God – A Work in Progress

New Year, New Job, New Me

I started my new career on January 6 of this year, and while I never really expected to be a chaplain, I have to say I never could have imagined a job that suited me more in regard to my personality, work ethic and spiritual inclinations.

I was actually kind of surprised that YPG worked out the way it did. I remember my wife telling me right when I started that lots of people end up retiring from YPG. I guess that’s what I expected, too, but it didn’t work out that way. I got laid off from being a DC, and then I was a technical writer for Safety for a couple years, and then I got laterally transferred to Section 55, which is part time/on call, but full time instead, but with a pretty big pay cut. Worked for 55 for a little more than 6 years, and then they eliminated the full time designation for me and the other 2 full timers, and then we were just part time like everyone else in the section.

That lasted for a while, but then testing slowed down, and that meant the work did, too. Money started being scarce, along with work. I began looking for full time gigs doing pretty much anything that would be full time. It lasted a while like that, but nothing took. Then business eventually picked back up and I started working a little more for 55. Then one day I was working at a GP and keeping site security. One day I got to the site before 6 and it was very dark. I backed up my truck to get light on the test item and a backed into a light cart, slightly denting my truck, which resulted in an ARB review, which resulted in a review, which resulted in too many points on my military driver’s license. Ultimately, that resulted in me being terminated by TRAX and suddenly in the market for a full time job, as soon as I could find one.

One of the jobs I had applied for when I went part time from 55 was at YRMC as a staff chaplain, which I didn’t even get a call back for because it turned out it required an Mdiv, and my masters was not in divinity so that meant I did not qualify for the position.

The next few months were job application after job application, and I even went so far as to get my substitute teacher credential stuff started again. Still no luck. Then I saw a listing on Indeed.com for a chaplain job at the hospital again, but this time it was for Chaplain Resident, and I was hirable for a year long residency, and following a pretty unorthodox interview, here I am today.

Employed and very happy with my job, even though it comes with a petty heavy grief load at times. It also came with a great bunch of fellow chaplains.

So now I get to spend my days helping those who need comfort during tough periods hopefully find it. Never had a more worthwhile job in my life. Spiritual Care at Onvida Health is an extraordinary place to work. The people in the picture are my coworkers from my first CPE unit. An eclectic and super diverse and multi-denominational group of absolutely extraordinary people.

Never in my life did I think of being a chaplain, but on reflecting back on my losses I recollected a nurse that took care of my mother during her last hospital stay before she passed. I guess she was a hospice nurse of some kind and not officially a chaplain, but she might as well have been. I remember her talking to me and advising me how I might want to also talk to my mom, which I did. I don’t remember her name, but I remember her.

If anyone contributed to who I am today, at this moment, it was that RN. And Jesus. Especially him.

Whom Shall I Fear?

I’m a person who struggles (fairly seriously) with anxiety. It can present differently, depending on the circumstance, but I’m always aware of it, lurking around the corner and waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Sometimes I feel emotional. Sometimes scared. Sometmes angry.

I spend a fair amount of time tripping on something and being anxious, or thinking about tripping on something and being anxious.

Thankfully, there are a few things I can fall back on that help me get through the tough parts. They were always there before, but I didn’t think about them when I should have much of the time–like my support network, for instance. I’ve got amazing friends and family, and can’t even begin to say how incredible my wife is, how Godly and supportive of a partner.

Sort of a coincidence, but I was doing my devotioanal reading the other day and Psalm 27 jumped out at me. Funny how scripture can speak to you

Psalm 27

Of David.

¹The Lord is my light and my salvation—
whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life—
of whom shall I be afraid?

²When the wicked advance against me
    to devour^[a] me,
it is my enemies and my foes
    who will stumble and fall.
³Though an army besiege me,
    my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me,
    even then I will be confident.

⁴One thing I ask from the Lord,
    this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
    all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the Lord
    and to seek him in his temple.
⁵For in the day of trouble
    he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent
    and set me high upon a rock.

⁶Then my head will be exalted
above the enemies who surround me;
at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make music to the Lord.

