Unsatisfied By Average

The Musings of a Stubborn Believer

Author: Seán (page 15 of 31)

When I Forget…

December 21, 2011 / / 20 Comments

I simply cannot tolerate disconnect anymore… Not now that I know what it feels like to be full and free. I don’t care what I’m in the middle of doing. When I need to drop everything, I do.
I just do.

My thumb swipes left then right across glass, taps “Reminders.”
Check, check. Check. I scroll for the next thing.

These are days unbelievably full in this house. Unbelievably full. With not one, but four young minds straining over plans for the honor of God in Houston next week, (hours a day) there is never a dull moment.
Or a relaxed one.
But we’re honored to serve… Honored to go to war with darkness, as indeed such it will be.

But I glance around my room, across my desktop, through my inbox(es) for the next most pressing emergency. And I suddenly become aware of an emergency of a different character altogether.

It’s this little heart of mine. Something’s not quite right…

I don’t brush past a call anymore. I can’t tolerate being disconnected from heaven any more… It’s the worst torture. I glance at my watch. Almost noon.

I pocket my iPhone, tell my mother I’m going out for a while, take my little sister by the shoulders and ask her if she’s prayed today…
And I go out.

And what I learn on the snow-covered hillside I expect to take with me all through life.

–  –  –  –  –
Whether my days are full or empty, my greatest danger is the same…
To forget my calling.
To forget, to neglect, to lose under a pile of other stuff… same thing.
Because the moment I forget my calling, I lose track of God’s claim on my life.
And make no mistake, God’s claim is the purpose for living. Lose sight of it, and direction is gone, and meaning is gone. I’m at the mercy of my passions and whims–
At the mercy of my merciless enemies. 
But when the claim of God is understood, and the calling of God embraced, then I am alive. And I can fold my arms and stare massive losses in the face with perfect calm. 
Because my side wins either way…


All at once, I’m ready to work again. 
I’ve been up the mountain, through the valley, across the creek… on my way to Zion.

We Know

December 18, 2011 / / 6 Comments

I awake early. I’ve slept for only a few hours, but I am charged…
I blink at a dark room, pause to pray. To consider. To remember–

again.

I have no idea what time it is. I don’t check.
Instead, I count God’s mercies, and beg that He will keep us His… always.
That nothing will ever induce us to chose another life. That no success, no opportunity, no open door, no pain or loss, or suffering will distract us from His claims on this little family of mine.

Hours pass. I don’t know how many. The light of dawn finally glows in the east. I reach into the leather bag I set down by my bed at 11:00 last night, pull out a book, open to December 18.

“And we know that all things work together
for good to them that love God.“

“And we know…!” Not we think, or we hope. Not even we have faith that…
No, we know.
I know. I’d love to tell you just how, sometime…

I keep reading. But I’ve been fed already.

My mind wanders back over hours of prayers in the dark. There is only one condition in this verse before my eyes. “Love God.” For those who love God, one day (quite possibly much sooner than you think) all the darkness will be understood to be exactly what it really is– a gift.

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? 
shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, 
or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?. . . 
Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors 
through Him that loved us.”

Just a Pebble…

December 10, 2011 / / 5 Comments

Some day when every wrong is made right, I will understand the true weight of today. For now, let’s just say it was one of the best days of my entire life…

I step out, zipped and buttoned. Black wool and cashmere reach earthward almost to my knees. The very air is alive with vigor, somewhat like my insides… I go to meet my God in a beautiful field, on a beautiful farm, this beautiful morning of mornings.

I sit on sandstone at the spot where two friends of mine became one months ago, and read…
And my journal, this spiral bound book with my handwriting in it, this book that records the secrets of my broken-hearted moments, this book my Nana gave me, it opens my eyes to the goodness of my God.

Every moment I have lived, every mercy I have tasted, every tear I have shed, every battle I have fought, every dream turned to ashes, was for today.

Today.

Without them, the new dreams springing up would have nothing to root in; to feed on. Because of them, I love my God more than I love anything else in this great wide world. And I love all that is (are!) His…

Hours pass and I wander around the pond; ponder why my heart is here today anyway…

It was just a pebble.

Just a friend who doesn’t even know it happened. But just because they love Jesus, because they love what is high and holy and pure, and just because I was blessed to catch a glimpse of it when I was momentarily unsure of what to do with my sword, just because of that; them…..

Some day when every wrong is made right, I will understand the true weight of today.

Mean time, I will never again underestimate the power of influence…
Even if it does seem like just a pebble…

“Throw a pebble into a lake, and a wave is formed, and another…
until they reach the very shore. So with our influence. 
Beyond our knowledge or control it tells upon others 
in blessing or in cursing…
If by our example, we aid others in the development of 
good principles, we give them power to do good. In their turn 
they exert the same influence upon others, 
and they upon still others. 
Thus by our unconscious influence many may be blessed.”
Signs of the Times, Oct 21, 1903

A Day Which Will Live in Infamy

December 7, 2011 / / 6 Comments

I can think of others… Like the day Lusitania sank, or the Britannic.

