Re-Post: From Good Friday, 2014

Written a year ago, these are all my thoughts about Good Friday wrapped up in one post. And even with all these words, I have no words...


"He was oppressed and afflicted,
yet He did not open his mouth;

He was led like a lamb to the slaughter,

and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,

so He did not open his mouth."

- Isaiah 53:7, TNIV

Wha'?

If I'm oppressed and afflicted, I run the gamut from heavy sighs to outright yelling...

Unless it's a spider. Then I scream like a little girl. Or a little boy. Or whoever screams like that. Yup. Right. That.

So, silent in affliction? Not so much.

Lots of us are familiar with Isaiah 53 - the chapter about the Suffering Servant. Or at least know these words:

"But he was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are healed."

- Isaiah 53:5, ASV

But last time through this passage on the Daily Audio Bible, the words that rang like a bell for me were about His silence in affliction. 

"He was oppressed and afflicted,

yet He did not open his mouth."

Silent? Ok - maybe if someone obnoxious were getting in my face someplace in the grind of daily life. Getting snitty as we stand in line at the store. Taking umbrage to something I unknowingly did, my appearance, or my general presence in the world. 

Silent, after another driver engages in a display of boneheadery that proclaims to all the world just what the riders of the clue bus look like? No... 

(Although I do try to do some ventriloquism, as I mutter about their habits, their intelligence, their heritage, and their general existence while trying not to move my lips, lest they see that I'm yelling... to NOBODY.)

Silent? In affliction? Nope. Can't pull that one off.

My beloved carries on arguments with technology. She holds debates with databases, takes umbrage to unruly laptops, and tells off the GPS in kind but firm tones.

Silent? Nope. Much quieter than me? Good gravy bones, yes. 

"He was beaten, He was tortured, but He didn't say a word. Like a lamb taken to be slaughtered and like a sheep being sheared, He took it all in silence."

- Isaiah 53:7, MSG

I not only can't pull that off, I can't even imagine how to comprehend how anyone could do that. I can't at all understand how someone, anyone could be that afflicted, punished, humiliated, tormented, tortured...

killed...

And NOT say anything.

Now, I know - He DID say things. We have them recorded in the Gospels. I'm sure there were gasps and groans and cries. 

But did He pitch a fit? The kind of which I would have fully indulged in? The kind that would have made my voice go hoarse a couple minutes in?

No.

"Like a lamb taken to be slaughtered and like a sheep being sheared, He took it all in silence."

One more twist, kiddos...

The one word that He could have uttered, that I, in all of my yelling, screaming, writhing, and general pitchy-fitting might have uttered without doing any good... 

The ONE word that He could have uttered, that would in fact have changed everything...

The ONE WORD that was His to utter, with all rights, with all authority, with all of Heaven ready to respond the very second it was upon His lips...

"Stop."

Of any of the sounds, cries, gasps, or words that He said, all through that awful ordeal, He never said the one word that would have ended it all.

And that made all the difference.

I could not endure in silence, yet I'm left with nothing BUT silence in response. I have no way to process this, so I close my mouth, hang my head, and am overwhelmed. Gratitude doesn't even begin to express it, no other words I could write will help, so as He accepted the pain in silence, I receive the gift...

in silence.

"What language shall I borrow, to thank Thee, dearest friend? 
For this, Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?

Oh make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be, 
Lord, let me never, never, outlive my love for Thee."

- O Sacred Head Now Wounded

The Rob and The 2,000 Year Old Letters

Ok - let me be clear about something - I have no issues with Rob Bell. 

I think he may have "jumped the shark," but that's just a private conviction...

Between me and you, that is.

Recently, being fabulous and "all that" with Oprah, he responded like this when asked about the church accepting gay marriage, in a quote from the article on Mlive.com...

"We're moments away," Rob Bell said. "I think culture is already there and the church will continue to be even more irrelevant when it quotes letters from 2,000 years ago as their best defense, when you have in front of you flesh-and-blood people who are your brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and co-workers and neighbors and they love each other and just want to go through life with someone."

This statement didn't shock me - I have personal thoughts about issues like this, and the place to air those is in very private, between my Father and me.

But the bit that DID make me wince a bit?

"...the church will continue to be even more irrelevant when it quotes letters from 2,000 years ago as their best defense..."

Um.

Wow.

Gee, Mr. The Rob, what other defense do I have? When most everything I know about God is what I read revealed in His word - those "2,000 year old letters."

Oi to da Vey.

Now, lest you accuse me of taking him totally out of context, and that he was just referring to the bits of those 2,000 year old letters that he deems culturally irrelevant while still having a profound respect for other bits...

Re-read what you're accusing me of, and consider the lack of logic therein.

Now, I admit to a certain amount of bias - after all...

I'm in love with a certain book. 

And I love the whole of that certain book, including those "2,000 year old letters," and the ones that are much older. The letters that, oddly enough, Rob himself can be heard quoting in his Nooma videos, or teaching from in his sermons.

Sorry - that almost crossed the line into "snarky," and I don't want to go that way...

Ain't nobody got time for that.

Instead, to show how much I love that book, let me refer to one of the foundational phrases of the denomination I'm a part of - the Evangelical Covenant Church - that describes how we view our lives as people of faith:

Where is it written?

That phrase reveals one of the main reasons I love our church - the encouragement, yea expectation, to "search the scriptures and see if these things are so." There is both a danger and a great freedom in belonging to a church where people are allowed, yea encouraged, to search the Word and decide for themselves what these things are saying. To bear the personal responsibility of answering a question from Jesus: "How do you read it?"

Can you actually point to scripture that supports your position, or do you find yourself simply dismissing the Word as culturally irrelevant?

Now, I'm the first one to admit that one has to interpret the Bible within the context of their time, their culture, while applying it to our time and our culture. Do we follow the letter of the Levitical law, for example? So if one lifestyle is prohibited, then so are tattoos. Or you can cast your wife aside as easily as a beast of burden. And let's not forget offering up your children as human sacrifices...

(For the record, sacrificing children [or any humans for that matter] is abhorrent to God - He says so numerous times, mentioning that practice as one of those detestable things that show how far His people had fallen.

Abraham and Isaac? Nope - special circumstance, unique lesson, never repeated again. One time thing, for a specific purpose. Context, baby - context.)

Anyway, so go the various arguments toward how out of step the Bible is with our current world.

And that's pretty poor scholarship, to tell the truth. Baby, meet bathwater. You'll both be thrown out now.

There, saddlepals, is the danger of not taking the Word as a whole, but grabbing one example here and another there, and using this quote and that quote to prove your point of how absurd the whole thing is. Once you add in context, history, and looking at the whole picture, it becomes obvious just how silly those arguments can be.

Consider tattoos, for example - this was a slave race, recently come from Egypt, wandering in the wilderness, so marking themselves up with tattoos wouldn't be very sanitary. (What - you think all those references to "rashes of the skin" or "when mold appears in a house" or "emissions" *shudder* are there just to be silly? Nope - it's hygiene 101 for a bunch of former slaves who have no clue how to take care of themselves.)

That's all a side note, by the way... 

The major point about "no tattoos" is the associations hooked to the tattoos - the connections to worshiping the gods of Egypt or other aspects of their lives under slavery. Those would bring back connections to a life that needed to be left behind, as God remade these slaves into His chosen people, a new nation.

If you look at a lot of the prohibitions in Leviticus through that lens, all of a sudden the argument about "cultural irrevelance" becomes a little silly. In that time, in that place, in that culture, it makes sense, as God taught them to be a unique people after generations of living as slaves.

Here and now? We aren't likely to associate a tattoo with our former lives in slavery, which could lead to a return to that oppressed life. Granted, some of my generation and older still see tattoos as a mark of rebellion or something, but give us some slack - we're learning. I actually have seen some that were quite beautiful.

If you think that this line of thinking and interpretation of the Word is a whole load of Calbert-flavored hooey, well, you are certainly entitled to go that route. But, you might not understand something called a "trigger," which might be helpful. I shall elucidate...

A trigger, especially for someone who deals with mental or behavioral issues, is something that can trip you into a place you left behind. I have a number of those, both for food addiction and for dealing with depression and bipolar disorder. And sometimes, another one pops up out of the blue and ambushes me.