⁷Hear my voice when I call, Lord;
    be merciful to me and answer me.
⁸My heart says of you, “Seek his face!”
    Your face, Lord, I will seek.
⁹Do not hide your face from me,
    do not turn your servant away in anger;
    you have been my helper.
Do not reject me or forsake me,
    God my Savior.
¹⁰Though my father and mother forsake me,
    the Lord will receive me.
¹¹Teach me your way, Lord;
    lead me in a straight path
    because of my oppressors.
¹²Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,
    for false witnesses rise up against me,
    spouting malicious accusations.

¹³I remain confident of this:
    I will see the goodness of the Lord
    in the land of the living.
¹⁴Wait for the Lord;
    be strong and take heart
    and wait for the Lord.

Used to Be

I used to like posting all sorts of things on social media, and often that would include what I thought about things that were moving the needle politically in one way or another. I liked and favored what I liked and favored and that was pretty much it most of the time. Like anyone else I suppose I wanted validation my opinions were “correct” and that I wasn’t dumb for believing this or that or the other. It may be like that for other people as well. I don’t know.

At the beginning of August I had a health scare with some cardiac issues that culminated with some new medication and a stent being put in my heart. They did a cardio cath through my wrist of all places, even though they prepared my groin for a frontal assault by giving me the Ken doll treatment. Fortunately, that area was not assaulted and has returned to normal.

I, however, have not.

My priorities–both personal and social–are not the same.

Consequently, I seldom post as many things along political lines as I used to. Coming from California after the first four decades of my life has taught me quite a few things through my life experiences. Probably most evident for me has been that tolerance, like many of the streets in downtown San Diego, is a one way street. Undoubtedly, I’ll take some heat for saying that, but it doesn’t make it any less true. And that’s Ok.

I’d love it if people liked me and thought I was intelligent and erudite and clever and all that. However, life ain’t like that for the most part–not for me, anyway. But for the most part that isn’t what’s important to me anymore. I’ve been thinking about my legacy. What it is going to be and what I’d like it to be. Because here’s what’s true for me: none of the things I’ve accumulated are coming with me. I’m not going to be remembered for my book or DVD collection, or my stack of bibles.

No.

I’ll be remembered for what I left behind.

What is that? If I left today (which I do not plan to do), what would my legacy be?

As of this moment: 1121am Arizona time, a smallish and somewhat roughly treated house in the El Pueblocito neighborhood of Yuma. Quite a few hardbound and paperback books,and a few ancillary and relatively unimportant things. A Chevy Equinox. Swords and a few knives. Stuff like that.

What matters, though?

A sweet and stinky old dog. A beautiful wife I don’t even come close to deserving. Two actual legal children and a very kind and helpful sort of foster son.

What else?

I hope a lot of good memories and love for the people in my life who count, both in San Diego and Yuma. Lots of family and friends.

These people aren’t going to be thinking about my hilarious Instagram or Facebook or X posts, or at least I hope not.

What did I leave in their lives that mattered? I know what I’d like that to be. Not a turn of phrase, or a Stephen King or Tom Clancy book.

I’d want people to remember a man who loves his God, his wife and his kids in that order. A disciple and a worker last of all.

I don’t want there to be any doubt that love is important to me.

My family and friends.

God foremost.

I want to be known for that.

Repaid

My parents and my siblings, very early 60’s I think.

In the picture, my parents were much younger than I am now, in 2024. It’s strange to think I never knew them that way–relatively young. My sisters and my brother are still around and doing well. I’m doing well myself, now. It’s just that for a time, life was good and hard.

My latter teen years were a crap show of tragedy, for the most part. When I look back on them now. And yet here I am today. Living in the Sonoran desert rather than America’s Finest City.

Let me give you a brief sketch of he tragic part of my history thus far.

My dad passed when I was 16. Complications following a heart attack.

A close friend died by suicide when I was 17, within a stone’s throw of my bedroom window. He threw no stones.

My mom passed from cancer shortly after I turned 18. I was one of the pallbearers. The casket wasn’t very heavy.

Mom and Dad are both buried at Holy Cross Cemetery in San Diego.

My friend was cremated.

