Sunday, November 30, 2014
Friday, November 28, 2014
International Thanksgiving
Yesterday I spent a lovely evening hosting four international students from UVa for their first American Thanksgiving: I made them the traditional feast I've been cooking for my family every Thanksgiving for the past almost 30 years now. Thanks to my dear friend Sister Lynda from church, who came up to help me. We lucked out, getting four bright, pleasant, and interesting guests and hopefully four new friends.
From left to right: Kendrick, from Indonesia; Sema, from Turkey; Tianwei, from China; me; Sr. Lynda; and Josh, also from Indonesia.
I'm going to miss this place when it's sold!
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
All is as God wills it
That's actually a Muslim proverb. They've got the wrong God in mind, but I'm fond of it, applying it to Yahweh instead of Allah.
I tend to be quite hard on myself. To the point of wondering often if I've messed things up so badly in my life that God isn't going to fix it. Not to say that he can't, but that he won't. There is a principle that God is not always going to save you from the consequences of your own actions, and I look at myself and say, "There's nothing wrong in your life that isn't your own fault. Your suffering is just."
But here are two passages of scripture which he has recently brought to life for me:
One, the Lord loves me. Yes, even me. Actually loves me and wants good for me, and not just punishment. Somehow I've still got this horrible dour-faced Calvinist god of my Scots-Irish and Huguenot ancestry somewhere in my mind, who isn't going to lift a finger to help me out of my own folly. "You've made your bed, now lie in it."
And two, nothing is too hard for God. It may seem impossible when regarded from the human viewpoint. It may actually be impossible when regarded from the human viewpoint. But nothing is impossible for God. If it's what he wants to happen, then he knew all the sins and mistakes you were going to commit along the way, and made some provision for it to all work out according to his will and purpose. And he will bring it to fruition, as long as you are doing your best to obey, committing it to him, and trusting in him.
I tend to be quite hard on myself. To the point of wondering often if I've messed things up so badly in my life that God isn't going to fix it. Not to say that he can't, but that he won't. There is a principle that God is not always going to save you from the consequences of your own actions, and I look at myself and say, "There's nothing wrong in your life that isn't your own fault. Your suffering is just."
But here are two passages of scripture which he has recently brought to life for me:
For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end. Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, and I will hearken unto you. And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart. And I will be found of you, saith the LORD.
-- Jeremiah 29:11-14
Blessed be the name of God for ever and ever: for wisdom and might are his:
And he changeth the times and the seasons: he removeth kings, and setteth up kings: he giveth wisdom unto the wise, and knowledge to them that know understanding:
He revealeth the deep and secret things: he knoweth what is in the darkness, and the light dwelleth with him.
Whose dominion is an everlasting dominion, and his kingdom is from generation to generation:
And all the inhabitants of the earth are reputed as nothing: and he doeth according to his will in the army of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth: and none can stay his hand, or say unto him, What doest thou?
-- Daniel 2:20-22, 4:34-35
(emphasis mine)That is to say, two things.
One, the Lord loves me. Yes, even me. Actually loves me and wants good for me, and not just punishment. Somehow I've still got this horrible dour-faced Calvinist god of my Scots-Irish and Huguenot ancestry somewhere in my mind, who isn't going to lift a finger to help me out of my own folly. "You've made your bed, now lie in it."
And two, nothing is too hard for God. It may seem impossible when regarded from the human viewpoint. It may actually be impossible when regarded from the human viewpoint. But nothing is impossible for God. If it's what he wants to happen, then he knew all the sins and mistakes you were going to commit along the way, and made some provision for it to all work out according to his will and purpose. And he will bring it to fruition, as long as you are doing your best to obey, committing it to him, and trusting in him.
Monday, November 24, 2014
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Thursday, November 20, 2014
It Is Well With My Soul
Horatio Spafford was a lawyer in Chicago, a supporter of Dwight Moody, a successful real estate investor, and a devoted and active member of his Presbyterian church. He met his wife, Anna, who was fifteen years younger than he was, when she was his student in Sunday school class. He admired her immediately, but waited until she was of age before talking of marriage, and paid for her higher education while he waited.
In 1870, their only son died of scarlet fever. Then in 1871, the Chicago fire destroyed his real estate holdings and wiped him out financially. Two years later, he was delayed by business from accompanying his wife and four daughters on a trip to Europe, and the ship on which they sailed was struck by another ship, sank, and all four daughters drowned. Anna was pulled, unconscious, from the water. When she arrived in Europe, she wired Horatio saying, "Saved alone. What shall I do?"
In the midst of his grief, as he sailed past the spot where all four of his daughters had died, on his way to Europe to fetch his distraught wife, Horatio wrote the hymn above:
When peace like a river attendeth my wayHoratio and Anna went on to have three more children, but in 1880 they lost yet another son. Their Presbyterian church, where Horatio had long had enemies due to his doctrinal convictions, condemned them rather than supporting them, saying that it was divine judgement. Pharisaical Calvinists still pass judgement on him today. ("Not Well With His Soul")
When sorrows like sea billows roar
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul
So the Spaffords emigrated to Jerusalem with a small contingent, founded the American colony there, and spent the rest of their lives humbly serving God and ministering to others in body and in soul.
* * * * *
I'd like to tell you of a miracle.
It's no secret that I've been going through hard times. And I've also not tried to hide that I have completely relied upon the Lord throughout. I've laid it all out here for all of you to see: both the moments of rock-solid faith, and the ones of doubt and despair. I've told you my whole life and all its dark corners, confessed that I was in love with someone who does not love me, poured out my griefs when I was falsely accused, abandoned, and ostracized by those who I thought loved me, revealed the deepest thoughts of my heart in poetry and in prose, and posted many, many psalms, songs, poems, and quotes from others which spoke to where I was at that moment. I've also told you in plain language what he had already done, in changing me and filling my heart with his love, but that I was aware that this was all part of a process which God was still leading me through, for my own healing and restoration, and to draw me closer to himself, Well, God is faithful.
