The Whistler's Dream

Everybody needs a dream...
Mine is to go to Oklahoma and play whistles for The Pioneer Woman. (Having been invited, not in a "creepy stalker" kind of way, for the record.) Heck, I'd play in a pup tent in the backyard for the joy of the cows and critters. What can I say? I'm a fan.
Everybody needs a dream...

Random Fluffy Foto!

Random Fluffy Foto!
Writing in bed, and Beka editing by ear. Really. The ear typed some letters. Really.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Live to Ride... Ride to Live

No, I haven't decided to make the leap from ReBike to Harley... (Ryan is now disappointed...) But that phrase can be turned in a couple of directions.

The Lord and I were up pretty late last night / this morning discussing a few things. :-) There was a time around the last month or so of my mom's life when God made Himself real to me in a way I'd never known. I had a sense of His presence that is a bit startling to this Baptist Boy's roots. :-) And, for the first time in my life, I found that prayer had become a dialogue instead of a monologue. Often, when I'm praying, it's like I'm reading copy on the air. I'll almost 'see' the words and out they go. That's a monologue. Not saying that's bad, but at this time I could pray and not see the words first. The words came straight from my heart to the Throne, and didn't need to be processed much in my head.

But we all know that when we have an experience like that, we can't stay on the mountain top forever. (wonder why that is - wouldn't you think that being in God's presence in that way would be something we'd want to hold on to, like air to breathe, regardless of where our journey goes?) So, life intrudes. And, just like those forgetful Israelites whom I like to feel slightly superior to (Look what God did for them, and then they turn around and bam - forget it all. I'm glad I'm not like that... *yeah, right*), I shuffle off, forgetting lessons learned and settling for the mundane instead of the magnificent. The Glorious Intruder had woken me from my slumber, and though I had risen and walked closely with Him for a time, I soon fell back to sleep, more mindful of my tiny little world in this prison covered with skin than all the universe that He reveals.

And, prayer became reading copy from the script again.

And that's where God had a word with me last night... Not in finally feeling His presence, but in revealing something about my behavior that I didn't understand - the nature of what addiction does to me... I use food (among other things) to dull my senses. When I hurt, when I'm frustrated, it's what I turn to. OK - I already knew that part. But I didn't realize why...

Because it's easier to use food (or reading or sitting like a useless lump in front of the computer) as a band-aid (with apologies to the fine folks who own that trademark...) then to actually work at this thing called life. And faith. And a relationship with my Father. I was just making some progress on this last night, and slowly the words were disappearing from the page and I was starting to communicate with Him... and I decided to grab a Diet Coke at McD's... And some chicken... and a Double Filet O' Greasy Fish.

And the minute I started stuffing my face, everything else went numb. It all shut down. What tiny steps I had made toward opening the dialogue with my Father went down the biffy faster than a goldfish burial at sea.

And I realized why my Dad would crawl inside of a bottle and not come out. And why I am the same way, just using different toxins to achieve the same result. Take the easier road - dull the senses so that you don't have to actually work through things. Put a bandage over the huge gaping wound, and make the boo-boo all better. (Live to EAT, EAT to Live) And here I am, in tears, realizing that I've been pushing away the very One I've been seeking, laying down more land mines between He and me.

No wonder fasting is a spiritual discipline. And, no wonder that I've felt that Heaven is locked in silence, my prayers going no farther than the copy shelf at work. (You radio folks are probably enjoying this post, since some of this lingo doesn't mean poopy to others. Oh well - it's my revenge on the IS staff for all those lunches listening to them speak in Technoglyphics and not having a clue what they say. The down side is, they probably get this stuff also, so no revenge is achieved. *sigh*)

I think I need to have a chat with Pastor Craig. (who rocks, btw...) He's preaching through 1 Corinthians, although I think the sub-titles of most of the messages lately have been "Cal, here's another smack-down from the Man Upstairs." In particular, he spoke this week about needing a new heart - not the thumpity-thump kind, but the heart that is the center of our being. (feel free to check out the sermon - and click on the link for the videos of the weekly sermons. The one I'm talking about is 7-10-05 "Getting A New Heart") A heart that lives for God's glory. A heart that lives to share Him with others. A heart that responds when He calls. Not a heart that's been troweled over with a thick layer of numbing goo...

So, having only slept 3 hours, I'm going to the park to ride. (Live to Ride... Ride to Live a recumbent :-) And to think. And to seek His face. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find the place where prayer isn't scripted. And, where my creative spirit once again flows to show His glory in whatever I do. I'm hoping to come out of my slumber, and back to the place where I hear Him... And this time, I hope to make it an extended stay.

1 comment:

Hannah said...

As you know Cal I understand a significant protion of what you are saying. Numbness has become a friend, that's why having someone constantly ask me how I feel about things is so hard. It actually makes me sit and think things threw. The pain sometimes seems so deep that I don't know where it starts, but I know for both of us that continued efforts forward, God will answer and He will become so much more to both us than before.