A Disgraceful Story of God’s Beautiful Grace.

I’ve heard it said that for a drug addict who does not seek recovery, there are three ways out: ironically they’re all ins-: insanity, incarceration, or in the grave. I know I danced pretty close to the edge of all three in my teen years. I sampled more than a few mood-altering substances during that time, but I found my dance partner in crystal meth. She was my drug of choice and I fell head over heels for her. For nearly three years, during the time of life I should have been flirting with pretty girls and dating, finishing up high school and prepping for the real world, I was a hell-bent meth junkie. But here I am, relatively sane, free, and a helluva lot healthier than I was at 17-, 18-, 19-years old. Healthier physically, mentally and spiritually.

I probably sidestepped jail-time 4 or 5 times, usually with plenty of evidence to put me away. I know I sat in back of a police car far more times than I’d ever want to admit to my teenage son, Andrew. In retrospect, I can imagine God saying, “Really Scott? Again?” and working out the details of my inexplicable release. My buddy and I did spend one night in jail – for shoplifting brownies at a grocery store. It was stupid. We were stoned. We were stupid. I remember being scared to death, the bright lights of intake, the brute and scary faces, and everything so loud. During the processing, after fingerprints, the intake officer rolled up my sleeve, looked at my arm and asked, “Donate blood today?” and rolled his eyes when I nodded yes.

Obviously I’ve stepped away from the grave, but there were many times when I joked to my buddy that I probably wouldn’t make it to my 18th birthday. And we’d laugh and both say, “What a way to go!” Many nights I did enough meth for 6 or 8 people – in one shot. I can remember lying on my apartment floor, listening to Zepplin or Hendrix and feeling my body bounce off the carpet because of my pounding heartbeat. The thought would cross my mind, I wonder if I should call an ambulance. But that would open a big bag of pissed-off cats and I didn’t want to go there. Somehow, the day always dawned with me still alive. And prepping another shot for my day at work.

This was during the early days of the AIDS crisis and my buddy and I occasionally shared needles. How and why I survived this time, God only knows.

I don’t know for sure what insanity looks like, but I have a pretty good idea what it feels like. Toward the end of my meth run, I went through a period of amphetamine psychosis, when I didn’t trust my best friend, couldn’t hold a job, and alienated a lot of my other friends. I was also seeing things that weren’t there, thinking things that weren’t true – it was a bad time. We were living in a rundown pay-by-the-week motel, spending what little extra money we managed to keep in our pockets on cigarettes and Pepsi, occasionally food. And then one blessed day, God gave me a moment of clarity and whispered in my ear, “Call your mom.” I did and I left that world behind forever.

So I survived the 3 “Ins-” of addiction. I’m a successful husband, father, employee, even marathon-runner. I survived the dark night of my life story and came out alive and shouting: Woohoo – I’m great!

And that is the saddest, most despicable part of my story: that, while I wanted to blame my absent father or my abusive stepfather or my flighty mother or anyone else but me for pushing me into that life, when I finally cleaned up and got out of it, I wanted all the credit. I spent years, no decades telling myself, “Yeah, that’s right. I kicked meth's ass – without treatment or prison or Narcotics Anonymous. I did it on my own. I barely even missed it.”

But one day, about 13 years ago, the truth hit me: I didn’t do it; God did. He had covered my butt every step of the way. He kept me out of prison, out of a mental institution, AND out of the graveyard. He must have plans for me, though I’m still not sure what they are. I suspect He wants me to be a model, an inspiration. I have been told a few times that I have inspired people. I thought at one time it was just for Andrew, but I suspect it’s for a bigger target. Which is why I am willing to share this disgraceful story of God’s beautiful Grace.

I do know this: I am here – a husband, a father, a grandfather, a friend – only by His Grace and His Mercy. I have learned to listen when God whispers in my ear. It has saved my life before.

I Called Myself

…But He Named Me

¹⁶ These are the twelve he appointed: Simon (to whom he gave the name Peter), ¹⁷ James son of Zebedee and his brother John (to them he gave the name Boanerges, which means “sons of thunder”)…

When I was 2, my parents divorced and my father moved away and I called myself “Fatherless”.

When I was 5 or 6, the “bad thing” happened and I called myself “Afraid”.

When I was 7, my mother married a man who adopted me and I called myself, “Stepson”.

When I was 10, it had become clear that my stepfather was an abusive alcoholic, and I had learned to call myself, “Unworthy” and “Dumb”.

When I was 16, I discovered the fleeting pleasure and fictitious escape of drugs, and I called myself, “Junkie”.