And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart. And I will be found of you, saith the LORDI was walking through a store not long ago, and my attention was drawn to a book. I had never heard of the author, and it had no intellectual appeal to me, but I was moved to buy it; my hand was reaching for it before I even thought about what I was doing, and when I did think about it, I felt the witness of the Spirit that I should. So I did. And I read it.
A day or two later, I opened up Youtube and this author, whom as I said, I had never heard of, much less watched on Youtube, appeared in a suggested video. Intrigued, I clicked on it and started listening as he preached a sermon on the exact same lesson that was contained in the book.
As if that wasn't enough, a couple of days ago I was reading my bible in bed, as I often do; just following along at the place where I'd left off last time, having nothing to do with the book or the sermon. And as soon as I'd begun reading, I found myself at the very scripture on which the book and the sermon had been based.
So I took the hint. I prayed. And God showed me exactly what I should ask him for. I asked him for it, he granted it, and poof! just like that, everything was different.
The thing is, all through this process; throughout my entire life, in fact, there's been this Thing that has hung over me. As I've told you, I've been working diligently for seven or eight years now, under his guidance, on resolving my issues and getting my life right. But this Thing was always there, way down deep, and I couldn't get at it or even really identify it. But it was the thing that always made me feel like my life was not worth living; that kept me from any kind of real peace or joy; that underlay and informed all my other issues. It was rejection. I had been rejected so often, and starting so young, that it had made itself at home in my soul and wrapped itself around my heart like a serpent, squeezing it almost, but never quite, to death. The thing I feared most in life was more rejection, and, since these kinds of things are so kind, that was the thing that happened to me over, and over, and over again, no matter how hard I tried to prevent it. I didn't even realize that that was what I was doing, but I see clearly now that it was. And at other times in my life, I was rushing to reject other people before they could get me: I even got to the point of rejecting everybody, en masse, for a while, just to be safe.
So anyway, I prayed, the Lord showed me what to do, I did it, and I went to sleep. And slept. Actually slept, all night, without any kind of chemical aid whatsoever. And when I woke up next morning, it was gone: the horrible, crushing weight of sadness that has been with me as long as I can remember was gone. For the first time in my life, I can fully honestly say that I'd rather live than die. And even though nothing has changed in my situation on the outside, I feel like everything has changed. The problems are still there, but I don't feel like they're killing me. All the things I've been confessing and believing by sheer act of will--that God is faithful, that he will work everything out for the best in his time, that I am resigned to whatever is to come; all that--I now truly believe; no, I truly know in my heart.
So that's it. I am fully convinced that I have finally reached the end of my Dark Night of the Soul. Once again, that doesn't mean that I won't be any further tried or tested, or fall or fail, or face any more hardship. I will. But this one is done, and I have a sense that, now that things are where they need to be inside, they're going to start getting better outside too. I don't know exactly what shape that is going to take, but I know it's coming. For the very first time, I am genuinely optimistic about the future.
Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed nomen tuo da gloriam.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
The Future
As most of you know, I have been deliberating and praying for some time about what to do with the rest of my life. Since I left grad school, the thought of going back has been on my mind, although I knew that if I did it would be in some other field.
I've felt called for a long time to teach, and specifically to teach about the things of God. I'm a good teacher, although when I taught before I wasn't really in love with my subject (which was English, in case you don't know). When I decided to major in English, I did so choosing it as a "practical" and "realistic" alternative to theology. I made the wrong choice. Gee, when has that happened in my life?
Several years ago, before going back to Sewanee for my last and disastrous year of grad school, I thought I felt led to apply to Wheaton to study theology. I didn't, but it's still been there, nagging at me, all this time. And when I was hiking, I thought I heard from the Lord on the subject.
I haven't really shared with you exactly how difficult the Everglades were. I've mentioned that it was a challenge; but the truth is, it was purgatorial. You're wading through deep water, hour after hour after hour, with that heavy pack on, with absolutely no place to stop and sit down and rest, or even to set your pack down for a few minutes. And my poor, crooked back was just aching. In the sun, with absolutely no shade. The mud underfoot is slimy and slippery, and it sucks at your feet like a vacuum, making every step five times as hard as it should be. And you never know how deep the next step is going to be. The hard ground under the mud is some kind of porous rock, so any step could be into a hole that will sink you up to your thigh. The bugs are unbelievable, and there are other things lurking in the swamp. And it stinks. You don't have anywhere to stop and rest, to actually filter your water, so you're just dipping your canteen in the revolting swamp water, hoping you don't get too much of the disgusting semi-decayed biomatter in it, and dropping iodine tablets in to purify it. Your feet are blistered to the point of serious bleeding, and your face, hands, and arms are covered in scratches and cuts from pushing through the knobby cypress tress, and every cut and scratch is infected from the fetid swampwater. And it goes on, and on, and on, and you start to wonder if you're going to reach the one hammock (a sort of island thing that stands up out of the water far enough to be only soggy and not submersed) marked on your map that day, or if you're going to be down in the water after dark, which is, let me tell you, NOT the time you want to be in there, because the gators and snakes can see you but you can't see them. And that's when they hunt. And, by the way, they're attracted to light. And when you finally do reach the hammock at the end of a day that you never thought you'd get through, every other living thing that's not amphibious has crawled up there with you, so you've got to be extra paranoid about bear-bagging your food and all that. And the bugs and spiders are there to keep you company.
