Numbers 32: "They went as far as the valley of Eshcol."
I think that is where many of our dreams die. It is the place where we lose heart or lose sight or lose focus. That is as far as the spies got. The promise was about to be fulfilled. It was at their fingertips, but instead they let it slip through their hands.
The valley of Eshcol is the place where we stop trying or stop believing. It is the place where we turn back. But here is what God put in my heart: turning your back on a God-given dream is turning your back on God himself. Obviously, the operative phrase is "God-given." You need to keep going after that dream. Why? Not so you can accomplishment something. Please! You need to go after that God-sized dream because it is the thing that will keep you on your knees living in raw dependence upon God. That is how we grow. And that is how we glorify God.
Psalm 37 says, "Wait passionately for God."
Most of us wait passively. The Psalmist says wait passionately. How do we wait passionately? One word: prayer.
Don't lose heart. Don't lose sight. Don't lose focus.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
my memoir... thus far...
The turn of the millennium had those of the world unsettled and running haphazardly around. Most everyone was wondering, “Was life as we know it going to come to a crashing halt or at the least, propel us to a different and less than adequate existence?” They were scrambling to their banks, racing to their relatives, and speeding to their stores. Suddenly food, water, and cash for gas was more inherently relevant than what to wear to their sister’s wedding or getting their next latte from Starbucks. Basic necessities of life were like fine gold and prized possessions. That time evoked feelings of fear, instability, and distrust. We were seeking provision and a sense of security in unaccustomed places of refuge.
Joshua and I were on an uncharted and anomalous journey of our own. Joshua was my unexpected protector in the midst of this global chaos, and he was leading me into the Promised Land – wherever that would prove to be. Joshua was a fitting name for him, as Bible history reports him to be a faithful, humble, and wise governor. He was Moses’ successor who led the Israelites into their Promised Land. My Joshua was no different. Joshua was a two-door Saturn sedan, fully equipped with air conditioning and a CD player. I was sixteen and all I possessed was wrapped up in Joshua: my roommate, my shelter, and my companion. As many clothes as I could fit into Joshua’s trunk would suffice for a while. We were on a major life course correction.
This life course correction wasn’t completely my choice. My family was breaking apart and had been crumbling like an avalanche for the four years leading up to the millennium. Blame wasn’t a question; it had become my middle name. I was in peril in my own home and I knew that things would have to change for my security and stability. Circumstances called for a life or death decision, so when I was at the ripe old age of sixteen, it was time to take on the world for myself, whether I was ready or not. I had no human support to direct my path.
Along the way, Joshua and I met a girl needing a ride. She became my best friend. Her name was Hope. Joshua and Hope accompanied me to school everyday. I was a sophomore in high school and had an appearance to maintain. My grades started to slip, but I wasn’t too concerned by them. After all, I had survival on my mind. Nobody knew my address and I couldn’t invite any of my friends to my house, unless they wore their seatbelt, of course. What would they think if they knew the truth anyway? Would I just be an outreach assignment for those that crossed my path? I couldn’t let that happen. I wanted to be the provider and not the project. It seemed as though when anybody got close I would always wear my coat of pride, protecting me from the storms and keeping me warm. They couldn’t know. Looking back, I often wonder who they were anyway? The theys of the world… The theys that I would never see again, yet have so much power over my thoughts. They couldn’t possibly understand my situation, nor did I really want them to, because they always seemed to know better than me anyway. They always have their ideas and most of the time, those never lined up with what I was doing. They didn’t understand why I did what I did, and if they tried to help, it usually made matters worse. At least that was the perception I had, due to the limited positive life experiences I had known.
So I continued to exist, frightened to death on the inside, yet calm and collected to the casual onlookers. Questions and answers were constantly attacking my mind. “Where am I going to sleep tonight? I guess there’s always the faithful, well-lit parking lot at Wal-Mart again. I don’t need a shower tomorrow morning anyway.” The only tasks I had was to make sure I had a enough gas to keep me moving and a private place to change clothes for school in the mornings.
Life was a lot of things back then, but dull was not one of them. It seemed inevitable that whenever I would start to change my clothes, someone would decide that they just HAD to park right in front of me, headlights and all, causing me to do a real nice duck and cover maneuver that I got pretty good at. In fact, I got so good at slipping out of my daily attire, even while I was driving at times, that I probably could’ve won an award, if one was to be had, for that sort of thing. I think I beat my own personal best record one glorious morning, when I clocked in at just under a staggering 47 seconds.
One of my greatest challenges was finding a place to bathe. Although these places of comfort and joy were few and far between, there were a handful of friends who had great showers. To feel the hot water pouring on my face and down my back felt like I was literally being washed of every stain; both externally and internally. For a brief moment I could forget about Egypt and the Pharaohs from which I had escaped and even enjoy my place of exile. Sometimes, even memories of the people I used to refer to as my family, were washed away, too. Water is liberating like that. To this day, I wonder if my benefactor’s parents ever really understood why they had to buy more shampoo and conditioner than they used to. Out of desperation and before they knew it--right in front of their faces--their happy home became my Motel 6, minus the maid service and free Continental breakfast.
The stories I would have to make up as to why I was so exhausted and why I was using their couches for long and sometimes, overnight “naps”, had become a little game to me. Between staying up late ‘studying’ and other fallacies, I managed to avoid uncomfortable and often extensive questions pertaining to the issue. “They can’t know the truth,” I would think to myself. “What would they think if they knew about me and Joshua?”
