Labor Day

So today is Labor Day. As I spent the day not laboring, I started thinking. I started thinking, what is it that I'm laboring for? Why is it that I work? The initial answer that came to mind was so I can afford to have fun! In a way, this saddened me.

Am I living for only to be entertained?

The movies Braveheart, Gladiator, and Luther inspire me. I watch as men live for something great. They live to change the world they live in, even though it costs them as much as their own lives. At the end of the movie, I desire to live a life that will impact my world like that.

Somehow, being entertained just doesn't do that. It serves nobody but myself. And the truth is, I'm not happy with the service I've been getting.

Still, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of the cost of it. As disappointing as this self serving life is, it is comfortable. The question is now, which will I choose? A life of disappointed comfort or a life that costs me, even my own life?

One day Jesus was asked about God's Kingdom. In His reply, He told them that those who cling to their lives will find it slipping through their fingers, lost. And those who gave their lives freely would find it had been saved for them.* The truth is, living for God costs everything and nothing at the same time. It costs me everything this world has to offer now, but not living for God will cost me everything He has to offer forever. When I think of it that way, I find that I really don't have anything.

Now I want to challenge you. Are you living only to be comfortable? Will you be satisfied when you are old and lying on your death bed? Will you look back and see the times in your life when you could have lived to make a difference, made an impact for good in your world and lament you were too afraid or too comfortable? Or will you live such a life that even though it costs you dearly you will stand tall knowing that you have lived and your life has mattered?

Living for God is the only life that will make an eternal difference in this world. Let's really live.

*Check out Luke 17.

A Question of Trust

Can I believe God loves me and not trust Him to take care of me?

The question came as I was wrestling with whether to trust God with something important. I say I believe God loves me. I say I believe He has my best interest in mind. Yet somehow, I'm uncertain. Like a kid who is told to eat his broccoli because it's good for him, I think, yeah but it can't taste as good as cake.

Sometimes it's easy to trust God, but in other times I'm just not quite sure. I grew up afraid I would end up marrying an ugly woman. Somehow I got it into my mind that marrying a pretty woman was like eating cake instead of broccoli. That there could be a pretty woman that was also on God's approved list was unthinkable. After all, to want to marry a pretty woman is selfish. For years I wrestled, afraid to persue what I wanted and afraid to end up with what God wanted.

So we come back to the question. Can I believe God loves me and not trust Him to take care of me? Does a God who wants my best interest desire to stick me with a wife I don't want? Somehow this doesn't add up to me.

"When your son asks you for fish or for bread, do you give him a snake or a stone?" Jesus asks. "If sinful people know how to give good gifts to their children, wouldn't God who is perfect give good gifts to His children when they ask?" (See Matthew 7:9-11).

Later Paul asks, "If God was willing to give His own son to die for us, why would He refuse to give us a good gift of lesser cost?" (See Romans 8:32)

The only way I can believe God loves me and not trust Him to take care of me is to believe He's too weak to take care of me. An all powerful god who doesn't have my best interest in mind clearly does not love me. Can I look at the sacrifice of Jesus and believe God doesn't love me passionately? That He isn't willing to spare any cost to get me back?

Does God love me? Do I trust Him?

What Is Love?

I wanted to write something very profound about love. I wanted to write something about love that would make people rethink what they've been told about love. But, as I sit here and pontificate, I find I'm just frustrated by the subject. I mean, what does it mean to love? Really love? In the movies, I see two people who fall madly in love with each other and wonder why that never happens to me. The guy, of whom I am insanely jealous, and a gorgeous woman are drawn to each other to live happily ever after. Sure, they have some troubles along the way. The guy says something stupid, or he thinks he sees her going for someone else. But in the end, it's usually a misunderstanding that gets cleared up and the rest is smooth sailing.

Maybe love is like the Force from Star Wars. It's something you're born with. You don't get to choose whether you get it or not, it chooses you. Once you discover you have it, the world obeys your every command. If you didn't get it, then you're sorry, out-of-luck.

Maybe love is like money. If you're smart, you find ways to earn it and save it. Some people are naturals, but those who aren't can learn. If you work hard enough, you'll make it. With exception to those who just don't get it, or who are completely irresponsible and just throw it away.