(Want an example? We had to put my gigantic recliner out on the curb after I lost 240 pounds - I'd sit down in it, and my behavior would revert to when I spent 6-8 hours in it at a stretch. Couldn't work through it, couldn't re-wire around it, so it had to go.)

So I totally get this picture of restrictions designed to help you leave a former life behind.

And, that connects to something else from the newer 2,000 year old letters, where the discussion of not eating food sacrificed to idols comes up. Irrelevant? No - idol worship with its rituals (both seen and obscene) is where some of those early Jesus followers had come from.

That food, offered to an idol, would snap them back to dark behavior and a hopeless life - In other words, a trigger.

Thus, stronger believers are told to set their freedom aside to help weaker brothers and sisters. Just like my dear ones wouldn't encourage me to eat an entire pizza in one sitting, or try to get me so emotionally worked up that I have a major mood swing and then plummet afterward, the ones who know me best help me avoid those traps - they lay some of their freedom aside to help their weaker brother.

Hmmm... Seems pretty relevant to me.

The Bible IS relevant, if we'll take the time and discipline to consider the whole Word, instead of treating it as a buffet and grabbing out the stuff we really like or pointing out the nastiness of the stuff we don't. Context is a beautiful thing.

- Depart to Bunny Trail... -

Bible believing peeps, don't be thumping your desktop or doing a fist pump whilst shouting, "Yesssss!" to what I just said. We're as guilty of doing the snatch and grab thing with scripture. 

For example, have you ever really read Jeremiah 29? The whole chapter?

Did you know that the much-beloved verse 11 doesn't promise relief from a tough situation or trial? It gave hope to Israel that beyond the suffering, beyond the exile, there was a future. The tough stuff was coming, the exile would happen, and things were going to get ugly, but Israel would live on - there was hope and a future in store. It's not a "get out of suffering free" card, but an assurance that God's got this. Maybe not in our lifetime, maybe not in the here and now to relieve our suffering, but ultimately?

He's got this.

It's still a great verse, and a great encouragement. But maybe not quite what we thought it was. Agree? Disagree? How do you read it?

- Return from Bunny Trail... -

So, what about the whole Gay marriage thing that The Rob was commenting on? Where he declared the 2,000 year old letters culturally irrelevant?

Nope - you're gonna have to do your own homework on that. I do have an opinion about it, and I have cuddled up with the Word - both Old and New Testaments, well within the framework of context - and I have a position that seems to be in harmony with what I see in the Bible. And there I leave it.

What I do know, in my 55+ years of wandering around this here mudball, is that I've yet to find a question or situation in my life that the Bible doesn't speak to, directly and eloquently. 

Sometimes, it's in a single verse that speaks to me in a private, moving way. (I wouldn't use a single verse that speaks to me in the quiet to try and hammer home a point to someone else - first of all, that's not my job, because the Word can speak for itself; and second, there's a difference between a verse reaching me in private, and studying to teach others from the Word.)

Sometimes, it's a number of passages, connected in history or context, or perhaps connected through the overarching story of God in His word, that shed light on Him, His character, His heart, and how much He cares about us.

But you can't see it that way if you're just grabbing a piece here, a chunk there, and never see the Word as a whole story. You see, it all connects to show us the Father's heart.

Irrelevant 2,000 year old letters? Nope - not even once.

Sorry, Mr. The Rob, but I calls 'em like I sees 'em. I may be taking your comment out of context, but the fact that you uttered that phrase says that there's something underneath worth noting and pondering. I may be one of those fools that culture loves to label intolerant, weak-minded, incapable of rational thought, or using a bunch of fairy tales to base my existence upon...

But those 2,000 year old letters haven't let me down yet. They form the only reality that allows me to make sense of these days and this culture. And they give me a way to live and love others in these days and in this culture. Irrelevant? No - not to me.

As for you?

How do YOU read it?

"Holy words long preserved
For our walk in this world
They resound with God's own heart
Oh let the ancient words impart"

"Ancient Words" - Michael W. Smith

I Wonder Why I Wander

Nomadic career path.

That's perhaps the most eloquent summary of my journey thus far.

It certainly beats the heck out of "Aimlessly searching for purpose," "Futilely looking for something he'll never find," or "Has no idea what he wants to be when he grows up, and shows no signs of ever growing up."

Yup - nomadic career path. Much nicer.

 Nobody likes to live an unsettled life... At least, nobody I know.

Ok - there are those who really like change, new challenges, new situations, and new cars. Or obscenely tum-tum upsetting roller coasters like my neffypooh, who really has issues.

Not so much the Calbert. Especially the roller coasters.

We (Most of us, many of us, some of us, the old personages among us - of whom I am chief...) like things familiar, comfortable, and sort-of-predictable. At least, as predictable as life gets for we humanpersons...

Which is pretty unpredictable, actually.

Maybe we like the predictable because it give us some reassurance that when things are unpredictable, there's some predictable to help calm down the unpredictable. Kind of like drinking milk after biting into some sort of mind-numbingly hot pepper, like the Ghost Pepper - reputedly the hottest pepper humanpersons can possibly endure, with a lot of agony. Or so I've heard - I wouldn't go near one of those boogers with a ten foot... um... something that's ten feet long.

Why someone would choose to consume something that turns your innards into a seething cauldron of pain remains a mystery I will never comprehend. *shudder* Yet one of my good friends chooses those incendiary culinary options on a regular basis. He bewilders me. I love him - but he bewilders me.

So predictable ain't bad, except for those who thrive on unpredictable, spontaneous, roller coasters, and Ghost Peppers. The Master have mercy on your amped-up souls, cast iron digestion, and burned-out taste buds.

Amen.

So - nomadic career path? Certainly something I wouldn't have chosen. Not really one of my aspirations for my future. Not really on any list of anything I would have checked a big ol' YES to.

And yet, my Father seems to take delight in making sure "predictable" isn't really part of my daily existence. For certain things, yeah - He gives me a few. Daily Audio Bible? Yup - part of my day. Eating, sleeping, etc. Yup - got those covered.

Sense of purpose? Of calling or passion or direction? Not so much.

Career? Goals? Upwardly mobile status? Nope.

Interests? Hobbies? Which musical instrument to play? Which instruments to not play?

Um...

Nomadic is more how I roll.

"I see me rollin', I hatin'..."

(Ok - hatin' might be too strong of a term, even if it is a song quote. But "strongly dislikin'" or "finding moderately objectionable" don't really flow. 

I didn't choose the thug life - the thug life chose me.

Right.)

And for the first time in my constantly wandering path, I may actually be close to somewhat of a revelation of a possibility of perhaps an understanding of why I wander...

Maybe.

I'm never supposed to look at the world the same way twice.

Huh? 

Yeah - that was my reaction too.

Let me put it this way - if you've read more than a couple of these meanderings known as The Whistler's Wonderings, (also known as the Fluffy Goodness...) you'll notice that I seem to have a unique view of the world, of faith, and of wonder.

There are other words one could use to describe it... like "skewed," "whacked," "semi-disturbing," or even "weird."

And no, I'm not offended by any of those. Truthfully, I think they all apply in some way or another.

Really.

Now, this may be a load of Calbert-flavored hooey... but in my slanted view of reality, (Oooh - "slanted." That's one I forgot...) this comes closer to helping me understand why I'm never allowed to "settle down" in one place than anything I've pondered my way through.

So here's the deal - Those few, short-lived times when I've had a regular job, I tend to settle into a routine, a groove...

A rut. I'm like a little wind-up toy on a track - wind me up, let me go, and I'll follow the track around, same direction, same steps, same same same.

A big ol' honkin' rut.

And I quickly lose sight of wonder, of beauty, of God's hand moving so gracefully in everything that passes through my day. I forget just how much I've been blessed, the gifts I've been given in all their diversity and wonder (and strangeness...), and I start seeing the world the same way, every day, same ol' same ol'...

And I'm not supposed to do that.

If the scenery never changes, I don't look at life from different angles, seeing different views of God at work in so many ways. If I'm buried deep in a rut, I never look around to consider how this thing of faith continues to work as everyday life, with all its challenges, doubts, and struggles.

If I get settled in one place, I don't see the wonder of God at work right here, right now. I lose the view of my Father's gentle hand, nudging me in so many different ways.