I spent a good portion of my life–many years–digging a great and deep hole down the center of me and trying t0 fill it with various things, none of which could accomplish it.

Binge drinking.

Binge porn-ing.

Binge eating.

Binge sadness.

I had a conversation with a coworker when I was working at a blind factory in my 20’s. This guy had broken his hand on one of the machines and we were talking on break one day shortly after it happened. I mentioned it didn’t seem like he had been very lucky.

He told me it wasn’t so much that his luck was bad. it was that bad stuff happened sometimes to everybody, and it could have been a lot worse. Could have been his skull.

I told him I didn’t feel like God (if there was one) hadn’t helped me a whole lot.

He told me that even though I may not acknowledge or admit it, God had done plenty for me, even though I might not know it right now.

Turns out Mike was right. It would take years before I got a clue.

I had a personal encounter with Jesus in March of 2000, and it wasn’t until that happened that things started to change. It had taken my whole life to that point to be wounded such as I had, so it stands to reason it would take a long time to heal as well. Rebuilding is just as much a process as wounding.

Thankfully, God is more than up to the task.

Years into my journey, I would come across the book of Joel, a section of the second chapter that would capture me pretty well:

²³Be glad, people of Zion,
    rejoice in the Lord your God,
for he has given you the autumn rains
    because he is faithful.
He sends you abundant showers,
    both autumn and spring rains, as before.
²⁴The threshing floors will be filled with grain;
    the vats will overflow with new wine and oil.

²⁵“I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten—
    the great locust and the young locust,
    the other locusts and the locust swarm^[b]—
my great army that I sent among you.
²⁶You will have plenty to eat, until you are full,
    and you will praise the name of the Lord your God,
    who has worked wonders for you;
never again will my people be shamed.
²⁷Then you will know that I am in Israel,
    that I am the Lord your God,
    and that there is no other;
never again will my people be shamed.

Joel 2: 23-26

There had been so much loss in my life.

So much death. So much pain.

Yet after that, maybe in spite of that, or because of it, so many things started happening. Once I surrendered the various pains and the course of my life to Jesus, that is.

Two separate but equally important church families happened, abetting my healing process.

I surrendered plans and expectations regarding any possible future romantic endeavors.

Social plans. Career plans.

I met Jenny, thanks to her boldness, and my own submission. My capitulation to God’s plan for my life.

We have a home full of love. We have kids and a family, dogs.

Jenny and I have each other. It may not have happened until I was 40, but it happened.

God knew when I was ready. Yes, the locusts ate a great many years.

But in the fullness of time, God repaid.

One Day

I want to get mad when I think about what happened in Boston yesterday. I want to feel righteous anger at the abject horror and senselessness of the death and maiming of so many innocent people, and to an extent I do. But only to an extent. What I mainly feel when I think of those things is sadness. That’s what I feel this morning.

I’m sitting here on my couch and considering all “we” can do now, and all the freedoms we have in this country. I think of the many technological and scientific advances over the last few decades. I think of how “tolerant” of so many things public opinion says we have to be to be considered enlightened and…well, normal people.

And then I think of IEDs full of ball bearings in trash cans at or near the finish line of one of the United States’ most storied athletic competitions. I think that while the perpetrator(s) of this affront to humanity likely did not achieve destruction on the level they intended, they accomplished more than enough. I think about ordinary people and first responders picking up amputated limbs and taking off their belts to save lives, and in some cases not being able to.

It makes me want to cry, or scream, and fight back against something. How do you fight back against hate, though? Can you? Can we? Can we overcome something like this while at the same time resisting what feels like the normal desire to seek retribution?

I think of people beating down Sikhs after 9/11 and I pray that kind of nonsense doesn’t happen again. It’s just so easy to respond to hate with hate.

So I’m thinking about all that and I can see why people talk all the time about the end being near. Sometimes I want it to be because I know what will follow after. But right now I just feel sad. And feeling that way led me to this beautiful song this morning.

Of Conviction, Inspiration, and Change

There’s this scene in the movie Sling Blade where the camera moves through the day room in a mental hospital, passing by various patients on its way to Karl, played by Billy Bob Thornton, who is quietly sitting in a chair looking out a window.

