To Know and To Be Known

Driving to work this morning I stopped at the convenience store for my Baptist mixed drink (1/3 diet Dr. Pepper and 2/3 diet Coke). I noticed a guy pretty much like most guys. Heading to work, getting a cup of coffee and maybe a pack of cigarettes, expressionless face. He just looked like the silent type. No time for nonsense. No desire for chit chat. I could see him on a deer stand or tossing back a brewski in a bass boat. A man of few words.

And that's when it started. My mind started running through all sorts of ideas. Why did he choose to be so silent? What caused him to pull away from communicating?

Then I thought about a friend who is a marriage & family counselor. When my soon-to-be ex-wife Unit #2 and I were seeing our fourth marriage counselor (yeah... four, she found issues with all but the last one), I asked my counselor friend for help. This new therapist and I didn't know each other beyond 50 minutes every other week and I wanted to get real help. I didn't want to waste any time. So... was there anything my lifelong friend could share to enlighten my therapist? Well, nothing but one very telling statement. “Todd, you're a communicator and you married two women who don't wan to communicate.” I know, not normal for guys to be communicators. Hey, I was born that way. But, I also have worked hard to truly communicate and not just run off at the mouth like some.

Remembering that opened the floodgates. My mind was off to the races.

So many folks fall into one of two camps: non-verbal or hyper-verbal. Either they don't talk much at all or they talk all the time. And in a lot of cases, neither is really communicating. For the non-talkers, I see a lot of them trapped inside. They tried talking in the past. They tried opening up and sharing themselves. But somewhere along the way, they got hurt. Bad. To venture out of their emotional turtle shell is too painful to consider. You can try to get them to talk but for some, it's been so long that I wonder if they remember how. It's like that part of their brain atrophied over time. While I understand that not all people are as verbal as me, I don't believe God wire us to never relate at all. That looks like damage from the journey.

On the other hand, I see a lot of folks who go overboard on talking. The constant chatter keeps the focus bouncing on everything except the stuff that matters. These are the types who talk incessantly about this and that and the other thing... always avoiding their true hearts. Sure, they may talk about themselves a lot. Many are pretty self-centered. But, do they ever really talk about the stuff that matters?

People hide behind masks. We want to protect our 'real selves' from being hurt so we put out a mask, a 'modified self'. But what is really going on? What is it we really want? What are we trying to avoid? I think it can be summed up with our desire to know and to be known. I think this is at the core of every soul born.

OK, remember this was all part of my train of thought while driving to the shop, a 40 minute drive.

When a conversation appears to be heading toward touchy territory, you may hear someone say “don't go there!” Whatever it is, it's off limits to discussion. A tragedy, a reminder of a painful past, a secret... something is hidden and we think should remain that way. But, to me, hiding anything sounds like bondage. Freedom means having nothing to hide. But, easier said than done.

What type stuff am I talking about? I think it all comes down to being accepted- to being known. We feel insecure about something...so we hide it. We feel shame about something... so we hide it. We have been hurt by something in our past and don't want to go through that again... so we hide from it. The bottom line is... there's something about us we don't want known for fear we will be rejected.

Deep down, I truly feel we long to be known... and still accepted. I frequently joke that my former girlfriend, a Franciscan nun, knows me better than either ex-wife... and she still loves me! And that means all the world to me! I revealed myself to two women and was rejected both times. But not with 'the nun'. I revealed my true self to her and she accepted me. Easier said than done.

We long to know and be known but that's impossible if we aren't dealing with truth. If I put on a mask to hide my imperfections, you aren't knowing the real me. You're knowing a layer of something added on top. You can't build on that. It's like in building a house. You have to scrape down to something solid before you can build a foundation. Otherwise, everything you build may come crumbling down in time, built on other stuff. What I see are a lot of people building relationships on masks. And knowing that what we see isn't real, deep down we know that we can't put our full weight on that relationship. It won't hold up. When we try to trust and get hurt in the process, we quickly learn to not count on relationships.

What will hold up? What in life is solid enough to build a life on it?

In John 14:6, Jesus said “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me.” To know and to be known, it is important to be dealing with the truth. He is the Truth. Simple as that. When we boil it down to just Him and me... God the Creator and His created... we as humans have our first taste of knowing and being known.

When I think about my relationship with the Lord these days, it's all about getting to know Him. As I know Him, I learn to trust. It's about building a relationship more than just learning facts and scriptures. And I don't have to understand everything... I trust Him.

Now, follow me here... this is where it gets exciting to me.

Knowing God means I'm also known by Him. That means bringing it all out into the open with Him. I know we all understand God sees all and knows all, but emotionally we still try to hide a lot from Him. But, how liberating it is when we finally realize at a core level that He truly loves us through and through. Even the stuff we'd rather hide from Him! Now, we have the foundation for a relationship. We are already known by Him and we are getting to know Him as well. In the process, I feel we also get to know ourselves better.