If it wasn’t for my best friend Hope, I don’t think I would have survived my own haphazard and unstable millennial chapter. Thankfully, she convinced me to take my coat to the Salvation Army and let somebody else wear pride for a while. As most growing pains, outgrowing that coat of self-importance wasn’t pleasant or comfortable. However, I’ve never once desired to slip it back on, as it was a weighty load to bear. My new coat of humility is incredibly lighter.
Almost a decade now into the millennium, Hope and I continue to travel together, unfortunately without Joshua. His job was to lead me into the Promised Land, and I can delightfully say it is flowing with milk and honey.
Joshua and I were on an uncharted and anomalous journey of our own. Joshua was my unexpected protector in the midst of this global chaos, and he was leading me into the Promised Land – wherever that would prove to be. Joshua was a fitting name for him, as Bible history reports him to be a faithful, humble, and wise governor. He was Moses’ successor who led the Israelites into their Promised Land. My Joshua was no different. Joshua was a two-door Saturn sedan, fully equipped with air conditioning and a CD player. I was sixteen and all I possessed was wrapped up in Joshua: my roommate, my shelter, and my companion. As many clothes as I could fit into Joshua’s trunk would suffice for a while. We were on a major life course correction.
This life course correction wasn’t completely my choice. My family was breaking apart and had been crumbling like an avalanche for the four years leading up to the millennium. Blame wasn’t a question; it had become my middle name. I was in peril in my own home and I knew that things would have to change for my security and stability. Circumstances called for a life or death decision, so when I was at the ripe old age of sixteen, it was time to take on the world for myself, whether I was ready or not. I had no human support to direct my path.
Along the way, Joshua and I met a girl needing a ride. She became my best friend. Her name was Hope. Joshua and Hope accompanied me to school everyday. I was a sophomore in high school and had an appearance to maintain. My grades started to slip, but I wasn’t too concerned by them. After all, I had survival on my mind. Nobody knew my address and I couldn’t invite any of my friends to my house, unless they wore their seatbelt, of course. What would they think if they knew the truth anyway? Would I just be an outreach assignment for those that crossed my path? I couldn’t let that happen. I wanted to be the provider and not the project. It seemed as though when anybody got close I would always wear my coat of pride, protecting me from the storms and keeping me warm. They couldn’t know. Looking back, I often wonder who they were anyway? The theys of the world… The theys that I would never see again, yet have so much power over my thoughts. They couldn’t possibly understand my situation, nor did I really want them to, because they always seemed to know better than me anyway. They always have their ideas and most of the time, those never lined up with what I was doing. They didn’t understand why I did what I did, and if they tried to help, it usually made matters worse. At least that was the perception I had, due to the limited positive life experiences I had known.
So I continued to exist, frightened to death on the inside, yet calm and collected to the casual onlookers. Questions and answers were constantly attacking my mind. “Where am I going to sleep tonight? I guess there’s always the faithful, well-lit parking lot at Wal-Mart again. I don’t need a shower tomorrow morning anyway.” The only tasks I had was to make sure I had a enough gas to keep me moving and a private place to change clothes for school in the mornings.
Life was a lot of things back then, but dull was not one of them. It seemed inevitable that whenever I would start to change my clothes, someone would decide that they just HAD to park right in front of me, headlights and all, causing me to do a real nice duck and cover maneuver that I got pretty good at. In fact, I got so good at slipping out of my daily attire, even while I was driving at times, that I probably could’ve won an award, if one was to be had, for that sort of thing. I think I beat my own personal best record one glorious morning, when I clocked in at just under a staggering 47 seconds.
One of my greatest challenges was finding a place to bathe. Although these places of comfort and joy were few and far between, there were a handful of friends who had great showers. To feel the hot water pouring on my face and down my back felt like I was literally being washed of every stain; both externally and internally. For a brief moment I could forget about Egypt and the Pharaohs from which I had escaped and even enjoy my place of exile. Sometimes, even memories of the people I used to refer to as my family, were washed away, too. Water is liberating like that. To this day, I wonder if my benefactor’s parents ever really understood why they had to buy more shampoo and conditioner than they used to. Out of desperation and before they knew it--right in front of their faces--their happy home became my Motel 6, minus the maid service and free Continental breakfast.
The stories I would have to make up as to why I was so exhausted and why I was using their couches for long and sometimes, overnight “naps”, had become a little game to me. Between staying up late ‘studying’ and other fallacies, I managed to avoid uncomfortable and often extensive questions pertaining to the issue. “They can’t know the truth,” I would think to myself. “What would they think if they knew about me and Joshua?”
If it wasn’t for my best friend Hope, I don’t think I would have survived my own haphazard and unstable millennial chapter. Thankfully, she convinced me to take my coat to the Salvation Army and let somebody else wear pride for a while. As most growing pains, outgrowing that coat of self-importance wasn’t pleasant or comfortable. However, I’ve never once desired to slip it back on, as it was a weighty load to bear. My new coat of humility is incredibly lighter.
Almost a decade now into the millennium, Hope and I continue to travel together, unfortunately without Joshua. His job was to lead me into the Promised Land, and I can delightfully say it is flowing with milk and honey.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
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