Anyway, in the middle of my seventh or eighth day in the swamp, and the third or so of nothing but water and mud, I thought I heard the Lord speak to me. Such times seem to be when he most does--probably has something to do with our ability to hear, like fasting. He said "You've been playing Jonah." And he brought to my mind all the times throughout my life when I'd been headed toward Bible college, or seminary, or theology school, and then changed my mind. And I said "And you've been sending whales after me," as I remembered how every time I had chosen a different path, it had gone terribly wrong. So I asked him "What do you want me to do?" He didn't answer. But I thought about the inclination I'd had to go to Wheaton a few years back, and I said, "Ok, if that's what you want, I'll go; just guide me. And you'll have to come up with the money, because I don't have it and I'm too old to go $50,000 into debt with student loans."
After I came home, I kept that on my prayer list, but didn't really hear any more about it, nor feel any strong inclinations. Also, there was the practical issue that I have neither undergraduate work in the field, nor any academic recommendations whatsoever, as my bridges to Sewanee are burned, and I've completely lost touch with everyone from undergrad, not to mention that it was quite a long time ago.
But at the end of a long period of fasting and prayer which ended recently, I suddenly felt moved to move in that direction. So I checked on the current value of my house, and the estimate is $50,000 more than I owe on the mortgage.
I still wasn't sure. But then, a couple of weeks ago, I was standing in the undercroft fellowship area of my church before the early service, almost alone, sipping coffee. I looked around at all the familiar things: the pictures, the books, the furniture. The kitchen where I'd so loved cooking for the whole parish. And I came within a hair's breadth of bursting into tears, thinking of how happy I'd been there and what a horror it all is now: being hated, reviled, and betrayed by the people I loved most, and tried most to be good and kind to. Accusations of stalking, and of harassing and trying to force unwanted attentions on that poor, sweet girl to whom I'd never wanted to be anything but kind, considerate, generous, and supportive. Suspicious and accusatory looks from other parishoners. Feeling abandoned and neglected and utterly un-cared-for by those to whom I looked for support and guidance. The fear of causing division and dissension within the body, yet needing desperately to talk to someone about it; to know that someone, anyone, actually likes and respects and cares for me, then feeling guilty when I do because I don't want to turn anyone against the people I still love, nor to be guilty of gossip or scandal. And just the emptiness. The horrible, crushing, heart-rending emptiness. After I so loved this place, and felt so at home here, like I'd finally found the Rivendell I'd been searching for all my life, as I wandered through Mirkwood and Mordor. And I just felt that I couldn't go on anymore, hoping that things were going to get better here. I was out of strength, and out of hope, and out of love.
So I'm putting my house on the market. I feel better now: the crisis of faith has bottomed out and I've found victory, spiritually. But I'm still going ahead with the plan, while praying, "Lord, if you want me to go, then send me a buyer. If not, then keep it from selling or send me some other clear sign."
The plan, if the house sells, is to go down to Liberty for a three-semester master's degree in Bible and theology. It's not academically great, but it has no real admission requirements. So I can go there, get a foundation and some recommendations, then apply to Wheaton. And I'll have a year and a half to spend with my daughters, both of whom live in Lynchburg. Also, I won't be too far away from here, so those of you who actually do want to continue to be my friends can see me once in a while. Then it'll be off to Chicago, to do a real master's in theology, majoring in patristics and early church history, then hopefully a Ph.D. there; the doctoral program only admits 6 scholars per year. But I have great confidence in my academic abilities, as well as trust in the Lord that he'll lead me right. After that? Well, I'll be in my early fifties, but that's not that big a deal in an academic career. I can still teach for thirty years or so after that. Unless the Lord has something else planned. But we'll see when we get there.
All of this, like I said, is contingent upon my house selling and my not being clearly led otherwise. So you who love me here, don't mourn yet, and you others, don't rejoice too soon.
I've felt called for a long time to teach, and specifically to teach about the things of God. I'm a good teacher, although when I taught before I wasn't really in love with my subject (which was English, in case you don't know). When I decided to major in English, I did so choosing it as a "practical" and "realistic" alternative to theology. I made the wrong choice. Gee, when has that happened in my life?
Several years ago, before going back to Sewanee for my last and disastrous year of grad school, I thought I felt led to apply to Wheaton to study theology. I didn't, but it's still been there, nagging at me, all this time. And when I was hiking, I thought I heard from the Lord on the subject.
I haven't really shared with you exactly how difficult the Everglades were. I've mentioned that it was a challenge; but the truth is, it was purgatorial. You're wading through deep water, hour after hour after hour, with that heavy pack on, with absolutely no place to stop and sit down and rest, or even to set your pack down for a few minutes. And my poor, crooked back was just aching. In the sun, with absolutely no shade. The mud underfoot is slimy and slippery, and it sucks at your feet like a vacuum, making every step five times as hard as it should be. And you never know how deep the next step is going to be. The hard ground under the mud is some kind of porous rock, so any step could be into a hole that will sink you up to your thigh. The bugs are unbelievable, and there are other things lurking in the swamp. And it stinks. You don't have anywhere to stop and rest, to actually filter your water, so you're just dipping your canteen in the revolting swamp water, hoping you don't get too much of the disgusting semi-decayed biomatter in it, and dropping iodine tablets in to purify it. Your feet are blistered to the point of serious bleeding, and your face, hands, and arms are covered in scratches and cuts from pushing through the knobby cypress tress, and every cut and scratch is infected from the fetid swampwater. And it goes on, and on, and on, and you start to wonder if you're going to reach the one hammock (a sort of island thing that stands up out of the water far enough to be only soggy and not submersed) marked on your map that day, or if you're going to be down in the water after dark, which is, let me tell you, NOT the time you want to be in there, because the gators and snakes can see you but you can't see them. And that's when they hunt. And, by the way, they're attracted to light. And when you finally do reach the hammock at the end of a day that you never thought you'd get through, every other living thing that's not amphibious has crawled up there with you, so you've got to be extra paranoid about bear-bagging your food and all that. And the bugs and spiders are there to keep you company.
