Valleys fill first

Down in the valley - dyin' of thirst
Down in the valley - it seems I'm at my worst
But my consolation is that You've baptized this earth
Down in the valley - valleys fill first.
(Caedmon's Call, "Valleys Fill First," from A Long Line of Leavers)

My friend Ted and I were talking about mountaintop experiences. One of our youth-group members had come back from a conference, and was all fired-up with enthusiasm for the organization and its causes. He remarked that this had been exactly the same case a year ago, when he had come back from the last conference, too.

I smiled, and talked of the number of people I'd known who had gone every year to Promise Keepers' conferences. Not a few of them went every year, searching for that "salvation moment," and kept giving their lives to Christ, seeking a renewal of the "mountaintop moment."

I told my friend of the image of this song by Caedmon's Call that I'd heard several years ago. I have always loved the idea that the presence of the Spirit was like rain from Heaven. And that when I'm dying of thirst, spiritually, it's best to be in the valleys, because when it rains, it's the valleys that will fill first.

A liturgical aside - it's funny to me: we spend so much emergy and time as a Church focusing on the Advent/Christmas and Lent/Easter seasons. Yet there is so much in the liturgical calendar of what we call "ordinary time" - the time between Pentecost and Advent. It's there that I spend most of my life, actually (even as I stand in the light of both Christmas and Easter).

And it's in those times that I sometimes find myself "dying of thirst." And waiting for the Water.

God, I'm grateful for this understanding- the knowledge that when the rain of the Spirit falls, I'll find relief for my thirst in these spiritual valleys. Help me continue to seek your Living Water, even in the times when it seems my thirst cannot be quenched. Help me remember that I am in the valleys for a reason.

Amen.

(the image is of Mountain Lake in New Zealand, from http://www.romance-nz.com/gallery.html)

It was forty years ago today....

It was twenty years ago today,
Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play
They've been going in and out of style
But they're guaranteed to raise a smile.
So may I introduce to you
The act you've known for all these years,
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band...

Sorry, but this is one bandwagon I just can't help jumping on. I heard the news actually at about 11:45 (4:45 GMT) listening to BBC World News Overnight that June 1, 1967 was the official release date for the amazing Beatles album.

And yes, I admit, I was only 10 at the time.

But the music - especially With A Little Help From My Friends, which has been kind of a life anthem - has played an integral part in my journey.

It's been a long time since I've been a real Beatles geek. Once upon a time, in my misspent youth, friends of mine and I would sit in a local park in Niantic, Connecticut, drinking ghastly things like Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill and singing along to the Beatles on my buddy's new cassette tape player.

There's a great article about it here, and there are now internet guitar charts and lyrics available here. (Stuff we would have killed for as kids, I might add...)

Happy 40th, Sgt. Pepper...

Pulling the nose up

Well, I wouldn't say things are getting better, but they have gotten less bad in the last day or so. It's like a jet fighter whose engines have flamed out and is in a flat spin (think Top Gun). If the pilot can just get the nose up enough to pull out of the spin, the engines have a better chance of reigniting.

That's about where we are, today.

Instead of a $700-900 refrigerator replacement, we had a $250 repair. All should be well, we are told, and all the frozen food is again frozen. It's $250 we didn't have to spend, but oh, well.

Brother-in-law found a chiropractor that seemed to bring him relief, and is working with them on the bill (reduced fees for cash customers). Again, not good, but not nearly as bad as we'd feared. Sister Sue is not excited about chiropractors - which has something to do with bad experiences in the past, and part to do with her fibromyalgia. I, of course, don't get her objections; my experience is that a good chiropractor is like a good doctor, mechanic or fix-it guy - they are gems when you can find them. I'd like to schedule an appointment with him myself, at some point.

The eye is fractionally better, the digestive woes seem at bay for today, and the day is looking fractionally better. For which we give much thanks.

The kids have a spaghetti supper in Van Wert on Saturday as part of the Van Wert Peony Festival. Like all fundraising dinners by groups of quasi-organized teens, it will either work, or it won't. We have a couple of dedicated moms to help, and we'll just see. Worst comes to worst, we'll be eating spaghetti for a while instead of pizza after meetings. The dinner is from 4-8, which means that I will leave at noon, get there at 2, leave at 9, get home at 11.

I will be going back to St. Paul's (ELCA) for worship this weekend. It will be interesting - I will check out both their regular worship and the seeker service held in the nearby theatre, known simply as 10:35. It will be interesting.

For now, I am giving thanks for a day with no great crises, and little or no low back pain (for me, anyway.) I'll take my blessings where I can find them.

A makeover, presented with love

I am just overjoyed. For once, whining actually paid off...

For some time now, I have envied several of my friends' blog layouts. The beautiful mastheads, the use of imagery, you name it. I've had a tickle of an image in my head about how I might do it, but really didn't have a clue how to make it happen. So I have stuck with a few modifications to a standard Blogger template. Effective, but boring.

So I was commenting on Penni's blog over at martha, martha and coveting her revamped layout. "Poor, HTML-impaired me, I'll never have anything this good looking" was the essence of it all. (Care for a little cheese with that whine?...)

Out of the blue this morning, Penni send me a great gift - a personally-designed masthead. And this lady knows me well - each image is symbolic of some part of my blogging journey. The crucifix, the empty cross, the steps, the ripples in water, the beautiful rainbow image - it's all just outta this world!

The only addition I made was the image of the walkway on the right - a shot I took at Wildwood MetroPark here in Toledo. So much of my past has been spent desiring to see what's going to happen, what's around the next corner - rather than just enjoying the walk, and the trees - it's a great reminder. It's actually the one element I wanted to include on my "someday" masthead.

Anyway, Penni then simply redesigned my whole template, and even installed it for me! The result is beyond what I could have done - so I'm absolutely delighted.

Thank you, dear sister, for a gift seasoned heavily with love!

Struggling forward, stumbling forth

It's 1:30 AM. What several writers refer to as "the hour of the wolf." It is here that grim thought seem to gather...

It was a long weekend. Not a particularly happy one, but a long one.

The camping trip with the youth group, targeted originally for Friday afternoon, went by the boards on Tuesday. The land-owner who was to host our merry band of teens reneged, and no suitable replacement location could be found. I was ready to take the bullet for the boys, but I wasn't overly broken hearted, to be honest.

I traveled down to Van Wert on Thursday for the regular meeting of the group, and it seemed that everything was just "off." No one was prepared, everyone had their minds somewhere else...we still managed to make it an OK night. But it was not one of our better ones.

