Feeling Froggy

Yesterday one of my cousins challenged my sister and another cousin to join the National Novel Writing Month Camp. It is a month-long challenge to write a 50,000 word story in the month of August. To further make the matter interesting, we are picking a random writing prompt and running with it to see how we all take it. While it could be a bad idea to drop my current work in progress (currently growing at the 52k mark) it seems a fun way to spend some time. Especially since I will have time on my hands during the imminent move. In the vein of using a writing prompt I decided to turn the next post I read into a post that fits the theme of my blog. That post happened to be Frog Spotting. In FS, the author tells of running a 5k race and the things that went wrong at the start. Her rhythm was thrown off, her pace was not what it should be, Murphy's Law ruled the day. Then at the turn around point, she met some other runners. One needed encouraging, then the other. As she ran/walked with them the surroundings began to be apparent. Things they had noticed, or more likely saw as "background noise scenery" before became more vibrant and noteworthy. Especially the smallest of details.

This reminded me of a story I read in an email this afternoon. It is more than likely apocryphal, but poignant nonetheless. A man had a pretty good life until he was shipwrecked on a deserted island. After some time he had made a nice, comfortable hut, and had a decent existence all things considered. Until the night his hut burned down. It was a huge fire, consuming the house, all the tools, everything the man had scrounged and created to make life bearable. The next day as he sorted through the ashes he was mad at God asking why he had destroyed the only thing he had. As he looked up, there at the shore was a boat weighing anchor. The man was saved. He rushed to the beach and splashed through the water to meet the skiff coming to investigate and the captain told him that had they not seen his fire they would have kept cruising by.

A broken iPod, non-running stopwatch, and losing our motivation are small things compared to where we lie, but no less important at times. We may not immediately understand why they are taken from us, but the why is less important than the that. Because these comforts are taken from us it slows us down to His pace. It puts us where He wants us. It allows us time to see the beauty of the firmament that He has put here for us. We may not like it, we may be uncomfortable, but in the bosom of His will is the best place for us.

What troubles have you undergone to come out stronger on the other side? Better still, what pains are you experiencing now? Comment below.

Frog Spotting http://bit.ly/brwneyed via (http://brwneyedgrl869.wordpress.com/)

Blast Waves

More on Lance Corporal Jeffrey Knight:

Jeffrey is doing well considering where he is and what he's going through. He has finally had his legs closed and is anxious to get his prosthetic legs. He still has not seen his left hand yet. He got into a wheelchair a few days ago and the next day got an electric one so he could move himself around. He still has surgery nearly every day but they have figured out which drug was causing him hallucinations and other problems.

When the incident occurred, he was clearing a knoll of IEDs and just didn't feel right. He went back for some C4 to just blow the hill, and had it in his left hand. When he got to the spot he wanted, his metal detector went off and he knew he had stepped on the device. It threw him back and he landed on his back. When he went to stand, he couldn't and knew he had lost his legs. They train Marines nowadays that if they get caught like this they will probably lose their legs, but they have tourniquet kits on the side. They have one and a half minutes to get it on before they bleed out. Jeffrey reached for his, and it had been blown away by the blast. It took his comrades three minutes to get his tourniquets on.

As I initially suspected, Jeffrey was relieved to know that he was the only one who got injured in his squad and that no one died. He is very excited about his recovery. It's a long road yet, but all things considered, it could be tougher.

Many people would look at this situation and say why. They would question how a loving God could allow something so tragic to happen. What I know about it is that Jeffrey has been receiving a good  number of prayers, and they are working. He may never have his legs back, but he is right where God wants him to be.

Oftentimes we think of our children and say that we would do anything for them, especially if they were in a life threatening situation. Think about God, though. He not only would do anything for his children, He CAN do anything for His children. There is nothing that can stop Him from saving anyone he wants. And yet He allowed His son, Jesus, to die. The only being capable of stopping it, and yet He did not. He did not stop the crucifixion of Jesus and allowed him to die because that is what it took for us to be able to live.

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Redundant Repetition

This is a post on a post. Yesterday's post to be precise. I had some reservations in posting yesterday partly because of its length and partly its content.

It grew long because of the back story, yet it was needed for the benefit of those who read my posts that don't go to church with me. I believe that most of you can relate to similar issues in your own churches. If I were politically correct I would apologize to the agnostics and atheists who may read this post, but I'm not, and I won't. Political correctness is based on the idea that you can pick up a turd by the clean end. I'd rather be biblically correct than politically correct any day of the week, so thanks for reading atheists and agnostics, but not sorry you can't relate.