Anyway, in the middle of my seventh or eighth day in the swamp, and the third or so of nothing but water and mud, I thought I heard the Lord speak to me. Such times seem to be when he most does--probably has something to do with our ability to hear, like fasting. He said "You've been playing Jonah." And he brought to my mind all the times throughout my life when I'd been headed toward Bible college, or seminary, or theology school, and then changed my mind. And I said "And you've been sending whales after me," as I remembered how every time I had chosen a different path, it had gone terribly wrong. So I asked him "What do you want me to do?" He didn't answer. But I thought about the inclination I'd had to go to Wheaton a few years back, and I said, "Ok, if that's what you want, I'll go; just guide me. And you'll have to come up with the money, because I don't have it and I'm too old to go $50,000 into debt with student loans."
After I came home, I kept that on my prayer list, but didn't really hear any more about it, nor feel any strong inclinations. Also, there was the practical issue that I have neither undergraduate work in the field, nor any academic recommendations whatsoever, as my bridges to Sewanee are burned, and I've completely lost touch with everyone from undergrad, not to mention that it was quite a long time ago.
But at the end of a long period of fasting and prayer which ended recently, I suddenly felt moved to move in that direction. So I checked on the current value of my house, and the estimate is $50,000 more than I owe on the mortgage.
I still wasn't sure. But then, a couple of weeks ago, I was standing in the undercroft fellowship area of my church before the early service, almost alone, sipping coffee. I looked around at all the familiar things: the pictures, the books, the furniture. The kitchen where I'd so loved cooking for the whole parish. And I came within a hair's breadth of bursting into tears, thinking of how happy I'd been there and what a horror it all is now: being hated, reviled, and betrayed by the people I loved most, and tried most to be good and kind to. Accusations of stalking, and of harassing and trying to force unwanted attentions on that poor, sweet girl to whom I'd never wanted to be anything but kind, considerate, generous, and supportive. Suspicious and accusatory looks from other parishoners. Feeling abandoned and neglected and utterly un-cared-for by those to whom I looked for support and guidance. The fear of causing division and dissension within the body, yet needing desperately to talk to someone about it; to know that someone, anyone, actually likes and respects and cares for me, then feeling guilty when I do because I don't want to turn anyone against the people I still love, nor to be guilty of gossip or scandal. And just the emptiness. The horrible, crushing, heart-rending emptiness. After I so loved this place, and felt so at home here, like I'd finally found the Rivendell I'd been searching for all my life, as I wandered through Mirkwood and Mordor. And I just felt that I couldn't go on anymore, hoping that things were going to get better here. I was out of strength, and out of hope, and out of love.
So I'm putting my house on the market. I feel better now: the crisis of faith has bottomed out and I've found victory, spiritually. But I'm still going ahead with the plan, while praying, "Lord, if you want me to go, then send me a buyer. If not, then keep it from selling or send me some other clear sign."
The plan, if the house sells, is to go down to Liberty for a three-semester master's degree in Bible and theology. It's not academically great, but it has no real admission requirements. So I can go there, get a foundation and some recommendations, then apply to Wheaton. And I'll have a year and a half to spend with my daughters, both of whom live in Lynchburg. Also, I won't be too far away from here, so those of you who actually do want to continue to be my friends can see me once in a while. Then it'll be off to Chicago, to do a real master's in theology, majoring in patristics and early church history, then hopefully a Ph.D. there; the doctoral program only admits 6 scholars per year. But I have great confidence in my academic abilities, as well as trust in the Lord that he'll lead me right. After that? Well, I'll be in my early fifties, but that's not that big a deal in an academic career. I can still teach for thirty years or so after that. Unless the Lord has something else planned. But we'll see when we get there.
All of this, like I said, is contingent upon my house selling and my not being clearly led otherwise. So you who love me here, don't mourn yet, and you others, don't rejoice too soon.
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Moment of Despair
I made a post the other day, throwing my hands in the air and giving up on everything. I've taken it down now. I hit a low point and had a moment of despair (well, more like a weekend of despair). I was just really, really broken up over the situation in the post below, and then certain people's reactions to it pushed me over the edge.
But I can't give up on love, because then I'd be giving up on God.
I do, I think, have to let some people go out of my life, or at least out of my heart, who have proven themselves repeatedly to not be my friends. But I'll still love and pray for them.
Forgive me, Lord for giving in to despair and almost letting myself be defeated.
But I can't give up on love, because then I'd be giving up on God.
I do, I think, have to let some people go out of my life, or at least out of my heart, who have proven themselves repeatedly to not be my friends. But I'll still love and pray for them.
Forgive me, Lord for giving in to despair and almost letting myself be defeated.
Saturday, November 15, 2014
An Unpleasant Realization
>>>>>>>NOTE<<<<<<<<<
As noted in another post above, I wrote this at a very low point, when I was ready to give up. Taking into account the spiritual victory I have now received, I now see that this was indeed my hitting rock-bottom: like Peter's denial of Christ. I took it down when I decided to keep on believing and hoping, and posted the retraction above. But now I am reinstating it, since, embarrassing as it is, it was an important part of the journey on which you have all been accompanying me. I've been totally open and honest from the beginning, so why not end that way?