Based on the freedom of this relationship, not having to hide anything anymore, we can grow in relationships with others. This is where I feel God wants to do a special work within Christians. If we are all enjoying open and free relationships with our Father, that sets the stage for some pretty open and free relationships with fellow believers. Well, at least on paper.

I've seen it in practice from time to time. I think about the folks who used to gather at The Barn in Mer Rouge. Here we saw a group of believers come together to know Him and know each other. Through the years they became family. It wasn't a church, but it sure functioned like one. It started as a Bible study at my cousin Molly's house. The crowd outgrew the living room so they took over a barn out at the farm, thus the name “The Barn”. Actually, old timers probably still remember it as “The Glory Barn”.

When I think of my times at The Barn, I first think of the worship. There was always great teaching but there was first a whole lotta praise and worship. The focus was on Him... celebrating how wonderful our God is! Building on this foundation of worship and solid Bible teaching, relationships were built that in many cases were closer than family. After a while, the folks of The Barn formed Christian Life Fellowship, an official ministry. That grew to include a Christian summer camp for kids.

Most folks refer to the folks out at The Barn as “The Fellowship”. And that's really what it was. But not in the sense of what I see at most churches. Fellowship usually means food spread out on a table and folks eating too much while smiling and always making sure their emotional masks don't slide down and inadvertently reveal too much. Not so with The Fellowship. These folks were truly involved in each others' lives. They shared a common heartbeat.

This can be illustrated in running the summer camp. As the older generation literally started dying off, new folks came in and started taking on responsibility. One of the biggest challenges was that little stuff was written down. The people involved initially were so connected on a heart level that they didn't have policy manuals or procedures written down. They just knew what the others would want to be done... and they did it. They communicated on a regular basis and worked through the inevitable issues. But most of all... they knew and were known. And based on this knowing “in Christ”, they trusted each other.

Nowadays, new blood has come in and while that's a good thing, they don't have the history of the old gang. Policies and procedures rightfully need to be written down. It's a new chapter. But, the old one sure was a great example of relationships as the body of Christ.

Watching folks in the Fellowship, I saw people feeling safe to be known. As relationships grew, masks weren't just taken off but thrown away entirely. As fellow believers, I saw them love and accept each other within a context of grace. I saw true authenticity displayed in the friendships and close relationships of the folks involved in the Fellowship. They truly knew each other.

While true fellowship is great, it is only as good as the individual relationships of the folks involved with their Lord. I confess, I was a slow learner on this one. I always enjoyed a passionate relationship with Jesus as a single guy. In that relationship, I found my identity. I found acceptance and grace. But, it didn't take long after getting married to try that same stuff from my spouse in lieu of my relationship with Him. Not just “not good”. Disastrous.

By not going to Him first, I wasn't getting my essential needs met... core stuff that can only come from a relationship with Him. And, by going to a fallible person instead of Him for my identity, I clearly set myself up for a fall. They couldn't deliver the goods, no matter how hard they tried.

Hopefully, I've learned that the most essential relationship in life is the one on one time I have with my Lord... with my heavenly Father. Based on that, I'm not only equipped to serve others but I'm not looking for something out of them they can't provide. Now we're just free to be... real. Being known by Him first, and knowing Him as a result, we can now enjoy knowing and being known by others. We can relax and be real. Friendships are now within the context of Jesus Christ making a way for each of us to cry out to our heavenly Father “Abba... Papa!”

Knowing and being known by Him also takes the pressure off of our other relationships. Secure in our identity in Him, we can now feel more free to just enjoy other folks and to also be used to touch them on His behalf. We aren't the solution. We are only part of His provision in the situation.

This seed of thought has spun off into some other side shoots which I'll write about more. But for now, enjoy thinking about how God knows you better than you know yourself. And He loves you just as you are. And as a result of Jesus taking our place on the Cross, we can now know God as well. What a deal!

They've been visiting at the prison for over thirty years.

Standing in front of the coin operated snack machine looking over a rather dismal choice of nukable (microwave) meals, another inmate's father said "We've been reminiscing about the thirty years we've been coming here. Back then, it wasn't air conditioned and there were big roll up doors along this wall. They had some screens up there but they didn't do much good. We spent all our time battling mosquitoes." My mind bounced between two thoughts. On the one hand, I was so thankful for the air conditioning we have in the prison visitation area (the gym) these days. On the other hand, I couldn't grasp the idea that they had been coming to visit their son in prison every other Sunday for over 30 years.

That's over eight hundred Sundays. Added together, their visits equal over two years worth of Sundays.