When I was 22, I found a career I adored and I called myself, “Model-builder”.

When I was 29, the economy hit bottom and I called myself, “Unemployed”.

When I was 35, I married a lover of Jesus and I called myself, “Husband”.

When I was 38 I became a father of a little boy and I called myself, “Frightened Father”.

When I was 40, God called to me, louder this time and…a little while later I called myself, “Believer”.

When I was 45, I looked to Jesus and laid those other names at His feet. And He gave to me the name, “Beloved Child of God.”

Direction, Clarification...Example!

Originally I was planning to skip church today – church as in a conventional church service at my stepson Jason’s church – complete with big screen projection system and no couches, recliners or big pillows on the floor, like I’m used to. I needed to get in my last long training run before next Sunday’s Minneapolis Half-Marathon.

But Jason and his wife Erika invited us, enthusiastically, several weeks ago to join them any Sunday. But with my long run already planned and my disdain for “regular church”, I opted to stay home to run and enjoy a little Scott-time while Minda and Andrew joined them in Eagan at Chapel Hill Church.

But almost immediately I felt conflicted and convicted. No doubt, we could all use an infusion of God-time; since stepping away from our home-church to follow the mission God has set before us, we are often times “wandering and wondering” what we are supposed to do in this mission of “loving people. Plus, we wanted to honor Jason’s heartfelt invitation and support Erika in her new found trust in Jesus. What better way to “love people” than to love Jason and Erika?

But real church? Yuck!

I love Jason. Jason the man is as interesting and likable as Jason the boy was challenging and dramatic. Seeing his faith – which was apparent even as a 10-year-old boy – grow rock solid is inspiring. His heart is big, and he loves God and His church home in Eagan. And to see him lead his new wife to Christ, as his mother did with me, is exciting and heartening.

But till  I went to bed Saturday night planning to run the next morning. And then I had this dream.

Like most “God-dreams”, the context was vague, the preamble sort of fuzzy, but what I remember was flipping through the pages of a notebook and then pointing to one page and telling whomever I was showing, “See, God told us that this commandment was above all the others: Love one another.” And then I promptly

awoke. God does that; He knows if He doesn’t I’ll probably forget the dream by morning’s light.

As we sipped our coffee, I told Minda that I could map out a running route through Eagan that ended at Chapel Hill Church to get my 6 miles in and she could bring a change of clothes for me. Ever the pragmatist, she suggested I run immediately and grab a quick shower at home before we headed out.

So I ran, showered and we headed to church. “Real church.”

We pulled into the parking lot to be greeted by the marquee – Love is God. Hmmm.

And then there was the program, with the quoted Scripture of John 4:7-9

⁷ Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. ⁸ Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. ⁹ This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him.)

And then the service began – focused entirely on…loving people. The “sermon” was 5 minutes of instruction – “stop talking about it and start loving people” – and then we spent the next 20 minutes greeting and talking and sharing with people we had never met. And it was good, warm, sincere greeting and meeting and loving God’s children.

How much reassurance did God think I needed to know that was what He wanted me to understand!?

First the dream to clarify and magnify His directive. And then an example and practice session in a real church that didn’t feel like a real church.

It felt like a home church. And I'm really glad I listened to God's latest direction: "Go to church today."

Must Read - Many Times

This is so profound and simple and emotional and true:

Tamara's post.

I wish everyone could see that this IS how Jesus truly is.

A Funny Thing Happened at Ikea

God is relentless! I thought we had reached a happy place in our (His) quest to make me bolder. You know, I agreed I needed to work on stepping out boldly, living my life more on faith and less on knowledge. And I made a few forays into boldness, but like I said, I was working on it. Jesus, I'm not done yet.

But He had to ramp it up a notch on Saturday morning.

So we're sitting there in the Ikea restaurant, sipping on mediocre (but free before 10 a.m.) coffee, waiting for the 10 a.m. mad dash into the store when it opened. We were discussing the new direction God has pointed us in, a new mission we have started calling "the Eleventh Commandment mission". We were wondering what the next step God might have in mind for us to take. I glanced out over the sea of breakfast diners and soon-to-be-shoppers, and noticed a woman heading toward our general vicinity (on her way to the condiments counter behind us). She looked to be in her early 60's, wearing a bright yellow and green floral bandana cap such as a chemo patient might wear to hide her hair loss.

I made eye contact and glanced away and immediately sensed God telling me to look again. I did. And God told me, "You need to tell her I think she's beautiful."

What?