On and off dyspepsia of some sort did not lend itself to much socializing, since I couldn't get too far from a bathroom most of the weekend. The one chance I did have to go to an AA meeting, I did - but found that my 90-day-wonder sponsee now has a two-breasted "higher power." Despite assuring me that he wouldn't do this. Despite having tossed his sobriety repeatedly, doing this exact same thing. But he knows what he's doing this time, he tells me.

/music cue: "I'm Henry The Eighth, I am..."/

/sigh/

I have been struggling, on top of everything else, with a blocked tear duct, which is causing all kinds of fun in the eye/vision department. Not comfortable, not fun. It would be better if I'd gotten all this inflammation from having punched someone who deserved it, and gotten punched in return. But no such luck.

And the bad luck demons seem to be hovering over the house again. Sister's car, a 7-year old Taurus, needs various brake components. Brother-in-law's back has started acting up again, and is not responding to alternating heat/ice and massage. So it's off to the chiro-pain-inflictor for him, despite the lack of health-insurance coverage (some 3 weeks away for both of them).

And today, the side-by-side refrigerator/freezer is showing signs of failing to keep frozen food frozen. The lower levels of the freezer seems to stay frozen, but the upper levels are failing. So the service-man cometh on the morrow. And he and his ilk are rarely inexpensive.

And we won't even talk about coming to an economically-depressed and mass-transit-impaired area of northwest Ohio at the precise time when our government and the "free market" have conspired to raise gas prices to their highest levels ever - easily matching the prices of post-Katrina Chicago, will we?

I know, I know - none of this is fatal. It is annoying, but I am reminded that a lump in the oatmeal, a lump in the bed, a lump in the tire and a lump in the breast are not the same lump. I know of several others - notably, my dear brother John and his family - for whom the anguish of unsold houses, unfulfilled career promises and seemingly unending financial struggles are an every-single-day battle. For them, I pray. If we lose the car and the refrigerator, and they get to sell their house, Lord, we'll just call it even, OK?

I just wish that there was more of "St. George slaying the dragon" in me, and less of "Puff the magic dragon/sadly slipped into his cave."

The homily, this morning, will be delivered by Steven Curtis Chapman:

Sometimes I see me, a sailor out on the ocean
So brave and so sure, as long as the skies are clear
But when the clouds to gather
I watch my faith turn to fear, but...

Sometimes He comes in the clouds
Sometimes His face can not be found
Sometimes the sky is dark and gray -
But some things can only be known
And sometimes our faith can only grow
When we can't see,
So sometimes He
comes in the clouds ...

For now, I'm going to try going back to bed, and meditate on the words. Sleep will inevitably help this...

Remember their names....

Tom Scharbach has created this powerful post listing the Iraq war dead - their names, ages, ranks and date of death, as of May 24th. Go there. Read. And remember...

He also posted this reminder that the current war is not the only war, either. His image of the Vietnam War Memorial (25 years old, this year!) with some of the 58,178 lost in that conflict, is also a powerfully evocative image.

(Late edit: Sorry, Tom, I missed posting the link to the Vietnam post. It's there now. Mea culpa...)

Torn in two on Memorial Day

Originally called Decoration Day, Memorial Day is a day of remembrance for those who have died in service to our country. It began during the Civil War when organized women's groups in several towns throughout the South decorated the graves of the Confederate war dead with flowers, wreaths and flags. Memorial Day was officially proclaimed on May 5th, 1868 by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic.
(from A Brief History of Memorial Day)

I think it helps to remember why I'm not working, today.

The butcher's bill in Iraq today stands at 3,731, in case you wondered.

There is a principle in recovery that anger is not something that folks like me deal well with, so we ought to avoid it. And then there is the famous quote from the movie Network, where people across the land start throwing their windows open and yelling, "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!"

So I am torn, on this Memorial Day. How do you avoid anger, and yet face all the insanity in the world and not become outraged? Because (as the old line goes) if you're not outraged, you're not paying attention...

I guess I'm closer to the "mad as hell" end of the spectrum after watching several TV specials this last week. First was the marvelous special Celebrating Cronkite at 90. Seeing this show, and the integrity of Walter Cronkite (especially as he spoke out to the nation about the Vietnam war) reminded me yet again how we have been betrayed by the government and the media in our current war. This is how Cronkite ended that famous speech:

To say that we are closer to victory today is to believe, in the face of the evidence, the optimists who have been wrong in the past. To suggest we are on the edge of defeat is to yield to unreasonable pessimism. To say that we are mired in stalemate seems the only realistic, yet unsatisfactory, conclusion. On the off chance that military and political analysts are right, in the next few months we must test the enemy's intentions, in case this is indeed his last big gasp before negotiations. But it is increasingly clear to this reporter that the only rational way out then will be to negotiate, not as victors, but as an honorable people who lived up to their pledge to defend democracy, and did the best they could.

See the full text of his on-air speech here. It's worth reading. It's also worth remembering that when Lyndon Johnson saw this broadcast, he was reported to have said, "That's it. If I've lost Walter Cronkite, I've lost middle America."

I gave thanks when former president Jimmy Carter spoke out as he did against the war; I was furious when people called on him to recant. Blind faith in a leader - any leader - is on the path to authoritarianism; blind faith in our current leader is, to my eye, errant stupidity. Don't you apologize for calling it how you see it, Mr. Carter.

And then there was Bill Moyers. I think that, as an exercise in patriotism, every person should go to watch Bill Moyers' PBS special report, Buying The War. It's available online, and it's 90 minutes of what I'd say is civic duty, to be honest. It confirms what so many of us felt, going into the war - that (despite all the claims) there was nothing to support it - it was all a setup. A setup, by the way, that's cost us more than $500 billion, with another $120 billion to come.

(And then you wonder why Republicans are so set on cutting funding for PBS...)

The high moral ground the Democrats had in their move to stop funding for the war without some kind of accountability came apart faster than a cheap suit last week, which also infuriated me. It's as if they detonated some kind of weapon in Washington, one that left all the buildings and left all the people but destroyed any moral fiber or resolve. It reminded me of two old bumperstickers -

With Republicans, it's man's inhumanity to man; with Democrats, it's the reverse.

We don't have a government. We have an auction.