This inmate and his folks have become friends of ours. I confess that of all the folks at visitation, this family is more like ours than the rest. Looking out across the gymnasium on any given Sunday, I see a lot of different type people. Quite a few remind me of the old saying that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Some look like good old country folk visiting their loved one who went astray. Most look like a lot of Arkansas... poor.

Even though the inmates all wear the same white pants and the same white shirts and even though none are allowed to have beards or mustaches, this inmate somehow looks more respectable. Maybe it's his lack of tattoos and that he walks like a normal person; not strutting or shuffling. He is about my age though he has a lot more gray hair. His folks are probably the best dressed in the place. Not fancy, mind you. But sharp. They look like they shop at Dillard's more than Walmart. And he is their only child.

My brother has shared that the inmate's father retired from a high up position with the city. Not just one with workers under him but one where me might get quoted in the paper. They live in a nice part of town and even know some of our friends. They look like respectable folk.

Mother asked if our friend would ever be released. My brother replied that isn't an option. He's serving not one but two life sentences without the possibility of parole. It seems that back when he was in high school he killed his girlfriend in a rather brutal manner. Looking at him today, you'd never know it. His 30 plus years behind bars don't seem to have hardened him. He comes across as a really nice guy.

Then I think about the past three decades and all the things I've seen and experienced. A couple of failed marriages. A few dating relationships that yielded dear friends for life. Trips where I saw the Canadian Rockies and the Normandy coast of France and pretty much everything in between. I've dipped my toes in the sand of the Gulf of Mexico more times than I can remember. Meanwhile, this guy has worn the same white pants and the same white shirts for over ten thousand days.

He has seen other inmates come and go. He and a few others are there to stay. Today, he has spent well over half of his life in prison. In a couple of years, he will have spent two thirds of his entire life behind bars. I find that hard to grasp.

Meanwhile, he smiles and goes back to visiting with his folks. And we go back to our group of chairs in the air conditioned gymnasium to visit with my brother. But I can't get him out of my mind. Thirty-plus years.

Just then I'm remind of Jesus' words from Matthew 25: “Then the King will say to those on His right, ‘Come, you who are blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.’ Then the righteous will answer Him, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, and feed You, or thirsty, and give You something to drink? And when did we see You a stranger, and invite You in, or naked, and clothe You? When did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ The King will answer and say to them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.’

Years before my brother became an inmate, it hit me that Jesus didn't mention guilt or innocence in this verse. He didn't specify visiting only Christians thrown in jail for the sake of God's Kingdom like Paul and the guys were in the years to come. No. Jesus calls us to compassion, even for the guilty ones.

It paints for me a picture we are to love people right where they are. To remind them that they are not forgotten. Society may have put them in a warehouse and lost the key but they are still people with feelings. And they still matter. Jesus died for them, too.

Driving home, Mother and I talked about how my brother will be out in about two and a half years. We discussed where he might end up living, knowing he doesn't need to move back to El Dorado for fear of getting dragged back into the same crowd of drug users. Meanwhile, that other inmate will be marking off another year in prison. Then another. Then another. I may just keep on going to inmate visitation after my brother is gone.

Small Town Cafe

I've written more than once about how I enjoy small town cafes. There's something about sitting down for a meal in a place with no more tables than fingers to count them on one hand. At least around here, folks will strike up a conversation regardless of whether or not you're a regular. I like that.

Today, I had lunch in downtown Spearsville, LA. Big city. There's a stop sign and everything! The local cafe is also a gas station and general store. Not a convenience store but more like the small town grocery from half a century ago. They have burgers and such but I elected to go with their “meat and two” plate lunch. This time, it was a choice of meats and then corn plus rice'n'gravy. Yes, a starch and a starch topped with more carbs. For a low carb guy I looked at it and gobbled it up knowing I'll pay for it later. Oh, and fresh banana pie. I ate a bite or two but had a feeling I'd overdose on carbs and left a bunch on my plate.

When I walked in there was only one other guy already seated eating lunch. Kinda scary looking at first. Long hair, ZZ-top style beard, overalls and a T-shirt. We smiled and I sat at the other table. At this cafe there are only two tables. Both of them the six foot folding tables like in the church fellowship hall. It was clear that folks come here to eat and visit.

No surprise to those who know me, I struck up a conversation with the bearded mountain man (he looked the part). One thing led to another and we started talking about another favorite cafe on the opposite end of the parish, on the east bank of the Ouachita River in Sterlington. That one is Marvin Simpson's One Stop, home of some kick butt french fries back when I lived across the river over on Bayou Bartholomew.

As it turns out, this rural wild man leads the Thursday night Bible study at Marvin's cafe! Marvin had told me about it but I never have been able to make it. Small world. We both agreed that Marvin is “good people”. This study leader is also active at the Biker Church on Highway 165 North in Monroe. No surprise there, either. He looks the part.