I tried to ignore the instruction, drown out the voice, but that only resulted in tears crowding into my eyes. Why, I don't know. Minda said something about God's plans and I said, reluctantly since I knew it would make it more difficult to ignore, "God just sent me a message."

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'm supposed to tell that woman over there that she's beautiful."

"I hope her husband doesn't mind!"

"No! I'm supposed to tell her God says she's beautiful."

"Why are you still sitting here?"

So, we stood up, and meandered in the general direction of this woman, who was sitting at a large table rapidly filling up with her family members. I secretly hoped Minda would head out to the store instead, or someone would trip me and I would fall to the ground unconscious, or a fire alarm would ring and we would stampede to the exits - anything to avoid stepping out of my comfort zone and talking to a strange woman about something that might be a hot button for her.

But no, Minda stopped a few feet from the woman's table and waited for me with a half-smile on her pretty lips.

So I stepped over and rested my hand on the woman's shoulder. She looked up and I said, "This is a little weird for me, but God told me to tell you he thinks you are beautiful." She looked stunned, sort of smiled and said, "Thank you."

I turned and walked away and was washed with a rush of God love, feeling so strongly that this obedient son had just pleased his Father. The tears threatened again and I smiled at Minda as we waited for the store to open.

One more step forward in boldness...

Overdue Book

For once I don't have an overdue library book in my house! Of course that's because I returned it this morning. And it was one that Andrew checked out on my card...but I'm stalling...

I am happy to announce I have published my novel Such is Life as an E-Book on Smashwords. I call it an overdue book because it has taken me over ten years to write (and at least that many "final" versions) before I had the guts to finally call it complete. And then I let it sit out there on the Internet, no fanfare, no bottle of champagne, no marketing plan or book tour. Just sit there in the ether waiting for my millions of fans to just happen along and find it sitting there, crying to be read.

The truth is, it scares the hell out of me to announce it!

Lots of reasons: may be construed as blasphemy - I do have Jesus Christ as a main character doing a few un-Jesus like things (not like that, just goofy things like enjoying rock and roll, fast ride in a car, hanging out with sinners - oh wait...). And it could be considered a little too autobiographical (please note: the wife in the book, Sherry is NOT Minda - don't let her tell you she is!). And it could be a really bad example of really bad writing by someone who is too dense to understand he really can't write.

But the truth is - and I say this humbly - I re-read it this week and I really like it! And I haven't touched, edited, modified or tweaked it since March (in order to read it with a clean palate). I was surprised, I was moved, and I think it might actually be pretty good.

And despite the playing around with the time/space continuum and putting Jesus in a Cardinal's baseball cap, I believe I have absolutely glorified God with this story. And that was my intention.

So, if you are so inclined, please check it out on your Nook, Kindle, Kobo, iPad, iBook, etc. Here's the synopsis:

One man's need for forgiveness is another man's cross to bear. Just ask Steven Todd. Twenty-five years ago Steven was a teen-aged druggie surviving from needle to vial in Austin, Texas. Now he’s a respectable family man, a quiet but confident  Jesus-freak and a small-business owner on the verge of major success—he’s meeting the U.S. president next week. Most importantly for Steven, his wild past is buried. 

At least until his old friend and shooting partner, Randy Oliver, hitchhikes to town. Stunned to see his old friend wandering St. Louis--alive, no less--Steven welcomes Randy into his home, his family and his church. 

When Randy reveals he has less than six months to live, Steven hopes to introduce him to Jesus before it’s too late. But when Randy reminds Steven of their dark secrets, secrets that could disintegrate Steven's veil of success, he makes a decision that could damn his life—now and eternally.

(This book contains a few instances of rough language reflective of the harsh lives and times of the characters.)

And here's the link to Such is Life.

And here's the coupon code to get Such is Life for half-price: AJ24A

God is a Screenwriter

So I have this new friend, Lisa. I don't know her very well - yet. But I am already captivated by her. She has this...presence about her that is part confidence/part vulnerability - perhaps it is part defensive bravado/part childlike-ness (not sure if that is really a word, but I'm the blogger here, so I declare it so!).

Lisa has a simply pretty face that is often serious, and yet, when she smiles, she glows! Whatever it is about her, I strongly believe she is the recipient of God's overflowing lovingkindness (now THAT's a word that has to have God in the definition!) I also believe (instinctively for I have no knowledge or evidence to back this statement up) that she does not realize or recognize that God is raining His lovingkindness down on her.