And I forget how much He loves it when I make refrigerator art for Him. In fact, I sometimes get so deep in a rut that I don't make art at all.

So, He keeps me moving, knowing all the while how uncomfortable it is.

He doesn't let me put down roots, even though He knows how much I long for some little space that I can call "mine," because He'd rather have me see all of creation as "His."

He keeps me unsettled, continuing my nomadic path, because if I don't wander, I lose sight of His wonder.

What He has given me is a purpose... a vision... a dream... (For the first time in my life, perhaps?)

I want to spend my time telling His stories, pointing to Him from all the different twists, turns, angles, and strange viewpoints that He leads me through.

I want to communicate His wonder, His mercy, His goodness, His grace... And show how He is so very active, so very involved in it all - right here, right now.

I have no idea what that vision will look like, or if it even is valid. I have no clue how it could become reality. I simply know that it is my passion - using all the diverse gifts that He's given me, from that unique viewpoint He's brought me to ("strange," "slanted," "unusual," "weird..."), and with all the childlike delight and wonder He's put in me.

I want to tell His story.

I want to share His wonder...

As I wander.

The 40 Year Long Way 'Round

I think I might start a series called "My Weekly Butt Kicking from Pastor Craig."


Nope - too wordy.

"Pastor Craig Kicks My Butt."

No - just doesn't seem right.

"Kickin' with Craig."

Aahhh - that's the ticket.

(If I was cool and hip and in the know, I'd put something like #kickinwithcraig, but I'm not, so I won't.

Although I might see if I can get my peeps from First Cov to use it. Hee hee hee...)

Let us proceed with the kickin'...

Craig has been working through a series in Exodus called "The Great Escape." (And you should really check it out... the link is right here, and you can find the whole series and more CraigAwesomeness at the First Cov website.) So on a Sunday past, we found ourselves headed out from Egypt, and smack dab at the Red Sea in a sermon titled "Freed To Follow."

We also found out that Craig has never seen "The Ten Commandments." Imagine - never seeing Charlton Heston saying "Let My People GO!" or Yul Brenner saying "Heck NO, NRA Boy!" or Edward G. Robinson being his usual gangster self, only in a tunic, sandals, and a head thingie.

Perish the thought. Craig got some watchin' to do.

Anyway, part one of the kickin' came in this little factoid:

If the Hebrews had went a direct route, they could have hit the Promised Land in just a few weeks.

-But-

God the Master knew that they weren't ready to deal with what that road would bring them, so He took them the long way 'round...

The 40 year long way 'round.

Wha??

Yeah. 40 years of mercy wrapped up in wandering, complaining, learning, and manna.

(Ba-MANNA BREAD!! Ah, Keith Green - we miss you!)

40 years teaching former slaves to be a free nation following God the Master.

Cal's takeaway kickin' from this: When God is refining us, training us, and shaping us, it'll take as long as it needs to take. Not a second more than necessary, but not a second before we're ready either.

Even if it takes 40 years...

Part two of the kickin' is...

God is NOT a travel agent. (I love this picture, Craig!) We don't come to Him, with our destination all picked out, all the things we'd like to see, and all the amenities we want included, so that He can make it all nice and smooth and hopefully cheap.

Rather...

He takes us along the route He decides, to the places He wants us to be. He makes the plan, not us.

I think of it this way: We are deployed. We're sent to where we're needed - either to be the agents of change for the Kingdom He needs us to be, or to places where our training continues.

We're sent - sometimes for short assignments, sometimes long. Sometimes relatively calm places, where we can rest and learn, and sometimes into the middle of conflict, where we face challenge and struggle on all sides.

For the record, this is the only reality that helps me make sense of my nomadic life path - never staying where I'd like to stay, never allowed to put down roots or feel like I'm in my "place." He keeps me moving, keeps me unsettled, and continues to deploy me where He wants me to go.

And, slowly, I'm finally accepting it. 

So far, it's been since 2006 - the 8 year (and counting) long way 'round. Truthfully, it's been much, much longer - the 32 year long way 'round since my best friend became my bride, and a longer long way 'round since leaving my home town and coming to Grand Rapids - I guess I'm really on the 55 year long way 'round, and there's no end in sight.

Which brings us to the third kickin'...

The cloud and the fire.

Every step of the 40 year long way 'round, God went before them.

Not behind, watching them hit struggle after struggle. Not above, sitting on a cloud in a long white robe watching the little ants go marching one by one...

But, before them.

Ahead of them.

Already knowing the way ahead, already knowing the challenges they would face, and already providing what they would need to keep going.

Oh, and hearing their muttering, complaining, and general crabbing all along the journey. Imagine a 40 year session of "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? AreWeThereYet?AreWeThereYet?AreWeThereYet?AreWeThereYet?AreWeThereYet?AreWeThereYet?AreWeThereYet?"

Every parent who read that just had a major shudder. I know you did.

"AreWeThereYet?HowAboutNow?WhatAboutNow?Now?Now?Now?Now?Now?Now?Now?Now?Now?Now?Now?"

Yeah. Whee.

Oh, and don't even get me started about the gold cow. Edward G., you're goin' DOWN...

(That won't make any sense to folks like Craig, who've committed the egregious sin of never having seen the movie. And yet, I still love you.)

God the Master plans the path we need. God the Master know just how long it will take to bring us through the lessons and assignments needed to have us end up just where He wants us.

And God the Master goes before us. Always.

Thanks, Lord. Message delivered by your servant Craig, and received by your kiddo Calbert.

#kickinwithcraig - a hashtag whose time has come.

The Beautiful Ugly Clock

"Broken Time" by Andrew Van Zyll
Check out his creative pursuits at his Etsy store

God's timetable: the clock is always 100% perfectly on time, but it's an ugly clock.

I'm sorry - was that a little impious? Should I couch it in more Psalm-esque language? Yelling stuff like "HOW LONG, O LORD??" Nope - I'm stickin' with hows I sees 'em.

I do not doubt God's timing - in my limited, narrow view over the past 52 years...

(Come to think of it, it was more like 51, since that first year is pretty much a blur, an "eat, cry and poop fest.")

(Come to think of it, that first year wasn't so bad, except for the whole diaper thing...)

(Come to think of it, that'll pretty much sum up most of my final years, I should think - up to and including the whole diaper thing...)

(Come to think of it, I think we've discovered that Cal really shouldn't "come to think of" anything. Especially sitting in front of a computer keyboard. Ever.)

Anyway, I've seen God's timetable work its perfect way in too many places to ever rail against it or deny its existence. Everything falls to His sovereignty, willingly or unwillingly. We can accept the roaring flow, go with it, or we can try to buck the tide and end up on our hineys, flying downstream, producing the kind of facial expressions captured for all time in those photo thingies they always take at the most horrific moment of the most mind-numbing amusement park rides, then sell you at a "bargain" price for this souvenir that will bring back wonderful memories for generations to come. (Like panic, screaming, and bile, to name a few.)

But just because I accept and surrender to God's timetable does not change that fact that, in my limited and narrow view, it's an ugly clock.

Maybe I see it as ugly because I simply have no way to read it or understand it... It's like one of those LED clocks that tells the time in binary code, thus prompting smug looks from geeks and geeklets in the room, sharing their secret knowledge of being able to read the thing while us lower mortals wander in confusion...

Until we look at our phones, see the time, and get on with our uncaring agendas, leaving the geeks and geeklets frustrated, their lake of superiority dammed up with the concrete of indifference. Hoover dam, baby. Deal with it.

I stare at God's clock with no comprehension. I can't even see the whole face of the thing. The hands move in ways I can't perceive; the units they measure have no meaning in my existence; and the outcome of its progress is beyond my understanding.

Now, I do admit that I've never been the sharpest chisel in the tool box when it comes to clocks. I didn't learn to read the clock until fifth grade, even though I started reading at age 3. There was always someone around to tell me what time it was, so no need to learn the significance of "the big hand is on the 3, and the small hand is on the 8."

Yes, no digital clocks. I am indeed that old.

