A Walk To Remember

Here are a few snapshots from yesterday's walk with Mariah Grace.

There Are Some People I Miss...

And then, there are some that I do not.

One of these days I'm going to list them in alphabetical order.
(Stay tuned...)

I Pledge Allegiance...

I feel a sermon coming on...

Asheville Drum Circle

Home Sweet Home

A Hope and Future

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD,
" plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you
a hope and a future.

Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me,
and I will listen to you.
You will seek me and find me
when you search for me
with all your heart."

- Jeremiah 29:11

Left Unsaid

There are so many letters I have written, unfinished and unsent, to the ones I love (and hate). Old fashioned ink and paper; words scribbled with emotion - postmarked for you.

I saw an old friend the other day. I smiled and waved hello, assuming that he would stop and acknowledge my existence. But I should have shouted my condition as an unclean leper, to the circle of friends that once sat beside me at the Table. 

The tension hanging in the air like words left unsaid, non-verbal communication has solidified all that I hate about professional religious people. Fingers pointed, hushed whispers and manicured nails... Jesus fish on the bumper and pictures plastered on the Internet of you all hugging under the "One in Christ" banner at the local Christian music festival...

I am sustained by my neighbor, Bill. He is a gentle alcoholic, and an avid supporter of all things merciful. Sometimes he gets emotional, unashamed of his tears as he says, "You'll always have me!"

It's these fellow lepers (outcasts with criminal records and battle scars) who have colonized in solidarity with me during this season of shame and fear. In a drastic turn of the expected, I have found Jesus among these Samaritans, and they have offered me a seat at their table. 

Have mercy.

The Burning Bush

This morning I witnessed the glorious flyby of an eagle. While sitting in contemplative prayer, God has been revealing Himself to me through nature. A pessimist by nature, I am prone to lose hope that He still loves me. After all, sometimes (I confess) I do not love Him.

There were two of us within eyesight of the Eagle. The other man was walking aggressively north, along the shore of Lake Michigan. He missed the moment altogether. I almost called out for him to notice this occasion, but alas I was overcome by the delicious fruit of selfishness, choosing instead to savor the moment all to myself.

The Lord's Prayer

The Waiting Room

Is there anything more excruciating than sitting in the waiting room? Mind racing, head spinning, eyes glazing, heart pounding; waiting for confirmation or absolution. In this place of uncertainty and confusion, we reach for what is concrete. We reach for affirmation that the Great Physician is working the night shift...

Maybe you have been there. You know the feeling of terror and wonder, and all things desperate. You wonder if this is the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning. You don't know who to call, can't remember the numbers anyway. You pace back and forth in haze of wonder.

And then you collapse to your knees in heap of ashes! You begin calling the One who has sustained you thus far. You dial the number Home, and reach for the comfort of His assurance. "Wake up, God! Are you sleeping? Don't you care if we perish in this storm?"

______________________________________________

After witnessing the most horrific murder recorded in human history, friends of the crucified Jesus hid themselves away in a blur of panic. The New Testament describes the scene as a huddle of confusion; terrified of their own impending fate, the disciples locked themselves away in a first century "waiting room".

Can you imagine the conversations? Closed shades, hushed whispers, "now what?" Their pension plan, retirement package, and eternal hope had been massacred on a Roman execution stake, and the death of Jesus had implications for their own graves.

But in this waiting room, this end-of-the-rope, place of emergency, the Comforter would reveal Himself in a tangible way. The Promised would invade the petrified, the Healer would touch the horror. The resurrection would repair the rage.

As they received the Good News, the Great Physician ignited them to be witnesses of this hope. The message was delivered with dunamis (dynamite, explosive power), that darkness had been chased away by the light of morning. A new day had come, and sin/death/hell/hate had been conquered and crucified by healing/life/heaven/love.

"and these three things will last forever: faith, hope, and love.
But the greatest is love."
- 1 Corinthian 13:13

we are not who we once were

if ever there was a sadness
an insatiable ache
for the wholeness and abandonment
without reservation
it is mine

if ever there was an appropriate time
to cut the ties and burn the bridge
or run for the some glad morning
it is now

if ever there was a castle
pierced by the oral tradition of betrayal
surrounded by the kisses of enemies
disguised as friends
it is here

the locks on the doors have been changed
the pictures on the wall, rearranged

[we are not who we once were]

if ever there were a reason
to greet the mourning with a smile
and stand to face the wind
with a concrete hope
it is you

P.S. I Still Love You

"Hope is patience, with the lamp lit." - Tertullion

There is a reasonable excuse for my absence from writing, and most of it is due to an inability to articulate the thoughts swimming inside. And most of my words have been limited to the book I have been writing (an autobiographical sketch, primarily tragicomedy) about my spiritual journey. Three steps forward, and two steps back; my discipleship skills have always been uncoordinated.

Someone asked me last night what I have been up to. I never know how to answer that question, because it all depends on the day. "Everything. Nothing. I don't know."

I will clear up some of the fog: I have been teaching Mariah how to ride a bike without her training wheels. And I realize, my Father God has been doing the same with me. And Ambria is learning new words everyday, holding us breathless with her energy. Meanwhile, Jamie has been an enigma of sorts: strong as a rock on the exterior; fragile as a flower on the inside. Our talks are rarely about the fire and smoke in the rear view mirror, instead we have been dreaming about life on the other side of the windshield before us...