What if love isn't romantic? That's often how I think of it. Does that mean there are different kinds of love? Or is romance something I have with a person I love? As a romantic, the very thought of romance being something I choose feels sacrilegious. Romance is supposed to be mysterious. Two people who are connecting with each other with an intimate unspoken language. If I choose it, I've robbed it of its magic.

In Fiddler on the Roof, Tevye asks his wife, "Do you love me?"

"Do I love you?"

"Do you love me?" he asks again. She goes on to list all of the things she does for him. Cooking dinner, washing clothes, cleaned house, raising children and milked cows. "But do you love me?" he asks.

She searches her heart to find she does love him. And he loves her.

What if love isn't an emotion, even though I have feelings about people I love? What if love is shown more in how we choose to treat each other, what we do for each other than in the words we use? What if real love costs more than money? What if real love costs part of the soul? What if the ultimate cost of love is one's life?

Who Am I?

Sometimes I think there are two people living in this body. One is positive thinking, ready to take on the world. The other is scared, always hiding where it's safe. I like positive Phil. He's fun to be around, people respect him and he makes a difference. Scared Phil, on the other hand, I loathe. He believes he has failed even before he tries. He believes people tolerate him. I want positive Phil to live and scared Phil to die.

So why does scared Phil keep showing up? How do I get rid of him, permanently? It's like he's handcuffed to me and I'm stuck with him until one of us has served his time. Why is positive Phil missing when I need him most? He comes, visits, then goes back to where ever he came from.

When I was a kid, I wanted my own section of the garden. Dad gave me a row and I planted what I wanted in my row. Tomatoes, bell peppers and corn. Having my own row in the garden meant I was responsible for the care of that row. I'd come home from school, go out to the garden and water my row. Every day I hoped to see one of the plants poking up out of the ground. Four or five days had passed, I had watered them as I was taught and still, there wasn't a sprout to be seen. I grew frustrated. This garden wasn't fun anymore. It was work. It wasn't long until I was giving my bike the attention my garden needed. My plants didn't grow well. They didn't produce much and what they did produce wasn't very good. I had a good crop of weeds, though. I wanted to have a good garden, but wanting didn't get me a good garden.

What if the two Phils are like my garden? What am I doing to nurture positive Phil? Or have I grown impatient because I haven't seen results after a couple of days? One thing's for sure, scared Phil grows, even when I'm not trying to grow him. Growing positive Phil is hard work. I want positive Phil to grow, but just wanting won't make it happen.

Dare I Be Vulnerable?

"There are things I want to write about, but I'm afraid some people won't understand," a friend shared. Her statement hit me square in the soul. "If I don't say everything, it just doesn't have the same impact," she continued. "But, if I write it all, I don't want some of the people who know me to read it." So, should she write from a safe distance? Or should she pour out her heart for others to abuse?

My friend speaks for so many of us who write. Not just writers, but also artists and musicians. Anybody who invests their heart and soul into a craft. The craft is birthed of the crafter. A crafter then guards and protects the craft because it is a piece, a picture, an expression of her heart and soul. The more a craftsman pours her heart into a craft, the deeper impact it has on those who experience it later.

This has me feeling nervous. I'm afraid you won't like what you see of my heart and soul. You might laugh. You might be disappointed in me. I'm afraid when I expose my heart and soul I will be hurt deeply. Is it worth the risk? I don't want you to read about my mistakes and failures. I don't want you to see the mess I've been in. It's embarrassing. I'm ashamed of some of the things in my past. I want them to all go away and be happy-go-lucky, fun loving Phil.

Over the last year, I've shared things on this blog that are deeply personal. After posting "Through the Valley of the Shadow" I wrestled with whether I should let people read it or delete it before anybody else gets a chance. It's one thing to express the darkness in my soul, it's an entirely different thing to share it with someone else. That posting I was so afraid of people reading elicited the most response from people. But not the response I was afraid of. People shared how they were encouraged by the post and how they could relate so well to what I had written.

There are people who are starving to know they are not alone in their struggles. Dying for hope. Only when we are willing to risk sharing our struggle can we touch their lives, giving them a morsel of hope to chew on. Only when we risk, when we become vulnerable do we dare make a meaningful difference in someone's world.