Anyway, I came late to the party with the whole "learning to tell time" thing. I did make up for it later, when I started working in broadcasting. When one is responsible for every second of every minute of every hour of an air shift, you start to gain a sense of time passing, really understanding just how long it takes to do some things. Learning to read something out loud, so that it comes out to exactly 27 seconds (to allow 3 seconds for the music hit at the end) teaches you a lot about time. So does having to vamp the weather forecast when you have 30 seconds to fill, and a forecast that says "partly cloudy, partly cloudy, repeat repeat repeat..."

So I do understand how time feels.

And I think we all understand how time feels in the long, long silences when we think God has gone south for the winter. Those stretches of darkness where we wonder if we've ever really heard from Him at all. The heavy night curtain that falls after a long, sunny, extended period of His blessing, when things go from bright to dark faster than the switching off of a lamp in a basement room. We all, or at least most of us, understand how the dark rises up, immeasurably fast and overpoweringly strong.

At times, we believe that not only is God not in the same time zone as us, but that He's changed over to another calendar, one where seconds, minutes, hours and even days and weeks are graded on a sliding scale. Where time itself becomes elastic, and it ebbs and flows in harmony with the One who exists outside of its steely grasp.

Time is NOT finite in the hands of the Infinite.

But we feel every dragging second in our small world.

Right now, I'm in a place where the clock is very ugly, moving so slowly that I have to fight the urge to keep replacing the battery, and it doesn't show signs of changing anytime soon. I'm on the other side of almost two years of very fast change, where time flew beyond my ability to catalog it. I tried, vainly, to grab some small pieces of it, to note the events in these pages, to be aware and keep reminders before it all blew past, never to be seen again.

Then it all stopped. We got stuck in a holding pattern while the runway is being cleaned by three Oompa Loompas with toothbrushes. It's gonna be awhile.

Meanwhile, to stir the pot of ugly clock soup, throw in a few years without employment, add in someone not wise enough yet to learn to live within his means, and whip into a financial frenzy.

** before Vicki or a few others jump in here, I probably should have said "gainful employment," or something like that. I have been pursuing an occupation - learning my new life so that all the things that come with it become habits, a part of my normal life. It was necessary, it's equipped me to live in this new body and keep it working well, and everything is happening exactly when it should. I just didn't learn the bigger lessons, and I took a little longer to grow up, so it'll take a little longer to dig out. **

Always on time, but it's an ugly clock.

Sometimes, some of that ugliness is self-imposed, I'm discovering. The clock is ugly because it has a highly polished surface and shows me all the mistakes I've been making while the timetable moves on. Maybe the ugliness I see in the clock is just the choking regret I feel for lessons not learned, time lost, resources wasted, failures committed. In the mirror of the clock, I see my own ugliness.

I don't think God intends us to look at ourselves in that harsh, unyielding place. With nothing between our limited viewpoint and infinity, how could we ever stand the sight? How could we perceive anything but LOSS... LOSS... LOSS...

"In the fullness of time, God sent His son..."

"God works all things together for good..."

"If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed..."

"Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!

How unsearchable his judgments,

and his paths beyond tracing out!

Who has known the mind of the Lord?

Or who has been his counselor?

Who has ever given to God,

that God should repay them?

For from him and through him and to him are all things.

To him be the glory forever! Amen."

Romans 11:33-36 (TNIV)

By itself, God's timetable is perfect, always on time, always on track.

From my limited view, it's an ugly clock.

From His view, He makes all things beautiful, even where I only see ugly...

In His time.

The Lost Puppy Lesson

In high school, there was a group of guys. And they, in my view, were cool. Not cool by the standards of how others would gauge cool - hot looks, mad sports skillz, that sort of drack. They were cool because they were unique. They weren't afraid of being themselves. They fired off Tarzan yells from a little cassette player at the drive-in movie during love scenes. Now THAT'S cool!

And I desperately wanted to be one of them.

A couple of them played guitars. They played in bands. They did, at least in my own imagination, many other amazing and wonderful things each day, the details of which, were mere mortals like myself to know them, would make them weep with the sheer weight of their awesomeness.

Wow.

And boy howdy, did I ever want to be one of "them."

And boy howdy, was I ever not one of them. Not even close.

Not to say that I didn't know them, that we weren't at least acquainted, or that they were so snooty and cliquesque that they wouldn't even notice my existence. Nope. I just wasn't one of them.

Like most teens, I wanted desperately to belong, to be a part of some group someplace. It would be years and years before I ever came to understand that I'm not really a "belong" sort of person. I'm more of a "hang on the fringes and observe" type of person or a "comfortable with my beloved and a small list of close friends but not really totally integrated into any group" type of person. And years and years more before I came to accept that.

And every once in a while I catch myself in that behavior. I'll hover around the edge of a group, imagining all the camaraderie and fun they must be having together, and begin wishing I was a part of their "club." Trying to fill some sort of void I think I perceive in my own existence by filling the lonely hole with belonging.

I call it the Lost Puppy Lesson. Hovering around the edges like a little lost puppy, hoping that someone will take me in and give me a home.

(I think my mom first gave it that name when she would laugh a bit about my attempts to fit into this or that group. Not quite sure why she needed to revisit those memories, or find amusement at them, but there it is.)

Recently, I've been wondering if I'm dancing around that lesson once again, hovering around the edges of somewhere I was employed for a very long time. I do a little bit of part-time work there, which is cool, but I'm wondering if, by keeping my "foot in the door" (so to speak), on some level I'm doing the Lost Puppy thing, hoping to get taken in, to be welcomed back and officially be part of "the group."

Which isn't cool, for the record. At least, not for me.

What I know now, that I didn't know then, is that I don't need to look for something external to "belong to" in an attempt to fill some sort of hole or void. If there's a hole, the solution won't be found out there - the place to look is within, usually in the area of having stepped away from where I belong in relationship to my Father. As always, if I feel distant from Him, He's not the one who moved. If I'm feeling disconnected, I'm probably the one who pulled the plug.

Ok, so knowing that, I now have a grid to process things through. In the case of my part-time work, am I hovering around the edges, hoping to be let back in and to belong? Honestly, maybe a little bit - but I think it's more a desire for some sort of regular work and income. I don't think I'm searching for something to fill an emotional hole, but rather something to help in an increasingly tight financial situation. A little stability in a stormy sea.

I think God uses our past lessons to help us navigate our present path. The question is, will we mindfully look at where we are through the lens of what we've learned?

One more thing to add to that - using the lessons learned is alright, as long as we allow Him to teach us through them and not let our past be an open door for all sorts of regrets to reach out and choke us. God doesn't intend for us to live in our regrets, but rather to commit our past to His keeping, and our present to His grace.

The final thought: sometimes, in God's grace and timing, good can come from the Lost Puppy Lesson...

If I hadn't wanted so desperately to be a part of that group from high school, I wouldn't have fixed my eyes on a certain instrument, one that would enable me to jam along and (hopefully, in my eyes) let me "in." At the very least I wouldn't have pursued that instrument so desperately at that time. The group of guys came and went (and I'm friends on Facebook with a couple of them!), and I moved on to other lessons and other puppy pursuits from time to time, becoming a little wiser for the wear.

Yet that instrument - my attempt to become one of them - remains a huge part of my life. I think of the guys sometimes on Sunday mornings when I'm part of the worship team at First Cov...

playing my bass guitar.

The one I play now has six strings and no frets, but the black and white four-string Electra bass that my grandmother bought me (after much begging, I'll admit, and much thankfulness) set my feet on the path. Thanks guys, especially Jeff - I had no idea at the time that a case of wanting to be part of the cool dudes would turn into a lifetime of joy playing bass.

The moral of the story? Sometimes puppies learn cool tricks, that they still do as old dogs.

His Word, My Sword

Spending time with the Daily Audio Bible is an essential part of my day. Actually, it takes place as early in my day as possible, since I've found that the later it comes, the easier it is to skip it, and the less I get out of it, as it settles in my head and my subconscious chews away on it through the day.

(not that it's all about what I get out of the Word - it's much more complex than that - but you get the idea...)

So today, the reading from the OT was in Isaiah, which has been rich and amazing to be working through. Specifically, Isaiah 55:10-11:

"As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it."

The NT reading was Ephesians chapter 6, very familiar territory. And yet, something that probably everybody else has noticed, but not me - Ephesians 6:17:

"Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God."

Ok, so as I bounce out the door, first thing would be how often do I run out half-naked?