But one principle pervades. Don’t ignore it for its over-simplicity.

When ships go down, they take men with them.

Men who would float, but can’t.
Can’t, because they’re surrounded (“entangled?“) by steel that won’t.

I’ve been reading II Timothy. (yes, still.)

And I’ve been chewing this one verse for days:

“No man that warreth entangleth himself with the affairs of this life…” II Timothy 2:4

Because “this life,” this vessel of pleasure, is already mine-struck.

Need I repeat myself? You’re a soldier.
Make absolutely certain you are on an unsinkable ship…

Love Stronger

November 30, 2011 / / 14 Comments

I thought I understood forgiveness.
Then the anguished cries of a heartbroken hero filled me first with wonder, then with hope…

–  –  –
–  –  –

Mahanaim, Land of Promise.

A king and a father await word of the battle, from the safety of the city’s gate.
At long last the runners are seen. The pacing ceases. The king must know the state of the nation. The father longs to know the state of his son.

The report arrives, breathless.
King listens. Father waits… Then:

“But what about my boy??“

Beg your pardon?

What boy?

You mean the one who killed your eldest son? That cold blooded barbarian who sought to steal from you everything you had, ending with the crown? The one that this very day launched a campaign to end your life? That boy?
The one who so slowly, so slyly turned the hearts of your friends against you? Turned your influence to ashes from the inside out? Shamed you? Defamed your character before your counselors? Unravelled every thread of trust in the fabric of your rule? That boy?
The one who won the hearts of the kingdom’s greatest talent, greatest beauty, greatest skill? Split your family in pieces, then laughed at your sorrow? That one?
That boy?


Yes. Exactly that boy.

And when the king-father hears that his son has fallen, he breaks in pieces.
He breaks into bitter sobs; looks for a place to hide his grief.
The guard tower above the gate will have to do. He stumbles up crude stone stairs meant only for soldiers. Breathless messengers and stalwart guards watch him go, hear him sob:

“O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!” (II Sam 18:33)

–  –  –

I blind with tears even now.
Lord of Glory, teach me the heart of forgiveness…

Don’t misunderstand me. I am known as a merciful man. But this has pushed the bounds of my conscious duty.

How in the world…?

It isn’t complicated.

Forgiveness is simply love, stronger.
Stronger than death.
I mean real love…

Until days ago forgiveness was mechanical in my mind. Simply a releasing of hate. Almost an aloofness that says “I’m fine, you’re fine. I’m not hurt by this.”

But forgiveness isn’t finished with the releasing of hate. It needs the (re)embracing of love.
Real love.

I can feel from here the throbbing hearts of readers that will never comment on this post. Hearts that cry because trust has been broken, shame has been dealt out. I sense tears, even in the dark. Your soul sinks, because you’re sure there’s more to this I can’t possibly understand.

I don’t pretend to fully understand, but my heart throbs with you. Nor am I so naïve as to believe that healing is always as quick or simple as a choice.
I have a Master’s degree in counseling. And I know and love more broken people than some will meet in a lifetime.

But please, oh please my friend… Listen to me. And then pass the word to every hurting soul you know.

Whether you’ve been defamed, distrusted, shamed, violated, exploited, stolen from, crushed, then laughed at…

Remember:
David was wounded by his own flesh and blood. His family. And it is those closest that have the greatest power to harm, as well as heal.

But David had love. Love stronger…

Love is stronger.
And to love is to be free.

Tell, oh tell the hurting world…

New CD!

November 28, 2011 / / 5 Comments

It was a beautiful home the Lord of Glory left, when He set out o His mission to save His friends… And it was a cold and barren wilderness He came to. But there was no hesitation. Heaven poured out praises as its Commander became nothing for an ungrateful race…
What He saw here to make Him choose pain and sacrifice over the adoration of angels, We Cannot Tell.

But He chose anyway. And it makes us sing…

Our new CD is shipping. Listen to samples, or order your copy right here.

Cost of Giving

November 24, 2011 / / 4 Comments

Like all gifts, Heaven’s almost always come with the price tag removed.
And that’s no accident. Because one shouldn’t be able to casually calculate the cost of giving…

–  –  –
–  –  –

Crickets sound and I quiet my iPhone in the dark. It’s not long before I’m smiling.

Thanksgiving day.
Best day of the year.

Gifts pile up all year long, and of course we say thanks along the way…

(I hope.)

But today is different.

Today we sing over our gifts, and keep singing.
But there’s more than that…

Because a step back to take in a full year’s worth of grace gives us a little bit better sense of the cumulative cost of the giving.

You know, the price tags are always removed before the gift is wrapped up pretty… Heaven does that too. Even if we were informed of exactly the purchase price, we wouldn’t remotely be able to compute…

So we’re given another way to understand.

Gratitude.

There is only one kind of person in the world that can grasp the value of a priceless treasure.

It’s the man or woman who rejoices over the gift they don’t understand until their own hear bursts with giving-back.