And then the crowning blow was this little gem in the NY Times on May 24th. After Congress voted immense tax benefits for oil refiners to restore capacity at hurricane-damaged oil wells and refineries, it seems that the reason we are having such a gasoline shortage is because George Bush waved the biofuels flag in his State of the Union address. The article basically says that the oil industry is saying, "Well...if they're going to support that nonsense, why should we spend the money to fix our refineries and ease the gas crisis?"

Um...maybe because we already paid you to do it, morons.

And we're paying for you to do it again, with every nearly $4 gallon of gas we buy. And no one in the press is saying what we all have noticed: in October, when everyone wanted the country to support the current administration and their stupid buddies, gas was $2 a gallon. Now that Bush is being burned in effigy, oh, gee...we're getting raped at the gas pump.

Yeah, go ahead and tell me it's "market effects." Go over here and read a brief history about the Standard Oil Trust and monopoly. And then go ahead and try to tell me that when every gas station in the city responds in hours to "market pressure" by going up exactly the same amount, that it's not monopoly action. Right....

And $4-a-gallon gas is not hurting the fat-cats who are running this show, either. (It won't even cut them back to their last yacht.) Instead, it's hurting people like my sister and brother-in-law. Small-time, decent folk who can't hop in their own special jet and fly to their 1600-acre Texas retreat to get away from the nastiness of life in America.

Yes, I'm mad as hell. But getting out seems to help. Taking action, it seems, is part of the solution.

Which brings me back to Memorial Day, and commemorating those who have died.

In the Vietnam war, we at least had news coverage that had the testicular dimsensions necessary to show us the bodies - the coffins carrying the remains of lives snuffed out in that tragic conflict. They need to be seen, people - because these are real lives, and real promise for the future, which we are snuffing out to prop up oil company revenues. The deaths of these young men and women sure as hell aren't making the world any more secure - we surely can see that.

I believe in my country's armed forces too much to have them sacrificing their lives for this. We are spilling the blood of our nation's youth - and for what? For this media-supported mockery of democracy?

Nope - for me, there is only one answer.

Support our troops - bring 'em home alive. Now.

And then throw out the bastards who sent 'em over there in the first place.

Here is bread, here is wine

In this bread, there is healing,
In this cup is life forever -
In this moment, by His Spirit,
Christ is with us here.
(Graham Kendrick, "Here Is Bread," from the ELCA Worship and Praise hymnal)

Sara Miles was an atheist and a lesbian who had been a war correspondent, writer, community organizer and chef. Food had been at the heart of each of those experiences - whether feeding South American resistance fighters or working as a prep cook in swanky New York restaurants. At 46, when her story begins, she had no desire to discover Christianity.

Yet a random encounter with the Eucharist at an Episcopal church in San Francisco created an amazing conversion experience for Sara, uniting the image of God feeding His children with her desire to be of service to others. She became active in the church, drawn ever deeper into the imagery of God's table being a place where all could be fed. She describes her conversion this way: "I took communion, I passed the bread to others, and then I kept going, compelled to find new ways to share what I’d experienced. I started a food pantry."


Her story is detailed in the recently published book, "Take This Bread: A Radical Conversion." Sara hears that Jesus said, "Feed My sheep", and she actually answers the call to do this, and chronicles her journey. Under her guidance, every Friday their altar space becomes a food pantry, sharing the gift of food to the needy from the same space that the Eucharist is served on Sunday. Sara describes how she saw that "the meal" on Sunday actually begins with feeding "the least of these" on Friday.

She is the kind of Christian I want to be, not excluding anyone, but faithful to the radical inclusion of the Gospel, which is violently at odds with the way faith is sometimes practiced today. Her story is an incredible testimony that, as the song says, "In this bread, there is healing - in this cup is life forever."

Lord God, work in me as you have worked in Sara Miles! Take the lessons and images throughout the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, and kindle my heart with your flame. In this day, may I be your servant in whatever way that I can, to build your kingdom here on earth. Amen.

One of the best honors I could receive

We are average Americans. All sections of this country and many of its occupations are represented, as well as many political, economic, social, and religious backgrounds. We are people who normally would not mix. But there exists among us a fellowship, a friendliness, and an understanding which is indescribably wonderful.
(from Alcoholics Anonymous, "There Is A Solution")

This passage from the AA textbook also is perfect for the people I have encountered in the blogosphere. Rich, poor, faithful and faithless, gay and straight, every color of the rainbow - and yet we find fellowship out here in the digital kingdom. I am blessed by all the people I have found "out here."

Right about the time I went into my blogging funk/hiatus, I got a particular honor from two different people: both Hope and Poor Mad Peter nominated me for a Thinking Blogger Award. The TBA's are designed to point folks to blogs of note which might not get found on the regular search engines, which is a very democratic way of doing things. Thank you both, Hope and Peter!

(Now, once upon a time, I would have said something on the order of "They nominated me...but they've sobered up now, so it's all better," or some such self-deprecating nonsense. However, one thing that has come from sobriety is the act of just saying "thank you" and being grateful - and that is what I'll do.

After all, there is a truism that if one person calls you an ass, pay them no mind. But if two persons call you an ass, you'd best get a saddle. So if two talented and clearly inspired writers made this same choice, who am I to argue?

Or, as the late Gamble Rogers' character Agamemnon Jones once said, If your work speaks for itself....don't interrupt.)

So my apologies to both Peter and Hope for my extreme sloth, and thank you. If you weren't already Thinking Blogger winners, I'd back-tag you both.

Here is how it works (sort of like a meme):

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that tickle your grey matter. (I loved Hope's line: I have grey matter? I thought it was all black and white! :) )

2. Link back to this original post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme;

3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote.

When looking at all the blogs I read and trying to decide to pick just five seems insane, not to mention playing favorites - since there are lots more than 5 blogs I read which are "thinkers." But pick I must, so here they are:

1. Penni at martha, martha is the first one to come to mind. She is not only a friend, but a mother, a nurse, and a peson who embodies a thinking faith. If I ever would go back to the Catholic Church, it would be if I could find a church full of people like Penni. She's a sister-of-the-heart in this virtual world, and has won a number of Catholic Blogger awards.
   
2. Rick L. at a new life emerging is a man who I would not only like to meet in person but would love to have as my pastor. He understands Jesus in ways I only wish I did. I never visit his blog without being inspired to pray more, read more Scripture, and live better. In many ways of the mind and heart, he and I are what Dan Fogelberg calls "twin sons of different mothers." When I need pointing back to an authentic, loving Jesus, I go here.
   