(apologies to those of you who now feel the overwhelming need to wash your eyes out with bleach...)

(Note - DON'T do that. Ever. No bleach. Ixnay on the leachbay. Just an expression - let's move along.)

(And yes, I did specifically choose the word 'bounce' back there. Hope you enjoyed it. *shudder*)

How much of the armor, what God says I need to survive the day, do I leave behind?

But that's not the biggie - the one that caught my ear, so to speak... When I (in my totally uninformed, non-theologian, Sunday School attending but not comprehending, basic pew pusher way) take these two passages together, here's what occurs to me:

Take the sword, which is the Word of God, part of your equipment for the day, and take it with you. And know this - My word always accomplishes what I send it out to do.

*wha?*

God gives me His word, to take up as my sword, and then tells me that His word always accomplishes what He sends it out to do. God trusts a dufus like me to take His sword and use it, even though I go out there swinging it around like a kid with a tree branch slaying imaginary dragons in epic battles only He can see. And by the way, "wherever you use that sword, it always accomplishes what I send it out to do."

It doesn't say that it only accomplishes it in the hands of a competent professional. No 9th level masters of the Word Sword only, please. The word goes where He sends it, and it accomplishes what He sends it to do. Through me, in spite of my juvenile flailings, my misunderstanding of how to wield it, and sometimes not knowing which end is the handle and which end is the blade, He sends the word out, and it does what He sends it to do.

Ooh boy.

I got some study and training to do. If you were told that you had to carry around, say, Anduril, Flame Of The West, forged from the shards of Narsil, the Blade that was Broken, able to command an army of the dead that can't be defeated, is a longer sword than I've ever seen, and makes me wonder how Aragorn whipped it out in the Return Of The King without lopping off Elrond's nose, you'd take the time to learn how to carry the thing without maiming somebody, wouldn't you? (not to mention the potential for stabbing yourself in the foot, or other significant soft tissue...)

And yet, I wander off into the day, carrying this both wonderful and terrible weapon, able to cut to the heart of things, to illumine the darkest corners, to lay bare the deepest darkness, to restore hearts and lives...

And I treat it like a wooden sword from Never-Never land. Lost boy indeed.

We memorize our favorite verses, post them on bulletin boards, mouse pads, screen savers, and bumper stickers, whip them out at appropriate (and not appropriate) times, sometimes with the delicate touch of a surgeon, sometimes with the blunt force of a cave troll, but all too often I do so without knowledge and wisdom.

As swordmasters go, I'm a fine sewer worker.

(Not to malign sewer workers - I've seen Dirty Jobs. You have my abiding respect and thanks.)

And yet, He uses His word. Even in the hands of a dufus like me. He sends His word through us, and it always accomplishes what He sends it out to do. That fills me with both awe and shame.

Father, keep me from going out half-dressed. Remind me to take ALL my equipment - the electronics that we all seem to have attached to us, the little bits and bobs that we take along for our needs, but also the most important equipment that you provide for my survival. So that at the end of the day, I'll still be standing. There will be attacks, assaults, temptations, distractions, and paths I should never go down today. Without all You have provided, I'm a sitting duck. Remind me to grab my gear, and go in Your strength.

And guide me to learn about my sword. Teach me Your ways, help me to wield Your word in a way that is worthy of my Father, and keep me from using it to harm or destroy the innocent. Impress on me both the wonder and the terror of how I carry Your word - make me see the weight of responsibility to be a warrior who knows how to use his sword.

And thank You that even when I swing it badly, Your word accomplishes what You send it to do. Thanks for my small part in Your purpose. Give me the things I need today for this day, and lead me as I follow You, sometimes with stumbling steps, sometimes falling, and sometimes making my Daddy grin as I finally "get it." Thanks, Father - for everything.

Amen

The Horrible Mercy

She hates this. Ok - hate might be a little strong.

She barely tolerates this. That's better.

She's pinned down, while having a metal blade scraped over her back and legs. She has no reference to understand what is being done or why. There is no language that can explain to her what this is, why it has to happen, or how it will make things better. Her head is being held down at one end, and any attempt to get up or move is put down quickly. At the other end, the relentless digging and scraping of the blade.

Ezri hates the stripper blade. And shedding season.

Overdramatic? Maybe a little. But accurate from her point of view? Pretty much. She's on her side, I'm by her head trying to comfort her, but really my job is to keep her on her side. So I gently put down any attempt to get up or get away. Vicki is wielding the stripper - the metal blade that pulls away all the loose fur from the undercoat that is matted and all clumped up.

And Ezzie is not into it.

So why put her through all this? If it was just to make her "purty," we'd find another way. But she's one of those breeds that have a double coat - the "hard" coat on the top, and a downy coat underneath for insulation. Our husky, Kira, also had this. When the weather turns warm, they "blow their coat" - the downy layer comes loose, it clumps to the top, and our black dog turns grey. And way ugly.

The efficient way to get rid of it is using a stripper of some sort - to rake through the hard coat, grab the clumps and pull them out. The end result? Enough extra fur to make three or four dogs. And a throw pillow.

So, the point?

I've been listening to the Daily Audio Bible every morning - establishing for the first time in my life a routine of being in God's word every day. And we've been going through 1 & 2 Kings - long, long lists of names and deeds. And yet they've been teaching me a lot.

Near the end of 2 Kings, a phrase came up a number of times that caught me off guard - "they even sacrificed their own children, giving their sons and daughters to the fire." Another note in the list of ways the Kings did evil in God's sight, but it made me think...

What would bring a parent to the point where offering their beloved child as a sacrifice seemed to be a reasonable act? What desperation, what obligation, what influence is sufficient to make a parent take that step?

Now, while I let that thought roll around your noodle for a bit, allow me to execute a very sharp left turn into this...

The Bible talks about the process God uses to remake us into the image of Christ, with one of those pictures being the refiner's fire. Metal being placed in the furnace, the waste and impurities being burned away, the pure metal remaining. Having watched some episodes of "Dirty Jobs" with Mike Rowe, I've seen metal in a furnace being heated to thousands of degrees. I've seen glass being melted and shaped into new forms.

And none of it looked like a lot of fun. Except where Mike holds something hot or gets his face shield melted. That's pretty funny, right there.

What would bring a parent to the point where putting their beloved child into the fire would seem a reasonable act?

God's horrible mercy.

When we're in the fire, when the wrecking ball has shattered everything we hold dear, when we seem to be so lost and alone, when everything we love or even recognize is swept away, all we seem to see is loss and pain. We see the agony of everything that has been torn away.

I know I did. When the wrecking ball swung in 2006, I went insane for a few months. The loss, the pain, the confusion - that was all I could see.

But what I've never once considered is what my Father went through. He threw his son into the fire. He swung the wrecking ball. He held me down on the floor while the stripper blade dug into my body, taking away the clumps, the matted dirt, the things I didn't need anymore.

We sometimes think of God as this impersonal all-knowing being, executing His will because He knows what is needed and He works all things together for good for those who love Him, as it says in Romans 8:28. What we don't think of, or at least I didn't, is God our FATHER. A Father who daily makes the choice to throw His children into the flames. Yeah, He knows it's needed - He wouldn't do this if it wasn't. And He knows what will result, the good that comes from this terrible act.

But He's still a daddy. He watches as His kids writhe and cry and scream and hurt and burn. Could any parent just stand back, arms crossed, wrapped in the knowledge that this is for the best so it's just got to go this way, and not hurt for their child? Could you or I just watch and not want to intervene, to take it away, or to take their place?

I turn into a puddle just having to hold Ezri down while we're stripping her coat. I can't even imagine what a parent goes through.

This Father considered it a reasonable act to offer His Son as a sacrifice for all of us. This Father watched His one and only beloved Son cry and suffer and scream and hurt and die that horrible death. He knew that it would result in life, for His beloved One and for the whole world, but His daddy's heart must have ached with the pain.

And this Father has to endure the suffering of His children over and over again, to allow it to happen, to cause it to be.

The horrible mercy.

Father, when the fire burns, allow me to see some of Your tears. When the wrecking ball leaves all wasted, allow me to see some of Your heart. When I am ruined and alone and screaming and confused, allow me to see that I am not alone - my Daddy weeps with me.