The audience is offered brief glimpses of many of the patients, and their common features all seem to be lots of slack jaws and staring eyes.

I was thinking about my high school Sunday school class the other day and that image occurred to me.

It has been no walk in the park to try and get those kids interested and participating. I’ve been observing the other teachers and taking lots of notes, and hopefully my next lesson will go a little better.

Certainly, part of the problem must lay with the students having difficulty relating to someone so much older than they are. Also that it’s likely they are not in class by choice, but because their parents make them go.

But I think the problem is larger than that. It’s more than my teaching style and that the students may be tired from a long evening of playing Call of Duty or instant messaging their “bestie” on their smart phones.

I think we’ve raised a generation of kids that has forgotten about the passion of Jesus. By that I do not mean his long walk down the Via Dolorosa, but his zeal for his father, and his Father’s house.

It’s my job to find a way to reawaken that in them. It’s not just about Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world, though he does.

It’s about reminding these kids that Jesus is relevant to them, and is not simply a set of ideals passed down from their parents like a set of holiday china. This is the same Jesus that wept over a city. The same Jesus that calmly made a whip from leather cords and then cleared the temple.

But how do you instill passion and zeal in a generation that seems to care for very little other than what’s before them at that moment?

That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I feel a sense of urgency about it because now is when these kids are going to learn the things that will stay with them. The urgency comes from the knowledge that if things about the world that so desperately need changing are ever going to be changed, it will be these kids that do it.

I think of movements like Jesus Culture, who get so much right. I think it will take some kind of revival to wake this kids up, and that it starts with us. It starts with parents, teachers, and pastors.

We need to find a way to not only make Jesus relevant and real to them, but also to help them realize that while Jesus is the hope of nations, they are, too.

Until (and unless) Jesus returns, they have the unique opportunity to shape their own futures.

How do we do this?

I believe there are several things we need to do.

1. Awaken in them a hunger and a thirst for righteousness. There seems to be an almost choking apathy amongst young people today–the “whatever” generation.

2. Inspire them to act for the kingdom. Retreats and conference highs are great, but we need to be there when they come off it and the real work begins. Inspiration is not a one time thing. We lead from the front and we kick them in the pants when they need it. We need to do this for them:

3. Pray for them. Lift them up. Let them know they can do anything, with effort, with God, and with accountability.

4. Teach them it will not be easy to change the world. It will be tough. Teach them that changing the world starts with their own world. Search their lives and their hearts and identify the areas lacking and bring God to those places. Invite healing.

5. Walk with them. Let them know they aren’t alone and never were. We might be out of touch with their reality in respect to our own, but if we show them consistency and back our pledges to be there for them and pray for them with the actuality of doing those things, then we can change that part, too.

I am not writing this because I think I have all the answers. Certainly the opposite is true. The conviction I’ve been feeling lately is my own, based on my own experiences and my own prayers. It could even be that the huge pile of words I’ve just expelled is solely for my own edification. But on the off chance there’s even 1 other person out there who shares my struggles and convictions, I’m going to put both this and myself out there.

And I’m going to pray.

The Anthem

I was listening to music this morning. This song, actually. The Anthem, by Jake Hamilton:

and a snatch of an Ozzy Osborne song occurred to me. “I don’t want to change the world, I don’t want the world to change me.”

I don’t want to change the world

I wondered why someone wouldn’t change the world, given the opportunity? There are so many terrible things going on in a place that was not designed to be terrible. I could list a million things I would change about the world so it would be more to my liking. Instead, I’ll just mention what I’d change about the world to make it better.

I’d bring God to it, bring Jesus. Like Galadriel told Frodo, “a light when all other lights go out.”

I don’t want the world to change me

That much at least is true. I don’t want the world to change me. Not because I don’t think I need to be changed, but because I want God to do the changing.

So I listened to that song again and I thought that change is possible, but that if it happens it’s up to us. Not a politician, or a president.

The change we can believe in comes from God. It breaks chains, it delivers, and it sets captives free. If you want that kind of change, you’ll have to seek it out, and work for it.

