A Work in Progress

The Unbuildable Bridge

Just thought of a picture, but maybe it’s really a little more than that.

A great country is divided into basically two sections, separated by a vast canyon. There are many smaller offshoots and fissures, but for the purposes of my illustration, we’re going to focus on what appears to be the two main sections.

Now, because the country is so divided, it actually ends up being much less great than it could. The differences in the two sides are many, but so are the similarities. So what eventually happens is that the people living in each divided half of the great country end up staring at each other over the vast canyon. Both sides know the country was not so divided once, but they can’t remember how to get back to that way of thinking, and living. They can’t remember how to pull the two sides back together.

Sometimes they shout epithets at each other, and always they’re thinking that each side knows a better way—the only way—to actually bring the two halves of the great country back together.

Eventually, one side or the other decides the best thing to do is build a bridge across the vast canyon. The bridge will be made of ropes, and it will be built by flinging ropes across the span, tying them off on either side, and then attaching boards for people to walk across, piece by piece. Eventually, they think, they will be able to not only meet in the middle, but also travel back in forth.

There’s a problem, though. Because the bridge is made of rope, there’s some swaying involved when you step out onto it. While it would probably be best to just step out and start building, step after step after step, it never happens.

People are afraid.

And instead of walking toward each other, building as they go, they cling to their own side of the canyon, and return to their epithet-shouting ways. They know what they need, and they even have a rudimentary idea of how to do it. So they throw their ropes, and instead of catching them on the other side and tying them off, they simply let the ropes slide through their fingers.

So the bridge remains unbuilt, and a canyon that could be crossed is instead returned to the status of obstacle. Common ground is forgotten. Similarities are not mentioned.

And compromise is not even considered…

Certainly a crudely drawn metaphor, but you get the point, don’t you?

I’m no politician, and no great thinker.

But as someone on the outside, it seems to me this partisan-ship we’re so concerned with is slowly killing the country.

There will always be struggles–that is one thing we can all be certain of. But instead of facing the struggles with a united front, we are more concerned with making people afraid and telling the country who is to blame for their fears.

And I wonder whatever happened to the principles this country was founded upon.

You can remove words from pledges, and even stop saying the pledges altogether. You can tell children and adults what they can and cannot say in schools and places of business.

But that doesn’t change the fact that there were and are certain principles the men who breathed this country into life took to heart that are no longer given so much as lip service because the “powers that be” are more concerned with offending someone than saying what needs to be said, and in many cases doing what needs to be done.

And that saddens me, because I believe this country–that powerful country I spoke about earlier–really is the greatest country on earth.

And I think that compromise, politically or otherwise, does not have to be something that’s feared.

This bridge can be built, if we are willing to do the work.

What do I DO?

Something just occurred to me–an unexplained craving I can think of no solution for.  I’m very upset.

Where can a guy get funnel cakes when there’s no county fair in town.

This sucks.

Nightmare in the trunk

Had this awful dream last night. Had to get up and write it down before I forgot. There’s probably some significance to it, but it’s beyond me to figure it out. At least, not at 5am with my eyes still half closed from sleep, Anyway, I kept waking up from it and looking at the clock. And every time I would go back to sleep after a few minutes, and there would be the same dream again. I was driving around with a body in the trunk of my car. I knew only a couple things about it in the dream. One was that I didn’t kill it. The other was that I had to get rid of it–it was my responsibility. I didn’t know what condition it was in, or how it had gotten that way. Or who had killed it, for that matter. But it was in my car, and it had to go.

I kept finding places where I thought I could dump it, get rid of it, but I was never able to–not sure why. I would be about to, and then something would happen, and I’d have to keep driving. It freaked me the heck out–still freaking me out. I used to have this super morbid streak when I was a teen, and the funny thing about that is that lately I’ve sort of felt that way again. Not sure if this has anything to do with that.

Possible solutions. Prayer, of course. Ask God why I’d dream something like that. We talked about dreams a little in HP training last night, too. How God can use them, Interesting. Maybe there’s some kind of lie hidden within that dream. Don’t know.

Or maybe the body in the trunk is a metaphor for something I’m supposed to unburden myself of–something I need to remove from my life. I don’t know what that would be. A secret? I don’t think I have any. Or at least, I don’t remember if I do. What lie could be attached to a body in the trunk? Or something in the trunk.

Maybe it wasn’t actually a body, and maybe the lie (if there is one) is that there’s no place I can get rid of it. I need to think about it. And pray.

