The Son Teaching This Papa

Once again, God sneaks in with a little reminder where I least expect it. This time it was a bible lesson that I had prepared - ostensibly - for my son. Methinks it night have been meant for me!

When I read Oswald Chambers "My Utmost for His Highest" I am always amazed at how clear Mr. Chambers' thinking/distillation of biblical concepts is. And I thought I would like to share this with Andrew. But I knew I needed to simplify the message a little for an 11-year-old brain. So I re-worked yesterday's message, "Don't Hurt The Lord", and shared it with Andrew today.

When I read the part - We look for God to show Himself to us, but God only shows Himself in us. And while other people can see signs of God’s presence in us by our words and actions, we do not see it in ourselves. As much as we want to notice what God is doing in us, if we keep asking God for proof and watching for that proof, we hurt the Lord  - I realized how much that describes ME. Especially lately. And boy did I confess it right away to Andrew (see son, even Papa makes mistakes!)

I have been telling Minda lately that I feel like I am hyper-vigilant for signs of my relationship with Christ. Which is not necessarily a bad thing - focusing on God is my utmost. But I confessed to her and later to God, that I have been so focused on what God is doing in my life that I may have forgotten about all the "brothers and neighbors" - that Jesus tells us to love - around me.

And yes, what I am looking for is proof that God loves me.

So I confess this to God and family and whomever is reading this: I have been self-absorbed with my relationship with Christ and hurting Him by questioning, analyzing and over-thinking our relationship. And I repent for it here and now.

The final part of today's lesson was very fitting for me and Andrew. (The paraphrase of) Chambers' essay said:  Believe it or not, choosing NOT to be worried about things—weather, grades, food, money—actually honors Jesus. It’s another way of saying, “Thank you God for loving me.”

What was interesting was right before I read to him, he mentioned that he thinks God is helping with his fear (terror) of thunderstorms because he slept right through one the other night. And that made the final line even more awesome:
 

Realize that Jesus is here now, and the freedom you receive is immediate.

Victory!

A White and Pink Coffee Cup

I haven’t had a God-dream in a while and I miss them! Then last week, Boom! This one was different - it was short, succinct and amazing. It was also unique in that I was purely a witness rather than a participant. And unlike most of my God-dreams, when I woke up I immediately knew what the dream was telling me.

The Dream: I was in a library-like setting and I was watching a woman who was standing alone, 15 feet away, sipping a coffee. I didn't recognize her, but felt like I knew her. As I watched, a man walked behind her and as he passed he reached out and gently touched – just touched – her back and kept going. I never saw the man’s face, just his touch and passing . The woman turned, with a slightly stunned look, as if to see who had touched her and then as I watched, her face lit up with a smile.

And then I woke up and instantly knew that I had just witnessed Jesus blessing this woman. Very cool dream! But who was she?? I wanted to tell her the good news!

The only clue was her coffee cup: it was one of those plastic white ones meant to look like a Starbuck’s travel cup with a pink sleeve. I pondered this detail for awhile and remembered a woman co-worker visiting my desk just the other day with a white/pink coffee cup. I couldn't remember who but I thought it might have been Jessica or Kim.

Saturday I arrived at work to find Kim pulling a weekend shift. I asked her nonchalantly if she had a white/pink coffee cup – Yes! Later, when we had a moment, I explained my dream and my interpretation of it, and that I believed she may have been recently blessed by God. She seemed to like the idea of a “blessing” (although she might have been humoring the "crazy bald guy") but then she informed me that "Jessica also has a white/pink coffee cup."

Arrgghhh! God must really enjoy irony!

Along came Sunday and toward the end of church we were praying for Jill’s healing and Jill was crying and I kept thinking, “I wish the blessing in my dream was for Jill!”. At one point I opened my eyes and looked at Jill, wanting to comfort her and realized she was wearing a PINK sweater over a WHITE shirt!

So, maybe the blessing was for her. Or for Kim. Or Jessica. Or for all three. They have all been informed now that they may have been recipients of a God-blessing  and to keep their eyes open to spot it. But of course I already know, they were blessed by God a long time ago!

Speaking of Race Bib Numbers...

A writer asks: Hey Scott, does God ever speak to you through marathon racer bib numbers? (signed, Scott).

What? Actually I know exactly what "Scott" means. You see, I recently ran a 7 kilometer race—my 1st race ever—called the “Get Lucky” 7K Race. And my bib number was 1777.