We still feel restless.uncomfortable.discouraged.optimistic.lonely.blessed. and without a local church family. Occasionally we attend my dad's church, and I try to avoid his attempts to have me close the service with a benediction, or a prayer over the offering or...

A friend of mine has given me a part-time job in Grand Rapids. I am doing miscellaneous work for his growing corporation. I have a clever title: "Independent Contractor", working primarily as a social networker with non-profit organizations.

And at night, I am a janitor. I am partially responsible for the cleaning of a major industrial factory in Muskegon. I am the guy pushing a mop around a filthy warehouse, sweating through the regret of recent decisions.

I have a lot of time to think, and sometimes I cry when nobody is around. I absolutely hate my job! It is exhausting and humiliating and honest and "exactly!" I can hear my Abba Father whisper, as I peddle around each corner. I am shedding the training wheels and, although my knees are scraped up from occasional falls, I am learning a new rhythm of balance,
and now/not yet,
someday around the block...
there will a full circle,
home.

Beautiful

Waiting in line for smoothies

This afternoon, while on a date with Mariah, she put her arms out toward me and said, "Daddy, hold me... the way that you do."

The Gospel and Rubber Boots.

I want to be the kind of person who finishes well. I'm much less concerned with where I've been, compared to where I'm going. I want to surround myself with people who have a strong sense of being fully present in the now, while focusing on the journey.

Yesterday I spent some time with an old friend, Pastor John Brown. After taking some time to catch up on (things), he shared with me what is happening in his world...

John is 72 years old. He "retired" from being a Senior Pastor last year, but he's never been more engaged in living the gospel of Jesus. On Monday, he is leaving for Nicaragua on a solo excursion to the remote villages of the otherwise forgotten. This will have been his third trip to this community this year! He shared with me his agenda:

"Rubber boots."

I asked for more clarification. He explained that in a recent conversation with some of the village leaders, John asked his friends what their needs were. Physical, tangible needs. The elders of the village expressed a great concern for the children of this Nicaraguan village. During the rainy season, the children are forced to endure torrential downpour, navigating their way through the mudslides and trails of the mountains. Their round-trip journey to their school house can be fraught with peril, and the children do not have appropriate footwear.

So the parents are requesting a miracle; praying that Jesus will show up with rubber boots.

John is heading down there alone, this time. He is staying in a youth hostel in the capital city. His plan is to buy out all of the rubber boots in the region, and somehow transport them to his friends.

Because the gospel is more than just holding a tent meeting and singing, "Just As I Am", and having people say a prayer.

The gospel is also about rubber boots. The good news of the Kingdom of Heaven is about the invasion of mercy to the remote corners of the earth's end. It is about the authority of God crashing in to the kitchen table in your own home, as well as the overthrow of injustice on the other side of the world. It is more than theory, or doctrine, creeds and confession; the good news of the Kingdom is a 72 year-old man, trekking through the jungle with a suitcase full of rubber boots.

Writer's Block

I am sorry.

Mariah "Danger" DePoy

Mariah reflects on her first playground skirmish, and insists on being referred to as "Danger." from now on.

Be Still, My Heart

The Gospel According to CNN

What measure would you take to save your kids?

The children were unable to reach the windows, and the door was padlocked shut. No matter how hard they tried, freedom was unattainable.

My Father would crash His truck through the wall,
in order to release the captives.

Click here.

Don't Forget to Remember

No matter what.

God is good. Love wins. The tomb is empty.

I just have to keep reminding myself of these things.

Our house is going into foreclosure, my seasonal job has expired, my daughter is having surgery tomorrow, and it is raining.

But tomorrow I will have spent 8 years with her, and she is evidence to me, that

God is good. Love wins. The tomb is empty.

Hold Still, This Might Hurt...

I want to throw a rock through a mirror, until there is a reflected image of the One.

The God of the Aborted Flower

I am in the initial stages of writing a book.

It is all coming to me now...

Grace and Peace

A few years ago I spent a lot of time with Rob Bell, the pastor of Mars Hill Bible Church in Grand Rapids. He taught me that the Church of Jesus is indestructible and beautiful and worth dying for. He invited me in to his home, and poured in to me as a Rabbi would a Talmud. I would scribble notes down in a journal, and read the same books and sit in the front row as often as possible. He took me under his wing and introduced me to victorious love, and the way of the cross. He told me that I had "chutzpah", a fire in the soul.

Since then, we've gone in different directions. He went global. I stayed in Roosevelt Park. I don't have the opportunity to spend time with him, like we once did. I have become introverted, and don't don't return calls (sorry everyone).

This morning I got a letter from Rob. He used his words prayerfully; carefully. He reminded me that God has begun a good work in me, and He will be faithful to complete it. I read through the pages several times, and have not been this encouraged in a long time.

He closed out the letter with the following words...

"You are a gifted, passionate, smart, extraordinary man...We need your contribution, we need your energy, we need your talents! My heart breaks for you as you feel the pain of these [self-inflicted] wounds. This is the time for you to meet the resurrected Jesus in a new way! Trust Him.

