My high school education was somewhat lacking. For instance, my science teacher brought in videos of his wife giving birth because he thought it would be a learning experience, while my math teacher would routinely give us “free days” in class because she was depressed about her most recent break up (usually involving a member of our football team).  I could get over all that because I have never been extremely interested or gifted in terms of science or math…hmmm, good place to debate chicken or the egg.  However, I also left high school AND college AND graduate school somehow missing out on a great deal of significant literature. Being fair to my educators, it probably had as much to do with me being able to survive exams without participating in “required reading,” but regardless, I was a “writer” who was operating with major blind spots because of my lack of familiarity with the classics.

About 10 years ago, I started trying to atone for this deficiency. I was riding a train 30 minutes to and from work in Chicago, so I had plenty of time to read. I made a list of literature (books, authors) that I was embarrassed about never having read. And then I started working my way down the list. It’s been a very rewarding experience. I’ve stumbled upon a few authors who are now among my favorites (Salinger) and some that while I appreciate their talent, I don’t care much for their style (Joyce).  

Last week, I popped into the bookstore to reload my reading supply. I read in spurts, and lately I’ve burned through 5 or 6 books in quick fashion. Among the authors I met this time around were the aforementioned Joyce (you win some, you lose some) and John Milton. I started reading Milton’s Paradise Lost over the weekend.  I didn’t grab Paradise Lost because I was seeking a theological debate. He was just on my list, the one from 10 years earlier.  Here’s where God showed up.

My version of Paradise Lost is actually from the Barnes and Noble Classics series, and most of those books have lengthy introductions that provide a biological sketch of the author and historical context for the work. I’m not a big history buff, maybe something else to blame on high school. (Actually, my history teachers were really good.) But this time I actually started with the introduction, and God rewarded me with two insights.

1. I came to realize that much of Milton’s life and work, specifically Paradise Lost is about the struggle between the self and the spirit, and while his theology was an eccentric and complicated one (he basically built his own based on his studies, his experiences and history) there is probably going to be lots of applicable struggles within this text that reflect some of the things I’ve been working through as of late.

2. More specifically, the introduction was able to deliver a message that God has been transmitting for at least a year without success. A simple next step in my journey, more of less. The author of the introduction quotes one of Milton’s earlier works, Areopagitica, saying, “The light which we’ve gained was given us, not to be ever staring on, but by it to discover onward things more remote from our knowledge.”

More times than not, when a verse from the Bible has spoken directly to me during the past year, it has been from Isaiah. Starting at step one in this journey I’ve been on. It suddenly occurred to me while reading the intro to Paradise Lost that maybe God is saying that I should read the entire book of Isaiah and actually use the light I’ve been given to illuminate more, instead of just staring into it and marveling on the insight. So, that’s what I’m going to do. Read Isaiah. And I bet there is something for me to learn or be reminded of. And I bet that God knew I’d need that lesson/reminder 10 years ago when I started my list of must-read classics.

This is also prompting me to revisit other insights that I feel I’ve received from God and try to be more aware of how I might use those lights to better illuminate the path ahead instead of only using them to view what’s in front of me more clearly. After all, every light is both an answer to one question and a question for the next answer. But first, Isaiah 1, verse 1….

During the 2008 NFL season, former all-time great Mike Singletary took over as interim head coach for the San Francisco 49ers. He made quite a debut, sending his star tight end to the locker room with 10 minutes left in the game. In the post game press conference, Singletary explained his actions  and declared a zero tolerance policy for players who made things about them instead of the team. “Cannot play with them. Cannot win with them. Cannot coach with them. Can’t do it.”

I was reading my Bible a little while back, and I landed in Judges. The story of Samson in Judges 16 is a great illustration that just like Mike Singletary, God can’t win with you if you have your focus wrong. If you share your heart and mind with worldly things it will bring only destruction, no matter how much talent and potential you’ve been blessed with.  God empowered Samson with a ridiculous gift. And when Samson, a mighty warrior and a great talent, let his flesh get the better of him, it was off with his hair and out with his eyes. He was sent to the locker room.

I’m not suggesting that God sends us to the showers every time we step out of line. I am suggesting that if our motives aren’t pure, and if our focus is not aimed in the right direction, that He simply can’t use us for His glory. In his press conference, Coach Singletary actually said he could deal with players who made mistakes but had their heart in the right place, but that he had no use for players who had their eyes on the wrong prize. 