Yes, there will be people who don't get it. Some of them will be friends and family. We're not writing for them. Remember Jesus went through the same treatment. His hometown didn't want to hear what He had to say. Not all of His family understood Him and His message. Where did His strength come from? His Father in heaven. He was living for His Father's approval.

Paul had a physical pain that he begged God to take from him. What was God's response? "My grace is all you need, for my power is greatest when you are weak." (2 Cor. 12:9 GNB) What is the blindness you've been healed of? What are the chains that held you captive? Jesus came to heal the sick and to set the captives free. It is for His glory that He has healed us. Let's not pretend we've never been sick, never been imprisoned by sin. What kind of story is, I was a pretty good guy, then Jesus came and saved me? Big deal. I was dead in my sin, and Jesus came and took my place!

God uses our weakness to show His strength. Hiding our weakness trying to hide the city on a hill. It isn't for our shame, it's for His glory. Is it worth the risk to share? Yes. Is it hard? Definately. Is it scary? Absolutely! If we have died to ourselves to become alive in Him, what do we really have to lose?

Courage

"Courage is almost a contradiction in terms. It means a strong desire to live taking the form of a readiness to die" --G.K. Chesterton

Do you ever get the feeling God is trying to tell you something? For the past four or five weeks, I have heard a consistent theme from sermons, movies, reading, and friends. So much so, I am beginning to wonder if maybe I'm a little slow and that's why God keeps repeating Himself.

This year begins the fourth year of taking writing classes and pursuing writing as something more than a hobby. After writing a piece that was published and praised by fellow authors, I have not yet submitted another piece for publication. In fact, this blog represents most of my writing since then. Truth is, I'm afraid.

Of what am I afraid? Rejection, not measuring up. I am afraid of the long journey required for me to write seriously. I am afraid to invest the time and effort, pouring heart and soul into the work so someone can tell me they don't like it or that it isn't good enough. It's safer not to write and open my heart and soul for criticism.

Last night I started reading "Germ" by Robert Liparulo to find this quote from G.K. Chesterton about courage. When I read it, I wanted it to be true of me. Immediately, I thought about my fears in writing and sharing my writing. Chasing those thoughts were others reminding me no one has succeeded without having to face fear and the possibility of failure. These are people who would rather die trying than to simply exist, not really living at all.

So, I am faced with a choice. Dig in and write with fear yapping in my ear trying to convince me of what I can't do, or listen to fear and remain in a comfortable existence where nothing changes except the calendar.

I want to live with courage and live. How 'bout you?

You Are Loved

I was cruising the net when I came across this video. Being reminded that I am loved is something I don't get tired of. A week from today is Christmas day--the day we remember Jesus' birth. The day we remember that God so loved us, He gave us His Son.

A New Frontier

Perhaps yesterday's post was confusing. No explaination or resolution, just a dark story. Not to worry, there's more to the story. I have decided to try my hand in penning fictional stories in addition to what I've been posting on this blog. The fictional writings will be posted on another blog. If you're curious enough to continue reading, the rest of the story will not be posted here, so you will have to make note. The address is philsfiction.blogspot.com.

Flash. The momentary brightness left the darkness blacker, if that were possible. Boom. The thunder sounded on the heels of the disapating flash. Rain pelted my face, driven by an angry wind. My stomach clinched as the floor left my feet. It was not long gone, coming back to smack me in the rear. Rolling onto my hands and knees, my body convulsed, my stomach trying to rid itself of what was already long gone. I felt my scream leaving my throat as I dry heaved, but I couldn't hear it above the roaring waves.

Flash. Where am I? How did I get here? Boom. I'm alone with this ocean. This ocean bent on destroying me. Spitting in my face, beating my body, stripping me of any dignity. What have I done to deserve this?

Flash. In the split second of light, I saw the ocean around me. It looked more like the rolling hills of Kentucky than the Pacific. Boom. Which way to land? I was blind and deaf, even if I had any strength left to do anything about it anyway.

Flash. My life was speeding through my mind. Boom. Staring into the maw of this watery grave, I realized this was the end. I'm dying. Black.