As you heal, remember that this season is going to shape you into a leader who has more to say than ever because you’ve been there! You walked that road.
Forgive, (and be forgiven).
And then get back on the horse."

Grace & Peace,

Rob Bell

Booty Shakin', Dance Party

The Holy Terror & The Abba Father

Sometime around 3:30 am, Mariah came trembling into our bedroom, whispering to Jamie for comfort. I continued sleeping, wrapped in an electric blanket; fan blowing to drown out the commotion.

A few minutes later, my wife returned to wake me.
"Jerry," she said gently, "You need to go into Mariah's room and reassure her that everything is alright."

I looked at the clock, then mumbled, "What do you mean?" It took me a minute to allow my mind to catch up to Jamie's explanation:

"Mariah had a terrible dream. She believes that you were standing over her with a baseball bat ready to punish her. I told her that it was just a dream, but she is convinced that it was truly happening."

I poured out of the comfort of our bed and walked down the hallway through the last door. In the moonlight I could see the shadow of my five year old daughter, curled up under the covers. I eased my way across her room, and slid beneath the sheets to hold her. She was unsure, paralyzed in the tension between deep sleep and immanent reality.

"You were having a bad dream, love bug." I told her.

She thought for a moment before responding, "You were going to hit me!" She whispered, as if appealing her innocence before a Judge who had already determined her conviction.

"Listen Mariah... do you hear that?"

She waited in silence before shaking her head. I leaned in more closely and gently pulled her head down toward my chest. "It's my heart beating," I said. "Every time you feel that pulse, it's another wink in your direction!" She kept her head on my heart as I continued, "I would never, in a million years, hurt you. As a matter of fact, I would hurt myself before I would allow you to be hurt."

She looked up at the ceiling, where dozens of glow-in-the-dark stars were witnessing this covenant. After a few minutes she was fast asleep, and I returned to my own thoughts:

I wonder how often I blur the lines of dream and reality? If my conceived imagination paints a picture of my Heavenly Father waiting to destroy me with flood, or fire? If in my looking back, I may be turned into a pillar of salt or swallowed by a whale.

If I were to be honest, my image of God is fuzzy; an ironfisted Judge on a power trip, a bi-polar executioner with a trigger happy legion of pyrotechnical principalities. I often fear His Presence, fleeing from prayer like a refugee in a war-torn country, afraid of my own shadow, let alone - His!

Sometimes while driving down the highway, I can sense God's obvious hatred for me, as evidenced by the abandonment of His followers. I'm afraid to take each exit, taking my chances with an empty fuel tank (long overdue for an oil change).

While climbing back into bed I realized an ironic epiphany. At the exact moment that Mariah was having a dream of me with a baseball bat, I was in the middle of my own dream. When Jamie had originally woke me to tell me about Mariah's nightmare, I was deep in a dream that went something like this:

In my dream, we were on a television game show playing against two other married couples. It was the kind of challenge where the host quizzes each spouse separately, and they must write down the same answer to win.

The host asked the following question; "Not including yourself, who is Jerry's best friend?"
Jamie thought about a [receding] list of names and faces that I considered to be in the inner circle of trust. But after a moment she remembered that I always refer to my daughter(s) as my bestest friends. She wrote down Mariah's name.

Fortunately, I did the same.

"Correct!" The host of the game show yelled. Confetti and lights and cheering and money and an eternal feast waiting for the entire family.

___________________________________________

Jesus understood the hand of His Father was not to be feared, but friendly. "Abba" literally means, "Daddy". Our is the Father that climbs into bed with us when we're expecting an execution. He is kiss when we're expecting a slap, a hug when we deserve a kick. He is a friend, that is closer than a brother. The Lion is the Lamb.

Familiarity Breeds Contempt

"I love you."

My daughters are drenched in this truth. Every morning in their waking, I hug and kiss them and wonder how they slept and what they dreamed about. The beauty of their innocence leaves me shivering with awe, each blink a reminder that they have their mommy's almond eyes, and I, I am wrapped around each finger.

This morning Mariah expressed a hint of sarcasm in her response, "Why do you always say that?" Rolling her eyes and shrugging her shoulders, she seemed bored with my language of love: words of affirmation. In one ear, and out the other. She has grown somewhat numb to the diverse examples that I have used to remind her. "I love you."

Why do I always say that?

Because I want my daughters to grow up knowing who they are, and whose they are. I want them to never have to wonder if their father was paying attention. I want my children to hear those words audibly, and see them lived out - physically. I flood their ears with those three words, because it just might be the one true thing they hear all day.

I love you. Before you ever realized it, I loved you. I have loved you with an everlasting love. Before you could do anything to earn it. I love you with a selfless-take a bullet for you- change your diapers for you- bind your wounds and kiss your scrapes - kind of love. The kind of love that hurts to fathom, and invokes migraines in the comprehension of...infinity.

Nothing. There is nothing you could ever do to make me love you any more, or any less. I love you before you choose to break my heart. I love you during the premeditated act. I love you in the excess of your selfishness. I love you through the season of your rebellion. I will be the guy waiting at the edge of the driveway for my prodigal to return. With binoculars. and a box of tissues, clutching a picture of the day you were born.