In the end it is the literary content of the post I loved the most and made me publish it. The title is appropriate because that is what the guy Sunday was trying to say. As if we should have cut off our prayer, or even our lesson simply because the hands on the clock were in a certain position. Sometimes Jesus taught in the middle of the day, but some of the most memorable are when he spoke at night (see most of his boat rides). I loved the irony of the name and the length of the post. There are other parallels, but these were the most obvious.

Overall, the message of my post mimics the reason and my desire for writing. It accentuates the goal I have for this blog in that I hope to speak in many different ways to get us to review and re-evaluate our take on why we do what we do for Christ. Plus, anytime I can reference a Ted Dekker book, particularly my favorite one, it has to be good. Dekker also mimics this non-fiction theme in his first published books, one of them that ranks high on my list of books is When Heaven Weeps. If you have never read any of his works take the time, you will not be disappointed. We share a passionate love and writing spark in CS Lewis' essay Christian Apologetics. Reading that did not change my life, but it focused my walk and pushed me toward where I am headed.

Many authors think it cheapens the work to have to explain what was intended. I didn't hit on all the symbolism from yesterday in this post, that was not my point. I hoped to simply open your minds to the hidden undercurrents. Look for more, we can talk about them in the comments, but ultimately I hope you take away more from my writing than just the anecdotal stories of a prolific typist.

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Ticket to Where?

Image via Wikipedia

It has been said that in January 2000, leaders in Charlotte, North Carolina, invited their favorite son, Billy Graham, to a luncheon in his honor. Billy initially hesitated to accept the invitation because he struggles with Parkinson's disease. But the Charlotte leaders said, 'We don't expect a major address. Just come and let us honor you.' So he agreed.

After wonderful things were said about him, Dr. Graham stepped to the rostrum, looked at the crowd, and said, "I'm reminded today of Albert Einstein, the great physicist who this month has been honored by Time magazine as the Man of the Century. Einstein was once traveling from Princeton on a train when the conductor came down the aisle, punching the tickets of every passenger. When he came to Einstein, Einstein reached in his vest pocket. He couldn't find his ticket, so he reached in his trouser pockets. It wasn't there. He looked in his briefcase but couldn't find it. Then he looked in the seat beside him. He still couldn't find it. "The conductor said, 'Dr. Einstein, I know who you are. We all know who you are. I'm sure you bought a ticket. Don't worry about it.' Einstein nodded appreciatively. The conductor continued down the aisle punching tickets. As he was ready to move to the next car, he turned around and saw the great physicist down on his hands and knees looking under his seat for his ticket. "The conductor rushed back and said, 'Dr. Einstein, Dr. Einstein, don't worry, I know who you are; no problem. You don't need a ticket. I'm sure you bought one.' Einstein looked at him and said, 'Young man, I too, know who I am. What I don't know is where I'm going.'' Having said that Billy Graham continued, "See the suit I'm wearing? It's a brand new suit. My children, and my grandchildren are telling me I've gotten a little slovenly in my old age. I used to be a bit more fastidious. So I went out and bought a new suit for this luncheon and one more occasion. You know what that occasion is? This is the suit in which I'll be buried. But when you hear I'm dead, I don't want you to immediately remember the suit I'm wearing. I want you to remember this: I not only know who I am. I also know where I'm going." May your troubles be less, your blessings more, and may nothing but happiness, come through your door. "Life without God is like an unsharpened pencil - it has no point." While I have not been able to verify either the Billy Graham story or the Einstein anecdote, even if they were created for this story they match what both men might have done and said. In much the same manner, it has been reported that Einstein did not know his own phone number because if he was there he couldn't call himself and if he wasn't home he couldn't answer if it rang. None would doubt Billy knows where he is headed. Regardless of whether or not they know what it takes or how to get there, none would argue that Billy will be anywhere other than in heaven. The thing is, Billy didn't do anything to get into heaven. He would tell you that, too. It isn't works or what he's done that qualified Billy for his one way ticket, it was grace. The grace of God-given through Jesus has punched Billy's ticket. And mine. What about you? Do you have a ticket?

Life without God is like an unsharpened pencil - it has no point.