Thankful: Day 2

I have been truly blessed for an opportunity to grow and learn to love others better. Life Skills International has a course called Learning to Live, Learning to Love. This six month course has shown me how I have hurt myself and others for many years because of things I falsely believed to be true. For many years I have hidden from people I love because I have been afraid they wouldn't like the real me. This is a battle I continue to fight, but I now have tools and knowledge to fight a winning battle instead of losing again and again. I am thankful for the opportunity to take this class, to become healthier emotionally, to be freed to live and love. I am thankful for Living Waters Counselling, Dr. Randy Young, and Pastor Jay Milojevich for bringing this class to Medford, Oregon and being positive, encouraging influences in my life.

Thankful: Day 1

In light of this being Thanksgiving week, I thought I would take this opportunity to express publicly what I am thankful for. I would love to hear your thanks, too. Please use the feedback button and add your thoughts. Anonymous posts will not be rejected, so if you're shy no one will have to know who you are. Today's subject: God.

God, I would like to thank You for being a real part of my life. I'm thankful that You're not an impersonal force, but an individual Who takes an interest in me as a unique individual. Thank You for Your promise to never leave me. So far You've kept that promise and I believe You always will. Lord, I've been hurt, disappointed and defeated this year. You didn't save me from it, but You were with me through it. Thank You. You can take anything meant for evil and use it for good. That is awesome and I love You for that. Not only are You the source of my life, You are the reason for living life. I admire that You are creative, humorous and passionate. I publicly embrace You as my God, my King and my Savior.

Broken Praise

At church this weekend, I had the opportunity to hear one of the most beautiful offerings of praise I have ever heard. Andrew sang Give Thanks accompanied by piano and flute. Nothing extraordinary. A simple solo with simple accompaniment. Still, this offering is one I will not soon forget.

You see, Andrew is handicapped. At 11 or 12 years old, his body has not developed the way it was supposed to. He cannot walk. He cannot use a wheelchair. He cannot even keep himself from drooling. He is completely dependant for his every need.

So as I listened to Andrew singing with his broken voice, unable to stay with the melody, I was moved to tears. It wasn't his talent that made his offering beautiful. It was his heart and his desire to express his heart publicly, regardless of what people thought. I was ashamed for every time I have played for the people's praise instead of from my desire to express my love for God. These thoughts had barely sunk in when Andrew sang, "Now let the weak say I am strong ... because of what the Lord has done ... Give thanks with a grateful heart. Give thanks."

Seeing, hearing someone so broken, so weak singing these words brought a whole new understanding for me. I may not be handicapped the way Andrew is, but I am handicapped. Perhaps my handicap was more crippling because I was so blind to it. I have been handicapped by sin, pride, and my selfish desires. I was so busy feeling sorry for myself, I couldn't honestly sing that song. I didn't have a grateful heart.

I believe it is broken praise that God most desires. In the Old Testament, God told His people that their offerings were offensive to Him because they hearts weren't in it. He knows who and what we are. He isn't impressed by how practiced or professional we sound. He isn't Simon from American Idol looking for how our praise isn't good enough. No, His favorite offerings are broken praises that come from hearts that love Him.

What I Really Want

I was reading past entries in my journal when I found this. Somehow this thinking was lost since I pinned these words. This time I have decided to declare it publicly.

I realize I have been looking all over for something to satisfy my soul. I have been a collector of stuff. I have played games. All said, I have lived so as to make my life as comfortable and pleasurable as possible. But that isn't what I really want. I want to make a difference. I want to be a part of something bigger than myself. I want to be a hero of sorts. Instead of going out and spending my life on this pursuit, I have stayed home and tried to save my life. Now I see that as I clung so desperately, my life oozed out from between my fingers leaving me without the life I tried to save, having spent it on nothing.

Lord, I want to live valiantly for You and Your kingdom. I want to spend my life living for You. Help me to see when I am living out of selfishness instead of love. Fill me with You so I can be filled with love. Fill me to overflowing. Help me to spend it lavishly.

What Does Life Mean?