I love you. Not because your pre-school teachers rave about your advancements, or because you can recite most of the OT books of the bible. My love for you is scandalous, risky, and limitless. Where can you possibly go to outrun my love?

I know about your little habits, mannerisms, and secrets. I know you pretend to have an overactive bladder, when in actuality you are blazing a trail of rebellion from your bedtime. I know you have learned to fake a cough in high hopes of avoiding school. I know you think I can't see you through the window, when you're playing alone in the back yard. I know you like to eat snow, and then say you're not hungry for dinner. I know you used to squat in the corner for additional privacy, avoiding the toilet training regimen...

I will be here. When your first boyfriend breaks up with you, and your second boyfriend turns out to be gay, and your prom date forgets to pick you up, and your friends go away to college - I''ll be here to laugh with you, cry with you, live with you, and die with you. I will be here when the whole world is throwing rocks at you, and your sin is on the evening news and everyone else writes you off with tragic finality. I'll be here when you realize that you want nothing to do with professional religious people, and I'll be here when you expect me to lock you out of the house. I'll be here when you break the rules, and I'll be here when you find your voice.

Why do I always say that?

Because every day I am making a deposit into your memory bank.

Quisquis venio ut fides in venia? We've fio sic caecus per nostrum relentless queritor in Vetus Voluntas Lex : "An oculus pro an oculus " / coma sulum caecus.

EGO diligo Jesus. Tamen Volo nusquam efficio per is poema poematis of Suus revolution of diligo.

EGO levo meus eyes ut tumulosus,
qua does meus succurro adveho ex?

Psalm 1:30 am

"Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD;
O Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.

If you, O LORD, kept a record of sins,
O Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness;
therefore you are feared.

I wait for the LORD, my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope.

My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.

Jerry, put your hope in the LORD,
for with the LORD is unfailing love
and with him is full redemption."

'til death do us part'

will the circle be unbroken?

i found a picture of us in the basement
we were fourteen then and it was
before all of this
we have become unrecognizable
fading images harboring faith and regret

(do you remember the last thing you ever said to me?)

i remember the chevy celebrity with bald tires
and we were sliding all over the road
before we finally pulled over on seaway drive,
held captive by a rainbow
suicidally beautiful

i tried to call you collect last week
from a payphone it's a good thing you didn't answer
because i was inconsolable, under the weather and
i remember pole-vaulting in your backyard on to an old mattress
and d-o-g used to chase us around

---

we got a late start
but made it to the tennessee border by midnight or so
we threw up a tent at the top of the hill (in case of rain)
and down below the psalters were teaching us how to beat a drum

in st. louis the homeless were not welcome
but we gave a tour of the adam's mark hotel
all in the Name of the One

you told me i could run away to florida
but everything i do will fail
unless i deal with this
and you were right

---

when there was no money
we took a detour through the nature trail at hoffmaster
climbing the dunes, exhaling at the top
overlooking lake michigan praying
for the miraculous provision of our needs
considering your schedule and exhaustion
it was not in vain

but my favorite memory was the baptism of your son, [laughter]
as he shrieked in the cold water

---

i heard you called the other day
forgive me for not returning
the lines of communication have been blurred

if there was ever a doubt
i loved you like a brother

Mighty to Save

"Everyone needs compassion,
Love that's never failing;
Let mercy fall on me.

Everyone needs forgiveness,
The kindness of a Saviour;
The Hope of nations. Saviour,

He can move the mountains,
My God is Mighty to save, He is Mighty to save.
Forever, Author of salvation,
He rose and conquered the grave,
Jesus conquered the grave.

So take me as You find me,
All my fears and failures,
Fill my life again.
I give my life to follow
Everything I believe in,
Now I surrender.

My Saviour, He can move the mountains,
My God is Mighty to save,
He is Mighty to save.

Forever, Author of salvation,
He rose and conquered the grave,
Jesus conquered the grave.

He can move the mountains,
My God is Mighty to save,
He is Mighty to save.
Forever, Author of salvation,
He rose and conquered the grave,
Jesus conquered the grave.

My Saviour, you can move the mountains,
You are mighty to save,
You are mighty to save.
Forever, Author of Salvation,

You rose and conquered the grave,
Yes you conquered the grave..."

Two Little Girls Praying

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

What can separate us from the love of God, in Christ Jesus?

ceiling without a star

joy to the world, they sing
i wilt in the back row
feeling closer to sylvia plath in her death
than Jesus, in his.

mariah is raging
she does not want to be here
she does not want to be here

she has torn apart the church bulletin
and scribbled the inaudible melodies of a christmas tree
two stick figures and three presents
and her name, proudly copywritten at the top

hidden in this furnace of doubt
i am as vacant as the bricks that cement me to this ache

i can not leave
but i can't stay here

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my eyes and all is born again."

Mariah's Grace

We got a little digital camera for Mariah this Christmas.
It is perfectly designed for the small fingers of little children,
with a big lens, through which their world comes alive.

This is life, as she knows it.

She has started expressing herself in creative ways;
You can check out her blog by clicking here.

www.sweetmariahgrace.blogspot.com

Unsalted

Whoever said you can't surf in Lake Michigan?