I did not pick my bib number, it was just random chance that I received that number. Or was it?

I thought it was a pretty cool coincidence—my #1 race was a 7K. And I was lucky to get the three 7s. But wait there’s more to it. As my good friend, dream interpreter, and talented artist-celebrity Josie said: “Your bib number reminds me of Deuteronomy 28:7," which reads:

The LORD shall cause thine enemies that rise up against thee to be smitten before thy face:

they shall come out against thee one way, and flee before thee seven ways.

I love it! And so I delved a little deeper into it, which is what any self-respecting person who respects Josie would do. Here’s what I found: According to Commentary on the Bible, by Adam Clarke:

The Lord shall cause thine enemies, etc. - This is a promise of security from foreign invasion, or total discomfiture of the invaders, should they enter the land.

They shall come against thee one way - in the firmest and most united manner.

And flee seven ways - shall be utterly broken, confounded, and finally routed.

I love promises from God, especially a promise of security. And there’s no doubt of the disposition of the enemies as they flee: utterly broken. God has my back!

Then there’s Gill’s Exposition of the Entire Bible which says:

They shall come against thee one way - in a body, all together,

in large numbers, marching in great order…

That’s pretty daunting…and I would expect nothing less from The Enemy. But wait:

And flee seven ways – this phrase is expressive of an entire victory,

and of a complete rout and dispersion of an enemy.

That’s pretty epic: an entire victory and a dispersion of an enemy. God rocks!

Josie followed up with this:

The significance of seven has to do with refinement, and references God's perfection (rest on the seventh day, etc). So it's about the best number you could have in your corner. If numbers can go in corners.

And, delving deeper, because that’s what Josie does, she added this:

Okay, so I'm not trying to wear this 1777 thing out, but I ran across it AGAIN today in my reading. 1777 is the Strong's [Concordance] number for the Hebrew word "din", which means to judge or defend. The origin is having to do with the straight course of a sailboat, or judge as an umpire. A couple of verses that use this word seem important as it relates to you. I'm thinking it is maybe a gifting that you have that you are coming into--my gut is it has to do with intercession but also course correction, as in you are a "course corrector".

You have to make a judgement of a sort to make intercession--unless something is wrong you don't need to intercede for someone. So you have to identify the wrong thing. Also, defend people that need defending, and maintain a straight course. I think you are uncomfortable making assessments/judgments, which is probably why you have a gift in that area (i.e. you could never be mean spirited or critical in a vicious way.) I'm also thinking about that race tag being pinned on you--you've been labeled, marked, as it were. The heavens know, and soon other people will know too.

She provided 2 verses as examples:

Proverbs 31:8-9 Open thy mouth for the dumb in the cause of all such as are appointed to destruction. Open thy mouth, judge righteously, and plead (#1777) the cause of the poor and needy.

Zechariah 3:7 And the angel of the LORD admonished Joshua, saying, "Thus says the LORD of hosts, 'If you will walk in My ways and if you will perform My service, then you will also govern (#1777) My house and also have charge of My courts, and I will grant you free access among these who are standing here.

So, to answer Scott’s question…maybe God speaks through race bibs. More likely, God speaks through Godly women and men who are inspired by God to inspire and encourage others.

A Letter

Dear Jesus-

In my nearly-completed novel, “Such Is Life”, you play a starring role. In fact, it’s safe to say that you are the main character. The other main character, Steven Todd, is the one I envy, for he has access to you in the flesh-and-blood sense.

The story is a time-trip—which is feasible since you are not bound by time—and of course it is fiction. Perhaps even more specifically and realistically it is Speculative Fiction. A preacher might even call it Science Fiction--if he wasn’t calling it blasphemy.

Lucky man Steve gets to talk to you, in person, hear your responses, your laughter, your thoughts on favorite songs (Dr. Hook and Eric Clapton). He gets to feel, physically feel your love and strength, wonder about the power contained in a single tear as it courses down your cheek—and long to reach out and touch one. He gets to unabashedly hold your hand. Oh to be Steve.

Of course in a sense I am Steve—or rather Steve is me. Steven’s past is modeled on my past. And it wasn’t pretty--for either of us. Unfortunately for both of us, most of Steven’s story is not fiction. It really happened to me.

Except the hanging out with the Son of God in a St. Louis Cardinal’s baseball cap part.

