19, 2007

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Then he said, “I am God, the God of your father; do not be afraid to go down to Egypt, for I will make of you a great nation there.  Genesis 46:3

Don’t be afraid.  God spoke to Jacob, while was on the road moving his whole life to a strange country and away from the land of promise.

As the Psalmist would pray centuries later, God searched Jacob’s heart and knew his anxious thoughts. (Psalms 139:23)  And right in the middle of the night and the anxiety, God spoke those wonderful words: Don’t be afraid.

How many times has He done this for me?  For you?  Moreover, how many times has He tried but found us distracted or disinterested.  He wants to speak His peace to us in the very midst of our storm.

Will we listen?

Will we trust?

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For more Ponderings, click here

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.

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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!

Forgotten

            The feeling of being forgotten has to be one of the worst parts of this whole ordeal in which I find myself.  It doesn’t happen all at once – that actually might be easier – a clean cut, so to speak.

            No, it happens gradually, like the old pair of shoes sitting in the back of the closet under that bag of clothes destined to be a charitable contribution.  Once cherished, polished, cared for and modeled with pride, they gradually lost favor and attention.

            It’s hurtful to be forgotten – to have friends, one by one, fall silent.  To have family and loved ones become distant and aloof.  Slowly.  Gradually. Creating a wound constantly irritated preventing the protective scar from forming.

            Yes, being forgotten is a bad thing.  Failure is bad enough, but being forgotten is far worse.

            I began to wonder if being forgotten could ever be a good thing.

            King Solomon had completed all of his building projects.  The wisest and richest king the world had ever known was finished.  Peace – a seemingly permanent peace – had finally descended upon Israel.  It was a time of celebration.

            Then the Lord appeared to him and said something that raised my eyebrows.  He said, “As for you, if you will follow me with integrity and godliness, as your father David did, always obeying my commands and keeping my laws and regulations, then I will establish the throne of your dynasty over Israel forever.” (I Kings 9:4-5a)

            Wait just a minute.  I seem to remember that David did not always obey God’s commands and keep God’s laws.  I remember the selfishness, the adultery and the murder.  And, if I can remember it, surely the omniscient and eternal God can.

            It was then that the beautiful and glorious fact hit home for the very first time.

            Sure, I’d read the scriptures before.  Heard the sermons and studied the promises.  But it was not until this day, sitting in a guild with 29 other men, feeling forsaken and forgotten – a failure – that the wonder of the promise hit home.

            The promise?  God forgets.  He forgot David’s failure.  He forgot Peter’s denials.  He forgot Thomas’ doubting.  He forgot Mary’s prostitution.

            And He’s forgotten my sin – my failure.

            “…as far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.” (Psalm 103:12)

            “Lord, if You kept a record of our sins, who, O Lord, could ever survive? But You offer forgiveness, that we might learn to fear you.” (Psalm 130:3-4)

            And what’s more, in His unfathomable way, He is able to both forget our sins and use them to improve us at the same time.  This is the way my favorite promise can be true: “And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose for them.” Romans 8:28

            Yes, being forgotten can be a good thing.

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For more Ponderings, click here.

First Sunday in Heaven

Are Sundays different in Heaven? Is the worship sweeter? Is the presence of the Lord more real? Is the angel chorus more prepared to sing? Are the hearts and minds of the worshipers more attentive? Do they wear different clothes on Sundays up there? Is anyone ever late for the service?

I wonder because today is my father’s first Sunday in Heaven. And, for the record, I don’t think Sundays are any different in Heaven than any other day. I think the worship is always sweet and intense and on purpose. I think the Sunday-wear is the same as the everyday wear. The angel chorus is always perfect and is augmented by the host of the redeemed.

Sundays in Heaven are the same as every other day there for worship is a way of life and the very purpose of existence. So my father is right at home for worship was a way of life for him while he was with us. And now, unfettered by the cares of life, unencumbered by the frailties and imperfections of an earthly body, my dad is indeed in heaven for he is where he has longed to be for so very long – in the eternal and constant presence of Jesus.

I Will Lift Up Mine Eyes

“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.”

The Psalmist, David, found hope, and help, and healing in the upward look, and so in the emergencies that must come….

“I Will Lift Up Mine Eyes”
(Psalms 121)

“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, “–
The God who loves me knows my soul’s sore test,
He heareth now the heart-cry of His child;
My help shall come: the Lord will give me rest!

The arm of flesh on which I’m prone to lean
Cannot allay the anguish of this hour;
So I shall lift mine eyes beyond this scene
Unto the hills, the symbol of His power!