For the last several years, I've been dedicated to serving the Lord by loving people. As part of the change that led me to that place, I felt like I needed to open myself up to others as well; One can't truly love while being phony, and also it was related to coming out of that place of hard-heartedness and withdrawal that I had been in. In the course of that process, I realized that what I was actually becoming was the person whom I was early on, before all the experiences which drove me into my shell, and whom I had really been all along, way down deep. And so, as I learned to just be myself, to trust the Lord, to love others and let myself be loved, I began to open my heart more and more; to let myself be vulnerable; to even rejoice and revel in that vulnerability.
It meant getting wounded sometimes, but I knew and accepted that. It meant sometimes making people uncomfortable, but I saw that as a possible good: maybe I'd challenge them to have the courage to open themselves up too. It meant a lot of prayer and very honest self-examination, but those things are beneficial, if difficult, and I was happy to do them.
But what I didn't realize was exactly how others took my character and actions.
If you're genuine and sincere, then people call you dramatic.
If you're enthusiastic or excited about things, then you open yourself to ridicule.
If you're open about your thoughts and experiences, then people say "too much information" or that you're out to get attention.
If you're passionate or devoted to anything, then people call you obsessive.
If you dare to truly love someone, then they see you as a creepy stalker.
If you try to help and serve others, then people say that you're needy and desperate.
If you're honest and vulnerable, then they call you manipulative.
In other words, all my efforts to be good, and generous, and loving, and honest, and sincere, and self-sacrificing, and honorable, and gracious, have accomplished nothing but me making a complete and total ass of myself. I feel like a clown. People don't appreciate any of those things. They say they do, but not really. All that really matters is image and social graces. Those things will win you friends and lovers, and the rest will get you nothing in this world but ridicule, suspicion, scorn, and, if you're lucky, pity. I have been lucky in receiving a good deal of pity, which I mistakenly took for friendship and genuine regard. I'm sure that some of the interest people have shown was genuine; but I see now that mostly their interest in me was as an object of curiosity, not as someone they really wanted in their lives.
But I'm done now. My foray into being loving and vulnerable is over. My heart is officially closed for business. Now that I realize what I really am to people, I'm embarrassed and humiliated, and have no desire to continue to cast my pearls before swine. No doubt some of you are reading this and thinking that I'm posting it in order to elicit pity and manipulate someone somehow or other. If you are thinking that, then I guess that makes you one of the aforementioned swine, and I'm not wasting any more time or energy trying to convince you of the truth. I think that most of you who read this genuinely do care about me on some level, but I'm sorry: don't expect to see any more of my soul revealed here. I may continue to post just things that are going on in my life, but only on the surface.
This is not anger, or hostility, or anything like that. The fact is, I'm just exhausted, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, and I can't do this anymore. I've given and given and given, and I've got nothing left to give. I still care for you all, but there's only so long you can continue to bare your heart and be stabbed in it; there comes a point where you've got to realize that the people to whom you've been exposing your weaknesses are hostile, or at best indifferent, and you've got to react accordingly. And I've reached that point.
On a related subject, I have decided to put my house up for sale and, when and if it sells, go back to school. I may or may not see those of you who have been my friends in this area again. If I don't, thank you and goodbye.
As noted in another post above, I wrote this at a very low point, when I was ready to give up. Taking into account the spiritual victory I have now received, I now see that this was indeed my hitting rock-bottom: like Peter's denial of Christ. I took it down when I decided to keep on believing and hoping, and posted the retraction above. But now I am reinstating it, since, embarrassing as it is, it was an important part of the journey on which you have all been accompanying me. I've been totally open and honest from the beginning, so why not end that way?
For the last several years, I've been dedicated to serving the Lord by loving people. As part of the change that led me to that place, I felt like I needed to open myself up to others as well; One can't truly love while being phony, and also it was related to coming out of that place of hard-heartedness and withdrawal that I had been in. In the course of that process, I realized that what I was actually becoming was the person whom I was early on, before all the experiences which drove me into my shell, and whom I had really been all along, way down deep. And so, as I learned to just be myself, to trust the Lord, to love others and let myself be loved, I began to open my heart more and more; to let myself be vulnerable; to even rejoice and revel in that vulnerability.
It meant getting wounded sometimes, but I knew and accepted that. It meant sometimes making people uncomfortable, but I saw that as a possible good: maybe I'd challenge them to have the courage to open themselves up too. It meant a lot of prayer and very honest self-examination, but those things are beneficial, if difficult, and I was happy to do them.
But what I didn't realize was exactly how others took my character and actions.
If you're genuine and sincere, then people call you dramatic.
If you're enthusiastic or excited about things, then you open yourself to ridicule.
If you're open about your thoughts and experiences, then people say "too much information" or that you're out to get attention.
If you're passionate or devoted to anything, then people call you obsessive.
If you dare to truly love someone, then they see you as a creepy stalker.
If you try to help and serve others, then people say that you're needy and desperate.
If you're honest and vulnerable, then they call you manipulative.
In other words, all my efforts to be good, and generous, and loving, and honest, and sincere, and self-sacrificing, and honorable, and gracious, have accomplished nothing but me making a complete and total ass of myself. I feel like a clown. People don't appreciate any of those things. They say they do, but not really. All that really matters is image and social graces. Those things will win you friends and lovers, and the rest will get you nothing in this world but ridicule, suspicion, scorn, and, if you're lucky, pity. I have been lucky in receiving a good deal of pity, which I mistakenly took for friendship and genuine regard. I'm sure that some of the interest people have shown was genuine; but I see now that mostly their interest in me was as an object of curiosity, not as someone they really wanted in their lives.