It's not that she wouldn't love to to accept this gift, I'm sure. I think she has so little experience in receiving such a gift from the people in her world that she has moments of little reason to believe it could come direct from God to her. (I also may be over-analyzing this person I barely know!)

My other new friend, Jennifer, must recognize something in Lisa also. Last night at our weekly get together, she was praying for Lisa and she said two things that perked up my ears. She mentioned God's EXTRAVAGANT love for us, particularly Lisa. And she pointed out that God "dreamed you up, Lisa, to be exactly who you are and that's how he sees you". (That last was paraphrased as I have hit-and-miss memory as we shall see...but it's close!)

Extravagant is another word that I believe requires God's name in the definition. I love that word!

But it was the second statement Jenn made that triggered a memory for me, of an event that happened the previous Sunday night after our meeting. Minda and I were home watching a DVD and one of the characters in the story told the other character, "I wish you could see you as I see you." And at that precise moment - not after, but during the time the actor was saying this line - I heard God whisper, "You need to tell Lisa this." I sat up and hit the pause button on the remote and told Minda, "Wow! I think God just told me I need to tell Lisa those exact words."

It kind of freaked me out...so much so that I immediately started doing what Satan wanted me to do, which was to question, analyze, doubt and ultimately dismiss it as my imagination. Crafty little devil, he is. (At the time, Minda thought I meant our other friend Lisa, who is not experiencing as much drama in her life as this Lisa, so even Minda looked at me a little tilt-headed!)

And so I promptly forgot about it.

Until last night when Jenn's prayer reminded me - and made me realize that perhaps this was the moment when God wanted me to tell her - she was in tears, questioning, doubting, hurting.

So I told her and she smiled, tears running down her cheeks. I think she even glowed a little with the knowledge of God's lovingkindness.

I can't wait to get to know my new friend better.

...With a Cherry on Top

So, it turns out God answers prayers...and then adds a little finishing touch. I can even sense a "wink, wink, nudge, nudge" in His message. Here's what happened...

I've been dissatisfied at, stressed from, and frankly concerned for the future of, my current employer. For reasons that don't need further extrapolation, I have been seeking a new job for over a year. Researching and applying for jobs similar to and a step forward from my current one - what I feel I am supposed to do now that I'm a "grown-up" - was leaving me cold. It felt like I was trading one bad situation for another one. But what's a grown-up to do?

I networked of course, and spread the word to friends and family that I was looking for a "customer service" job. One good friend, Mark, sent me a posting for the company he works for - as a fill-in type position as I looked for my grown-up job. The position seemed, on the surface, interesting but did not pay appropriately. I blew it off almost instantly.

And then I went on an LSD trip with said friend - that is, in our training for an upcoming half-marathon, we ran a Long Slow Distance run - I believe it was eight miles that day. (Truth is, with Mark, it isn't really ever slow!) At some point in our huffing and puffing conversation, he mentioned the position at this small company (DING! - I like working for small companies - always have, in fact that's one of the appeals of my second shift job - small group of co-workers. It's like a small company within a big one.) and how flexible the hours were (DING! - I need a job with flexibility so I can pick Andrew up from school) and that the hand-assembly (DING! - I so miss creating/building/fabricating with my hands) was something I could easily do with my background (model-building) and that the company was full of Believers (DING! - perfect!). Also, the office was located in our community - just 4.5 miles from our house - easily bike-able, even occasionally run-able (DING! DING!)

I sent my resume/cover letter that very night.

And, conversely, interviewed for a position at my current employer a few days later. It seemed like a good move - a day position with a step above what I've been doing on the night shift. It was daytime hours (possibly flexible) and meant working in the large population of "daywalkers". I would still be driving a computer (with my hands) sitting at a desk, but it would be more hours and, I assumed it would come with a significant pay increase. Interviews, three of them, went well enough (backed up with a lot of prayer). It was a grown-up thing to do.

Four days later I was sitting in the office of the president of the small company where Mark works, animatedly and enthusiastically discussing everything from my squirrel feeder patent and how that whole business was started in our dining room in St. Paul, to the good ol' days of architectural model building. We talked about their handful of employees (DING!) and how their products (related to air pollution and auto emissions - I think they have a long and huge future in the upcoming green-conscious next century or two!) are hand-assembled (DING!), that they have flexible hours (DING!). Oh, and did I mention that upon the founder's bookshelf, within easy reach, sat a Holy Bible? (DING!)

I spent a lot of time over the next 24 hours praying, telling God that I really, really, REALLY wanted this job, but that it needed to work money-wise (that whole grown-up thing reared it's pragmatic face). I even posted my little prayer on the KTIS radio website among all the "serious" prayers.