Gifts I’m rejoicing over (and over) today:
A bleeding Brow.        John 19:2
The Father’s Hands.     Luke 23:46
The innocent Face.     Mark 15:14
Everlasting Arms.      Deut 33:27
Eyes that never wander.    Psalm 33:18
A Heart that never forgets.    Isaiah 49:15 

“Don’t Be Ashamed of My Chains…”

November 17, 2011 / / 9 Comments

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I suddenly hear in his words an agony of earnestness that makes my heart stop. I breathe. Heave breathe; roll onto my side to get the weight off my chest. But it will not leave…

– – –
– – –

An old man, bent and nearly blind* is pressed down the corridor.
The step that once was firm and free is encumbered by shackles, the joints beg for mercy from the damp cold. This man is innocent. One look at his face is all it takes to prove it. But he is going to die.

You are in Rome. And this, is Nero’s dungeon.

Ruthless hands. Ruthless hearts.

The steps of the guards fade into silence and in my mind I am there.
There to see the great man grope about his cell; call out for his companion.
He calls for parchment, but he can’t see to write. Faithful Dr. Luke will write for him, this last will and testament. His hands tremble, his voice trembles, but this heart is strong.
Stronger than the Roman Empire.

It is Nero’s heart that trembles upstairs. (AA chap 48, “Paul Before Nero”)

But his frame is tired. And with the knowledge that he has not long to live, highest priorities becomes only priorities.
He wants to see his boy.

I do not know how the good doctor took the dictation without soaking the parchment with tears.
I couldn’t have.

I read the letter now, this last letter ever written by the Apostle to the Gentiles, this last will to the world, this letter to his boy, and I want to weep.

“I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith” (II Tim 4:7)

Indeed you have, sir. Indeed you have.

I hear his chains rattle. And I hear a cry that is half audacious challenge, half daddy’s heart.
I can almost see the hand upraised, silhouette of shackles against cold stone. And my heart stops…

Don’t be ashamed, my boy.
Oh, don’t be ashamed of my chains…

And don’t be ashamed of the Gospel. **

Luke writes. I read.

My heart leaps, as Timothy’s must have.
Timothy, who most likely did not make it back to Rome in time…

I hug my pillow. Pray—

Oh my Father…
let me never be ashamed.

*Many scholars believe the “thorn” of II Cor 12:7 was in fact near blindness…
**See II Timothy 1:8

Imperative of the Supernatural

November 14, 2011 / / 7 Comments

The sound of dry leaves underfoot charms me through. (I’m a midwesterner by breeding.)
I shuffle for the joy of the sound; the joy of the smell…

I breathe pure November under naked oak and hickory;
pause to watch the world readying for white…

And I wonder:

When a man of God does, who does the doing?

I have heard more than one new recruit on the field say to his fellow:

“Buck up, man! You’ve got what it takes.”

Hm.
Kinda.

I’m unconvinced. Especially when I remember that Adam in his spotless strength and beauty drew every drop of nobility he possessed from his connection to his Maker… even though he was fresh from the hands of God (and thus was arguably in the best place to stand alone). His glory, his perfection, his holiness were gifts given not to stand alone, but to put and keep him in connection with the Perfect and Holy… And even as every leaf today draws it’s life force, and every star it’s brilliance from the heartbeat of God, Adam drew his glory from the Infinite.

I other words, the crown of God’s crowning creation (read: humanity) was the connection with Heaven.
What can be compared?

But disconnect… Now there’s a real problem.

[I bend down, aim my iPhone a few inches above grade.]

Disconnect perfect angels, and you get demons.
Disconnect perfect and glorious humanity, and… Well, look around you.

And if Adam needed so badly to be connected to his God… then what are we thinking when we blaze off on our own? Or when we foolishly unfit ourselves for the inhabitance of the Holy Spirit… (emphasis on the word Holy.)

Every man of God, ever woman of God, is nothing.
The image of God, yes… But every shadow disappears when the object is removed.
Without the Supernatural indwelling, we are lifeless, empty shells.

Or worse.

Yea, much worse… the indwelling of the other supernatural.

You’re just a shell, my friend. Just a shell…

Ah, but what glory, when filled with Heaven itself!?
What an honor, to be God’s shadow.

Then let everything else be cast out, that we might not restrict the inflow of the Spirit.
Darkness and Light cannot both be.

Let the Light so shine…

Words of the King’s Daughters

November 13, 2011 / / 3 Comments

I awaken this morning on a Tennissee farm with a little question on my mind.

Perhaps you have picked up by now that I am passionate about the Gospel…

But I wonder if you know why.

It is really quite simple.

I love life.
I love life…

When a man loves, hard work isn’t heroism.
It’s joy.

Duty is joy.

Today I read a trilogy that made my Gospel-loving soul stand tall.

Written by three of the King’s daughters, who as far as I know, don’t know each other at all.

Not just the what of war, but also the why…

I’d tell you the secret, but their words are better than mine.

Go read the words. Eat the words. Live the words…

“The love of Christ constraineth us…”

Emily.    Esther.    Moriah.

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