Words from a wiser man the me

It’s sundown, Lord.
The shadows of my life stretch back
into the dimness of the years long spent.
I fear not death, for that grim foe betrays himself at last,
thrusting me forever into life:
Life with you, unsoiled and free.
But I do fear.
I fear the Dark Spectre may come too soon—
or do I mean, too late?
That I should end before I finish or
finish, but not well.
That I should stain your honor, shame your name,
grieve your loving heart.
Few, they tell me, finish well…
Lord, let me get home before dark.
The darkness of a spirit
grown mean and small, fruit shriveled on the vine,
bitter to the taste of my companions,
burden to be borne by those brave few who love me still.
No, Lord. Let the fruit grow lush and sweet,
a joy to all who taste;
Spirit - sign of God at work,
stronger, fuller, brighter at the end.
Lord, let me get home before dark.
The darkness of tattered gifts,
rust-locked, half-spent or ill-spent,
A life that once was used of God
now set aside.
Grief for glories gone or
Fretting for a task God never gave.
Mourning in the hollow chambers of memory,
Gazing on the faded banners of victories long gone.
Cannot I run well unto the end?
Lord, let me get home before dark.
The outer me decays —
I do not fret or ask reprieve.
The ebbing strength but weans me from mother earth
and grows me up for heaven.
I do not cling to shadows cast by immortality.
I do not patch the scaffold lent to build the real, eternal me.
I do not clutch about me my cocoon,
vainly struggling to hold hostage
a free spirit pressing to be born.
But will I reach the gate
in lingering pain, body distorted, grotesque?
Or will it be a mind
wandering un-tethered among light
fantasies or grim terrors?
Of your grace, Father, I humbly ask…
Let me get home before dark.


-A prayer shared by Robertson McQuilkin
President Emeritus
Columbia International University.

Some Context:

"IT HAS BEEN 25 years since Alzheimer's began taking hold of Muriel McQuilkin, wife of Robertson McQuilkin, former president of Columbia Bible College (now Columbia International University) in South Carolina. As the disease progressed, in 1990, McQuilkin resigned to care for his wife full time. In 1993 she stopped recognizing him.

At CHRISTIANITY TODAY'S invitation, McQuilkin wrote two articles about his decision and caring for his wife ("Living by Vows," CT, Oct. 8, 1990, and "Muriel's Blessing," CT, Feb. 5, 1996, both available-with a fuller version of this conversation-at www.christianitytoday.com/go/mcquilkin). On September 20, 2003, Muriel McQuilkin died at the age of 81." -excerpt from Christianity Today

To hear how this man loved his wife - who no longer even recognized him... For years and years - every single day. It blows me away. Seriously, you should read up on this man and see for yourself how movingly selfless his love for his wife is. I can only shake my head and hope that I am half the man he is some day.

Public Humiliation

I am so sorry.


I am so humiliated. I am so embarrassed, shamed, and [insert something horrible]. Lord.... Talk about humbling. Let me explain...please:


Within say, the last two weeks... I've used a phrase two or three times in passing conversation that I genuinely believed to be innocuous and harmless. I used it again tonight at Small Group and I was immediately smacked down by at least 5 people. They explained what I'd actually said (it's a racial epitaph). I was appalled. I still am. And the worst part is... I don't remember who I said it to.

I'm not going to repeat it... You know who you are if you heard it. Geeze, what must you think of me? I would be terribly offended and let down if a good friend dropped something so nasty in such a flippant way... Which brings me to point #2:

Why the hell didn't you tell me? Seriously... If I'm talking with someone and they say/do something that is ridiculously out of character - and more than that- just plain wrong... I hope I would stop them right there and get an explanation. Please believe me, I had no idea. I'm not really mad at anyone but myself... And thoroughly disappointed.

Sorry folks.

J

Anxiety/Humility

As I was driving (late) into work this morning, I was able to catch part of a sermon from Alistair Begg about the relationship between anxiety and humility. This was pretty exciting, because I've been feeling awfully anxious lately for a number of reasons.

Feeling anxious sucks.

Anxiety is like one of those doggie head-cones that dogs are forced to wear after surgery. Impossible to ignore, always looming in your periphery, annoyingly in the way during every part of normal life. You know what else? It's humiliating. I'm pretty humiliated that I can let these things which I have no control over harass me so. I know better; I know that I should shrug it off or cast it at the feet of Jesus or some such... And the fact that I have not, or am not, or have apparently forgotten how... It's a pretty damning realization. I mean how did this happen?