Two days later I received word from my current employer that, though they were offering the position for which I had interviewed to another candidate, they were offering me a different one, a little more in line with my current skill set and certainly helpful in preparing me for stepping into the larger role in the future. But no, the hours were not flexible, and since I am already at the high end of the pay scale for that position, there would be no rate increase at this time. I was a bit relieved (the bigger position had some intimidation factor going for it) and flattered (she sounded sincere in her predictions of future movement) and I told her I would get back to her in the next day or two once Minda and I figured out how to make it work.

And four hours later I received an email offering me the job at the small company. With pretty much everything I had hoped for.

John 11:40

I wanted to expand on my previous post, mainly to see if I could disect the scripture further and clarify it in my mind.

THe scripture is John 11:40


Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”

(Context: Jesus is about to resurrect Lazarus from death and Mary questions the intelligence of this plan due to the possible stench of decomposition.)

My take (with help from “Gill’s Exposition”, et al): Jesus expresses a touch of frustration at Mary’s unbelief since he has already told her to believe in him. And he intimates that by exercising her faith (by believing her brother will be raised), she will have a renewed ability to truly believe Jesus is the son of God. Also, those who exercise their faith often will see the glory of God often – in provision and promises.

My situation: I was struggling with the pain in my heels, inconsistent and hard to nail down the cause of (I pretty much avoid doctors, so it was between me and my Physician) and was about ready to give up my running. But when I sent in the registration for the half-marathon – in effect exercising my faith – I felt in my spirit Jesus telling me, “I’ve been telling you all along that it would be okay. You just had to believe!”

My application: I am believing!! And the pain is diminishing daily. I continue to train for th ehalf-marathon and am believing that there is no stopping me now. I am standing in faith that I will see the glory of God in the continued resurrection of my body from the several decades of obesity death in which I had buried it.

Other notes:

*to "see the glory of God", is to see Christ

*Mark 9:23 …"Everything is possible for him who believes."

Done.

Running on Faith

Yesterday I mailed in a form to pre-register for an October 27 half-marathon run. I say run because it’s not a race for me – I have no delusions that I might win! I do hope to beat my time from last year, but more than that, I hope to finish it with my heels intact.

I have been having issues with my heels – maybe Achilles tendon, maybe just bruised heel bone, maybe….who cares. It hurts sometimes, and sometimes it doesn’t, with no rationality to it. And that, according to my wise wife is the key. She believes there is something – a thought, a fear, something holding me back that manifests itself as pain in my heels. And makes me question the sanity of continuing to run.

I actually printed out the registration form Monday a week ago...and it sat on my dresser till Thursday. Still undecided...Maybe I should just stop this nonsense...Stop running for the rest of 2012…Continue biking and rest my heels…Start over in 2013 and plan for the Get Lucky 7K race. No! I’ll just run slow and short miles – two here, three there, and always a rest day between.

So I filled out the form last Friday and then...it sat on my dresser. What's it gonna be (formerly) Fat Boy? You gonna let all the hard work fall to wayside because of a little pain that crops up every now and then? Some occasional pain that makes no rhyme or reason? Sometimes running makes it hurt, but not running for a week made it absolutely worse. And biking? What’s up with that? Biking makes the post-run pain dissipate completely?? How does that work? Maybe it's all in my head?

I mailed the form yesterday and...I feel like an Athlete again! Yes, capital "A" athlete, as in I'm calling myself that again. More importantly I'm feeling like an Athlete again. I'm thinking like an athlete, planning like an athlete, training like an athlete. And it feels good! Feels great!

It's amazing and crazy what a little step of faith will do. Of course when is faith not irrational? And not amazing?!

It feels like that little step – sticking on a stamp and dropping the envelope in the box resonated in my spirit and filled me up with the conviction that yes, that was the right thing to do. No matter what happens, that was the right thing to do.

I got a wink and a nod from The Coach upstairs!! And my heels feel normal. Most of the time.

In John 11:40, Jesus says, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”

I’m going to believe…and look for the glory of God to continue to reveal itself as He resurrects this body that I nearly destroyed.

High Voltage Surprise

I called it the Beast Brick - a brick being a combo of running and biking. The Beast part referencing this being my first attempt at pushing my body this hard. In an effort to ramp up my fitness regimen - and speed up attaining my goal weight of 200 pounds (7 more to go!) - I rode 6 miles, ran 2 miles and then rode another 6 miles. I did all this in 87 minutes.