But I'm done now. My foray into being loving and vulnerable is over. My heart is officially closed for business. Now that I realize what I really am to people, I'm embarrassed and humiliated, and have no desire to continue to cast my pearls before swine. No doubt some of you are reading this and thinking that I'm posting it in order to elicit pity and manipulate someone somehow or other. If you are thinking that, then I guess that makes you one of the aforementioned swine, and I'm not wasting any more time or energy trying to convince you of the truth. I think that most of you who read this genuinely do care about me on some level, but I'm sorry: don't expect to see any more of my soul revealed here. I may continue to post just things that are going on in my life, but only on the surface.
This is not anger, or hostility, or anything like that. The fact is, I'm just exhausted, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, and I can't do this anymore. I've given and given and given, and I've got nothing left to give. I still care for you all, but there's only so long you can continue to bare your heart and be stabbed in it; there comes a point where you've got to realize that the people to whom you've been exposing your weaknesses are hostile, or at best indifferent, and you've got to react accordingly. And I've reached that point.
On a related subject, I have decided to put my house up for sale and, when and if it sells, go back to school. I may or may not see those of you who have been my friends in this area again. If I don't, thank you and goodbye.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Brittany
I wouldn't tell this story if it had ended like I wanted it to.
Yesterday I was driving home, and saw a woman standing in the median holding a sign. The Spirit of God prompted my heart to help her. I give to beggars and panhandlers often, but not always, and my heart has been growing a bit cold lately because of all I've been dealing with, so I resisted. But He became more insistent. So I said, "If I have to stop at the light up there where she is, I'll give her some money."
The light changed, and I stopped, so I held out my hand with a bill in it. She approached the car, and I saw that her sign said "Need money for a train ticket". I asked her what she needed, and she started to tell me, but we ran out of time, so I told her to meet me at the gas station across the street. I pulled in, parked, asked her if she had eaten, and she said "Not in two days," so we went into Burger King, I bought her a meal, and we sat down and talked.
Brittany's husband met a girl on the internet. He invited to move in with him and when she arrived, they both attacked and beat Brittany and physically threw her out of the house. She'd been living on the street and in the woods for several days, and had hooked up with another homeless girl who had a car, so they'd been sleeping in it (a girl, by the way, whose boyfriend had poured gas on her and set her on fire. I saw the scars). Brittany loves Jesus, and she began to cry as she told me about how she had tried hard to be a loving, supportive, and godly wife to her unbelieving husband, and how she still knew that God was not going to leave her abandoned out here, and as she spoke I understood why He'd been so insistent that I stop and help her: she was one of His children, and she'd cried out to Him for help. So he sent me.
The poor girl was understandably fearful, but I convinced her to go to Walmart with me so I could get her a phone card, so she could receive her train ticket information when I bought it online, and we also got her some food for the night, clean socks and underwear, a jacket, and some personal items. She broke down at the checkout, put her arms around me and just sobbed, and I thought "this is what life is about. Thank you, Lord."
I offered, of course to give her (and her friend) a place to stay and shower for the night, but of course it's not easy to trust some guy you just met, especially after what they'd been through, so they declined, as I'd expected them to. But I had a bad feeling about her being out there, and about her making her train which left early in the morning. But they said they were going to go to the Haven (a shelter) and then to the station the next morning, so that was all I could do. But I couldn't get it out of my mind, so I went back down to where I'd left them with a blanket, because it got cold last night, but they were already gone, so I just went home and prayed for her.
But this morning I started getting phone calls from her husband--from her phone. I don't know how this happened, whether she went with him willingly, what her current condition is, or how to find or contact her, since he's got her phone. But it didn't sound good. I don't have enough to contact the police with, nor even know which agency to contact, since I don't know where they live.
No doubt some of you are assuming I got scammed. But remember, I was a cop, have worked in prison, and have quite a bit of experience ministering to the homeless. I'm pretty good at knowing when I'm being scammed (but sometimes choose to give anyway). This girl's pathos was real, And anyway, it's only money, and I've got more of it than I really need.
So why am I telling you this? I don't normally publicly announce the things I do in service to God and to help others. But I'm telling you so I can ask you to pray for her. Please. And also to get it off my chest. As you may have noticed, I find it very therapeutic to write about the painful things in my life, so that you can read them. I don't know why. Maybe God just made me a writer. Anyway, I'm eaten up with concern and worry for that poor, sweet girl, and also having a bit of a struggle: I was so sure God sent me to help her, and it seems to have ended badly. Did the devil get in? Did I not pray enough? Should I have tried harder to see her safely to somewhere for the night? I wish I'd said, when she hugged my goodbye, the simple words, "I love you, and you are beautiful and precious." But I didn't, and now she may be back in a horrible situation against her will, and her very life may be in danger. So mostly, I'm telling you so that you can pray for her.
Thanks.
Yesterday I was driving home, and saw a woman standing in the median holding a sign. The Spirit of God prompted my heart to help her. I give to beggars and panhandlers often, but not always, and my heart has been growing a bit cold lately because of all I've been dealing with, so I resisted. But He became more insistent. So I said, "If I have to stop at the light up there where she is, I'll give her some money."
The light changed, and I stopped, so I held out my hand with a bill in it. She approached the car, and I saw that her sign said "Need money for a train ticket". I asked her what she needed, and she started to tell me, but we ran out of time, so I told her to meet me at the gas station across the street. I pulled in, parked, asked her if she had eaten, and she said "Not in two days," so we went into Burger King, I bought her a meal, and we sat down and talked.
Brittany's husband met a girl on the internet. He invited to move in with him and when she arrived, they both attacked and beat Brittany and physically threw her out of the house. She'd been living on the street and in the woods for several days, and had hooked up with another homeless girl who had a car, so they'd been sleeping in it (a girl, by the way, whose boyfriend had poured gas on her and set her on fire. I saw the scars). Brittany loves Jesus, and she began to cry as she told me about how she had tried hard to be a loving, supportive, and godly wife to her unbelieving husband, and how she still knew that God was not going to leave her abandoned out here, and as she spoke I understood why He'd been so insistent that I stop and help her: she was one of His children, and she'd cried out to Him for help. So he sent me.