We chatted about what the Lord was doing in each of our lives for a while before he had to get back to work driving a garbage truck for the parish.

Some other older men came in and we visited about the auto repair shop that used to be across the street. It was operated by a really nice guy but had closed recently. One of the local dealerships offered him a job he couldn't refuse. It was agreed that he was a top notch mechanic. That opened the door for discussing the merits of computers on tractors. Something about a farm implement relying on computer sensors to run just didn't seem right. I agreed and commented that I was in my 26 year old one ton Ford that didn't have any type of electronics on it beyond a radio and that didn't even work.

When I went to check out, I noticed the lady behind the counter was wearing a church T-shirt. Nice. We talked about the Lord and she explained that her church in Bernice was non-denominational, choosing to emphasize points we Christians have in common rather than the ones where we disagree. I agreed.

She commented that as times look grim in the country we'll need to rely on each other. That opened the door for sharing about my work with renewable energy and how I have friends who are into the “preparedness movement”. That means being prepared for natural, political or social upheaval. Not survivalists... but being prepared as a good steward of what God has given us. She said she's already canning her own food and wants to learn about local vegetation for food. Before we could talk about the new move toward permaculture (using nature to work with nature instead of using a bunch of chemicals), she need to answer a phone call and I needed to get back to the shop. We exchanged email addresses to swap tips on being prepared for the big “what if” our society seems to be heading toward.

With that, I hopped back into my one-ton flatbed truck, easing off from a stop in second. Nobody uses granny-low first gear unless you've got a load. I clicked on up through the gears to fourth and cruised back to my shop at a brisk 35 miles an hour. A two lane road, sunshine, full belly and my arm hanging out the window. Oh, and my Ray Ban aviation type sunshades, of course. Life is good. Nice folks, too. I have a feeling I've found a new favorite spot for lunch.

To Be Special To Someone

I've been single most of my adult life. Let's do the math. For a few more weeks, I'll still be 52 years old. Let's say “adulthood” starts at 21. I didn't get married until I was in my mid-30s and that only lasted four years. Then I rebounded into a horrible marriage that blew up in about three years. That means out of 31 years as an adult, I wore a wedding ring for only seven of those years. To get technical, that's 22.6 percent of my adult life. Or put another way- about a day and a half out of one week, less than one week out of a full month.

Next month will wrap up a full decade of being “single again”... again.

I never set out to be what some would call a “confirmed bachelor”. All I ever really wanted was to have a wife, a couple of kids and a mortgage. Life just didn't turn out that way.

Today, I have some really great female friends. I'm truly thankful for them. But at the end of the day, I go home alone. I'll admit that sometimes I'd like to have a romantic relationship. But, I struggle with the same stuff that gave me an ache in my heart back in high school and college. Female friendships are great but when they start dating, guess who takes a back seat? That other guy is “special” and I go home alone.

Thinking this through, I realized that what I am longing for is not so much the holding hands and kissing. Don't get me wrong, I love the sound of that tune! But that's not what defines a “special relationship” to me. And I definitely am not longing for the internal battle to stay celibate when the kissing moves to... well... more kissing. Yeah, call me old fashioned but I believe some things are left to “licensed adults” only. And not until then. What I really long for is to be “special” in one person's heart. To be set apart from the rest. Not just a friend but that “special person” in her life. Don't get me wrong, I cherish my friendships. And I know they appreciate me. But I'm not that “special one”. I'm not the last one they say “good night” to at the end of the day, albeit over the phone.

Back when I was married, I was typically on the road about a hundred nights out of the year. Most trips were four or five days long. For years, I'd watched how other guys would hit the road and forget to call in. More importantly, I heard wives complain about it. Not me! Sometimes I'd call during the day and for sure at the end of the day. I love my work and was typically excited about seeing old friends on the different projects I visited. And I wanted to hear about my wife's day. I knew that relationships on the road were tough and I worked hard to maintain connection while I was away. More than anything, I wanted to connect with my “special one”. I wanted to be reminded that somewhere in the world, there was one person who was glad I was safe that night. Someone who was glad I was in their life.

One of the loneliest feelings for me is when I'm on the road and pull off at some motel next to yet another interstate somewhere. They all look the same. Checking in and settling in for the night is pretty much on autopilot. Then as I wind down for the night, I realize there is no one on the face of the planet who knows where I am. I'm all alone. It's not that none of my friends care. I'm secure in that. But their lives spin on their own. And when I'm part of their lives, that's great. But we're not in touch every day.

Maybe that's what I long for even after all these years.. an “every day” relationship. More than anything, I long to be considered truly special by someone. Set apart, unique, cherished differently than the rest.