“Those who live according to the sinful nature have their minds set on what that nature desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. The mind of sinful man is death, but the mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace. The sinful mind is hostile to God. It does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so. Those controlled by the sinful nature cannot please God.” – Romans 8:5-8

Thanks to Dexter for sharing that scripture with me.

I usually worry about not using my talents for the glory of God, thinking that an inability to make a positive impact is the worst case scenario. But if I allow myself to be guided by the world, to be about myself instead of the team, I can actually create negative consequences for myself and those around me, while rendering myself useless to God. It’s not whether I can make an impact. That is going to happen. It’s the trajectory of the impact that is the real issue.  Am I going to lean forward or fall back? The answer will be in whether I can die to the self.

You are probably aware of how Sampson’s story ends. He prayed that God would remember him and strengthen him, just once, so that he might avenge the Philistines for his two eyes being gouged out. God grants his wish, puts him back on the field, and he pulls two pillars together and collapses the temple. In Judges 16:30 it says, Thus he killed many more as he died than while he lived.”

Another reminder for me that what I can accomplish if I die to self and commit to God will always, ALWAYS , be far greater than anything I can achieve by my own devices. Knowing that makes it hard to explain why it’s so hard to do it.

I had a good conversation recently with a close friend of mine who has struggled with alcohol. We talked about our relationships with God, the journey I am pursuing, the recent victories in his life. We talked in detail about how selfish we are in our flesh. How selfishness is at the core of most transgressions. How it so easily gets in the way of the work God is trying to do in our lives.

I have my own struggles with selfishness. I’ve mentioned in past posts how I’ve battled my own agenda while pursuing a walk with God.  That makes me wonder if I will be ok if my assignment from God is to be a supportive husband, a loving father, a passionate follower of Christ and nothing more.  What if I am to be an inspiration for someone, instead of ten thousand someones.  Will I accept that? Will it be okay? After all, in my view, these things are the price of entry. I mean, of course I would support my wife, love my kids…Surely God has some other great adventure he needs me for, right? Can’t you just hear the selfishness?

I also recently wrote about the fear of committing to what God has in store for you because you don’t know what that will be, and it might be something big and scary.  But I think my biggest fear is that my calling might not feel like a great adventure. I think we usually associate the call from God much like signing up for the armed forces. Where will we be deployed? Where are the bad guys, and how are we going to take them down? Where’s the mountain to climb? The ocean to cross? You’ve seen the commercials…looking for a few good men, the dude hanging off the side of a cliff…

I keep assuming that I am going to be asked to slay some dragon, to win some war, to lead some movement. It may very well be that the army, navy, airforce and marines function just fine without me. The hardest thing for me to remember is that first and foremost, God wants a relationship with me, to be close with me, for me to know Him. That is indeed a great adventure, one that’s wider than any ocean and taller than any mountain. So, my goal is to set fear aside, and be ready and willing for something big and scary, or obedient and content with something the world would tell me is not so exceptional. I just have to keep asking myself whose approval I’m seeking, whose agenda I’m following and whose definition of “great adventure” I’m using.

That’s my new mantra. I think it pretty much says it all. I’ve encountered this basic premise several times over the last few weeks through several different types of media. Three simple steps. Pray. Listen. Respond. Everything else takes care of itself. We humans have a tendency to overcomplicated things. I recently was a part of a Six Sigma project at the office, where we basically spent three months identifying and mapping a problem and process for solving it, all the while knowing what needed to be done to fix it. Something rather simple actually. But we are creatures of process, of engineering, of muddying the proverbial waters.  Ever since Adam and Eve, we’ve been creating complexity out of simplicity. We’ve gotten really good at it.

I wonder, though, what would happen if we all mastered those three simple steps. Pray. Listen. Respond. I know, I know, it’s not nearly as easy as that. Trust me, I’ve royally screwed up each step in the process. I’ve prayed for the wrong things. I’ve failed to keep my ears open. I’ve resisted and refused to respond in the way God asked me. But just because I have a hard time following orders doesn’t mean we need to make the orders more complicated. Instead, I’d prefer to keep them as simplistic in nature as possible. Instead of getting lost in the process, I would rather expend all my energy trying to Pray better. Listen better. Respond better.

Way back, when I was just getting started with this journey, I went to a place that typically provides me with wisdom and peace. No, not my parents or a pastor or a mentor. No, not the Internet. I went to Barnes and Noble. There are few things that help me clear my head, relax and gain perspective more effectively than prowling the aisles of a good bookstore with a hot coffee in one hand and a stack of potential purchases in the other.  I did less browsing on this visit than is usual for me, because I had a specific need to fill. I even passed up the coffee in my singular pursuit, as I marched toward the religion section.