Well.. if I consider that this present anxiety is arguably the result of a lack of humility - it's not much of a stretch to think that God decided it was high time to get me into a ridiculous and traumatic head-cone. With that in mind, yesterday in fact (before I heard the sermon), I was humbled. I spent time in prayer like I haven't in months. Down on my face. Raw and honest to the point that my own words moved me to tears. Psalm 34:4 was a verse that I memorized a few weeks ago, and in that moment it took on the weight of a cement truck. It was the best, most peaceful, freeing time that I've felt in as long as I can remember.

Immediately after that, I had another realization: Whatever it is that has driven me here - it's so completely possible that it has just served it's single purpose in entering my life. For example: I haven't heard back from World Vision. But if the suspense of waiting on them has helped to drive me here, then in a very real sense it doesn't matter if I ever do. I think God is much more concerned with the posture of my heart, soul, and spirit... than with pretty much everything else. And I'll take that any day.

lessons of the everyday variety

So I was talking with a friend a few days ago and she made a statement that stopped me in my tracks. Well... stopped my fingers from typing - and truthfully, stole just a little bit of my breath away.

"I think truth in itself is poetic, and no matter how raw is beautiful."

Maybe I'm not as witty as I think I am, and just had no reply. Maybe the unexpected depth had me grasping for analysis.

Or maybe, the feeling was just like this:

Suddenly discovering something new, mysterious, and profoundly unique about a room that you've been in a thousand times before.

How is someone supposed to respond to something like that, anyway?

You know, I've got a theory about how one of the best ways God loves us is through other people. Looking back through my experiences... I can say that there are a number of people who where there when I was most in need - and more often than not I didn't know it. Friends who, by what seemed like complete chance, were in the perfect place to tell me exactly what I needed to hear. I zoom out and look at those moments in the grand scheme of things - and it's so clear that just the right words, at just the right time, from just the right person, are like the rain drops that change the course of a river.

It's true.

The more I turned those words over in my mind, the more ashamed I began to feel that I so freely abuse something so beautiful. I don't think I've ever expressed a love for what truth is that even comes close to how that single statement made me feel.

And I sincerely believe that she wasn't even trying.

I remember asking God for wisdom not too long ago. It also happened to be not long after I'd watched Evan Almighty on HBO, and I was very aware of this amazing insight that Morgan Freeman dropped partway through the movie:

"God: Let me ask you something. If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?"

Yeah, I know. I was pretty shocked too.

So maybe I'm making too much out of it all.

Or maybe it was an opportunity that He knew I would use.

Cheers.

J

Hellooo world, love me back

So this is what an official blog looks like!

Now that we're here... Let's lay into the seething cauldron of questions that I know you're all excited about:

I'm 26.

I love my guitar.

I'm positive it loves me back.

Given the opportunity, I would name my child Maximus, Ace, Maverick, Thor, or Optimus. This reasoning operates on the theory that a child will grow up to take upon themselves the aspect(s) of their name. Hey, give me a break here. In ancient Jewish culture names were understood to invoke not only the individual they belonged to, but were also reflective of their nature. They beheld God with such awe that speaking or writing his name was avoided because it was so holy! ( I of course cannot produce any citations because I'm making these statements based on something or another that I heard or read somewhere... nevertheless..)

I'm only half serious about that.

I'm so much more eloquent, funny, and handsome on the internet.

I love people.

A lot.

I try to make them love me back.

Maybe I don't love myself as much as I should.

Who am I kidding, I'm awesome.

See, that's just bravado.

If people find me awesome, I generally need to be told.

Like if I were to bake you a nice cake, or wash your car, I'd be expecting a lavish compliment.

I'm pretty sure that I'm feeling uncomfortably narcissistic listing all of my junk.

Also, I work in IT.

I am not stereotypical.

I do not go to ComicCon.

I don't watch Japanese Anime.

Ok, my friend made we watch some with him once.

We'd had some margaritas and I was feeling bold.

It was pretty weird.

I drink Coffee.

I think it's so delicious.

I got my father's sense of Humor.

I told him last night that it's really weird to hang out with him now, because he always says what I'm thinking.

But the truth is, I love it.

Peace, my adoring public.

I'm going to a Halloween party.