Yes, I shall lift mine eyes above all natural things,
In every disappointment, pain, or grief;
And looking up, my faith on soaring wings,
Shall find in Him both victory, and peace!

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

Because He Came

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

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

Because He Came

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

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

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

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

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.

One Hundred Dollars

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

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

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

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

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

Neither is the case. 

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

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

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

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

Christmas Eve’s eve

I have to work in this afternoon. 

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

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

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

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

What a difference two months makes. 

Grudges

“And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.”  Mark 11:25

I’m sitting on my bunk.  It’s 5:15 AM.  The usual time for my prayer and devotional minutes with God to start the day.  A few of the other 29 men in the guild are up and moving.  Several TVs flicker their pictures on the dark walls.

As usual, there are many matters I bring to Him.  So many hurting people.  People that I have hurt and disappointed.  So I bring these petitions before my Father.  I know He is strong enough to bear the burden of my problems.  He loves to hear from me and longs to trade yokes with me.

As always, I pray that this prison experience will end quickly and that I can be reunited with those that I love.

Eventually prayer time ends and I pick up my Bible.  Today’s reading takes me to Mark 11.  Verse 24 is always so encouraging.  Read it!  Doesn’t it give you goose bumps?  Such a wonderful promise from the lips of our Lord.

But this morning, it’s verse 25 that demands my attention.

                “And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.”

Smack!  It’s almost a physical blow.  There are grudges I’m holding onto.  Yeah, I have hurt people, but people have hurt me, too.  I have been justifying my ill-will towards some and simply flaunting my extreme irritation at the way some have turned their backs on me in my time of need.

And yet here was a scripture conditioning my forgiveness and the answers to my petitions upon the release of the very grudges I had nurtured and to which I felt so justified.

So I began to list them.  Names of people.  I was shocked at the length of the list.

But I got it all out and it felt good.

Now what?  Do I expect the guards to come and pack me up and send me home because I had a spiritual breakthrough?

To be honest?  Yeah, sort of.

But realistically, this is simply more of His refining process.  Release will come.  Right now my job is to become more like Him every day.

So learn from my experience.  Let go of your grudges.  They’re just dead weight anyway.

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For more Ponderings, click here.

No Coincidence

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s awfully nice to be home!

Six Weeks

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

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

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

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

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

The Dripping Faucet

My faucet is dripping. Few things are as annoying. A screaming baby, maybe. A train whistle in the middle of the night, perhaps. But that dripping faucet is getting on my last nerve.

Not only is it annoying- it’s expensive. To an already tight budget, a water leak is more than a bit problematic. So I take a page from my dad’s playbook and collect the water from the drip in a bucket. No sense in just letting it run down the drain, right? Beside, the bucket catches most of the sound, too, so in the process of collecting water, I’m preserving what little is left of my sanity.

So you’re wondering what I’m doing with all those buckets of water. Did you know you can cause a toilet to flush by pouring in a couple of gallons of water? Yet another thing I learned from my dad.

So, as I’m standing here pouring water out of a bucket into a toilet in an attempt to save a few pennies, I think back to my former life. I think of a full acre lot, most of which was serviced by a sprinkler system. I remember days when I was simply too involved with other things to turn off the sprinklers as the rain began to fall. I think of the gallons of water wasted as I stand over this commode with this bucket in my hand. Boy, how things change.

And you want to know the really amazing part? 

I’m happier now, with more peace in my heart, than I ever was then. Praise His Dear Name.

The Privilege of Worship

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

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

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

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

Resurrection Reality

With the commemoration of Palm Sunday – Passion Week and Resurrection Day fast approaching, we fix our attention on these powerful and meaningful events as they relate to our personal “SO GREAT SALVATION!”  Our finite minds cannot comprehend the colossal cost of human redemption!  As the song goes: 

Why should He love me so,
Why should He love me so?
Why did my Savior to Calvary go?
Why should He love me so? 

Yes, Christ was born to die that we might live, and His love for us motivated every agonizing experience of His life right up to His ascension, where His angels announced;  “Why stand ye gazing up into Heaven?  This same Jesus which is taken up from you into Heaven, shall so come in like manner, as ye have seen Him go into Heaven”  (Acts 1:11) 

So get ready to commemorate the LIFE,  DEATH, and RESURRECTION of our Lord and Savior, and our soon coming King of Kings!  

Pastor Bill                                                                                      

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During my years in prison, my father wrote articles for his monthly church newsletter.  They each touched my heart, and those of the members of his church during that time; so much so that I want to share them with you.  May God continue to use the words of my father to minister through these pages and this medium.

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!