I was prepared to comb through several rows of books and devotionals to find something that might be relevant for where I was in the journey. I had no recommendations and no preconceptions, not the foggiest idea of who or what the right author, subject matter or style of writing might be. I was just there because it was a place I trusted, and because I thought I was supposed to be there to take the next step. As it happened, I almost immediately came across a book called Wide Awake by Erwin Rafael McManus. The cover is stark white with a large steel-blue eyeball staring out at you. It felt like it was staring RIGHT AT ME. I picked it up and read the first paragraph from the jacket. It said:

“Maybe you have been asleep. You have never lived up to your potential. You have unfulfilled dreams and longings. If you’re dead, let Jesus raise you up to new life. If you have been sleepwalking, it’s time to wake up and start dreaming wide awake.”

That’s all I read before rushing to the counter and taking it home with me. I devoured it over the course of three days and gained a lot of insight. It was just the book I needed to read at that moment. A good swift kick in the pants to energize me, but in a positive way.  Thank you God, and thank you Barnes and Noble.

On page 196, McManus made a rather salient point that jumped right off the page at me. He said that the “only way you are going to stop being pulled around by destructive desires and passions is to allow God to awaken those passions and desires that will bring your life to wholeness and health and make you fully alive.”

His point is that we are constructed to passionately pursue. And when we lock in on passions of the flesh, of the world, we make a straight line to self destruction and are owned by them. The only way to break that cycle is to replace those earthly passions with Godly ones. Replace the dark fire with a bright one. My immediate inclination when I’m dealing with sin is to remove it somehow. I think what McManus is saying here is that instead of removing sin, we need to replace it with something more powerful, something from God.  Without fire, we grow cold.

I once again encountered that steel-blue eyeball this week as I was digging through some piles in search of a folder for work. It lured me in again, and I had retraced about 20 pages before I realized what I was doing. I haven’t pressure tested the overall theology of Mr. McManus, but I’m a big fan of how this book motivates me to get my act together and to light a fire.  Just beneath the eyeball, it simply says, “The future is waiting within you.” That creates a tangle of hope and frustration within me as well, as I seek out the specific path that awaits (within) me.

A horrible thing happened in Haiti. Period. And to watch us rally and respond as a country, as a world, as a body of Christ has been moving and inspiring. It’s all hands on deck, with a sense of urgency, like tomorrow will be too late for progress.  We are wired to act this way in times of crisis, as a society, as individuals. We go into “crisis mode” and we focus harder, we work faster, we take nothing for granted. We attend to the emergency at hand.  For many of us, though, it takes a crisis to get us moving, to act, to exercise our faith. 

In Wide Awake, Erwin McManus writes, “When you are about to drown in a storm, you’re really open to God and whatever he might want to say to you.”  He was talking about the miracle of Peter walking on water. When we need a miracle, when we are at the brink of disaster, it is easy to turn to God, because there is nowhere else to turn. In a crisis, you just respond.

My goal is to avoid requiring a personal crisis to exercise my faith.  Sure, trusting in God during a horrific storm is a good thing.

I want to be strong enough to respond just as swiftly when the waters around me are calm.  

When I started writing this blog, it was mostly just an exercise of documentation. I was carrying around a jumbled mess of paper, handwritten notes,  scribbles, tucked in a manilla folder. Trying not to forget any of the insights being shared with me along the way. It was growing harder and harder to read my own handwriting or to understand what I meant when I wrote it down in the first place. So, knowing that a blog would be a nice and easy way to organize my thoughts and track my progress, I started moving all those scattered thoughts into a new and improved online home.

The blog has also helped me organize my thoughts and connect some dots. Along the way, having separate thoughts and ideas merge and mingle with one another has created deeper understanding.

Today, the blog will begin to do an even more critical job: hold me accountable. I just pressed send on an email to a small but mighty group of acquaintances.   I’m not asking anyone to read this blog frequently. You don’t have to for it to do its job. Just knowing that you might check in here and there will hopefully be enough motivation to keep me logging on and continuing this path. And I know enough about myself to know that I need that accountability.

And finally, eventually, maybe someone out there will benefit from a simple lesson or two that I’ve learned along the way. Wouldn’t that be something?