The poor girl was understandably fearful, but I convinced her to go to Walmart with me so I could get her a phone card, so she could receive her train ticket information when I bought it online, and we also got her some food for the night, clean socks and underwear, a jacket, and some personal items. She broke down at the checkout, put her arms around me and just sobbed, and I thought "this is what life is about. Thank you, Lord."
I offered, of course to give her (and her friend) a place to stay and shower for the night, but of course it's not easy to trust some guy you just met, especially after what they'd been through, so they declined, as I'd expected them to. But I had a bad feeling about her being out there, and about her making her train which left early in the morning. But they said they were going to go to the Haven (a shelter) and then to the station the next morning, so that was all I could do. But I couldn't get it out of my mind, so I went back down to where I'd left them with a blanket, because it got cold last night, but they were already gone, so I just went home and prayed for her.
But this morning I started getting phone calls from her husband--from her phone. I don't know how this happened, whether she went with him willingly, what her current condition is, or how to find or contact her, since he's got her phone. But it didn't sound good. I don't have enough to contact the police with, nor even know which agency to contact, since I don't know where they live.
No doubt some of you are assuming I got scammed. But remember, I was a cop, have worked in prison, and have quite a bit of experience ministering to the homeless. I'm pretty good at knowing when I'm being scammed (but sometimes choose to give anyway). This girl's pathos was real, And anyway, it's only money, and I've got more of it than I really need.
So why am I telling you this? I don't normally publicly announce the things I do in service to God and to help others. But I'm telling you so I can ask you to pray for her. Please. And also to get it off my chest. As you may have noticed, I find it very therapeutic to write about the painful things in my life, so that you can read them. I don't know why. Maybe God just made me a writer. Anyway, I'm eaten up with concern and worry for that poor, sweet girl, and also having a bit of a struggle: I was so sure God sent me to help her, and it seems to have ended badly. Did the devil get in? Did I not pray enough? Should I have tried harder to see her safely to somewhere for the night? I wish I'd said, when she hugged my goodbye, the simple words, "I love you, and you are beautiful and precious." But I didn't, and now she may be back in a horrible situation against her will, and her very life may be in danger. So mostly, I'm telling you so that you can pray for her.
Thanks.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
"Whosoever is not ready to suffer all things and to stand resigned to the will of his Beloved, is not worthy to be called a lover. He that loveth must willingly embrace all that is hard and bitter, for the sake of his Beloved, and never suffer himself to be turned away by any contrary occurences whatsoever."
-- Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Hear my prayer, O God, and hide not thyself from my petition.
Take heed unto me, and hear me, how I mourn in my prayer, and am vexed.
The enemy crieth so, and the ungodly cometh on so fast; for they are minded to do me some mischief, so maliciously are they set against me.
My heart is disquieted within me, and the fear of death is fallen upon me.
Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, and an horrible dread hath overwhelmed me.
And I said, "O that I had wings like a dove! for then would I flee away, and be at rest."
Lo, then would I get me away far off, and remain in the wilderness.
I would make haste to escape, because of the stormy wind and tempest.
For it is not an open enemy that hath done me this dishonour; for then I could have borne it;
Neither was it mine adversary that did magnify himself against me; for then peradventure I would have hid myself from him;
But it was even thou, my companion, my guide, and mine own familiar friend.
We took sweet counsel together, and walked in the house of God as friends.
-- Psalm 55:1-8, 12-15
They daily mistake my words; all that they imagine is to do me evil.
They hold all together, and keep themselves close, and mark my steps, when they lay in wait for my soul.
-- Psalm 56:5-6
Take heed unto me, and hear me, how I mourn in my prayer, and am vexed.
The enemy crieth so, and the ungodly cometh on so fast; for they are minded to do me some mischief, so maliciously are they set against me.
My heart is disquieted within me, and the fear of death is fallen upon me.
Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, and an horrible dread hath overwhelmed me.
And I said, "O that I had wings like a dove! for then would I flee away, and be at rest."
Lo, then would I get me away far off, and remain in the wilderness.
I would make haste to escape, because of the stormy wind and tempest.
For it is not an open enemy that hath done me this dishonour; for then I could have borne it;
Neither was it mine adversary that did magnify himself against me; for then peradventure I would have hid myself from him;
But it was even thou, my companion, my guide, and mine own familiar friend.
We took sweet counsel together, and walked in the house of God as friends.
-- Psalm 55:1-8, 12-15
They daily mistake my words; all that they imagine is to do me evil.
They hold all together, and keep themselves close, and mark my steps, when they lay in wait for my soul.
-- Psalm 56:5-6
Monday, November 10, 2014
The True Interior Life of the Saints
"Ah, Lord God, thou holy lover of my soul, when thou comest into my heart, all that is within me shall rejoice. Thou art my glory and the exultation of my heart: thou art my hope and refuge in the day of my trouble.
But because I am as yet weak in love, and imperfect in virtue, I have need to be strengthened and comforted by thee; visit me therefore often, and instruct me with all holy discipline. Set me free from evil passions, and heal my heart of all inordinate affections; that being inwardly cured and thoroughly cleansed, I may be made fit to love, courageous to suffer, steady to persevere.