Growing a Human

While Proverbs 22:6 "Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it." was not the subject of the conversation the other day, it did occasion me to think of the following analogy. It is one I have contemplated for some time. Growing up we get a skeleton for our faith. This begins as our parents show their faith to us. Notice I am not saying just the Christians, Muslims do it, Hindus do it, atheists do it. Parents show their children what is important to them. More often than not, these are the ideals that the child grows up with as well. How the parent treats them, as important or not, also begins to send messages to the children as to how they should treat the matters.

Now the skeleton by itself is extremely flexible-in someone else's hands. Knees can bend in 2 directions because there are no tendons or muscles to restrict them. A child's view of religion is not very deep. It is very open to interpretation, and without guidance it can lead to anything. As we are able to grow in our faith, we understand better and are required to take fewer things by faith having gained an understanding of the truths behind them.

As we get older and bigger we add tendons and muscles and maybe eventually skin. The reasons for some of the bones being where they are becomes evident. Or at least it becomes clear that they simply are where they belong. You can't get muscles before the skeleton. And while the muscles and tendons can be seen as restricting the movement of the skeleton, it is the way the body is meant to be. The truth of the way the body should move. The more body we have built, the more truth we understand, the closer we come to having something to put skin on, and a face. Eventually if we are lucky enough, we can get a complete body. It isn't by chance or accident, and it isn't overnight.

One of my absolute favorite CS Lewis books is Til We Have Faces. It is an allegory of the Psyche/Cupid myth, and contains, of all the unlikely things, idol worship and a class of priests unlike any you would ever expect to meet in a Christian work of literature. Idol worship, sure, idol worship by the "good" guys? Not expected. It all boils down in the end to a point where the question from God to the main character is how can we speak face to face, unless you have a face? Without being able to comprehend the biggest question of all, how can it be discussed?

On a macro scale (and unless you look deeply at the remainder of the plot) this mimics the legendary agnostic Douglas Adams' answer to the question of life the universe and everything. We are given the answer (42) but cannot understand the question until a greater event has occurred.

No, these two don't go hand in hand. And likewise the moral of Til We Have Faces is not that we cannot understand anything about religion until we understand everything about religion. That is more a Josef Heller novel. The point of it all is that we start to grow our human body as a child. The input our parents give (or don't) is important in starting that off. That start also gives us the impetus to continue (or not) to build our understanding of how it all works until such time as we are able to no longer have to rely on faith alone to grasp the fundamental truths of it all.

Poster Boy for Answered Prayers

Not long ago, I was involved in a regular Thursday Morning Men's Prayer Group. We met each Thursday at 6:30 and after about a half hour of prayer walked across the street to eat a biscuit. I still maintain that there is something scriptural, and sometimes ephiphany-revealing (is ephiphanical a word?) about eating together. For just one example see Luke 24:30. It became to me more important than Sunday School, and that was the hour that my preacher still calls the most important hour of the day. I started attending after telling my employer I would be late on Thursday mornings. Then I changed jobs, twice, and told my boss after accepting the job, "By the way, I'll be late on Thursday mornings." It was not a question, it was a statement.

About 5 years ago my marriage hit the roughest patch it ever has. We were fighting each other as much as ourselves. Or maybe it was just me. I moved into an apartment closer to where I worked, which was also about 40 miles from home and church. At this time I stopped attending the prayer group. Eventually, I found myself to be so miserable without my beloved Ginger that we reconciled and have had a wonderful marriage since. We have had a third child, now 6 months old, named Faith. I could not have picked a more appropriate name, though I did try. Scarlett Grace was the name I tried for because it is by the blood of Jesus I have received grace. In less than 3 months I will have been married for over half my life, yet I can barely remember a life without Ginger. This despite my anal retentive memory.

After the incident I did return to the prayer group. My current job is such that it doesn't allow a late arrival on Thursdays, yet, but I miss the men and the fellowship. Just this past Sunday I found out that the men of the group had agreed to pray for me during that time I was away. Not only on Thursday mornings, but whenever they thought of me. They prayed that I would be so miserable without my family that I would wake up and come to my senses.

Oftentimes we pray without knowing if it will do any good. Other times we don't pray and still get blessed. Most of the time when I pray the answer I receive looks nothing like the prayer I asked, but fills the prayer request better than I could have ever imagined. For most of my life I have considered myself a poster boy for answered prayers. So much so that I am afraid it sounds like I'm bragging about it at times. God answers prayers for you, whether you prayed them or not, whether you knew they were being prayed or not. Especially when you least expect it.