Just as recently as last week, I was struggling with whether to push this blog out to people, go out on a limb, be vulnerable, or simply keep it to myself and continue my journey under the radar. I almost asked my wife what to do, but I’ve too often turned to her for answers to questions I should have aimed at God, so I fought the temptation. And I asked God instead. He responded during the church service I attended later in the morning.

We were dissecting the Lord’s Prayer and about halfway through the pastor referenced a passage in Isiah 58, starting in verse 6. It calls for us to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to serve those in need and we will be rewarded fully. He challenged the audience to ask the question,

“Do I have something in my soul worth offering, something that would bless someone in need?”

Good enough for me. I guess we’ll see what the answer is soon enough.

It’s amazing how unappealing it appears on the surface. So, you want God to work in your life? Oh, you want Him to use you? Well, guess what likely happens next. First, you have to get nervous about what the ask will be. It could be something different from what you wanted to do. Worse yet, it could be something you really don’t want to do.  Maybe even something you are afraid to do.  Something you aren’t even sure you are capable of doing. Oh, and then you have to contend with Satan working against you, trying to interfere, to sidetrack you, to put you through trials and challenges. 

Let me get this straight. I am possibly going to be asked to do something far outside my comfort zone, and at the same time evil spirits are going to do everything they can to make me regret it? So why is the call still so irresistable? Because of two things. 1. Faith. 2. Amazing promises. I think there’s an old saying that anything free doesn’t cost enough to be worth it. Or something like that. If not, I’ll coin that one myself. Ha! The promises God makes to those who are faithful, who obey, who are diligent, far outweigh the cost of pursuing His will. I’ll admit though, as I’m preparing for whatever that might mean in my life, I’m a bit nervous about “the ask” and what it might entail, what the cost might be. It won’t be free.

It’s been a little frustrating, like I’ve been on this road for quite a while, but I haven’t really moved all that far. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of traffic holding me back. But something is jamming me up. For the most part, it appears the travel delays have been self-inflicted unfortunately.

I’ve been a Christian for going on a quarter of a century now, and I’m sometimes amazed with the amount of basic truths I’ve either forgotten, blocked out or somehow passed by the last 25 years. I’ve been slow to receive much of what God has for me because I’ve been trying to “have my act together” before approaching him. Feeling like it would not be genuine to try and have a deeper relationship if I still had ongoing sins, things I’d yet to surrender. And so for a while now, I’ve let every stumble send me back to the beginning.

But I’ve had the process all wrong. The order of things in particular. “Who you are” is on a parallel track with “who you want to be.” You get wins along the way. You make progress along the way. And eventually, you get close enough to see both roads inching closer together. I was coming to grips with this, when recently a pastor reminded me that surrendering is a process in itself. We don’t completely give over everything all at once. We do it little by little. In that journey is where God shows up.

As it turns out, I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be. And I can’t allow every transgression to reboot my process. I like analogy and metaphor, and I use those language tools probably a bit too often. But here’s another one. In bowling, if you are at my skill level, you have an occassional gutter ball, where it just sticks to your thumb, or you pull it or whatever, but the end result is you are riding the gutter all the way down the lane. It’s not great for your overall score when this happens, but they don’t send you back to the first frame to start over. They don’t take away the pins you’ve already knocked down in previous frames.

It’s probably not a perfect metaphor, but close enough for horseshoes. The point is that I’m no longer going to let missteps steer me off the path. I’m just going to stumble ahead until I catch my balance again. And keep moving.

This blog is a bad idea. You aren’t a good enough writer. No one will like it. No one will care. You will just sound dumb and weak. This isn’t going to change anything. What’s the point anyway? It’s not like there is anything insightful enough to help anyone here. You are just wasting time you could be spending in other ways. Why go through the trouble? No one is listening.

So, that’s what’s been rattling around in my brain as I’ve worked on this blog. Every time I enter a new post, those nagging voices inside (figurative voices, not really HEARING them, so no worries) just keep poking holes and planting doubts. Usually, I’d let it get the best of me and just shut down, but the more I hear the voices, the louder they get, the more it feels like I’m doing what God is asking of me. I don’t fully understand it, the point of it, the ultimate destination, but it’s obviously bothering Satan enough that he feels it necessary to try and dissuade and deactivate me. That’s enough validation that I’m on track and should just keep pushing, keep posting without fear or expectation, but in complete obedience. So, voices, you can shut up now. No one is listening.  

Areas of Interest

Past Stops on the Journey

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