Of course, it could have just been a dream, too.

70 times 7

A really good friend of mine is going through some difficulty right now with a few family members of the man she’s going to marry–one in particular. Her fiance has gone through his share of difficulty, and with God’s help, has emerged on the other side of it. He is a changed person, and that is not only due to Jesus, but also to his relationship with my friend. I believe that God, through their relationship, has grown both of them tremendously.

But this person(s) in my friend’s fiance’s family has chosen not to see that, but rather to condemn. This person was mean, and condescending, and holier-than-thou in a very Pharasiac (or Pharisitic–I don’t know) sort of way. I wonder, if Jesus were to materialize in the deep south, while this nice person was sipping a sweet tea on their porch, would they condemn him for eating with tax collectors and sinners?

Just look at what God has done in both of their lives. LOOK AT IT!! Look at Grace. Grace does not condemn. It saves, it blesses, it heals. And I believe that while scripture can be twisted to support any point of view, that is not why God gave it to us. It’s there to edify us, to teach us, and like Grace, to bless us. I’m sure if I tried hard enough, I could find a few verses to justify sticking grapes up my nose during worship on a Sunday morning. BUT THAT DOESN”T MEAN I SHOULD, or that it’s how God meant those verses to be interpreted.

Wait, did I just say interpreted? I did.

The reaction of this person reminds me of the fundamentalist movement of the 1980′s, which was almost exclusively condemnatory. And what it did was turn many, many people away from God, myself included. I think if you want people to find God, or turn to him in any sort of real way, you have to show them his love. That’s what saves us. Not anger, not hate, not condemnation for someone a person may not even really know, or a situation they aren’t even a part of.

Jesus did not come to condemn people, but to save them. Love them. Father them.

My first response to my friend’s situation was anger, lots and lots of anger. It felt justified. Feels justified, and maybe, probably is. That feeling of anger was probably reflected in my first couple of paragraphs.

But when I think about it, my condemning this unknown family member is much the same as what they did. I know this person is speaking out of their own brokenness. But that does not make it any easier for my friend. I spoke to her briefly and she said something that’s very true.

The hurt hurt, or words to that effect. Because this person was hurt themself in some way, their instinct (and pain) causes them to lash out. They may not even realize they’re doing it. But that doesn’t make it right.

Man, forgiveness is tough. It really is. It sounds like the person who lashed out and hurt my friend (I imagine her fiance as well), has a heart lacking forgiveness. This person needs to find it, and soon. That’s the key, of course.

I heard Miles McPherson say something in a sermon not long ago that just occurred to me. He said it in regard to dealing with people that he did not necessarily agree with, or have some sort of problem with, or even dislike. What he did in dealing with them was simply to remind himself that no matter how he saw the person, that person was someone Christ died for.

So when I think about this person, I need to remind myself of that very thing. Yeah, I’m angry on my friend’s behalf, and it upsets me that this person passes out judgement like a prize. In God’s name, no less. So what I’m going to try and do (no promises), is to forgive. And pray. Pray God shines his light into her heart, and heals it. Helps her to see the truth of things–His truth, not hers.

Forgiveness, man. That’s a bitch. I guess I needed to process a little. I’m going to go ahead and post this without editing out anything. It was what I thought, and think. I guess take it for what it is.

More to pray about, anyway.

Church visit

I visited a church yesterday.  I’d been there once before to hear a guest speaker (Sy Rogers), but hadn’t heard the regular pastor speak.  I did listen to a couple sermons online to get a sense of the guy, but it’s hard to tell about someone from just an audio recording.  Anyway, the short version is that it was a pretty good sermon.  Pastor Jurgen discussed the breaking of vows, which was interesting, considering the Eldredge passage I wrote about the other day.  The only thing about that place, though (Christian City Church), is that it’s a little more charismatic than I’m used to.  He did an altar call at the end, and asked people to come up if they wanted prayer, or needed to break some vows they’d made.  I saw some of the ushers kind of standing behind people, and after a moment, I realized why.  Three or four of them hit the deck after he laid hands on them.  Hadn’t seen that before.

Still, it was an interesting sermon.  And the main thing I wanted to say about it was this.  The pastor said something that really stuck in my mind.

“Unforgiveness is like taking poison and hoping the other person will die.”  Or words to that effect.

How true is that?  Lord knows I’ve spent enough time trying to forgive people.  I need to think about that some more. 

Like taking poison, and hoping the other person dies…..

hmmm

woke up thinking….