So I find myself envying a fictional character of my own invention based on me. I’m sure there’s a paradox or an enigma in there somewhere. And the truth is I have more access to you than Steve does—it’s just a different kind. It’s real-time but not flesh-and-blood. It’s heart-to-heart but not splashed across the written page in visceral detail. It’s glorious without the drama—at least on your part.

And most importantly it’s real.

In the last 24 hours I have sensed you making moves in my life. Preparing me for a change. Or changing me for a new path. I see things in a different focus - like hig-def televison. I get little thrills from the most mundane occurrences: a bird flying past a window, a precise architectural feature, a spoken word--or one on a vanity license plate--that echoes in my mind throughout the day. I anticipate a new direction and feel exhilaration at the prospect. I have no idea what it is—a new career, a new business, success with my writing, a change in living situation? Whatever it is, it is from you so I know it will be good.

And in the meantime I am trying not to get bogged down in the little details, the circumstances of my life. Rent. Gas for the truck. Tires for Minda’s car. Braces for Andrew. These are all things you take care of—have been taking care of for many years. You boggle my mind with your just-in-time provisions. You are so good to us. All I do is pray and believe, and for every obstacle and challenge, you have a bundle of provision waiting in the breakdown lane.

But I won’t pray for the rent this time. You already know. I want to pray for others’ situations: Jill’s mouth, Pria’s health, Linda’s healing, glasses for Minda, Julie’s salvation. You already know of these things. You have no need for me to pray for these either.

So tonight I will pray for my relationship with you. For growth, and trust. For knowing you, not knowledge about you. For hearing you in my heart. For feeling your presence in me, not around me.

That is something Steve—if he was flesh-and-blood—would envy me for. And I couldn’t blame him.

Because that relationship is real.

As Kathy would say, Woo-Hooo!

My Soundtrack

Once upon a time, Satan told me…

It's always here and now my friend, it ain't once upon a time
It's all over but the shouting, I come to take what's mine
We're searchin' for the latest thing, a break in this routine
Talkin' some new kicks, ones like you ain't never seen

This is home, this is Mean Street
(“Mean Streets” – Van Halen)

But I told Satan…

Is that all you got?
I'll take your best shot
Is that all you got?
I'll take your best shot
I'll take your best shot
(“Boom” – P.O.D.)

And he did and I didn’t. Then one day God said to me…

I can be the wall when you fall down
Find me on the rocks when you break down
I heard it in the song when you call out
But I got to say now it's got to change
(“Renaissance” – Mat Kearney)

And He did and I did, too. But it wasn't enough; I looked at my family and told God…

I'll show them I'm willing to fight
And give them the best of my life
So we can call this our home
Lead me, 'cause I can't do this alone
Father, lead me, 'cause I can't do this alone
("Lead Me" - Sanctus Real)


And He is. And I proclaim to Him...

In your word I place my trust
In your word I rest
In your word I place my trust
For I know I must wait
(“I Wait for the Lord” – Jeremy Camp)

The Night I Cried Watching "Top Gun"

This "event" actually occurred a couple years ago, when we still watched television. I happened upon a late night showing of the movie "Top Gun" starring Tom Cruise as Maverick, Anthony Edwards as Goose, and the lovely Kelly McGillis as the lovely Charlie, the lovely instructor who captivates Maverick's heart.

Of course I had seen the movie several times over the years. But this night it had a strange effect on me: I started crying. Not like a baby, like a man who has spent decades teaching himself not to cry. (The result of this training, when it fails, is rigor mortis of the facial muscles and a frightening grimace. The grimace may in fact be caused by the unfamiliar burn of tears on the cheek skin. But I digress).

The tears had nothing to do with the death of Goose, who dies when he unsuccessfully ejects from a falling jet fighter. As sad as that scene is, and it is, what broke my tears loose was the realization that I had blown an incredible opportunity in my life.

No, I never had any desire to be a jet fighter pilot. But I wish I had had the desire to do something,  anything as honorable as that when I was growing up. I wish I had believed in something honorable, so much so that I would not have allowed ANYTHING to get in my way.

See, Maverick didn't just decide to be a fighter pilot. He wanted to be the best fighter pilot there was. He wanted to live up to his father's memory, the best pilot in his day, bar none. So Maverick finished high school. I imagine he went through ROTC. Before he could become a pilot, Maverick had to become an officer. So he probably attended the Air Force Academy at Annapolis where he received rigorous military training and obtained a Bachelor of Science degree. Then he could apply for the Top Gun training. Being accepted was not a given! But Maverick was determined, focused, and driven to accomplish his goal. And he did.