Help me to trust, just like Ezri trusts me when I hold her down. It doesn't make it easier, it doesn't make it hurt less, but it does help. I'm not suffering alone, I'm going through what is necessary, and my Father is standing near, hearing my cries and longing to make it all better at just the right time - not a moment before, but not a second longer than necessary.

Keep my eyes on the joy we'll both feel when the fire is past and I'm closer to what You have in mind for me. Thank you, Daddy.

Amen.

The Forgetful Mirror

"Those who hear and don't act are like those who glance in the mirror, walk away, and two minutes later have no idea who they are, what they look like."

James 1:23-24 - The Message

There are a few podcasts that are part of my routine - I check them out regularly, load 'em to my iPod ('cause it's a little tough taking an iPad on my trike), and listen to them either during the day or at night before bed.

One in particular usually starts my day, and sometimes ends it: the Daily Audio Bible. I usually listen as soon in the morning as my schedule allows - on my morning trike ride, while knitting in the living room, or at a coffee shop or bookstore preparing to write.

At first, I thought "well, this is just for those who want to take the 'easy' way - being spoon-fed scripture instead of reading it for themselves. Not really studying - not 'real' devotions, just an electronic fix that doesn't really change a life."

And I was wrong. At least for me. For others, your mileage may vary.

What this has done is help me establish a morning routine - a regular path that I follow. Beginning my day focusing on God and His word, and that starts to penetrate the rest of the day. A particular verse, or a section of the story coming back to mind, giving me time to reflect and apply.

Which brings us to Solomon and James. (wouldn't that be a great name for a folk singing duo?)

We're in First Kings, watching the reign pass from David to Solomon. We approach the apex of glory for Israel - the building of the Temple and the rule of the wisest king ever... and then we watch it all fall downhill from there. From David, with a whole heart for God, to Solomon, half-hearted.

And it makes me wonder, which one am I?

I (like so many other kids raised in Sunday School) do a bit of sneering at the Hebrew children - watching the Red Sea part, then hang out with the gold cow. God provides bread, and they whine. God delivers, they turn to idols. "What, are they idiots?" I hear myself ask.

Solomon - given wisdom from God, along with long life and riches. And after an amazing start, down he goes. Just like the rest of his people's history.

Or mine.

For I'm the guy who has received such abundant grace from God's hand that it staggers the mind. I've seen my entire life and history re-written in just over a year. Chains have been shattered, my story made new, and God's goodness shown so hugely that I have no words to describe it.

And 5 minutes after hearing His word, I get irritated with the person who just cut me off on the highway. I get peeved when the piece of bread I just buttered falls on the floor. (buttered side down, of course) I sit in front of the TV or the computer and allow my brain to turn to mush. I wander through my world and wonder why I feel so alone. Through conscious or unconscious choice, I turn away.

Half-hearted.

I look in the mirror, walk away and forget what I look like. Probably there's a little dot in my Bible next to James 1:23 and an arrow that says, "you are here." I cry for God's word to illumine my path, then I tie a blindfold over my eyes. I plead for His voice to sing over me, and then I plug my ears. (no matter that they're Bose earbuds - they're still earplugs at times)

I'm Solomon, without the wisdom or the riches. Only one wife, but she is a hottie, so we've got that in common.

What listening to the Word each day is doing is keeping the mirror in front of me. In fact, when I'm being a boogerhead, you'll sometimes hear me mutter, "mirror" or "Solomon." The mental health professionals call that self-talk. I call it giving myself a private butt whooping. Or semi-public - I have no shame. Usually. Sometimes.

Father, give me this day what I need for this day. Keep the mirror in front of me Lord - don't let me turn away and forget who I am in You. Remind me when I turn away, catch me when I close my eyes or plug my ears, and lead me in Your way. What I need today, for today. Each step, each hour, each minute. Thanks for the gift of Your word - help me stay grounded in it, and close to You.

The Spinning Pinwheel of Death

The spinning pinwheel of death, or the flipping hourglass of death. The blue screen of death. The little square Macintosh face frowning. And honestly, I don't remember what it was on the first computer I ever encountered - a Radio Shack TRS-80 complete with programs accessed on cassette tape.

And then, either by choice or not, the words "system shutting down." Rebooting, restoring, restarting - whatever nice term we put on it, it still brings that feeling of wanting to grab something heavy and show our little electronic pal some REAL rebooting. With a size 12 boot.

That level of frustration even hits the pros sometimes... my wife has been known to argue - loudly - with a given piece of technology when it dumps in her Froot Loops. Granted, she does it from a higher plain of knowledge, so she can curse at the thing in binary, but still - she gets frustrated too. Pinwheels are no respecters of persons or professions.

Then we get a new computer, a new operating system, a new mobile device. Joy! Rapture! Maybe this one will keep going and not leave me weeping in technology purgatory.

Or maybe it won't.

Probably.

Unless it's an Apple, of course.

(Yes, that was both sarcasm and gentle humor wrapped up in one little phrase. Thanks for noticing.)

"Is there a point to this, other than once again igniting the Apple / Microsoft feud where the only winners are the Linux people, smiling smugly?"

Yes there is. Thanks for getting me back on track.

I have a new system. Let's call it DS-2010. Installed March 30th, 2010, it's a sleek new operating system and keeps getting smaller all the time. Right now, it's lost around 180 pounds of excess code, and everything is running just dandy.

And yet, the spinning pinwheel of death shows up from time to time. I've noticed it lately as I've been working the oh-my-heavens-it's-way-honkin'-early shift. I get started around 5am, get done around 10am, and if I'm not careful, the pinwheel appears and I get the message:

System shutting down.

Now, a brief pause between dawn patrol and the rest of my day is alright - some time to regroup, get in a little protein, and saddle up for the rest of the day. Sometimes it's a literal saddle - hitting the trike for a trail ride, but whatever the case, I do have things to get on with.

But if I let my guard down, lose momentum, relax too much, ooh - pretty spinning pinwheel! And I'm done, either snoozing, watching something I've seen a few dozen times on Netflix, or staring off into space, lamenting that I really should get up and do something. Once the pinwheel starts to spin, the system is headed for shutdown and I'm a chair jockey for the rest of the day.

Normal folks can take a brief pause without having it take out the rest of the day. I've never, EVER been accused of being normal.

What does this mean for my walk of faith? How often does God call me, direct me, guide me, only to see me staring at a spinning pinwheel, shutting down, oblivious to everything around me? Deaf and blind to His call, while telling myself to just "relax."

I guess you're never too old to learn the balance between moving and relaxing, doing and being, productivity and reflection. Pausing and listening to the Spirit, and then moving in harmony with the Father's will.

A few "daily" observations

Life changes. Constantly.

I didn't say these were going to be profound observations...

So, I'm constantly trying to figure out those changes. In life.

I didn't even promise coherent observations, just for the record...

I'm wondering this morning why the Lord seems to delight in making sure I don't feel stable. (Do I need to pause here for the usual snickers, chuckles and eye rolls relating to "Cal" and "unstable?" Let me know... Thank you...) He brings things into life, things that would (at first glance) seem to be great opportunities for income, meaningful work and a chance for me to feel less "lost" and more like I "belong."

And as fast as those things come in, they go right back out again. Temporary gigs, part-time participation. Never enough to allow me to put down roots and settle, but just enough to leave me clueless and confused as to what the HECK I'm supposed to be doing in this world.

(My counselor, who I honor and appreciate, would correct my wording here - it's not what am I supposed to do - the phrase should be, what do I get to do? Not obligation, but freedom to enjoy what the Lord has for me in any given day. Obviously, I don't quite get it yet. But I'm workin' on it...)

Am I saying that my Father delights in leaving me twisting in the wind? No no no no. Alright, so what then?

Thus beginneth the observations...

1) The Lord has been repeating a lesson over and over to me... give us this day what we need for this day. He used a sermon from Pastor Craig to point my attention in this direction, and since it takes a long, long time to get my attention and even longer to keep it, He's been steadily nudging me along until I finally get the point.

And that is?

That all I need for today is what He supplies today. Tomorrow? Nope. I can plan, speculate, consider, schedule, accommodate and prepare. But what I need for tomorrow will come tomorrow. Not today.

Which means...