This morning I woke up thinking about someone who I haven’t thought about in a very long time.  She’s not in my life anymore, but she played a very significant part in helping me find Jesus again.  I don’t know where I’d be today if it weren’t for her.  And I don’t think I ever said thank you…

I met Tikva about three years after I became a Christ follower.  The honeymoon part of my relationship with Jesus was over, and the struggles had begun in earnest.  I had stopped attending church for the most part, and my devotional life was non-existent.  I didn’t talk to God, and he didn’t talk to me.  Or at least I wasn’t listening when He did.

In summer 2002, I had this part time job as a projectionist for Regal Cinemas, and one day I had a casual conversation with one of the box office girls.  The first thing I noticed about her is that she was really tall (5′ 10″), and she was also really pretty.  Blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes.  And one of the nicest people I’d ever met.  But she was young (18 at the time), and a freshman college student.  Over the course of the conversation, she happened to mention her faith–said she was a Christian.

Me, too, I replied, and didn’t think much more of it.  A few weeks after that, I was at a Padres game when they still played at Qualcomm Stadium.  After the game, some of the players that were believers on both teams gave brief testimonies.  I hadn’t known this was going to happen, but my friend and I had stayed afterward because we were trying to sober up.  I remember looking down over the railing, and seeing Tikva in the section below.  I sunk back in my seat, not wanting her to see me all wasted.  So listened to a few of the testimonies, and my friend squirmed in his seat. 

 I don’t remember feeling particularly convicted by any one of the testimonies, but seeing Tikva there and feeling embarassed made me feel more than a bit self-conscious about some of the things in my life, though I did not yet feel like I needed to change anything.  I was fine, I thought.

A few days after that, I saw Tikva at work again, and mentioned that I’d seen her at the game.  She remarked how she loved hearing the stories that had been shared, how it was nice to hear that people for whom it would be so easy to give in to the world, instead gave in to Jesus.  And then she took a long look at me and said, “you should come to church with me sometime.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“You look like you need it,” she replied.  I tried not to be offended, but had to concede she was right.  How does a person look when they need church, or need God, I wondered?  I never did get around to asking.  But we exchanged numbers, and a couple weeks after that I called her (in her dorm, no less), and we went.

She attended the Rock church, back when it met in Golden Hall at SDSU, and it amazed me how quickly God began to work in my life after that.  The first thing that came back was curiousity about His word, and the deep need to have Jesus working in my life.  It came in increments, and it took a little while, but it came, and it felt awesome.  But it also became obvious the Rock was not for me, and after a short while, I began to attend a Sunday morning group at Shadow Mountain with another couple of friends, while also attending Sunday evenings at the church of my friend from college.

And Tikva and I began to spend a great deal of time together.  We were briefly involved, but nothing much ever came of it.  We did not become sexually involved at all, we just really liked each other’s company, and it was great to have someone to go to church with.  But that ended, like things sometimes do, and I eventually committed to Calvary Baptist full time, getting baptized in January of 2003. 

I kept working at the theater, and Tikva and I remained pretty good friends.  I was cruising for a while, and felt good most of the time. I’d stopped filling the gaps in my life with crap, for the most part, and I was talking to the Lord pretty regularly.  It was great.

And then I began to spend time with a young woman at the theater who was going through some difficulties in her marriage.  Her name was Kristin, and she would be another person who had a profound effect on my life, but that’s a story for another time.

For now, I’m just grateful that God sent Tikva into my life when He did.  I know Garth Brooks said it first, but I guess the Good Lord knows what he’s doin’ after all…

so thanks, Tikva.  I hope you’re well!

Agreements and lies

I’m reading this John Eldredge book right now, and it’s really interesting. It’s more or less the story of his own devotional life over a year, through all kinds of circumstances. The passage I read yesterday was talking about his “story of love.” Not his love story, as in with his wife, but rather his experience with God’s love, and the agreements he’s made about it, because of experiences throughout his own life. Or put a different way, the lies he’d come to believe about God and his love.

He talks about how one of the agreements was “love never stays.” It’s easy to imagine how this would affect your life. If, because of a personal experience, you’d come to believe that God’s love would not and does not endure, like whatever had happened in your life. Like what happened in Eldredge’s. To me, that would make it very difficult to both love, and accept love from others. At least, that’s the way it worked for me. I’m still not very good at accepting love from people. Not family, and not friends most of the time. It makes me a little uncomfortable.