Meaningless. It's all meaningless. That's what Solomon said in Ecclesiastes. One man works hard, saves his money his whole life. In the end, he dies. He can't buy life. So what does his life mean? I can't help but feel hollow thinking of living my life for money. What I would have to sacrifice to achieve great wealth? Can money love, encourage, or simply give company when I'm lonely?

If I'm not living for money, what am I living for? Wealth can be measured in more than money. While money has some appeal, I am more drawn to pleasure. A person doesn't have to be wealthy to indulge in pleasure, either. I can hang out with my friends for no cost and have a great time. Lately, I've found I will choose to have fun with my friends when I shouldn't. I short myself on sleep. Laundy is left unwashed. Obligations are forgotten. Is this really what life is about? When I get to the end of my life, will I be satisfied that I had a good time?

There are so many pulls on my life. Do this, go here, buy that. The commercials always show beautiful people completely satisfied. I guess ugly fat people who are miseralbe don't inspire people to go for a product. How do I get to be good looking and happy instead of fat and miserable?

I woke up this morning with a bad taste in my gut. I had a whole day in front of my to use however I wanted. Problem was I wanted to save it, not waste it. As I hemmed and hawed deciding how to best take advantage of my day, half of it slipped away. I wanted to what I would most enjoy and now half of it has been used for nothing. I wish I could say that is only true of today. However, I see that I have lived my whole life this way.

What is the meaning of my life? The question Solomon asked. The question The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy had fun with. With all the resources available to help people find the answer, you'd think this question would have been answered. Maybe my problem isn't in finding the answer, but in finally deciding to live it. I read a quote that goes something like this, "Life was meant to be spent, not saved." This quote has haunted me since I read it. I think because I know I have been trying to save my life. Today, I am deciding to spend my life on something. Not something that will leave me hollow in the end like money or pleasure. I want to my life to mean something to somebody. I want to make a difference in this world. Jesus said, "Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men." I hear him saying, "Follow me, and I will give your life meaning."

Where's My Easy Button?

Have you seen the commercials with the easy button? People who find themselves in difficult situation reach for a red button and everything turns out fine. I would like one of those buttons. It would be particularly useful on days when everything is going wrong. Or those times something pops up at just the wrong time. Just one click of the easy button and everything is back to smooth sailing. The other day I saw one of these buttons for sale at the store. I pushed the button only to hear a voice commenting on how easy that was. What a disappointment! My difficulties were still staring me in the face, smirking at the Easy Button.

Life is full of difficulties. If your life is like mine, the difficulties come at the most inconvenient times. Expenses come when money is already thin. At the end of a frustrating day, an irritating person enters the scene. Without an easy fix, I sometimes want to run away and hide.

This is not the time to run and hide, but to stand. Arnold didn't get his muscles by working out only when he felt like it. Even though I know and understand this, it is when I don't feel like standing when the difficulties come. I think of 78 reasons for why its ok for me not to stand today. Lately I have found I'm ashamed of myself when I give in to fear, when I listen to my reasons and I don't stand in my time of difficulties. In the end, the difficuly didn't crush me like I thought it would. Instead, the difficulty is an opportunity for me to grow.

For now, I'll let Staples have their Easy Buttons. Not just because they don't work, but because I would rather go through the difficulty and come out stronger than I was going in.

How Far Is Too Far?

To say that we live in a sexually charged society would be stating the obvious. As a single Christian, I know it's God's desire for me to be sexually pure. Every person I talk to has drawn a different line in the sand that shouldn't be crossed. So how far is too far? I found a new perspective in John Thomas' answer at Boundless Webzine. Even though his answer is being applied to sexuality, it can be applied to anything in question of how far is too far?

Boundless Answers: How Far Is Too Far?

Thirsty

Empty. Nothing left. It had been full when I started my journey, but now my water bottle was bone dry. I thought I had more than I needed. In fact, I was happy to share with anyone who asked. When I saw I was nearing the bottom, I guarded it carefully. Taking only a sip now and then, I made it last as long as possible. That last drop was several hot miles ago.

"Lookin' kinda thirsty." Startled, I looked for the source of the voice. He looked as old as the dirt he wore.

"I ran out of water the day before yesterday. This bottle was full when I started out. I thought I'd have more than enough."

"How long ago was that?"

"A week ago."

"Why don't you fill it up again?"