Tonight's forecast:
"Northwest gales to 40 knots. Snow.
Heavy freezing spray.
Waves 12 to 16 feet."

Standing Before the Burning Bush

If we were really honest,
how many of us would have
taken the time to notice...

To read the corresponding article:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/04/AR2007040401721.html

A Prayer of Desperation

These words are on my tongue, as my knees hit the floor...
Each new morning presents challenges and hope
because the tomb is still vacant.


"My dear Lord Jesus I come to you now to be restored in you, to be renewed in you, to receive your love and your life, and all the grace and mercy I so desperately need this day. I honor you as Sovereign, and I surrender every aspect of my life totally and completely to you. I give you my spirit, soul and body, my heart, mind, and will.

I cover myself with your blood—my spirit, soul, and body, my heart, mind and will. I ask your Holy Spirit to restore me in you, renew me in you, and to lead me in this time of prayer. In all that I now pray, I stand in total agreement with your Spirit, and with my intercessors and allies, by your Spirit alone. In all that I now pray, I include Jamie, Mariah, and Ambria. Acting as their head, I bring them under your authority and covering, as I come under your authority and covering. I cover Jamie, Mariah, and Ambria with your blood – their spirit, soul and body, their heart, mind and will. I ask your Spirit to restore them in you, renew them in you, and apply to them all that I now pray on their behalf.

Dear God, holy and victorious Trinity, you alone are worthy of all my worship, my heart’s devotion, all my praise, all my trust and all the glory of my life. I love you, I worship you, I trust you. I give myself over to you in my heart’s search for life. You alone are Life, and you have become my life. I renounce all other gods, all idols, and I give you the place in my heart and in my life that you truly deserve. I confess here and now that this is all about you, God, and not about me. You are the Hero of this story, and I belong to you. Forgive me for my every sin. Search me and know me and reveal to me where you are working in my life, and grant to me the grace of your healing and deliverance, and a deep and true repentance.

Heavenly Father, thank you for loving me and choosing me before you made the world. You are my true Father—my Creator, my Redeemer, my Sustainer, and the true end of all things, including my life. I love you, I trust you, I worship you. I give myself over to you to be one with you in all things, as Jesus is one with you. Thank you for proving your love by sending Jesus, to be my substitute and representative. I receive him and all his life and all his work, which you ordained for me. Thank you for including me in Christ, for forgiving me my sins, for granting me his righteousness, for making me complete in him. Thank you for making me alive with Christ, raising me with him, seating me with him at your right hand, establishing me in his authority, and anointing me with your Holy Spirit, your love and your favor. I receive it all with thanks and give it total claim to my life.

I bring the life and the work of Jesus over Jamie, Mariah, and Ambria, and over my home, my household, my vehicles, finances, all my kingdom and domain. Jesus, thank you for coming to ransom me with your own life. I love you, I worship you, I trust you. I give myself over to you, to be one with you in all things. And I receive all the work and all of the triumph of your cross, death, blood and sacrifice for me, through which I am atoned for, I am ransomed and transferred to your kingdom, my sin nature is removed, my heart is circumcised unto God, and every claim made against me is disarmed this day.

I now take my place in your cross and death, through which I have died with you to sin, to my flesh, to the world, and to the evil one. I take up the cross and crucify my flesh with all its pride, arrogance, unbelief, and idolatry and lust. I put off the old man. I ask you to apply to me the fullness of your cross, death, blood and sacrifice. I receive it with thanks and give it total claim to my spirit, soul and body, my heart, mind and will. Jesus, I also sincerely receive you as my new life, my holiness and sanctification, and I receive all the work and triumph of your resurrection, through which you have conquered sin and death and judgment. Death has no mastery over you, nor does any evil thing. And I have been raised with you to a new life, to live your life – dead to sin and alive to God. I now take my place in your resurrection and in your life, through which I am saved by your life. I reign in life through your life. I receive your life – your humility, love and forgiveness, your integrity in all things, your wisdom, discernment, your strength, your joy, your union with the Father. Apply to me the fullness of your resurrection. I receive it with thanks and give it total claim to my life.

I receive all the work and triumph of your ascension, through which you have judged Satan and cast him down, you have disarmed his kingdom. All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to you, Jesus. All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to you, and you are worthy to receive all glory and honor, power and dominion, now and forevermore. And I have been given fullness in you, in your authority. I now take my place in your ascension, and in your throne, through which I have been raised with you to the right hand of the Father and established in your authority.

I now bring the kingdom of God, and the authority, rule and dominion of Jesus Christ over my life today, over my home, my household, my vehicles and finances, over all my kingdom and domain. I now bring the authority, rule and dominion of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the fullness of the work of Christ, against Satan, against his kingdom, against evil spirit that wars against me: the spirit of lust, insecurity, and vanity.

Holy Spirit, thank you for coming! I love you, I worship you, I trust you. I sincerely receive you and all the work and victory in Pentecost, through which you have come, you have clothed me with power from on high, sealed me in Christ. You have become my union with the Father and the Son, become the Spirit of truth in me, the life of God in me, my Counselor, Comforter, Strength, and Guide. I honor you as Sovereign, and I yield every dimension of my spirit, soul and body, my heart, mind and will to you and you alone, to be filled with you, to walk in step with you in all things. Fill me afresh! Restore my union with the Father and the Son. Lead me in all truth, anoint me for all of my life and walk and calling, and lead me deeper into Jesus today. I receive you with thanks, and I give you total claim to my life.