Then it dawns on me that I already have that and have had it all along. But it's not a girl somewhere on the other end of the phone. It's a Him. It's my personal relationship with my Heavenly Father. What I'm longing for is what He wants with me right now... an intimate relationship. To my Father, I am set apart, unique and cherished differently than the rest. He does think of me as special.

Yesterday, I wrote that until I can abide in a relationship with my Lord, I can't fully love and appreciate someone else. Now I'm thinking my whole yearning for connection with someone is really a longing to be connected with Him. It's deeper than a guy and a girl on the phone. More importantly, it's about being connected at a deeper level than is possible in a relationship with another human being.

I want to grow in my experience of how He's crazy about me. How He's excited to hear my voice on the other end of the phone line. How He can't wait to hear about my day. Hey, He even knows the names of all the construction workers I was glad to see and even remembers what projects we worked on in the past. I want to learn to a deeper level that He's glad I called. I've tasted that type of relationship and know it to some degree. But I hear Him calling me to move deeper in it.

I'm reminded of a magazine interview from almost thirty years ago with author Sheldon VanAuken, a friend of CS Lewis's. In that interview, he shared about how we long to climb the mountain. We take the climbing lessons, buy the gear and study the maps. Day after day, week after week, month after month, we look forward to our climbing expedition. Then finally, one day, we make the climb. But when we get to the top, we find it's just a bunch of rocks. What we're longing for is joy- the kind of joy that only comes from a relationship with Jesus Christ.

I frequently use Pascal's great quote: “Man is created with a God-shaped vacuum that can only be filled by the Person of Jesus Christ.” That's very applicable to a person first coming to Jesus. But I'm seeing that it goes a lot deeper than an initial introduction. That vacuum and His filling it extends throughout life. Again, I'm reminded that it can only be filled with Him. Anything else is just a poor substitute.

And just as my relationships with others are only as good as my relationship with Him, I have a feeling that my desire to be “special” to someone else is only a dim reflection of the relationship He wants to enjoy with me. Again, if I'm getting my needs met by Him first and foremost, it takes the pressure off the rest of life. It sets the stage for stuff to flow more naturally, like water in a stream.

Will I ever find that “special someone”? I sure hope so. But for now, I see I need to pour myself more into my relationship with Someone else first and foremost. And let the future flow naturally from Him.

Abiding... What Does It Mean?

A friend and I were talking about abiding in God the other day. We both love the book of John and how the central theme seems to be abiding in Jesus. Good stuff. But, what does it mean? What does abiding look like? Or maybe better, what does it not look like?

Well, I take some cues from this friendship. We're really great friends but like most adult friendships, we don't get to see each other that often. Texts and brief emails are great. Short phone calls are OK and long phone calls are better. But truly abiding as a friend involves some concentrated one on one time. No TV. No problem solving session or any other "work" type thing. Just two friends sharing from the heart. Talking... relating... connecting. This is the stuff of real relationship, not just being an acquaintance.

Being a relational junkie, I never can seem to get enough of our one-on-one time, what some would call "quality time". But, that's not reality. We both have lives to lead. This is where the text messages, phone calls and emails fill the gap. If that's all we had, I wouldn't really call us close friends. All of this in the mix is what defines a relationship.

Abiding also means being there for the long haul. I'm fortunate to have close friends I've known for decades; many of them for well over half my life. They've known me through the good times and the bad times... and we're still friends. Again, we may not get to see each other as often as we'd like, but there's never a moment's doubt as to whether their friendship is real. That's not to say you can't consider new friends "true" friends. It's just that there's nothing like long term friends, those with whom you've been through thick and thin.

Frequency and intimacy aren't anywhere close to the same thing. I sometimes wonder if the young people today understand that there's a lot more to communicating than texts and tweets. A lot more. They may have frequency but do they have depth?

Likewise, I wonder if folks understand that a relationship with God is much more than just prayer that seems like texts or tweets. Or, as Bob Bennett called them in a song: shotgun prayers. Don't get me wrong, I believe God hears all prayers. But, is there any real intimacy going on with a prayer that sounds like a tweet? Is there any intimacy if the prayer is only one-sided? I've had friends whose prayers sounded more like ordering lunch at the drive through window at Wendy's than an intimate exchange between a Father and a son.

I've often said that the biggest area where I failed as a husband and step-father was losing my intimacy with my heavenly Father. As a single guy, I had a relationship with Him that really was abiding. My life was filled with quick shotgun prayers as well as deep times of one-on-one prayer. My prayer life was a lot more than just a one way conversation. It was rich and true. And shortly after moving in to an existing family I found that it was really hard to maintain with other people in the house.