Tuesday's surprise from God - my Counselor, Trainer and Healer - is that not only did the Brick not kill me, it super-charged me for the rest of the day! I'm talking non-stop energy coupled with zero aches and pains. I was watching for the crash - it never happened. And I was looking for things to do to burn off the energy. I did the planned grocery shopping, added in some yard-work, played Legos with Andrew, prepped a serious Indian meal, cooked said meal for the family and a couple of guests, and even adjusted the handlebar height on Minda's bike. I finally called it a night at 1130 that night. Whew!

And the best part of all, the long-standing Achilles tendon pain I have been battling for several months - which I was afraid would flare-up exponentially after this exertion - seems to have disappeared. Not completely, but nearly so.

Thank you God for giving me the motivation, inspiration and fuel to push myself this far. Thank you for rewarding my hard work with freedom from pain and exhaustion. Thank you for healing my heel pain. Thank you for the high-voltage energy.

Surprise!

This past Sunday our friend Mark mentioned his friend Terry Esau had written several books, one of which is the invitation, "Surprise Me, God".  In Terry's words: "What if you started the next thirty days with those three words?" I'm in!

I'm cognizant of the fact that every day is filled with miracles/surprises from God; I also know I'm often oblivious to said miracles, and miss the chance to thank Him. I jumped into this idea with the sole intent of discerning those gifts and acknowledging His work in my day.

Monday July 9 was day one for me, and as I talked with God in the early morning hours, I asked him to surprise me. And I asked Him to help me notice, to sharpen my discernment.

Anticipation can be sweet torture, but waiting on the Lord has become an easier discipline for me in the last few years. I often say, “Life’s an adventure; what’s God got planned for me next?” But lately I have noticed I’m also intrigued by the timing God chooses. I want to ask Him, “Why did such and such happen that particular day or moment or year?” It’s not petulant childish impatience, it’s pure, delightful curiosity and marveling at His perfect design.

So Monday morning, the temperature was thankfully down from the last few weeks and Andrew and I are outside working on the front lawn (and his “work ethic”, the lesson we hope to impart this summer, God willing!).

The mail carrier arrived as we were edging the lawn. It was our usual carrier, a woman I consider an “old hippy”, about my age. She usually parks across the street from our house, loads up her bag and heads down the street, delivering her parcels along the way, crosses over and ends back at our address for the last deposit before heading out. Today, however, she pulled in right at the end of our driveway – on the wrong side of the road – and hopped out. She said a cheery good morning, delivered our mail (and our duplex-mates as well) and then pulled across the street to her usual spot and went about her usual business of delivering the neighborhood’s mail.

It was kind of odd, but I dismissed it and finished up the task at hand. Heading into the house for a drink of water, I grabbed the mail – a bill, a flyer, a coupon book. And there was an envelope from GC Incorporated.

GC pays us a quarterly amount to private label and market our patented squirrel feeder. Per our agreement, GC has 30 days after the end of the quarter to pay us. With the economy the way it has been, the last couple of years GC has been taking advantage of the full 30-days before paying us, I’m guessing to collect as much interest as they can before disbursing the funds. Good for them, not so good for us. They used to pay within the first ten days. And July always seems to be the worst time of year for us financially.

Petulant childish impatience abounds in late June/early July when the bills come due.

Yet there was the check, on July 9^th, answering my prayer from July 5^th when I realized we were going to be hard-pressed to make it to next payday with gas in both cars!

Thank you God! But what’s with the urgent delivery? In my mental replay, the hippy mail carrier skids to a stop, screeching tires and all, jumps out, waving the envelope for me to see and then drops it in the box before dancing away. Didn’t happen exactly that way, but I get the feeling God was having a grand chuckle as I processed the ensuing events.

All I have left to say is, “Good one, God! And thank you - again! And, what’s next? Surprise me, God!”

A Mission Unfolding

When I read this*:


“…we should live missional lives…we should befriend people who are different from us…”

And

“…he was talking about loving people just because they exist…”

And

“…praying…that God would teach us…to notice people who needed to be loved.”

I thought,

God is telling me to love people – people who may not meet all the bullet points on my check-off list. And I need to love them merely because they, like me, are beloved children of God, no other reason. And I need to be on the lookout for these people, to pray for the discernment to see their pain.

I believe,

God is revealing the mission he has for me, the one he hinted at four or five years ago with the prayer vision of a sun-bleached, sawn-off tree stump, with a growing green shoot and the words, “You think you have reached the end. But I have a new direction for you.”