3. Erin at Biscotti Brain. Erin's interests run all over the map, and she has been one of the folks who has both inspired me and kicked my butt. She's also been one of the accountability partners who draws me out when I start withdrawing from the world.
   
4. Tom at PurpleScarf (by his own description) has been a soldier, a lawyer, and a computer professional. He's also a Jew by birth and was a Catholic by practice until he left the Archdiocese of Chicago on matters of conscience about their treatment of GLBT folks. He has a sharp wit, and an arid sense of humor. Probably one of the most stalwart defenders of civil rights that I know, and one of the best-reasoned proponents I've heard for GLBT rights and gay marriage. I'm proud to know Tom and his partner Michael. (Like how I slipped that one in there?....)
   
5. [rhymes with kerouac] at Today At The Mission is a man who lives the Matthew 25 commandments about feeding the hungry openly and honestly. His posts give a raw and clear image into what it's like to share life with people in a homeless shelter. And if you have not read his Following Jesus Manifesto, click on that link right now and read it. And then pray that you can live that way, too.

And, OK, so the rules say five. But if there were another five, I'd list Bobbie at Emerging Sideways, Natala at And That Has Made All the Difference, TK at Bumbling Forward, Adam Walker Cleaveland at PoMoMusings, Jeff Jacobsen at So I Go...and I'm still not done. But I'm gonna quit, for now.

A special plug for non-blogs goes to Tim B's Flickr site, KC In Focus. Click on that link, and check out "Your Favorites" and especially "Christmas at Atonement 2006." He is a marvelously talented photographer, and I turn a rather un-Christian shade of green with envy when I see his work. His images of Christmas at my former home congregation are some of the loveliest views of that congregation and that worship space I've ever seen.

And a note of thanks goes to recent new-friend Kyle W., who also paid me a supreme compliment in an email thread we've been having: Sorry it has taken me so long to respond to this. Every time I open your email I click on one of the links you gave me and end up going on a blog reading spree, clicking on links that people have. Wow - thanks, Kyle.

Now, to the new nominees, go and tag ye likewise! And to the rest of y'all, go check 'em all out!

Signposts on the way to God

How do we know about God's love, God's generosity, God's kindness, God's forgiveness? Through our parents, our friends, our teachers, our pastors, our spouses, our children ... they all reveal God to us. But as we come to know them, we realise that each of them can reveal only a little bit of God. God's love is greater than theirs; God's goodness is greater than theirs; God's beauty is greater than theirs.

At first we may be disappointed in these people in our lives. For a while we thought that they would be able to give us all the love, goodness, and beauty we needed. But gradually we discover that they were all signposts on the way to God.
(Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey, May 4th)

.

I would rather have my teeth cleaned than go camping. It's just the way I am. My idea of roughing it is a Motel 6. I am not impressed with bugs, dirty, creepy-crawlies, or anything else about it. I love star-gazing - preferably followed by coffee and a croissant at Starbucks or Caribou or somesuch. I'm generally up for bonfires, s'mores and such - but otherwise, ugh.

I am going camping overnight next Friday and Saturday.

I had suggested to the young men of my DeMolay chapter that I would be willing to come down to Van Wert on Saturday, and help them set up a combination work/fun activity, go swimming, cook out, that sort of thing. Somehow, one guy said, "This guy has a pond in his back-40," and another said, "Are there fish? Can we go fishing?" "YEAH! Fishing!" "I've got a tent!" "Tents are for sissies!"

And so on. So I will be under the stars on Friday night, unless it rains. Then we will be elsewhere, I suppose. That's the advisor's job - to help the young men plan the contingencies, make the lists, so that the group has a good time. Equal parts mentor and border-collie, nipping at heels.

Why am I doing this? Why would any even-fractionally-sane 50-year-old outdoors-averse individual do something as stupid as forsake his warm bed for a cold field a hundred miles from home?

Because, of course...that is what a group of men did for me.

Overnighters, trips to various chapters, late night pizza, anguished phone calls in the middle of the night - my DeMolay advisors took them all from me. And over the years, the young men I advised became advisors themselves. And the good ones - the ones who saw and heard the message - did exactly the same thing.

So I will go to Van Wert, sleeping bag in hand. And I will pray, as I always do, that I will be an instrument of peace, of inspiration, and brotherhood - and not (as many advisors end up) just a blunt instrument of discipline and rules. The phrase out of our ceremonies came first from the Gospel: Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in Heaven.

Amen.

Neither Christian, right, moral, or majority

One never wants to speak ill of the dead, but in the case of Jerry Falwell, how can one not? Falwell will always be remembered for his "700 Club" comment in the wake of Sept. 11: "I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America, I point the finger in their face and say 'you helped this happen.'" Even though Falwell later apologized, the damage had been done: A sacred moment had been used for profane purpose.

And that, really, is Falwell's legacy. To the religious life of the United States he made no significant contribution. But to the political life of the country, he made one: He founded the Moral Majority. In so doing, Falwell managed to take something holy -- one does not have to be a Christian to admire the life and teachings of Jesus Christ -- and turned it into something partisan and divisive. Falwell, the quintessential conservative Christian, was always more conservative than Christian. To the extent that history will remember him, it will be as a politician, not as a preacher.

Thank you, Alan Wolfe of Salon.com, for capturing the essence of what I understand about Jerry Falwell, who died Tuesday. His article (see it here) says it best. I will not lament him, nor dance upon his grave. I just view with sadness the corruption of Christ's commandments for political means.

But a slightly more upbeat version of the same topic resides here
as Tinky Winky of the Teletubbies says farewell to Falwell. Worth reading.

And now, for something completely different: if you want to wash the taste of Falwell out of your mouth (and I don't care where he got his degree from, I will not call him Reverend) check out the testimony of Sara Miles in her fantastic book Take This Bread. Much more to say about this, but I'd put your order in now. This woman knows about Christian living - you can bet your life on it.

Crawling out, catching up

Well, when I got the "ok, where are you?" note from br'er John in Florida, I knew it was time to crawl out of my hole...

I wish I could say, "Gee, what happened? How'd it end up almost a month since I last posted?" But it's much easier than that. I've been in a funk, and I just have been particularly uninspired to sit down and write.

Oh, I've had plenty to write about, too. But I just couldn't kick it - and didn't really know why, until this weekend. Mother's Day weekend. Mother's Day weekend, 2007.