Before long, I started looking to my spouse for the stuff I used to get from Him. Call it "meaning" or whatever, I looked to her to fill the holes in my heart that only He could fill. OK, I admit it... I'm lazy. I could see her whereas I couldn't truly see God.

Here's what I've been learning lately: it's easier to have a relationship with someone you can see, touch, hear and smell. But that relationship is only as good as my relationship first with Him. Do I come to my Father first or do I run to my friends first? Big question and the answer says a lot. Ultimately, who is my source of identity? My source in life? If it is anything or anyone but God, I'm heading in the wrong direction and headed for a fall.

But here's where life starts moving beyond existence. An abiding relationship with my Lord means a real openness where I can come clean with Him, confessing my sins and honestly wanting to turn away. Being in a relationship with Him means consistently being blown away at how great He is... and reminding Him that's how I feel about Him. Abiding in Him means talking as well as listening. Hearing what He says about me is what gives me true identity, for His words are truth, based on perfect love.

Abiding means being honest and spending quality time together. I wish I could say that I'm at a point where I feel I'm spending all the quality time as I'd like with God, but I'm not there yet. But my quiet time with Him is growing. My time in the Word is coming back. As we study the Word, it's about learning all the facts about Him but even more, learning about His heart. As we grow and abide in Him, we truly do get a glimpse of God's heart.

I'm seeing more than ever before that my ability to have a quality relationship with any person is only as strong as my relationship first with Him. By abiding in Him first, I'm coming to the relationship complete. Not fixed, mind you. But complete in that I have everything I need in Him. Of course, there's a really good chance that God may provide what I need through those close friendships... but it grows out of me coming to Him first and then Him providing through the friends.

OK, once again I've sidetracked my own blog. It happens a lot. What I'm now seeing is that abiding in Him (being in a passionate and growing relationship with my Heavenly Father) must come first and foremost. Not just knowing about Him but knowing Him! And until I can be at a place where my relationship with Him is solid enough to be unaffected by my relationships with other people, I'm not able to be a true friend. This is especially true of a romantic relationship. As soon as I start looking to them for stuff that I can only find in Him, I'm doomed.

I've been single again almost a decade. I've worked hard to learn from my mistakes. I've also worked hard to become the man He'd have me be, regardless of my marital status. But, I'll be really honest- I'd love to have a partner for life. I'd love it more than almost anything- except for an abiding relationship with Him. Until I'm at a place where my intimacy with Him is unwavering, I really don't have a lot to offer a woman. Sure, I might look alright at first but going even a short distance on my strength, it turns ugly really fast. But remaining first and foremost in that abiding walk with Him, I can bring to the relationship more than I need to take out. I come with a belly full of living water (John 4:10).

I ain't there yet... but I'm heading in the right direction.

No One Is All Good Nor All Bad

I was thinking about my mother this morning. On the one hand, she can be bitter and mean. Uptight and abrupt. She holds grudges against people who have been dead for decades. Yet when we go visit my brother in prison, she'll slip off and visit with her "other sons", a couple of inmate workers who don't have visitors. She'll go over and sit down at their station where they serve coffee and popcorn so they can visit. She asks them questions about this and that, not so much because she is nosy but because she wants to connect with them.

Her humor is biting and sometimes it's not fully in jest. Yes, she can act like a total a bitch but then turn around and cry when she hears a friend has lost a loved one in a car accident. She even remembers my best friend's birthday from when he and I were in Mrs. Garrison's class in Hugh Goodwin Elementary, not to mention all of her own elementary school friends. She's not all good nor all bad.

I saw this even more pronounced in my grandmother. Yep, Mother's mother. We called her Mom. As much as I loved her, Mom was a controlling, uptight woman who could worry the bark off a tree. Look up the word "nag" in Webster's Dictionary and it has her picture! Yet I was the recipient of her love more times than I can count. When Dad ran away from home at the age of 42, Mom kept us afloat as Mother was starting a new career as a single mom. She wasn't all good nor all bad.

I think about my father, too. Yes, he really did run away from home. He left us high and dry. No financial support. Walked away from all of his responsibilities. After he moved to Houston, he lived with a woman who (in my rather jaded opinion) needed to go to elocution lessons just to rise 'white trash' status, all while he was still married to Mother. Dad used to say that when he left El Dorado in '74, he was "financially, emotionally, spiritually, morally and physically bankrupt." Yet, he still cared. In the years that followed, Dad worked on his bankrupt condition. He worked on it hard. And even though he never wanted to be married again to Mother, he still cared for her. He even offered to anonymously pay for her to go to the doctor when she couldn't afford insurance. He wasn't all good, nor all bad.