2) He will be faithful to provide for the day's need. Every day. He will not fail, He will not forget, He won't go off on vacation and leave me stranded. He will provide. Every day.

Now here's the kicker...

3) I can't receive what I need for this day if I only see Him once a week. This was the one this morning that really smacked me alongside the ol' noggin.

I'll openly admit that a daily walk with God is a huge struggle for me and always has been. I can spout Christianeze all day, quote little pithy phrases from songs and verses, and know all the lingo to be accepted in Christian circles. But a daily passionate walk with Him? Not so much.

But I know He wants that for me.

How can He give me everything I need for this specific day if I only see Him once a week? Show up on Sunday, back my van (if I had one) up to the door, load up a week's worth of supplies, smile, wave, and say "see you next week!"

Anybody else feeling like they just got smacked with a 2x4 upside the head? Yeah, I feel your pain.

So, a little of the mystery becomes plain...

I feel unstable (snicker, grin, guffaw) because I don't come to the One who gives stability each day, to receive what I need today to be stable today.

I don't feel like I belong, because I don't come to the One who gave all that I could belong to Him.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do (or get to do) because I need to talk to the One who gives my agenda for the day.

I feel lost because I only get a map for today's journey. I don't get the whole road atlas with expanded views of major cities - just the route for today. And if I never come and pick up today's map, I have no direction.

One thing this temporary job has taught me is how bad a "regular" job is for me, mentally. The "get up, go to work, come home, repeat" thing so clouds my mind that I lose sight of all of the small graces and everything that He is weaving together all around me. Other folks are more noble than I and can handle these things without losing sight of the One who holds it all together.

Me? Not so much.

(And no, that's not just an excuse for my in-law's when they wonder when I'm going to actually go out and get a "real" job. At least, I don't think it is... If it is, it's not a very good one, really...)

My daily existence, my temporary sojourn, no chance to put down roots? It keeps me aware of Him, right here, right now. What is He working on today? Where is His hand so clearly moving today? And how can I point to Him today and give Him the glory for all He is doing, for everyone, everywhere?

My job? To be faithful and wise with what He trusts me with, so that we can live within the means He provides. Don't hoard stuff - get rid of it. Keep things free and open, because I never know where He'll be sending me next. Be a faithful husband, a loyal friend, a willing servant. Be ready to go wherever, do whatever, and be exactly who He asks me to be.

And daily, every daily, receive what I need for this day. Resources, purpose, direction - everything necessary for what He has in store.

Father, give me this day what I need for this day. Yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen.

A conversation

This is a conversation that was rolling around in my head this morning. And yes, conversations do actually roll around in my head. Thus, when I say “that’s how I roll,” now you understand where that is coming from.

“Thank you Lord, for my new job...”

“Temporary.”

“What?”

“Your temporary new job.”

“Well, duh - yeah. I know that.”

By the way - I am not, nor am I usually in the habit of saying “duh” to the One who I usually have these conversations with. Really. Bad things happen when I do.

“Your temporary new job.”

“Yeah - that. I know that, you know that, so why make a fuss about it.”

“It’s important.”

“How so?”

“Have you forgotten some of the lessons we’ve been over? The roads we’ve traveled? If so, you’ve just lost your “roll your eyes at the forgetful Hebrew children” lifetime pass...”

*sigh*

“Shall we review, my son?”

*sigh*

“Let’s roll that beautiful bean footage, shall we?...”

January, 2005 - Working full-time at CU Radio, specifically at His Kids Radio. Coming up on 19 years there, pretty well finally finding my “calling” and settling in there.

“Ahem...”

“What?”

“Let’s switch to the real version, not the idealized, rosy glasses version.”

January 2005 - Although I was working full-time, thought I was settling and happy, nothing was ever “settled” about me. I weighed somewhere around 380, having come down from 480 through 2 medical fasts, but that new weight didn’t resolve some issues. I was still unsure, had poor self-image, and never felt that I fit anywhere. The exterior of the house was improved, but the interior filled with rot and despair. All my striving to be “normal,” to find balance and peace, to be at a place where I belonged was for nothing.

January 2006 - I was laid off, just short of 20 years there. Slight insanity follows for about 4 months, and lingers for years after. Vicki is married to someone who shoots up to 480 lbs, wanders through life lost, emotionally wrecked, filled with all the self-loathing and doubt that comes with this kind of path.

January 2009 - through the kindness and care of Weigh To Wellness, about 50 pounds come off. In the meantime, God reveals some of the purpose of the wrecking ball...

“Remember, son, what I told you? That I wanted to rebuild you - make you new. But I would not start until the foundation was clear. I would not restore you building on the rubble of the past. It had to be bare, new, clean and ready for the work I wished to do. Everything had to go.”

“Why? Was it all that bad? Was it all awful, without value? Was there no good part of me?”

“You know better than that, son.”

“You’re right. I do.”

January 2010 - The path comes into view, where the final walls will fall. Obedience. Place one foot on the path and watch the waters part in front of you.

March 30, 2010 - “My chains are gone, I’ve been set free...”

January 2011 - A month of writing and thinking. A time to allow the dust to settle, and to see just where we’ve come from and where we’ve arrived at.

February 2011 - At just the right time, a chain in my mind falls. Where was chaos is now clarity. The middle ground is granted, balance restored.

March 2011 - Opportunities for work, in limited quantities, to at least bring our noses above the waterline, financially. And to show me that I am capable of it.

April 2011 - The temporary job.

“Alright, so what did we learn?”

“My worth is not in what I do, but who I am in You... No “job” ever gets my heart - my heart belongs to You alone... I am Tabula Rasa, all things are new... I’ve been given so much grace, shown so much of how Your hand moves in every life, every day in huge ways, that it’s wrong to waste it in the mundane. Every day that I don’t reflect on, talk about, or point to Your grace is a day I’m not functioning as You intended.”

“So, want to try again?”

“Thank you for my temporary job. And thanks that when it ends, the path with You is just beginning.”

“Amen.”

God's Timetable

Today, March 30th, is my one year anniversary. One year ago was my surgery, when I weighed 414 lbs. Today, a year later, I weigh 234. In thinking of that, and everything that has happened in this year, this was the result...

Wait upon the Lord.

Yeah, yeah, yeah - we all hear that. We say that. We tell others that.

And inwardly (sometimes outwardly, to be honest), we roll our eyes. "Yeah, right. Wait. Lovely. That'll help. Thanks."

(I'm pretty much talking directly to myself here - any resemblance to individual attitudes or situations is... well... you know.)

So, allow me to reflect on God's timetable, and how it's been implemented in my life this past year. After all, I only can see where I've been.

God's timetable can sometimes only be seen in reverse, by the way. At least, it seems that way to me. Going forward, seeing it in real time? We don't seem to be able to connect the dots in the middle of it all. But looking back? The pieces fit into the puzzle beautifully.

So, here's some of the journey. Look at this and tell me that it's a coincidence...

I've been through two medical fasts, regained the weight I lost, applied for surgery twice and been denied both times. I was laid off from a job I truly loved, at a place I'd been for almost 20 years, been adrift looking for purpose for a few years, and really felt broken, depressed and forgotten. This brought me to...

January 2009 - I started at Weigh to Wellness weighing 480 lbs. My doctor recommended them - I had no idea who they were. Through their amazing care and guidance, I went through a third medical fast and lost 50 lbs, down to 430. But then, without trying all that hard, I not only kept the 50 off, but lost another 10 lbs. This led to...

December 2009 - Dr Turke at WtW suggested that I reconsider surgery, pointing out that my body seems to settle at a new weight, rather than immediately trying to gain again.

For the record, if my body tends to settle at a new weight, how did I regain all the weight I lost? I was down to 366, and went back to 480. How did that happen? After the layoff, I went semi-quietly insane for a few months and the food addiction took center stage. Every addictive behavior surfaced, old habits took over, and there we went.

Dr. Turke also mentioned that the surgery is so much more than just a smaller stomach - the changes are deep and have an impact on many, many things. Oh, and the surgeon she's established a working relationship with just happens to be the surgeon I had talked to the first time I applied for surgery, Dr. Paul Kemmeter, who Vicki and I liked very much.