Mother's Day weekend has become the traditional graduation day for many colleges and universities...including the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago. Yes, Mother's Day 2007 would have been my graduation day, if I'd stayed. If I'd been able to stay....if, if, if. Blah, blah, blah.

Classic signs of depression show up. Not cleaning my room. Laundry piling up. Exercising stopped. And I have been largely just going through the motions.

Good things have come, despite my best efforts. It looks like I can find a place to land at a local Lutheran church that seems to have some good stuff going. I have also started working with a start-up chapter of the DeMolay youth fraternity in Van Wert, OH, about a hundred miles south of Toledo, and finding some blessing there. I'm still going to meetings, still working with sponsees, and working on a long-overdue 4th-step inventory.

But I have to admit that at the end of the day (or even at the beginning of it), I've been pretty uninspired to write - despite the blessings I know come from it.

Which brings me back to John, and another kick-in-the-pants from a long-dead inspiration:

Writing can be a true spiritual discipline. Writing can help us to concentrate, to get in touch with the deeper stirrings of our hearts, to clarify our minds, to process confusing emotions, to reflect on our experiences, to give artistic expression to what we are living, and to store significant events in our memories. Writing can also be good for others who might read what we write.

Quite often a difficult, painful, or frustrating day can be "redeemed" by writing about it. By writing we can claim what we have lived and thus integrate it more fully into our journeys. Then writing can become lifesaving for us and sometimes for others too.
(Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey)

OK, OK. I get the point...

This is the hope of this current personal inventory - to let go of the "might have beens" of the past. There is no way to make "the way it was" become "the way it could have been." None. I am where I am - and many of you who have read here regularly have told me that life is better because I'm here, and not there. My prayer is that I can get the Greek chorus (koine Greek, of course...) to agree.

To Laila, Dirk, Ben, Tom G., and all the folks whose journey at LSTC ended yesterday, blessings and congratulations. I am glad for you - even though a part of me still wishes I was with you. But we are walking different roads, for now.

And that's OK, I guess.

For John Z and Erin....

Well, I have a huge box of photos and slides in my storage locker, and I'm sure I could find a shot of The Beast in there somewhere. But I just couldn't get to it in time. So I scoured the 'net for a picture of a lime-green 1976 Chevette like the one I drove, and actually found two. One is someone's actual car, the other is from a 1978 sales brochure. Here they are. The top photo is actually much closer to the color of my car than the sales brochure.





At the time, my family was just about broke, and when our '66 VW Beetle died, this was all we could afford. One of the most obnoxious pieces of machinery ever turned out by the Chevrolet Motor Division, but it carried my sisters and I a long, long ways. Taught me more about auto mechanics than I ever wanted to know, too...

There are lots and lots of very good reasons that these cars are not being produced any more. They were underpowered, overweight for their engine size, and it is the last car that anyone in our family ever owned that didn't have air conditioning.

But it took a whole lotta abuse, and like a Timex watch, it kept on ticking. (For the most part.) And it sure was easy to find in a parking lot. Or a snow storm...

But this is just one more place I'm glad I'm not, today...

The very best promises

No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us - sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them. (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 84)

This is a post that starts out sad, and gets a whole lot better. It starts with a backward glance...

On April 17, 2004, I stood outside the offices of the Central States Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA), near downtown Kansas City. I don't even remember the time, any more...it was early afternoon. I'd come back from seminary in Chicago to my home synod office (like a Diocese office, to my Catholic friends) to appeal the decision of the Synod's candidacy committee five months earlier. In November, 2003, they had told me I would not be eligible to proceed toward ordained ministry. I'd protested, asked to be reconsidered, and I had a fist full of letters, testaments from professors, fellow students, and members of two churches in Kansas and one in Chicago about my gifts for ministry. Surely they would see the light...

I still remember the woman who chaired the committee looking across the table and saying, "Steven, because of actions in your past, you do not meet our requirements for financial stability and fidelity. And because of that, you have no 'gifts for ministry,' as far as this committee is concerned." And with that, they thanked me for coming, and my interview (and my 7-year meandering path toward ordination) was over.

Now, I had in my head every syrupy-sweet phrase that people of faith say at times like this. I knew what to say - I'd been trained for this, after all. "This too shall pass, Steve...Just trust in Jesus, Steve, and He'll bring you through...God never shuts a door but that He opens a window, you'll see..."

But at that moment, I didn't care. I wasn't having any of it. All I knew at the time was that I had pursued a quest, one that a whole bunch of people had supported with their dreams, their wallets, and their prayers - and it was over. In my eyes, I'd failed - and in doing so, I'd let down my friends, my church family, God, and myself.

For about 10 minutes, standing outside the church offices, and then sitting in my car in the parking lot, I really wanted a drink. I hadn't had a desire to drink in years - but that moment, I really wanted one. A bunch, in fact.

I can't tell you exactly what happened... but I know that the voices of the saints in my life started talking to me. From 750 miles away, old Jon P., and my first sponsor, Bob S., chimed in, and said, "There is nothing bad in your life that a drink is going to make better." The voice of my first ministry professor, Tex Sample, reminded me, "No matter how tragic the circumstance, the Word of God is hope for those who struggle - and trust me, you will struggle." I thought of the congregation of Atonement Lutheran, waiting to hear me preach at the 5:00 service that evening. I thought of a lot of people - brothers and sisters in sobriety, brothers and sisters in Christ - and somehow, despite all evidence to the contrary, a modicum of sanity returned.

That didn't mean that anger, resentment, and bitter disappointment didn't follow. The hardest task of that day was going to my mentors, friends and adoptive parents, Tom and Delphine Housholder, and telling them that no matter how much I wanted that dream, it wasn't going to happen. There was a lot of anger, shock, and tears that afternoon.

It's been a long three years since that day - some of the darkest times I've had in sobriety. There were many months when I was absolutely unable to endure the thought of walking into another church again; weeks and months when it seemed that God had, if not forsaken me, then at least turned a deaf ear to my cries. There were a whole bunch of nights when I found myself hammering at heaven's door, and a whole lot of mornings when the thought of getting out of bed was almost unendurable.

And yet, on this sunny day in April, there seems to be some considerable light at the end of the tunnel.

I know today that I did not fail in my service to God. Perhaps I could have saved many thousands of dollars, and much frustration, if I'd listened to my fellow-student Chuck Murphy and simply stayed in Kansas, gotten a degree at St. Paul in KC, and kept on working with AA folks there in the Kansas City area. But, as I learned in recovery, I needed to take every step I took to get where I am today. And I'm grateful for the lessons I learned. Even the ones that hurt...