Through the years, I've known some pretty bad people. Drug dealers, addicts, drunks, adulterers, cheats and generally folks with some pretty major moral flaws. Yet, as I've gotten to know them on a heart level, I've without fail found a compassionate side to them. They may have been mean in one way but they were tender in others. I'm reminded of when I was driving trucks for a drilling company during a semester away from college back in the '70s. One time I was sent to Utah with a driller who had a reputation for drinking and then fighting. That was just part of his routine. Drink... then fight. Tomorrow night, drink... then fight. Repeat as necessary.

I was literally fearing for my safety when we had to share a motel room in Farmington, New Mexico, on our drive out west. Yet when we got settled in from a long day driving big trucks across the desert, what did he do first? He called his wife, a lady he married when she was just 13 years old! Before long, I overheard him tell his wife to tell one son that he was proud of him for dong something good at school or on the baseball team or something. "And tell him I love him. And I love you, too." He paused while she apparently replied. "I love you!" She replied again. "I love you, too!" The volley of I love you's continued for a while. Eventually, I headed out the door for an errand while they were still saying "I love you" to each other. Rough and tumble but deeply in love with his wife. He wasn't all bad nor all good.

On the other hand, how many "good" people do we know who have fallen to some "bad" sin? The list of TV preachers caught getting a little action on the side (with male or female hookers) is long. Drugs have taken down a lot of them, too. One of my all-time favorite pastors fell to adultery, breaking apart not one but two homes. I know of one Baptist preacher who was also a bootlegger and at one time smuggled illegal aliens from Mexico... all while filling a pulpit on Sunday morning! Go figure.

I believe none of us is either all good nor all bad. My ex-wife didn't agree. In her world, you were one or the other. And once you were deemed "bad", you could not recover your "good" status. And my temper secured for me a place on the "bad" list- banished from the "good" list forever. What she didn't know is that I had been working on my temper long before I ever met her. I saw it as a character flaw and was actively taking it to God for healing. But, I was still a work in progress.

After she kicked me to the curb almost a decade ago, I continued to work on my temper. I'm sad to say, remnants of the "old Todd" still linger. I'm still a work in progress. But I think she'd be pretty amazed at how much I've grown in this area. Stuff still gets under my skin. And yes, I still blow up sometime. Rarely, but sometime. When I do, I am immediately reminded of Galatians 5:19: "Now the deeds of the flesh are evident, which are:... outbursts of anger..." Busted!

I read that and I come face to face with the fact that I'm not yet completely in His control. As much as I want to do the right thing, it is still a bit fleeting. Nope, I'm not there yet. But I'm not giving up.

While we're looking at Galatians, let's take a peek at the full list of what one version of the Bible called the "evidence of the flesh". By that, I take it as evidence that we are being controlled by our own fleshly (selfish, not of God) desires. "Now the deeds of the flesh are evident, which are: immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissensions, factions, envying, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these, of which I forewarn you, just as I have forewarned you, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God."

Whoa! I didn't see any of the biggie sins listed in there! No drugs, stealing or driving over the speed limit! I guess adultery is covered in immorality, impurity and sensuality...  a sin trifecta of sorts. What I do see are a lot of things I also see in the average church member. They seem to be more about internal attitudes and decisions we make throughout each day.

I believe God created in each of us the capacity to do good and the capacity to do evil. And He gave us the free will to choose for ourselves. In addition, I believe we who have come to trust Jesus as our Savior now have the Holy Spirit living inside our hearts. As we trust Him not only as Savior (for eternity) but also as Lord (for the here and now) we also have the Holy Spirit working inside, calling us toward doing more and more good and by default, less evil. To me, it's more about doing His stuff with the natural byproduct of doing less evil stuff. Then again, I'm more grace focused than sin focused. If I walk toward Him, my back is naturally turned against evil stuff, things that would separate me from my Father.

Still, it's a struggle. It always will be. We will always be a mix of good and bad.
It's like being on a big field with homes on opposite ends. One is all good and one is all evil. Which one are we walking toward? Which one have we set as our goal? Better yet, it's like two houses next door to each other, separated by a fence. We tend to want to play in both yards, jumping back and forth over the fence.

Sadly, I see a lot of folks who give up trying. They find it is easier to just live one one side or to perpetually ride that fence. There's a definite element of safety in continuing to do what we know, the stuff we're comfortable doing already. But I love God! I really love Him! And the more I get to know and love Him, the less I want to even get close to that fence. I choose to turn my back on the fence that represents a compromised life at best, and a rebellious life at worst. I choose to walk toward His house where I'll enjoy fellowship with Him.

The good news is we have God living inside us. He sees our desires and pours out grace to keep moving toward God's house. Sure, we sometimes stumble and hop back across the fence but hopefully those times are less and less frequent as we are moving toward Him.