Here’s the lyrics to The Anthem. Maybe it will inspire you, too.

I can hear the footsteps of my King
I can hear his heartbeat beckoning
In my darkness He has set me free
Now I hear the spirit calling me

He’s calling, wake up child, it’s your turn to shine
You were born for such a time as this
He’s calling, wake up child, it’s your turn to shine
You were born for such a time as this
Such a time as this

I can hear a holy rumbling
I’ve begun to preach another king
Loosing chains and breaking down the walls
I want to hear the Father when He calls

He’s calling, wake up child, it’s your turn to shine
You were born for such a time as this
He’s calling, wake up child, it’s your turn to shine
You were born for such a time as this
He’s calling, wake up child, it’s your turn to shine
You were born for such a time as this
Such a time as this

This is the anthem of our generation
Here we are God, shake our nation
All we need is your love
You captivate me

I am royalty, I have destiny
I have been set free, I’m gonna shake history
I’m gonna change the world

Unity in Diversity?

The pictures above are displayed above the proscenium at the San Diego House of Blues, with “Unity in Diversity” written beneath and “All Are One” above.

Certainly, all are not one.

From the little I know about world religions, pretty much all the major ones are symbolically depicted. There’s Catholicism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, Brahmanism, Islam, and several other isms I didn’t recognize.

Unity in Diversity. All are one.

I’m not sure what they’re trying to get at with that, but I’m going to go ahead and call BS on the slogans.

Diversity in the symbols depicted, certainly. There’s yin/yang, the star and crescent of Islam, and many other statues and symbols except 1.

I didn’t see a cross.

Considering the rubber stamp political correctness that’s become ubiquitous these days, the lack of representation for Protestant Christianity is perhaps understandable.

Jesus has become persona non grata for much of the world, and representing the instrument of His death and mankind’s hope in a place where secular and sometimes even evil music shakes the roof on an almost daily basis could be seen as ***gasp*** favoring mainstream Christianity.

It was interesting because while diversity and “tolerance” was proclaimed from the proscenium, the message of Christ was fearlessly proclaimed from the stage. First, by opening act Jake Hamilton.

Followed by headliner Jeremy Camp, who turned a very unlikely place and a few hundred strangers into a church service (no video for his set. I was busy worshipping).

It was a great and amazing evening, and the whole point of writing this is simply to say I am continually blown away when I see firsthand how God can use anyone at any time.

During the pre-show Q&A and meet-and-greet, Jeremy Camp was humble, and kind, and very funny. He answered everyone’s questions honestly and straightforwardly, even taking time to lay hands on a young man and pray for healing for him.

The music was great, and the word was proclaimed. During Overcome, Jeremy even had hundreds of strangers link raised hands in praise to the one who’s worthy.

The smartest and best thing Camp said came toward the end of the evening, when he had very little voice left. He looked out over the crowded floor and said “the best thing I can tell you is ‘read your bibles.'”

Simple advice, perhaps. But also the best thing we can do in a world where diversity and “tolerance” are valued far more than the sacrifice of an obscure Nazarene carpenter.

Hear o Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one.

You can think what you want about diversity, and Christianity, and political correctness, but you will still be just as lost if you fall for that “all is one” nonsense.

All are not one.

You can serve God or not.

If not, you’d best be prepared to face the consequences.

As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.

Prone to Wander

Jon Acuff had a great post yesterday on his blog about why people think Christians are fake. Check it out and then come back.

Ok, good. You’re back.

In his piece, Acuff talks about a worship leader changing the words to “Come Thou Fount” when he performs it. I agree with Acuff’s point in the post. The words this leader changes are in my opinion a beautiful description of a sinner that knows where they’ll be given their natural proclivities, and offers what matters most to the God he loves to hopefully mitigate his chance of wandering.

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for thy courts above

Like Mr Acuff, I would love to be able to say that when I became a Christian, I stopped making mistakes. It would be great if I could say that with the advent of Christ in my life came the departure of sin, but that isn’t what happened at all.