Love is a great thing, yea, a great and thorough good; by itself it makes every thing that is heavy, light; and it bears evenly all that is uneven. For it carries a burden which is no burden, and makes every thing that is bitter, sweet and tasteful. The noble love of Jesus impels one to do great things,and stirs one up to be always longing for what is more perfect. Love desires to be aloft, and will not be kept back by any thing low and mean. Love desires to be free, and estranged from all worldly affections, that so its inward sight may not be hindered; that it may not be entangled by any temporal prosperity, or by any adversity subdued. Nothing is sweeter than love, nothing more courageous, nothing higher, nothing wider, nothing more pleasant, nothing fuller nor better in heaven and earth; because love is born of God, and cannot rest but in God, above all created things.
He that loveth, flyeth, runneth, and rejoiceth; he is free, and cannot be held in. He giveth all for all, and hath all in all; because he resteth in One highest above all things, from whom all that is good flows and proceeds. He respecteth not the gifts, but turneth himself above all goods unto the Giver. Love often times knoweth no measure, but is fervent beyond all measure. Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of trouble, attempts what is above its strength, pleads no excuse of impossibility; for it thinks all things lawful for itself and all things possible. It is therefore able to undertake all things, and it completes many things, and warrants them to take effect, where he who does not love, would faint and lie down.
Love is watchful, and sleeping slumbereth not. Though weary, it is not tired; though pressed, it is not straitened; though alarmed, it is not confounded; but as a lively flame and burning torch, it forces its way upwards, and securely passes through all. If any one love, he knoweth what is the cry of this voice. For it is a loud cry in the ears of God, the pure ardent affection of the soul, when it saith, 'My God, my love, thou art all mine, and I am all thine.'
Enlarge thou me in love, that with the inward palate of my heart I may taste how sweet it is to love, and to be dissolved, and as it were to bathe myself in thy love. Let me be possessed by love, mounting above myself, through excessive fervor and admiration. Let me sing the song of love, let me follow thee, my Beloved, on high; let my soul spend itself in thy praise, rejoicing through love. Let me love thee more than myself, nor love myself but for thee: and in thee all that truly love thee, as the law of love commandeth, shining out from thyself.
Love is active, sincere, affectionate, pleasant and amiable; courageous, patient, faithful, prudent, longsuffering, resolute, and never seeking itself. For in whatever instance one seeketh oneself, there he falleth from love. Love is circumspect, humble, and upright: not yielding to softness, or to levity, nor attending to vain things; it is sober, chaste, steady, quiet, and guarded in all the senses. Love is subject, and obedient to its superiors, to itself mean and despised, unto God devout and thankful, trusting and hoping always in Him, even then when God imparteth no relish of sweetness unto it: for without sorrow, none liveth in love.
-- Thomas à Kempis, The Imitation of Christ
"This is truly the life of the saints. We are called to it, for we are all called to the life of heaven where there will be only saints. In order to attain it, we must sanctify all the acts of our day, remembering that above the succession of daily deeds, whether pleasurable or painful, foreseen or unforeseen, there is the parallel series of actual graces which are granted to us from moment to moment that we may draw the best spiritual profit from these daily deeds. If we think about this, we shall no longer see these acts only from the point of view of the senses, or from that of our reason which is more or less led astray by self-love, but from the supernatural point of view of faith. Then these daily deeds, whether pleasurable or painful, will become the practical application of the doctrine of the Gospel, and gradually an almost continual conversation will be established between Christ and us. This will be the true interior life, as it were, eternal life begun."
-- Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, O.P., The Three Ages of the Interior Life (in reference to the above)
Friday, November 7, 2014
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
M60 Patton Main Battle Tank
Here's a cool thing. I especially like the shots from the loader's position; loading was the job I enjoyed most: it's the most active inside the tank, and also you're the one who's usually going to jump out and to things like LPOP and perimeter patrol. And on the M1, you've got your own .30 cal machine gun to fire when you're not loading the main gun. The really fun thing about it is when that breech block comes back when the main gun is fired, anything of yours that you might have in its way is coming off.
Gotta say, though, this Marine crew is kinda lame: they're averaging 9 seconds between shots on the main gun. A good Army crew can get off a shot every 4-6 seconds. One of their mistakes is that the loader is using his hand to knock that spent casing to the floor (this is to stop it bouncing around). We let it hit the back guard and take one bounce, and then stomped it with our foot as we loaded the next round into the breech. Saves a few seconds. Also, the announcer guy is wrong at the beginning: he says ".50 caliber machine-gun fire" but if you listen, you can hear two different types of machine-gun: the commander's .50 cal and the coaxial (mounted alongside the main gun) .30 cal, controlled by the gunner.
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
"Then first I knew the delight of being lowly; of saying to myself, 'I am what I am, nothing more.' 'I have failed,' I said, 'I have lost myself--would it had been my shadow.' I looked round: the shadow was nowhere to be seen. Ere long, I learned that it was not myself, but only my shadow, that I had lost. I learned that it is better, a thousand-fold, for a proud man to fall and be humbled, than to hold up his head in pride and fancied innocence. I learned that he that will be a hero, will barely be a man; that he that will be nothing but a doer of his work, is sure of his manhood...
"...Another self seemed to arise, like a white spirit from a dead man, from the dumb and trampled self of the past. Doubtless, this self must again die and be buried, and again, from its tomb, spring a winged child...Self will come to life even in the slaying of self; but there is ever something deeper and stronger than it, which will emerge last from the unknown abyss of the soul."
-- George MacDonald, Phantastes
"...Another self seemed to arise, like a white spirit from a dead man, from the dumb and trampled self of the past. Doubtless, this self must again die and be buried, and again, from its tomb, spring a winged child...Self will come to life even in the slaying of self; but there is ever something deeper and stronger than it, which will emerge last from the unknown abyss of the soul."
-- George MacDonald, Phantastes
Monday, November 3, 2014
Sunday, November 2, 2014
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