After all, if I'd not been in Chicago, I would have never encountered Micah and Laura Jackson, the first bloggers I ever met in person. And I never would have thought to use the community of the blogosphere to pour out my struggles, laughter and tears on this journey. Of course, my eternal self-deprecation would still question the worth of all these bits and bytes that I've bled-out all over the 'net. But today, I know those thoughts are the voice of the Liar. In fact, knowing that is one of the gifts I've received straight from God (if you'll pardon the pun...).

The fact is, I can't go a week without hearing from someone who Googled something, or followed a link to a link to a link, and by some Divine coincidence followed some digital bunny-trail to my blog, and there found something they desperately needed to hear in one of my posts. People struggling with faith, with failure, with sobriety, even with their sexuality - from all over the globe - have all come here and found what they needed. Could I have done that from some pulpit in a tiny rural Lutheran church in Longforgotten, Nebraska? I don't think so...

The other thing that I need to give thanks for is this. Over the last three years, my sister Sue's health has deteriorated considerably. And in June of last year, she hurt herself at work. In November, she was eventually declared disabled for the work she had done for almost 20 years. A month later, her husband was laid off from his job for four months.

Now if I'd gotten my way three years ago, I would have been on internship right now, most likely in some tiny church in the rural Midwest (probably not far from Longforgotten, Nebraska, come to think of it). I would have been living hand-to-mouth, flat broke, and completely unable to move here to Ohio last October to help my sister and brother-in-law when they needed it. As much as I struggle with the work I do right now, and I struggle with so much of The Evil Empire, I am grateful beyond measure that when the time came to make a decision, I could do "the next right thing." God's plan is God's plan, not mine - for which I'm thankful.

And to be rigorously honest, if I'd never left Kansas I'm not sure I would ever have been able to come to terms with who I am as a gay man and a child of God. It took every bit of the last two years to come to terms with that, and to see how God can use me in the gay Christian community. Nearly every day, I am put in touch with someone with whom I can share my struggles (and, thank God, my victories) in accepting myself as a beloved and accepted part of God's magnificent creation - just as I am, the way I was made. Tom and Michael, God definitely gifted me with your presence, your patience, and your encouragement. It's because of your mentoring that the closet door is behind me (even if I did have to pull Tom's boot out of my butt, once I got out...)

I'd be remiss, looking back over the last three years, if I didn't point out some incredible friends who have commented, linked, emailed and generally lifted me up along the way from across the country and around the world. In addition to Tom and Michael (noted above), I'm grateful to count as friends these digital sisters and brothers:

Rick at a new life emerging
Peter at Another Country
Erin at Biscotti Brain
TK at Bumbling Forward
[rwk] at Daily Life in a Homeless Shelter
Bobbie at Emerging Sideways
Penni at Martha, Martha
Chris at Radio Rebellion
Tim at I'm A Foto Nut

When my voice has gone silent, when I'm hopelessly contemplating my navel, you folks have been the ones to say, "Helloooooo.... anybody home?" I am grateful to the digital community of faith for these especially, but to everyone who has dropped in and left a comment, an encouragement, or a link to something truly funny/tasteless.

I could not look back over the last three years without giving thanks to God for the sisters and brothers who have lifted me up, taken my emails and phone calls (even late at night on the road!) - Eric, Natalie, Neil and Mary Lou, Sandy, Ed, Cherri, Pastor Joe and John, Barry H., Mike M. and a host of others in Kansas; Nathan and Laura in Ankeny and Momma Delphine in West Des Moines, Iowa; John Z. in Florida, and Ted in Ohio. You have been the wind beneath my wings and in my sails, and many of you have helped me literally stay off the streets, at times. God has blessed me with your friendship beyond my ability to describe.

Lastly, to my sisters, Sue and Sandy: I almost lost you, 10 years ago. I thank God that you and your husbands are in my life today.

Soli Deo Gloria - To God alone be the glory...

Casualties over there, casualties here

Thank God for National Public Radio, and the Michigan Public Radio's habit of airing the BBC broadcasts overnight. If they hadn't been broadcasting it, I might not ever have heard Hugh Sykes broadcast of Eyewitness Iraq, an amazing, painful and compelling story of what it is like to be in Iraq on the ground with the Iraqi people over the last two years. Take some time and listen to it. And again, thank God that there are still slivers of unsanitized news being broadcast that aren't dominated by our own home-grown theocracy.

One of the differences I've noticed between the Vietnam war and the conflict in Iraq is that this time around, we in the US don't see the bodies. We rarely see the dead, wounded, and maimed; we almost never hear the daily butcher's bill on the news; it's rare to see the flag-draped caskets coming home. I could be wrong, but it seems that most of the dead and wounded US casualties are from Arkansas, Nebraska, and other low-volatility areas of the country, where people are loathe to stomp their feet and say, "I'm mad as HELL and I'm not going to take it any more!"

According to one of several sites, the 9/11 casualties as of September, 2002 were 2,819 souls.

As of 4/16, the US deaths from the war in Iraq is now 3,308. Add another 266 coalition deaths, and we're at 3,574. Not to mention more than twenty-four thousand wounded US soldiers. And we won't even talk about the bodies being dumped on the streets of Iraq by insurgents, day by day. The potential body counts of those casualties are truly horrifying.

And the leaders who led us to Iraq on false pretenses now say we need to stay there to "win." But I - and many of my fellow citizens - are tired of shedding blood to protect the national-sized ego of a few megalomaniacs. When the sons and daughters of the people calling the shots are on the front lines, we'll see how the battle goes. But so long as it's young men and women of promise from rural America, there is no incentive to protect the sons and daughters of the "silent majority."

And then, just when we thought it could not get more horrible, the ground ran red with student's blood in Blacksburg, Virginia. One (so-far) unidentified gunman, and 32 victims. Dozens of others wounded.

Has the nation indeed gone mad? I just wonder...

My heart, numb as it is, goes out to the families of the dead and the wounded. Whether overseas or in our own schools, we need to do what we can to stop the killing.

Catchin' up on Monday moanin'

It has been an incredibly busy, and exciting, and frustrating time. I apologize for being away for so long. Let me tell you why...and catch you up on what's been happening.

I had a marvelous experience at a weekend recovery conference in Troy, MI March 23-25. It was a long work-week ahead of time to get to the place where I could take the time off, and so I raced out the door and just took off. But it was a marvelous weekend, and a great gift to myself.