Rather, I still mess up. All the time. I get angry, or sometimes lustful. Or maybe I curse, or use the Lord’s name in a way it was never intended. Sometimes I am neither loving nor helpful to the least of these.

And I doubt, and wander.

But I love God, and I acknowledge that only through he can my heart be sealed from it’s natural proclivities.

So when people do things like change lyrics or words because they feel it indicates a more positive message or maybe because they feel they don’t wander anymore, it conveys the message that with God comes an absence of struggle with the things of earth.

That’s not true, and people need to hear that. So that when they still want to do dumb stuff after beginning a relationship with Christ they don’t just think they’re doing something wrong and walk away from the only thing that can deliver them.

I think we need to be real with our worship and our testimony. Heck, sometimes when you’re a leader, the song is your testimony.

Pretty pictures of a life without struggle don’t show Jesus to people. If I wanted that I’d move to Texas and hang out with Joel Osteen.

We need to show people there is hope for deliverance. We do that with honesty about our lives. We share in the struggle. We let people who don’t know Jesus (and also people who do) know they aren’t alone in their tendency to wander. All have sinned and fallen short.

I know I have.

Come thou fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing thy grace

Oatmeal, Enemies, and Morning Catharsis

The bible clearly has a lot of instruction about how we’re supposed to treat people, and lead our lives in such a way we can represent Christ to those who don’t know him and have not heard the good news.

My problem is that I want those people to be nice. That often isn’t the case. There’s a great many red letters in my Life Application Study Bible detailing what we can expect to face from people when we share Christ with them.

Persecution, hatred, even death.

I don’t want to be persecuted. I want to be welcomed. I want to talk about God with people who already know how awesome He is. I don’t want to defend my faith, and I don’t want to turn any cheeks.

I want to hit people back. I want to go “Chuck Norris” on my enemies.

Scripture tells me I can’t. This morning I read Proverbs 25: 21-22 while I was eating my oatmeal, and I didn’t like it.

If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat; if he is thirsty, give him water to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals in his head, and the Lord will reward you.

The first thing I thought about was why the heck should I do that for my enemy? And while I might not have any personal enemies, certainly it could be argued that as Christians there are a great many people who hate us for believing in something besides ourselves and trying to lead our lives so they demonstrate that.

Certainly today’s social and political climate in the United States is a vivid demonstration of how a great many people feel about Christians and what they stand for, or perhaps “stand against” would be more apt.

That’s neither here nor there.

To my mind, what it’s about is a human response to an affront vs a Godly response.

We are not God. We are people, and our human nature is to respond like to like. So if someone cuts me off (or flips me off) in traffic, I want to make sure I “get them back” in some way, even if that involves a raised finger of my own or a few shouted words.

If someone insults me, my family, or my faith, I want to respond in kind. I want to out-protest their protest. I want to make them look like idiots because they tried to make me look like one.

Jesus tells me I can’t do that. His Godly nature demonstrates how lacking in grace my human nature is.

It is solely through his presence–his inhabitation–that I can show any grace at all.

Because I have been shown grace, I can be graceful.

Because I have been shown mercy, I can be merciful.

Because I have been shown love, I can be loving.

The trick is, it’s more important I show these things to enemies than friends. My family and friends already know they are loved.

Enemies being enemies, they expect a certain response to their actions. Unfortunately, we often give them what they’ve come to expect from us. It’s in our nature.

With God’s nature, we suddenly have the ability to respond how they do not expect.

That changes everything. In my opinion, it is difficult to respond to love with hate.

Unfortunately, it’s also hard to respond to hate with love.

Yet as we progress through a season of changing political and religious tolerances, it seems clear that unless we change something, entropy isn’t just going to be a concept we learn about in high school.

We’re going to destroy ourselves.

It’s not too late to seek harmony instead of entropy.

It’s not too late to respond to hate and persecution with love.

It’s not too late too late to look at the person in the mirror and ask them if they truly know God and care about His will for their life.

It’s not too late to manifest that will for our lives in our lives.

So the next time you’re confronted with hate, or prejudice, or persecution, try and respond with love.

They won’t expect it, and you’ll heap burning coals on their head.