At the time, with our life settled, prosperous and happy, I wondered what the “end” was and what the new direction was to be. Now I believe I know: the end of me being reclusive and non-confrontational and the beginning of a journey of interaction.

When I think about it, it seems as if my spirit has been in secret communication with The Spirit, for I realize God has already implemented this plan, that God has been attuning me to people who need to be loved. And I have been a willing participant.

I have stepped out of my comfort zone in several instances to open or deepen a relationship with someone I would not normally be inclined toward. Many have been my co-workers; my employer’s place of business seems to be a clearing house for broken people. But there are others in my day-to-day life – neighbors, parents of my son’s friends, etc – to whom my standard rhetorical question, “How ya doin’?” no longer suffices.

And this has been happening for 3 or 4 months: I told one co-worker I was worried that she had given up on her health and sent her an inspiring video that showed God has no use for diagnoses like "You will never walk again." She responded positively to what I said, something that could have been mistaken as hurtful and vicious on my part. Another friend told me she was forgoing her college-education plans due to the expenses that were racking up faster than she anticpated - and I boldly told her, "It sounds like you are giving up on your dreams. Don't!"

Who is this guy with the big mouth?? The old me would never be so bold!

I’m surprised to say I am “hungry” to extend myself toward others. How ironic that God has replaced my hunger for unhealthy food with a hunger for human interaction with people I would normally stroll past, tossing out a circumspect up-nod as I hurried past.

Two days ago I actually approached a co-worker whom I had avoided for two years, and shared a personal story – running, weight loss and goals for endurance running. This led to a surprising and warm conversation between us and ended with an encouraging word for both of us.

I knew several hours before it happened that I was being directed to initiate the conversation. I even tried to procrastinate, secretly hoping he would leave for the day before I followed my direction.

But follow the instructions, I did. And it felt good and right and, most important, obedient. Obedient to this scripture (which announced itself loudly the following morning while I was searching out a different one):

Therefore if there is any encouragement in Christ, if there is any consolation of love, if there is any fellowship of the Spirit, if any affection and compassion, make my joy complete by being of the same mind, maintaining the same love, united in spirit, intent on one purpose. Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others. (Philippians 2:1-4)

I recently had a long talk with God and named and gave him all my fears. I don't know if this one - Fear of Meaningful Interaction with People I Barely Know - was specifically addressed in that discussion. But apparently he opted to include it in the scrubbing. Which is good, as this feels like it could be a bumpy ride. Wish me Godspeed!

*Thank you Donald Miller for bringing these gems to my eyes in your book, “Blue Like Jazz”.

Dream Prayer

I woke up abruptly from a dream this morning, usually a good indication God wanted me to pay attention! The dream seemed insignificant except for on e aspect: I prayed in the dream. It was for a "fat kid" that was being picked on at a school. I prayed for God's protection and peace. And then I woke up.

I woke up with a lot of questions:
Who was the "fat kid"?
Do prayers in dreams work? (Duh!)
Why did God want me to remember this dream?

The answers I've received so far are:
I am/was the fat kid. Often picked on in school, I never thought to pray for protection back then - too bad!
Of course, God is not bound by time or the consciousness state of one of his children - the dream "worked" for whatever purpose God had in mind.
The reason is so I would ponder God and all his amazing techniques for saying "Pay attention to me!"

Paying attention is becoming a way of life for me, Father. But I need the reminders! Thank you.

New Year, New Life

I wrote this on the last day of 2011:

And so begins a new year and a new life. I say new, at the age of 49, because what I learned last year makes this year something unique. I learned that I have a future, that I am stronger than I ever believed. And that my relationship with Jesus can be as intimate and "real" as a worldly relationship, and exponentially richer than I ever realized.

The truth is, God not only blessed me the day I was born, but he was willing to let me spend my inheritance as a young and dumb man. And then he extracted me from the muck of the world I had immersed myself in, wrapped his arms around me and resurrected my life.

If ever I was to consciously live as Jesus lived, the beginning was last year, when he rolled away the grave stone. I am alive and ready to live, thank you, Father God!

What will I do with this new life, this new power with which God has imbued me?

I will follow Jesus more closely so I can truly learn from The Teacher. I will seek the holiness he offers to me, a son of Adam. I will embrace the joy that comes from the title, Son of God. And I will enjoy the peace that comes from living with him in me. I will shed the cloak of fear that has named me Afraid the whole of my life. And I will gladly wear the name, Son of God.