Heavenly Father, thank you for granting to me every spiritual blessing in the heavenlies in Christ Jesus. I claim the riches in Christ Jesus over my life today, my home, my kingdom and domain. I bring the blood of Christ over my spirit, soul, and body, my heart, mind and will. I put on the full armor of God – the belt of truth, breastplate of righteousness, shoes of the gospel, helmet of salvation. I take up the shield of faith and sword of the Spirit, and I choose to wield these weapons at all times in the power of God. I choose to pray at all times in the Spirit.

Thank you for your angels. I summon them in the authority of Jesus Christ and command them to destroy the kingdom of darkness throughout my kingdom and domain, destroy all that is raised against me, and to establish your Kingdom on earth! I ask you to send forth your Spirit to raise up prayer and intercession for me this day. Thank you for those who pray for me; I confess I need their prayers, and I ask you to send forth your Spirit to rouse them, unite them, raising up the full canopy of prayer and intercession for me.

I now call forth the kingdom of the Lord Jesus Christ throughout my home, my family, my kingdom and my domain, in the authority of the Lord Jesus Christ, with all glory and honor and thanks to him."

- {Waking the Dead}

Shake It (Like a Polaroid Picture)

Mariah, demonstrating her artistic talent, and shakin' what her momma gave her!

Illic eram haud causa vobis sumo meus vita,

ego would have propense donatus is vobis

instead of diligo

lex has won.

Candles in the Window

This morning, as I was pulling out of the driveway, I could see my girls in the window.

Ambria has learned to prop herself up by standing on the heater vent and hold on to the window ledge. Mariah was waiving hysterically, and I simply had to put it in neutral and press pause.

I waived in return, blowing kisses (Mariah catches them). Ambria, through learned behavior, imitated the waiving. But to do so required her to step down (out of sight), releasing her otherwise occupied hands.

As I pulled down the street, I saw her tiny hands waiving, where her face once smiled.

The Lion and the Lamb

"I will not leave you alone.  You are mine.  I know each of my sheep by name.  You belong to me. If you think I am finished with you, if you think I am a small god that you can keep at a safe distance, I will pounce upon you like a roaring lion, tear you to pieces, rip you to shreds, and break every bone in your body.

Then I will mend you,  cradle you in my arms, and speak words of comfort in your healing."

- Brennan Manning

The Lion and the Lamb

"I Will Never Leave You, Never Forsake You..."

My earliest childhood memory is the sudden alarm clock of a screaming mother for an infant son, snatched by the unsolved mystery of sudden infant death syndrome. I was five, and my baby  brother was just shy of eight months old. I remember circling around an oak tree at the Lakeside cemetery to say goodbye to Joshua Dale DePoy, and his tiny, white casket.

For years, I could not sleep. I was paralyzed with a fear that somehow, I would be forcefully separated from the ones I loved. I had an obsessive compulsive pattern: the door had to be propped open exactly two inches, enough for the distant light to gently remind me that my parents were still awake, and that I was safe. I incessantly demanded my mother to affirm that she would stay awake "for [at least] an hour or so..."

I was home-schooled through my primary years of education. You know, us home-schooled kids are ferociously anti-social, and do not play well with others. We are out of touch with popular culture, but not for lack of wanting. In fact, the opposite was true. I memorized the names and faces in the yearbooks of the neighbor kids. I imagined myself walking the hallways of Mona Shores middle school, high-fiving the jocks and dating the captain of the cheerleading squad. From a distance, I knew who was popular and I desperately sought to be in the inner circle of acceptance.

For as long as I can remember, my closest friends were seasonal. 

__________________________________

The other day I was knee deep in a therapy session with my trusted counselor. He challenged me to peel back the layers of scar tissue that have formed over my heart. I realized, perhaps for the first time, that I have for most of my life been seized by the iron-fisted fear of abandonment.

Would you really be my friend if you knew the depths of my depravity? Are you going to leave me when you find new friends? Are you going to walk away disgusted, when I show you my scars? Are you going to suddenly leave in the middle of the night without warning? 

This fear of abandonment has taunted my like the neighborhood bully for as long as I can remember, picking fights with me at every corner, and mocking me in the bark of the neighbor's dog, early in the morning. 

My counselor pointed out to me that a fear of abandonment often fuels the following responses: 

1) Borderline Personality Disorder. "I know it sounds terrible", he said, "but a person with a tremendous fear of abandonment may, without cause, begin acting hostile in an attempt to drive a loved-one away before they choose to do it themselves." In other words, pushing someone out of your life before they have the chance to abandon you. This could have a diversity of expressions, including the aroma of arrogance, indifference, or independence. But in reality, it is a counterfeit for elemental insecurity.

2) A Drivenness/Works to Prove Self-Value. This takes visible form in the efforts we take to surround ourselves with people who will agree with us, or let people only see what we want them to see. We are ignited with an ambition to work harder, achieve more, serve at an absurd pace, and demonstrate that we are worth the investment.