My 50th birthday was the 29th. It was, to be honest, just another day. Both sisters were working and unavailable for any kind of celebration. So I took a store-bought cake to the evening AA meeting, and then went out to dinner with a sponsee at Applebees. No big deal - just another day.

About half-way through dinner that night, I started to feel really weird. And by the time 2 AM came around, I could tell that I was in the middle of a full-blown cold. I mean, full-blown cold. In the time from 10 PM to 2 AM, I left normality and became three of the Seven Dwarves simultaneously: Sneezy, Sleepy, and Grumpy. Ick.

I somehow made it through two-thirds of the work day on Friday, and then said, "I just cain't take it no mo'," signed off and went to bed. And stayed there the whole weekend. The birthday dinner was put off (my sister and brother-in-law were still suffering with this crap too - they caught it first), so it made no sense to go to dinner feeling miserable.

It hung on for another 4 days - and I just had very little energy to do much of anything. I missed Maundy Service, Good Friday service, and just barely had the energy to make it for the last Easter Service at a local Lutheran church. So I'm glad to be finally getting over all of that.

On Good Friday night, sister Sue tentatively asked, "Would you mind if we went with you to church on Easter?" Wow....

Would I mind? Are you kidding? I was delighted! After all, Sue married into her husband's church - a fairly insular Missouri-Synod Lutheran church - and they just have never felt a part of, there. Sue has never really gotten over the whole "so, what?" attitude that she and Sandy had over church in our Catholic days - and her in-law's LCMS church was just not set up to handle "seekers" properly. So to have her express a desire to attend church was a big, big deal.

So then the question was, "Where to go to Easter services where they won't be scared off?" In other words, where to go where (a) the word will be preached in a way that was not off-putting, (b) where brother-in-law Jeff would feel at least some connections or familiarity with the service, and (c) where the actual features of the service (liturgy, music, etc) would be high-quality enough to not drive them away?

We ended up at St. Paul's Lutheran in Maumee, and it was everything I prayed for. The service was fairly traditional in shape and music - but all the service was shown on video screens ("hands free hymnals"!), which my sister appreciated. And the sermon was very basic, but powerful. It was a positive experience for them - which was a great thing for me, too. I actually was motivated to reach out to the pastor (who, of course, was on vacation the week after Easter...) to talk with him. I don't know if that's where I'm called to be - but it could be a start.

Then we went out and had an absolutely marvelous Easter/birthday dinner at Biaggi's (one of my favorite chain restaurants in the world) with both sisters and their husbands. Surprisingly uncrowded, and a delightful time. Sandy has started a new job, and is working the same kinds of crazy hours I was, so it was good for some "time away" for both of us.

The work situation this last two weeks has been crazier than usual - it has been crisis after crisis after crisis, which is never fun. We ended up working until midnight on Good Friday (which really irked me) on a special project that absolutely, positively, had to be done that day, and then even more this last week. So when I had to leave early to go to Van Wert on Thursday, and to an awards banquet for one of the guys on Friday, I didn't even bother docking my time. They'd already gotten their pound of flesh, so to speak.

I've also begun working with a Masonic youth-group called DeMolay - after a sixteen-year hiatus. My friend Ted is a national-level leader in the group, and the leader-of-advisors for the northwest Ohio region. So I am just starting to work with a struggling chapter in Van Wert (yes, the district is that big), and dealing with the challenges that teenaged guys can offer. It will not be easy, by any means, or cheap (100 miles each way to Van Wert, at nearly $3 a gallon - don't even get me started....). But it will be good. I have some gifts to bring, I think. Let your light shine before others, I guess.

For now, I will leave it at that, and hopefully catch up with a dozen or so bloggers I've not been reading recently. I've been too long away, it seems. But I did manage to catch this one, that I need to share...I found this post at BusyMom.net all too familiar -

Is it all kinds of bad, or, only a little bad that I was running through Michael's (and, we all know how I feel about Michael's) muttering obscenities during Holy Week whilst looking for modeling clay for Busy Boy's crucifix project?

Just checking to see if Jesus is offended, or, if He hates school projects as much as I do.

Well, BusyMom, I'm no expert, but I'd say that if Jesus knows your heart (as so many folks say he does), then I'd bet there would be compassion and love for the heart of a frazzled mommy, even during Holy Week.

To me, that is the heart of the believer's struggle everyday - Christ is risen, and yet life goes on. The challenge is to make that truth known in the mundane-ness of everyday life, it seems.

Even in the middle of school projects at Michael's.

The day after...

Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed. (They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.) (John 20:8-9, NIV)
---
Then Jesus said to Thomas, "Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe." Thomas said to him, "My Lord and my God!" Then Jesus told him, "Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." (John 20:27-29, NIV)

It's the day after Easter. (The "first Monday of Easter," for those of you who love liturgical calendar references...)

The flowers and banners still stand in the sanctuary. Sheet music for "Jesus Christ is Risen Today!" still sit on the organ bench. But the trumpets have been packed away, and even the echoes of the hymns and the congregations shouting "He is risen indeed!" have died away. And we are left with these two poignant images: the disciples who still did not understand, and the disciple who had trouble believing.

The world is not that different, today, than it was on that first Resurrection Monday, is it?

There are still people in the church who wonder why Jesus had to die to make this life complete. There are still people in the world who say, "Hey, unless this Jesus guy shows up here, and speaks to ME, how do I know he exists?"

In Easter version 1.0, the answer is simple. Jesus appeared to the apostles, to the women, in the Upper Room, and to hundreds of people around Judea. People saw Jesus, heard his encouragement for them, and his call to reach and teach others what he had taught them.

Perhaps - just perhaps - the answer is the same for us in the light of Easter 2007.

Perhaps we, as followers of a risen Savior, need to ensure that people see Jesus - in us. Perhaps we are the ones to make Christ's loving, caring, healing presence known in the world. Perhaps God's hands and feet need to be seen at the ends of our arms and legs. Perhaps the light needs to shine on the Cross, and the empty tomb, and not on us as the Church. Perhaps the doors of our churches need to be flung open as wide as the tomb was - so that the world at large can join us sinners on the inside, and come to know what we know about our own sins - and about redemption.

God, this day, let your Son's eternal life be seen in my life. Let my actions reflect the light of your love into the world. Let me live this day in the light of the empty tomb. And may each of us, as followers of Christ, be someone that will let the world see your good news: "He is RISEN! He is risen INDEED!"