And I will stand, with Jesus by my side, and name the fears. And I will cast them out, with the power of Jesus in me:

Fear of Embarrassment - how silly you are to think you can direct the path of a Son of God. What purpose have you served all these years? For too long you have clamped my mouth shut, tied my arms down, whispered supposed ridicule in my ear. Be gone, in the name of Jesus Christ, my King.

Fear of Violence - when you attached yourself to me, as a child I embraced your whispers of safety and held tight. And now, nearly a half-century old, I shed you like old yellow skin. I discard you like a filthy tissue. In the name of Jesus Christ my Brother, I have no further use of you.

Fear of Alienation - you have crept up on me in the last two decades or so, robbing me of the simple belief in the open hearts and goodness of my fellow children of God. But I have come to realize that, if at the end of all things, no one in the world likes or loves Scott Shultz, I rest easy knowing that the Inventor of Love does, the Composer of Love does, the Author of Love does, the Epitome of Love does. Be gone, Fear, in the name of Jesus Christ my Friend.

Fear of Discomfort - you have many disguises, but your true nature has been revealed. I know you as "Fear of No Money", yet you have never reached your potential; God is my provider. I know you as "Fear of Homelessness", yet you have missed your mark; God has sheltered me. I have seen your "hunger-face" and never known hunger. I have glimpsed your "entitlement-mask" and am ashamed to have tried it on. But God has shown me - his gifts are sweeter, richer, more satisfying than all the "treats" of the world.

Be gone!

Fear of Discovery - you think you hold the secrets of my life hostage and taunt me with threats of ransom and revelation. But the truth is - that veil was lifted long ago. And those who love me, love me secrets and all. Perhaps there are still secrets hidden away, but Jesus holds them in his hands. And he will choose what to do with them. Your tenure is revoked, in the name of Jesus Christ my Counselor.

Fear of Insanity/Health Issues - my days of youth were spent playing in a dangerous laboratory and I have no idea what price I may pay for those experiments. But I do know that your whispers and worries fall on deaf ears now. I know that your prophecies and reminders of "family history" hold the weight of dandelion feather. Already they have been whisked away by a cooling breeze, in the name of Jesus Christ my Physician.

Done.

Divine Cloak of Invisibility

Would God protect an average Joe Q. Believer from a speeding ticket? What about 2 in one week?

I’m not normally a speeder—at least since I left the frenetic pace of my late teens-early twenties (coincidentally the same period that I was the proud owner of a turbocharged Dodge Daytona). But, yeah, I usually push the speedometer four or five miles past the posted. On the highways, at least.

Neighborhood streets, where children and squirrels often play, I’m very conscious of my speed and peripheral vision. But the other day, heading late to work, I urged my truck to about ten over the posted on a main asphalt artery to Highway 77. I know this stretch is often targeted to fatten the coffers of the city of Bloomington, MN, so I rarely push my luck here. But I was late, mid-year reviews, etc. etc.

So there I was, doing 45 in a 35 when I spotted the black and white. I even watched—in slow-motion it seemed—as the officer set aside the radar gun in preparation of the short pursuit to hand over my certificate of donation to the city.

But it never happened. I called my wife 5 minutes later—when I was sure I was in the clear—and told her “God’s Cloak of Invisibility is on my truck!”

Five days later, rushing down I-35 to my son’s orthodontist appointment, I was doing my usual, carefully-calculated 10 mph enhancement. Parking is hell in downtown Minneapolis, so I tweaked an additional 5 on my speedometer to buy an additional 5 seconds of parking time.

And there he was, a two-wheeled keeper of the peace, lounging in the shade of an overpass, radar phaser in hand.

Three miles down the road I called my wife and whispered—not wanting to alert my son to the scofflaw status of his father—“God’s Divine Cloaking Device is still on my truck!”

“You better stop it!” she chuckled. This coming from a woman who has received two speeding tickets in the last year! Of course, in the twenty five years leading up to those two, she had only received one such summons.

Now, I’m all for trusting God in everything—EVERYTHING—I do. But I also knew I better stop testing Him. I’m officially on the speed-limit wagon. Go 55!

Last night at work, I received an email from my wife. She was organizing the junk drawer—it’s an annual rite for her—not sure why. She wrote: “Found the license plate tags for your truck—from May! Three months??”

The bible tells me that faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. I can’t always see God working in my life—haven’t seen that hefty advance for my first novel. But I have faith that He is working it everyday. And even though I saw it this time, I put those tabs on first thing this morning. And I cranked up my Trust-In-God dial to 11!

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!