Obviously, this pressure builds and will eventually explode. There must be a release, or the swelling of fear will detonate and obliterate an otherwise healthy relationship. Unfortunately, this outlet often takes the form of addiction/escapism. Multiple expressions of negative behavior, alleviating the immediate tension. But this is only a band-aid to a cancer that is eating away the heart.

"So is that it?" I asked. "Are those the only two options?" I wondered if there were a healthy alternative choice to an otherwise fatal diagnosis. He leaned back and smiled, "No, there is another answer."

3) Ecclesiastical Koinonia - The immersion of oneself into an authentic, Biblical Community; a family of Christ-followers who share in each other's sufferings, bear one another's burdens, and meet each other's needs. The remedy for this ancient disease is to embrace the promises of the cross, the hope of the resurrection, and the life everlasting. 

This fear is alleviated when you covenant with others to journey through life together, share a common cup, sing a common song, and join hands with brothers and sisters who mean it when they say, "'till death do us part."

The Tongue is a Fire

Quare es vos sic obsessed per meus vita?

Diligo etiam wins.

Birthday Wishes

This morning one of my wishes became a reality:

Quality time with the three girls I love the most!

We traveled north to Lewis' Farm to pet the animals and pick out pumpkins and ride the tractor and feed the bunnies and yes, this was primarily for the youngins.

I love this time of year... hot apple cider and burning leaves, autumn chill and coming home. Two little faces in the window, greeting me as I walk up the driveway; a candle burning in the kitchen.

It's been a hell of year.

"and even though we aint got money, I'm sO in love with you honey!"

A Table in the Presence of My Enemies

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
Your perfect love is casting out fear
And even when I’m caught in the middle of the storms of this life
I won’t turn back I know You are near

And I will fear no evil
For my God is with me
And if my God is with me
Whom then shall I fear?
Whom then shall I fear?

Oh no, You never let go
Through the calm and through the storm
Oh no, You never let go
In every high and every low
Oh no, You never let go
Lord, You never let go of me

And I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on
A glorious light beyond all compare
And there will be an end to these troubles
But until that day comes
We’ll live to know You here on the earth

I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on
And there will be an end to these troubles
But until that day comes
Still I will praise You,
still I will praise You..."

A Walk to Remember

This morning I had the privilege of going on a date with my daughter, Ambria Faith.

While Mariah was at preschool, and Jamie was shopping, I tucked Ambria into her pink stroller, buckled her white shoes, and parted her pony tails. We walked down the sidewalks, over the cracks and the anthills and the weeds, to the park.

I love this time of year; the crisp autumn air and sun warming the last of the flowers, hanging on for dear life! I love the mornings in September, the distant hum of a lawnmower, the screeching brakes of the sanitation department, and dogs barking as we walk further into the silence of the park.

I set Ambria in the swing and gently pushed her. She let out a squeal with every return to me, as I waited with kisses and tickles. She was trapped in the gravitational magnetism of her father's arms.

After a while, I picked her up and we wandered over to sit beneath the massive oak tree. We watched in breathless awe as leaves seemed to change color before our eyes. She pointed at the squirrels playing in the branches above us. I laid back on the grass, looking up at the blue sky. She scooted next to me and did the same.

Miles above us, a collection of birds were hovering south.

Identification and Application

"To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this parable: 'Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about [to] himself: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other men—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get'."
"But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his chest and said,
'God, have mercy on me, a sinner!'

"I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." - Luke 18:9-12
_______________________________________

"This parable was to convince some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others. God sees with what disposition and design we come to him in holy ordinances. What the Pharisee said, shows that he trusted to himself that he was righteous. We may suppose he was free from gross and scandalous sins. All this was very well and commendable. Miserable is the condition of those who come short of the righteousness of this Pharisee, yet he was not accepted; and why not? He went up to the temple to pray, but was full of himself and his own goodness; the favour and grace of God he did not think worth asking.

Let us beware of presenting proud devotions to the Lord, and of despising others. The publican's address to God was full of humility, and of repentance for sin, and desire toward God. His prayer was short, but to the purpose; God be merciful to me a sinner.

Blessed be God, that we have this short prayer upon record, as an answered prayer; and that we are sure that he who prayed it, went to his house justified; for so shall we be, if we pray it, as he did, through Jesus Christ. He owned himself a sinner by nature, by practice, guilty before God. He had no dependence but upon the mercy of God; upon that alone he relied. And God's glory is to resist the proud, and give grace to the humble. Justification is of God in Christ; therefore the self-condemned, and not the self-righteous, are justified before God."
- Matthew Henry's Commentary

Sanctified

I want to be the kind of person who absorbs criticism, gossip, and verbal assault with grace and truth. I want to be more like the Jesus inside of me, who is teaching me to give no answer to the assailants, and send flowers to my enemies.



I'm not there yet, but I'm making progress.



I want to teach my daughters to be nice. Dangerous revolutionaries, but nice. I want Mariah to shower bullies with dandelions picked from a field of patience. I want Ambria to take no for an answer, and wait with perseverance for her deliverance from the prison of her crib.



I'm not there yet, but I'm making progress.