By the way, the world has probably painted for us a picture of God's house as being drab and boring filled with rules and stuff we can't touch. That's a lie. The only true joy in life is only found in His house. Jesus promised us that "living water" would flow from our bellies, overflowing joy. That also means fun and peace and a whole list of good things. Plus fewer and fewer of the things listed in Galatians 5:19 - 21.

None of us is all good nor all bad. We are all facing the same question every minute of every day: which way are we pointed? Are we growing toward the good or sliding by gravity toward the bad? Thanks to the Holy Spirit, I don't have to face that challenge alone.

A Chance Meeting in the Desert

A friend and I were talking about missions the other day when I was reminded of a chance meeting I had while on my way to start my life as a missionary. It was June of '83. I had worked with Dad a couple of years but it just wasn't working for me. I had a passion for ministry that just wasn't being satisfied wearing a hardhat and steel toes. So, being a "good Baptist" I went down front at church and "surrendered to the ministry". Yes, I did think about going down and raising my hands in a "don't shoot!" gesture but I didn't think the folks at First Baptist of Monroe would get the joke.

In any case, I applied and was accepted to seminary in Fort Worth. But, before I got to seminary, I was invited to be the PR guy at the Baptist ministry to the Summer Olympics in Los Angeles. The only rub: no salary. I was considered Mission Service Corp and raised my own support. OK, no problem. If God calls, God also equips. I made a list of folks I thought might be interested in supporting my work, prayed over the list and started knocking on doors. All but one were happy to invest. The only one I asked who couldn't was a single dad with kids to raise. I didn't think he'd be able to anyway. My monthly income was cut by 90% but that's a story for a different blog.

Driving in my '69 Ford van towing a couple of dirt bikes, I took three days to make the drive west. Now, picture the van. It was jam packed with everything I'd need for a year and a half. That meant books, more books, stereo speakers, amp, turntable, my "essential" albums (a few dozen), clothes and a few more books. Oh, and a couple of Nikon cameras and a bag full of lenses. And slide show equipment including two projectors, an electronic controller and a projection screen. And I bought a few books along the way. I had built a couple of storage compartments on my motorcycle trailer so all my tools and riding gear stayed outside. I had my racing bike and a street legal dirt bike. What? You mean not every missionary doesn't have a couple of dirt bikes?

I guess it was late on my second day out that I got tired of I-40 and decided to take a little detour. I ended up in Tuba City, Arizona. It was getting late and I needed to park the van for the night. I stopped at a little store for a snack and struck up a conversation with a man outside. He seemed like a nice guy as we talked about this and that. As the conversation winded down, I told him that I was a Baptist missionary on my way to the west coast and asked if he knew of a church or someplace safe where I could park for the night.

"Well, I'm a Baptist missionary, too. I pastor a church just over that hill. You're welcome to park in my church parking lot for the night. Follow me."

Uhh... really? Can you imagine how this blew me away? Keep in mind, this was in the early '70s when we didn't even use long distance credit cards. It was quarters in pay phones with exorbitant rates. I had left my family in Monroe and El Dorado and was heading out to a new life in California. Beyond casual chit chat, I hadn't talked with a soul in almost three days. I missed home and longed for true fellowship. And I met a pastor in a convenience store!

I followed him to the church where I stopped the van in the parking lot. He lived in the parsonage next door. His younger son came out and really thought the dirt bikes were cool. I felt like a big man, I admit it. "Yeah... this one is for playing but this one is for racing!" The next morning, the missionary sent his son out to the van to invite me in for breakfast with the family. The parsonage was modest and I remember being served what I figured was some sort of traditional Native American meal. They were these flat round cake type things. I asked him what they were called. "Pancakes... it's the altitude." We all laughed at my ignorance and then they pulled out the latest copy of Missions USA, the Home Mission Board's monthly magazine.

I loved reading Missions USA for the great articles. Solid writing and world class photography, it was a real favorite. But they went to the back of the magazine where I never bothered to look very much. They found that day's date and read aloud the missionaries who were celebrating birthdays as well as I think a missionary of the day to pray for. And then we prayed. Over those high altitude pancakes, the missionary told me about how God called him to the mission field as an adult with a family and an already established career.

He said he started having an unexplainable passion for the American Indians. He couldn't read enough about them. Teaching boys Sunday School, he would break down in tears when the lesson involved reaching the Indians. I can't remember what he did for work before becoming a missionary but it wasn't a "ministerial" type job. He was just like the rest of us... working. Then God changed everything.

I kept up with this missionary family for a few years. Just now, I pulled down my "analog address book". That's an old fashioned pen and paper address book for the younger crowd, how we did things before computers. Sure enough, I still have that missionary's address. A quick internet search and it appears he's still working in missions... now ministering to Indians in New Mexico. I think I'll drop him a note.