He acheived TOP GUN status, the best of the best fighter pilots.
In my high school days there was one thing I applied myself to and I was dedicated, committed, organized and single-minded in accomplishing my goal.

But a "speed-junkie", someone who injects methamphetamine three, four or even five times a day as a lifestyle, is not as honorable as a fighter pilot with a "need for speed".

I took it seriously, though: I was cautious in my acquisition of sufficient quantities of high-quality crystal meth. I was never arrested or even came close. I was never robbed or stabbed or shot in a drug deal gone bad. I dealt with top-of-the-line people in the business for the top-of-the-line product in town. I split the cost and bought in quantities for the best price breaks.

I paid meticulous attention to the fine details of the lifestyle: I used only fresh, clean and sharp U-100 insulin syringes purchased at the pharmacy in packages of 10. I accurately mixed the powder with water and then drew the mixture into the syringe through a rolled-up ball of cigarette filter to make sure I was filtering out any impurities. I almost always used alcohol on a cotton ball to wipe down my inner arm and I was careful about tapping out any air bubbles before shooting.

And despite my lack of chemistry training—I had dropped out of high school at the beginning of 10th grade to dedicate myself to my chosen vocation - partying—I always managed to measure out the correct dose, with an inherent talent for precision: just enough to rush like a bullet to Nirvanna but not enough to blow my heart out through my chest. I was even careful to rotate through my injection sites so as to allow the previous bruise and needle mark to heal unmolested.

Most importantly, I was careful to balance my life: the right dose of fun mixed in to the business of living life. At least in the beginning. I managed to hold on to my job and gain the respect of my co-workers. At least in the beginning. My roommates and I only rarely blew the rent in favor of an eighth-of-an-ounce of crystal.

Ultimately, I ended up living for 2 months in a rent-by-the-week roach-infested motel, rinsing residue from old vials and dull needles for just enough motivation to go flip hamburgers for 8 hours. When I finally escaped the trap and moved back home, it took months for the yellow bruises and needle pricks to heal. It took a couple of years to stop craving the rush. It took a decade to regain my integrity.

See, speed-junkies don't have integrity. They might before that first shot, but not after the second. You still have a choice after the first one: "never again" or, "make mine a double". Take that second one and your life will never be as honorable as it could have been.

So that's why I cried when I watched Top Gun. I made the mistake of comparing myself to Maverick and asking myself, "Why couldn't I have done that?" I hated the answer.

Today, on a daily basis I thank God that he protected me from myself long enough for me to realize that He still thinks of me as a beloved son. And I promise Him that I will do anything to keep my son from ever thinking shooting drugs in a piss-stained men's room stall is okay.

The Owl Says: Trust God

In the midst of my morning prayer time, I started praying for a co-worker (whose wife just had a baby and who will be taking the position of my boss in a couple of weeks). Almost immediately I received a picture of an owl with its eyes torn out as if by another raptor. It was a still picture, no movement, but I got the sense that the "other raptor" had just taken a bite before the picture materialized before my eyes.

My dream interpreter, Josie, said: "...your co-worker who is taking on a new position might be flying blind due to mistakes from the current boss.  Sight is particularly important to an owl, so losing his eyes would basically be a death sentence.  You should pray that your soon-to-be boss will be able to see clearly, or that you can be used in a roll referencing sight. Especially the last part.  You might be able to see problems that your new boss will not see, or cannot.  You could be indispensable to him, regarding sight."

My other dream interpreter, Darrell said: "There are two significant things about the eyes of an owl: 1) they are designed to see well in darkness and 2) unlike other birds, they are both facing foreword like a human’s which gives better depth perception. In the spiritual realm that means 1) being able to see in the midst of spiritual darkness and 2) being able to foresee what is coming. The owls eyes torn out means being handicapped in those two areas specifically. So, the owls eyes torn out means being deceived by darkness and unaware despite warnings of what is coming.

"So then the question is who has this handicap: you, your boss, our group, the world in general? Perhaps something to ask God about."

 
The answer I received when I prayed is that I should be available to my boss to help with his transition, but not push it. Just be ready and available. Which I have been doing now for the last two weeks. I believe he sees me as a resource. I hope he does.
 
But I also believe Darrell's thoughts pertain to me specifically too. I am easily deceived by darkness. And I am easily misguided by my foresight (or lack of). And so I take this as a warning to trust God, and not my feelings, foresight, or knowledge.

 

Trust God. Trust God. Trust God.