My few experiences with romantic love had left me either raw and hurting, or cold. When I gave my heart to someone, they would hurt me. Therefore God would do the same. And when I added to that my experience with my parents, it left me believing that not only had they suffered my existence without really caring much about it, but that God had done the same. I believed this garbage for most of my life, even after becoming a believer. I can see that now.

And because of that belief, because I knew in my heart that love was not something that endured, that it either faded like an old pair of jeans or disappeared completely (if it was ever there at all), I lived my life accordingly. I took comfort in the short term. In things, rather than God, family, or friends. In food, in alcohol, in empty relationships. I tried and failed to fill an immense void in my heart and my life.

I did this for such a very long time. I believed it was how my life would always be.

Thankfully, I was able to open up my heart enough to God that I had the experience of letting him fill it. It wasn’t easy, and it took a long time to get there. But it finally happened. And reading that passage from Eldredge the other day made me realize that this filling needs to take place daily. I need to make that, or rather allow that to happen. Because if I don’t allow my heart, my self, to be filled with the Love and comfort of God, something else will fill it. And there is nothing the enemy would like more than for me to come to more agreements about God.

That’s the other thing. I know I have more agreements about God. I know there are lies I believe that I have not uncovered yet. I think it takes an emotional trigger to uncover them. And once uncovered, I can hold them up to God’s truth. I suppose I need to pray for triggering then, don’t I? I need light shined on the hidden places in my heart. And the cool thing about God is that he will not remove something without replacing it with something else. When I relinquish my death grip on those old lies and agreements, Jesus replaces them with truth.

Another point Eldredge makes is that we can also come to positive agreements about God.

That He will always be there.

That he loves not just us, but me.

That His love endures.

Give thanks to Lord, for He is good, His love endures forever…

That snatch of song just occurred to me. How interesting the ways God chooses to reveal truth. Through song. Poetry. A word from a friend, even.

Anyway, it’s 6:30 a.m., and I just remembered that I forgot to feed Kiki and Little Man. I remembered that I forgot. is that even possible?

….sigh…..

Better Questions

I’ve been thinking a lot about my older brother lately.  This is a man I have not had any sort of contact with since I was in my early 20′s.  He no longer lives in California, and in truth, does not associate with most of the family.  I don’t think this is really by design on his part, or on any of my sisters, but it is nonetheless how we are.  And to be honest, I don’t care if he lives in a chicken shack somewhere in Kansas–I just don’t want to see him, or really even know about him. 

So why am I thinking about him then?  Because it bothers me that I don’t care about him.  This is a person who is responsible for many of my literal and figurative scars, and many of my core woundings, and on the surface, that might even make sense–he doesn’t deserve to be cared for, right? 

I know in my heart that isn’t the truth, and I’m trying to find a way through those feelings.  I believe I’ve been through forgiveness for my brother, but I’m finding out that isn’t the same thing as love, though it is a part of it.  I don’t feel like I love Tim, and I can’t imagine right now that I ever possibly could.  How many times should I have to forgive him?  Seventy times seven, I know, I know. 

But how do I move on to love?  I want to.  It doesn’t feel right to have a vacuum in my heart when I think about a person.  And that’s exactly how it feels.  Forgiving is not forgetting, and I’d like more than anything to be able to forget and move on with things.  Should I forget?  Probably not.  Certainly not, even.  I know Jesus’ heart broke for me during the trying times, I know that in my own heart, and that truth has been part of my own healing journey with Him.  And I suppose I even know in the abstract that Jesus’ heart broke for Tim as well.

There’s a reason somewhere for the boy he was, and the man he became.  He has his own woundings, and scars, and all those things I have. We had the same parents and upbringing.  Yet he got it a little more hardcore from my parents than I did–all I got was apathy to my existence.  So what do I do? 

Obviously, I need to ask Jesus about it, and this is certainly something to bring up during therapy.  How does a man move from hate, to indifference, to forgiveness, to apathy, to love?

Do I simply try to remind myself that this person who so profoundly affected my life is also, like myself, someone Jesus died for?  I’m sure that’s part of it.  Is it OK not to love your brother?  It doesn’t feel like it.   How do I get healing for something that doesn’t really even feel like a wound most times?  Can a heart be soft in some places, and hard in others?  Have I really even forgiven?  Can I be forgiven myself?  Is there something within me that I need to ask Tim’s forgiveness for?  What does brotherly love even feel like?

So much to pray about, and talk to Jesus about.

….sigh…I have better questions, than I have answers…