Amen.

Aint'a THAT good news?....

Yeah, it doesn't get much better than this...

In my dream world, I would be able to take 2 days off, sit by the pool, dangle my feet in the water, and chew through the book at my leisure, sipping lemonade flavored Crystal Light and alternating munching on pistachios, popcorn and baby carrots.

In reality, I'll either be at a new job and won't have the time off, or I'll be unemployed and won't be able to afford the book. But it's still nice to dream...

UPDATE - if you looked earlier, you saw this image

I thought> that this was the US cover (it's the Canadian one, instead). At first glance, I thought it was probably the ugliest cover of them all - especially ditching the "HP" lightning-bolt type logo - but it's just not what I was used to...

Of course, when I even mention Harry Potter, I always brace myself for the critical theological questions - "How can you debase your faith by reading a book about witches, wizards and the occult? Haven't you READ Exodus 22? Haven't you READ Deuteronomy 18?"

(I am tempted at that point to say, "No, people keep pointing me to Leviticus, for some reason..." - but I don't.)

Actually, I have a book on my shelf called What's a Christian To Do With Harry Potter?, but to be honest, I've been enjoying Harry Potter books too much to ever bother with it. (Sin boldly, eh?....)

So yes, I will be "of the world" until the great day comes along. Unrepentant, too...

Making the choice, today

See, I set before you today life and prosperity, death and destruction. For I command you today to love the LORD your God, to walk in his ways, and to keep his commands, decrees and laws; then you will live and increase, and the LORD your God will bless you in the land you are entering to possess.

This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the LORD your God, listen to his voice, and hold fast to him. For the LORD is your life, and he will give you many years in the land he swore to give to your fathers, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. (Deuteronomy 30:15-16, 19-20, NIV)

At times in my life, I think I can ignore this passage. After all, I have made this choice. I think I have chosen to talk in God's ways, and I think I'm doing it. I'm baptized; I go to church. I pray. I'm "in," right?

But then there are days when I'm not entirely on the beam. I may be a little bit off - maybe I've missed my morning prayers, agreed to do something at work that would cause me problems (like overworking, instead of working a normal day and exercising). Maybe I've slipped further off the beam - choosing that piece of pie or ice cream more than I should, and my weight creeps up. Each decision is not a huge, sinful act.
And then the voice in the back of my head says, "It's not like I'm killing someone, or anything..."

And then the pants don't fit. Or the blood-sugar meter shows a value that just isn't right. Something happens, and I come to the uncomfortable realization that I may think I love God, I may be taking actions like other believers at times, but I obviously haven't been obeying God. And now I have a choice. Right, or wrong. Life or death. Prosperity or destruction.

"Now choose life," the writer of Deuteronomy says - not so I suddenly get the "good stuff" in life, but so that I may love God, hear God's voice, and follow God's plan for me. Once I do *that*, then there is hope of "many years" and the rewards that go with them. The other option just isn't good news...

Today, Lord God, I choose life. I choose you, and your way. Period. But now that I've made that decision, I will need all your help to stick with that choice. I will trust that you are with me this day, and do my best to see your presence in every choice I make today. Amen.

Days of sadness, days of wonder

I have been too long away from these pages. I have missed you all.

Today is a day of anger, and yet of joy. Like Gimli the Dwarf in Tolkein's The Two Towers, I am torn between such fury and such celebration that I might well burst.

The fury is three-fold. First, I am furious that this is the fourth anniversary of the war in Iraq. I want to dump everything I am doing for my employer and just go protest - chain myself to something, take some anarchist action. Three thousand lives irrevocably lost; five hundred billion dollars spent in useless destruction. Do you feel any safer today? Any more terrorism-proof? I sure as hell don't.

It makes me want to hit something.

Second, almost every indication at The Evil Empire is that they are preparing to "outsource" a significant number of jobs on our project, either to other teams doing similar actions or to our service bureaus in India. I'd say that I probably have no more than 2 months of employment left; perhaps much less. I am terrified (for myself, and for my family), and furious with myself for not seeing it sooner. What a freaking waste of life this last year has been. What an incredible sucker I have been, to allow this to happen to me.

The urge to hit something comes back, big time.

Third, I am once again reminded of how badly out-of-shape I am physically, and how little I have done to counteract that condition. Buying a new suit for interviewing was yet another reminder of how disconnected from reality I am about my health and my physical appearance. Once again, I am at the "I need to change everything right now" stage of the game, and I hate it.

None of that makes where I'm at a necessarily nice place to be.

Yet despite all that, some incredible blessings have come my way. The work I get to do with new people in sobriety has been incredibly frustrating, yet incredibly fulfilling. Every "ah-ha!" moment is an amazing gift of joy and bliss. It's not that I am some kind of hero for having been a part of this; I know better than that. But I cannot help but see the positive changes in certain lives... and that is worth everything that went before.

I've had the opportunity to share some of these writings with some people outside the traditional Christian community, and that has brought a great deal of blessing, as well. And I'm going to be spending some time away this weekend - first, visiting a DeMolay chapter with my friend Ted on Thursday night, and then at a recovery conference in Troy, MI through the weekend. So that's all good.

My brother-in-law is going back to work at the job that laid him off at Thanksgiving. While it's not the answer I would have prayed for him, it's better than four months of unemployment. And sister Sue is starting at a new employer, as a permanent employee (even though she will not have benefits for 3 months yet) - and so far it seems like a much less toxic situation than her previous attempt. So there is hope there, as well.

But perhaps the most incredible gift of affirmation came from my friend Tim B., a faith brother from Kansas. He recently sent me a CD of my former church's choir, and some incredible photography of the church at Easter and Christmas, and of landmarks from around Kansas City. Those, by themselves, were true blessings. But his hand-written note contained the greatest gift of all:

As my blog comment from the other day said, I truly believe God is using you and the talents He has given you to the fullest, and He wouldn't be able to use you as effectively after ordination.

I believe you are truly living God's will for your life. Do not discount yourself for a roadblock He purposefully placed in your life, so you would be better able to do His will. If you are the blessing to other's lives as you have been in mine, you are making a far greater difference than you know.

Thank you, God. And thank you, brother Tim. I needed to hear that, more than you know.

As the old story goes, I ain't where I wanna be; I ain't where I'm gonna be. But thank you Jesus, I ain't where I used to be. And for today, that's enough.