I want to be fully present with my wife, when she is talking to me. I want to affirm her feelings and "listen with my face". I want to wear her picture like a tattoo on my forehead. I want to learn to listen and truly hear. I want to laugh and cry with her, to pour gasoline on the flame of the unity candle, and to notice her eye shadow and the shade of her lip gloss and the outline of her body when she walks into the room. I want to be the perfect husband.



I'm not there yet, but I'm making progress.



I want to be the kind of pilgrim disciple that recognizes an inward propensity to wander. I want to follow in the footsteps of my Rabbi who welcomes me, forgives me, embraces me, and washes me clean. I want to make Him proud of me. I want to be forever vigilant, standing watch, walking on water toward Him, and never denying my allegiance to His Name. I want to declare with my actions and my words, that He is the reason for my Hope. I want to live in perpetual victory and never falter.

I'm not there yet, but by His grace, I'm making progress.

Hope: Ancient Movements of the Exodus

Four blocks from Times Square, 1:25 am. I can not shake the image of a homeless man, sprawled out at a bus stop like a sacrifice waiting to be offered. When I approached him, he seemed near to death. I gently shook him until he stared blankly in my direction. He had pissed himself and his eyes were swollen from months of cheap liquor.

I learned his name, and his story. "Rick" shared with me that after his wife and daughter were killed in a car accident, he searched to God for comfort. But God didn't answer the door. His knocking had turned to anger, then despair. He lost his family, his job, and his faith. As far as he was concerned, Jesus had not been resurrected.

It was hard for me to reach out and actually embrace him. I confess, the stench was nauseating. I hesitated to reach out and feel his pain. His whole body "aches", and his bruises give evidence to a recent beating. He told me about his desire: to drink himself to oblivion, and wait for death.

What can I offer to a man who I will probably never see again? I chose my words carefully as I told him that although he had given up on God, God had not given up on him. I rarely suggest that God audibly "speaks" to me, but I told Rick that God told me to come here and tell him that he is loved. "God loves you, and He wants you to live."

What happens when all is lost? How does a 48 year-old man allow himself to wilt until he is no more?

Rick cried as he told me his story, and I just tried to listen without the distractions of a million indifferent pedestrians. He clutched the New Testament in his hands; a gift that could offer him the only hope for his Exodus.

New York, New York

Rumor has it, if you walk barefoot down the sidewalks in New York, you'll trip over love.

Absent Without Leave

Sometimes I do not recognize myself anymore.

The impulse to speak has been replaced by sudden panic and breathless retreat. The gravity of the stage, that once cemented my feet to the moment of intoxicating yes, has been detoxed from my veins. The rush of the drug of amens under the lights of appreciation, almost launched me into a coma. The adrenaline of affirmation, the ever-illusive well done, has numbed this heart for a season of renewal.

Lately I've been learning to walk obnoxiously slow, around the blocks of Roosevelt Park. Sometimes I am pushing a pink stroller, and following training wheels and a pony tail. Other times I walk alone, in the morning. I have the cracks in these sidewalks, memorized. Like familiar passages of Scriptures, the healing remedy of solitude is putting my soul back together. I am greeted by birds and squirrels and sprinklers that catch me, unsuspecting. I am finding a new rhythm of maybe and yes and

I am writing a lot. The ink is bleeding through the pages on my journal, a diary I keep locked. Jamie keeps the key hidden, and she protects me from, me. She stands in the way of your questions like bullets and she will take some time to recover from this; she is a thousand miles more fragile than your critical glances will ever know.

Can you see us there? Sitting in the back of a different church each week? Hiding behind the bulletins and the hope that this is (somehow) good for our girls. Sometimes we slip out early, to avoid the questions of those who think they know.

And other times we genuinely feel like we belong. It all depends, I suppose. The other day Jamie raised her hands during the praise and worship. I noticed. This was the first time that she has been able to sing in almost seven months. I am not far behind her. The words went something like this:

"...Our God, You reign forever

Our hope, our Strong Deliverer

You are the everlasting God, The everlasting God

You do not faint, You won't grow weary

You're the defender of the weak

You comfort those in need

You lift us up on wings like eagles..."

Announcing a New World Order

Imagine...

Rediscovering the Bride

"She's a mystery isn't she? Still going after all these years. After the Crusades and the Inquisition and Christian cable television. Still going. And there continue to be people like me who believe she is one of the best idea ever.

In spite of all the ways she has veered off track. In spite of all the people who have turned away from God because of what they have experienced within the church. I am starting to realize why: The church is like a double-edged sword.

When it's good, when it's on, when it's right, it's like nothing on earth. A group of people committed to selflessly serving and loving the world around them? Great. But when it's bad, all that potential gets turned the other way. From the highest of the highs to the lowest of the lows. Sometimes in the same week. Sometimes in the same day.

But she will live on. She's indestructible. When she dies in one part of the world, she explodes in another. She's global. She's universal. She's everywhere. And while she's fragile, she's going to endure. In every generation there will be those who see her beauty and give their lives to see her shine.

Jesus said the gates of hell will not prevail against her. That's strong language. And it's true. She will continue to roll across the ages, serving and giving and connecting people with God and each other. And people will abuse her and manipulate her and try to control her, but they'll pass on. And she will keep going."

- from Velvet Elvis, by Rob Bell

Blood is Thicker Than Water