Dear ones, sometimes as we wait on the Lord, He is waiting for us. He lays the path in front of us and says, "Child, will you trust Me? Will you place one foot on this path? Will you say yes? You can't see beyond this point, but I can. Will you trust Me to not only guide you, but to prepare the path before you?" I consider, we pray, I say "yes."

So...

January 2010 - I apply for insurance coverage for bariatric surgery. We go through the various tests and screenings, get all the proper documents and stuff filed to the proper people, talk to Dr. Kemmeter and decide that the surgery he originally recommended is the one that we'll pursue. Then we settle in to wait...

In the meantime, God gives not only a sense of peace but anticipation. Instead of "the last resort," He begins to prepare me for the joyful journey to come, to see this not as the end but the beginning.

Middle of March 2010 - Approval can take up to eight weeks but we hear back after two. "We're calling to schedule Cal's surgery." "Oh - the approval came through?" "Yes, it did." "Great - so when is the surgery?" "In two weeks."

Gulp.

Like that, we began the countdown to surgery. God had laid the groundwork so that when the call came, everything was already in place.

March 30, 2010 - Surgery day, and I'm down to 414 lbs, having been focusing on my eating for the previous two weeks. All goes exactly as we had been praying, the procedure completed, everything was fine. When I awake from sleep, God speaks these words into me:

My chains are gone, I've been set free...

April 2010 - My surgery was on Tuesday. The following Sunday, Easter, I was at church, rejoicing with my brothers and sisters. In a wheelchair, moving slowly, taking in nothing but liquids, and smiling the whole time. I get up and walk every three or four hours. No more diabetic meds since the hospital, and the pain meds are taking away the arthritis pain as well. Walking is good - very good.

Six weeks later, we ask what we should be doing for arthritis pain, since I'd been using the meds from the hospital. Dr. Kemmeter replies, "take your arthritis meds - that's why we did this particular procedure."

I take my pill. And for the first time, the medicine takes care of the pain. Doesn't just mute it or dull it, but knocks it out. My chains are gone...

Pain-free legs lead us to...

May 2010 - TerraTrike releases a new model, the Rover, their first trike with a weight capacity over 300 lbs - this one handles 400 lbs. I rode the prototype, grinned my face off, and Vicki says OK to a pre-order. That gives me time to get under the 400 lb weight limit, although I'm already slightly under it.

June 2010 - We had heard of delays in Rover deliveries and expected that mine would arrive in late July. Then we get the call mid-month, "Cal's Rover is here!"

Yee haw! Rover arrives just in time to become my main replacement for overeating. Being out on the trike helps my body, clears my mind, and heals my spirit. In fact, as I wrote this on Tuesday, 3/29/11, I've already ridden three miles to work (at 4:45 this morning, in 20 degree temps), two miles to the coffee shop where I'm sipping and writing, and I'll ride two more back to work and another three home. Yeah, I'm a trike rider.

Also this month, I used the wheelchair for the last time at Festival 2010. It came home, went in the basement shortly thereafter, and there it sits.

The weight continues to drop...

July 2010 - I've realized how important writing is and how I need to be journaling a lot. It helps me clear the chaos and also raise the stones to help me remember just how far God has brought me. When darkness and confusion threaten, the stones remind me that God is there, He has been faithful, and He WILL be faithful.

August 2010 - We're having the best summer ever - riding, moving, breathing, living. I'm getting a little restless, and feeling a little guilty that I don't bring any income in to help keep us afloat. Vicki points out that learning my new life IS my job - other things will follow when it's time. In the meantime, God provides, keeping our noses just above water. My chains continue to fall - diabetes, cholesterol, arthritis pain - God is rebuilding me.

September 2010 - Fall riding is amazing!!

November 2010 - sleep studies, to check the level of my CPAP machine. I've been taking off the mask or sleeping without it, and although I know I shouldn't do that, sometimes I just roll over and don't feel like putting the mask on.

The results?

Episode rate (how many times per hour I stop breathing): Originally 106, now down to 30.

Pressure level: Originally 14, now down to 7.

(the machine starts at 5, btw...)

Significant change, eh wot? Then these words...

"Now that is when you sleep on your back. The next line is when you sleep on your side."

Episode rate: Zero.

"We train you to sleep on your side, you don't need the CPAP."

If you heard a loud CLUNK during the month of November last year, it was my jaw hitting the floor. Never, in my wildest dreams or imagination, did I ever think I'd no longer need the CPAP.

December 2010 - We take our first long trip away since surgery, to Missouri for Christmas. Firsts for that trip:

No CPAP, special pillows, or air bed to keep me in an elevated position.

Only gear needed for sleeping: one queen air mattress, basic pillows. Vicki and I shared a mattress for the first time in many, many years. On the floor, no elevated bed, and I got up and down under my own power.

No wheelchair. Did some walking and shopping in Branson, all on my own two feet.

No worry about breaking a chair, fitting in the shower or breaking a toilet seat in someone's house. (These are all common concerns of the obese... And yes, they have all happened to me.)

January 2011 - Although the physical changes have been wonderful, the mental changes have been very challenging, overwhelming at times. I take a month off from everything - playing, worship team, etc. to just sit, think, and write. To get off the roller coaster and let the dust settle.

And God shows me the path I've walked - the one that He prepared for me to walk. He shows me some of the reasons for all the grace He has showered on me. He reconnects me to worship, softening a heart that had grown closed and cold. He heals and restores my mind, giving some clarity in the chaos. Just at the right time, I take my first Tai Chi class, beginning to develop balance and strength in my new body.

I run errands. I shop for groceries. I do things that Vicki would have to do on top of her full-time work. She comes home and doesn't dread asking me, "so how was your day?" The answer now is (usually), "great! I did this, took care of that, etc. etc. etc..." She sometimes has trouble keeping up with me.

That makes me smile.

February 2011 - After a month of thinking and healing, God prepares the next piece of the puzzle, putting things in place to bring about some emotional and mental stability, just at the time when I'd be able to accept it for another good gift.

I sat on a panel with Dr. Kemmeter and Cathy, the surgical coordinator discussing treatment of obese patients. Me? Having enough confidence to do that? All by myself without Vicki driving me there and holding my hand all the way? Impossible.

But, I did it.

March 2011 - With these things in place, He begins to add things to my life - work with Sozo Media Group, playing at WCSG's Father-Daughter banquet and actually standing up to play, being able to get things done at home and do things FOR Vicki, instead of her having to wait on me.

And, most recently, my Rover has been sold to a dear friend, to encourage him in his journey. I have a new trike, a TerraTrike Cruiser which I call Big Blue, sitting outside here. Big Blue is faster, lighter, and has a 300 pound weight capacity. I no longer need the capacity of the Rover, and am well under the weight limit of the Cruiser. In fact, I now fit on every trike that TerraTrike makes. Never thought that would happen.

All this, and now my one year anniversary. 414 pounds to 234 in one year. Both physically AND mentally, I'm in a totally new and wonderful place.

Now, dear reader, tell me that this was just a string of lucky happenings. Tell me that it all fits together, just at the right time in the right order, as a happy accident.

I won't believe you, but feel free to tell me anyway.

We know that "God works all things together for good to those who love Him, and are called according to His purpose." (Romans 8:28, which can either be a great comfort, or a bat to hit someone over the head with.) Can you see that, when the working together is going on? Can you see it in real time? Maybe a glimpse or two, but to see all things working together? Not me. I can't see past my nose sometimes.

But knowing that this is true, that He IS working all things, present tense. To see where He has worked, to see the things He has drawn together at the perfect time, and in the perfect order, where some would see random chance. Then to see Him drawing them together right here, right now, it gives us the reminder that He is working, weaving all together in the right time, the right order, in the right places with the right people.

His work is nearly impossible to see in the moment, in the darkness, which is why we MUST remember, we must raise the stones and use those testimonies to God's work to keep our eyes fixed on Him when the circumstances and events keep us buried in shadows. We must tell each other what He IS doing, right here, right now.

Dear ones around us are struggling, wandering in dark places, staggering under crushing weight, and to hear the truth of how He moves, how He works, how He loves right here and right now? That can ease the burden, shift the weight, shine a light into the darkness, and relieve the pain, even just for a moment. To give hope in a hard place.

Wait on the Lord. We don't need to see His timetable - we just need to see Him. Wait on the Lord.