"What?"

He cocked his head and raised one eye brow. "Well, let's think about this. Your thirsty. Problem is your water bottle's empty. Way I figure it, the way to solve both your problems is to refill your water bottle." He chuckled, I assume in reaction to the look on my face. "How long have you been walking beside this creek with an empty water bottle?"

* * * * *

I started my spiritual walk with my heart full and overflowing. I was so full up with God and His love, there was no way I'd ever run out. I shared with anybody and everybody. After a couple of years, I got settled into my walk. I realized my heart wasn't overflowing like it was, but I still had plenty. One morning I woke up and realized my heart was almost empty. There was a little left and I made it last as long as I could. Inevitably, the day came when I was bone dry. I was becoming a walking dead man. I was dying of thirst within reach of the Water of Life.

Taking time to spend with God is challenging to me. The alarm clock already goes off too early. It's all I can do to get to work on time already. The rest of the day is spent trying to keep up. Night time comes and I am so tired, I cannot stay awake for fifteen minutes with God. Tomorrow, the whole cycle starts again.

It is easy for me to forget about spiritual realities in this physical world. I'm dying of spiritual thirst while focused on things that are dehydrating me. Meanwhile, I'm walking right next to an endless, pure Source. Thankfully, He doesn't hang me out to dry. He continues to persue me, continues to remind me where real life can be found.

The Battle For a Man's Heart

Pornography is a big problem amongst Christian people today. The internet makes it easy to access without anyone knowing about it. I read the other day that there are about five porn websites for every other website. Because it uses the drive God created within us, we are all tempted to misuse His gift of sexuality.

I found a pair of articles that have brought a whole new perspective to me on the battle of pornography. John Thomas of Boundless.org argues that pornography is a weapon of the enemy to destroy a man's masculine heart. To keep men from living effectively for God. I encourage all men who desire to live for God to read these articles even if you are not struggling with pornography.

Boundless Answers: Alternatives to Porn, Part 1
Boundless Answers: Alternatives to Porn, Part 2

If you are losing the battle to pornography in your life, I encourage you to check out Setting Captives Free.

Obsessed

"God made man in his own image and man returned the compliment." -Blaise Pascal, Pensees (New York: Dutton 1958) p. 58

More and more I see my problem is not what I haven't learned yet, but rather the lies I have learned all too well. That God is obsessed with sin is one of the lies I have learned quite well. Sexual misconduct, drinking, and smoking He especially delights in. Once caught in sin, I grovel hoping to find something to trade with God. Something He'll find to appease Him enough to forgive me. It's hard to find something God enjoys more than a good sin to obsess over.

The truth is God doesn't obsess over sin. Rather, He obsesses over sinners. It's His desire to rescue the sinner from sin, not destroy the sinner along with his sin. 2 Cor. 5:19 says, "God was in Christ, making peace between the world and himself. In Christ, God did not hold the world guilty of its sins."* 1 John 1:9 says, "If we admit our sins - make a clean breast of them - he won't let us down; he'll be true to himself. He'll forgive our sins and purge us of all wrongdoing."** The Bible is full of statements declaring God's desire to forgive sinners. Like the father in the story Jesus told of the rebellious son, God is watching and waiting for the sinner to come home so He can lavish His love on him. The question I have to ask myself is, how long will I wait to go home?

*New Century Version
**The Message

What More?

A man desires to plant a vineyard. Being an intelligent man, he searches for the best ground for his vineyard. After purchasing the property, he goes to work. Tilling, planting, watering, weeding. He spares no expense or labor so he will get the best grapes possible. The work is done and the grapes are ready. He finds himself salivating as he picks the grape, anticipating it's sweetness. Bitterness shocks his tastebuds, numbing his tongue. Gagging and coughing he spits the fruit out. What has happened? Vine after vine reveal sour grapes. What more could he have done to produce good grapes?

This story told by the prophet Isaiah illustrates what God has done for me. He has done everything to restore our broken relationship. Even sending His Son Jesus to take my place in dying the death I deserve. After all of this, I find that I still hesitate to trust Him completely. I still question whether He loves me. In the midst of my doubts and questions, Isaiah asks me, "What more can he do?"