Stepping off Part 2

"So what happens now?"

"What do you want to happen?"

"I want my life to mean something to someone. My whole life has been about trying to make myself happy and I found myself on this ledge knowing that I haven't done a single thing to inspire anyone to do anything good. I complain about everything. Politics, religion, taxes, war, the dishwasher constantly breaking...but never once did anything about any one of them. I am always just talking and half the time I cannot even decipher what I am saying."

"So jumping off this ledge was the answer instead of just simply doing things different? I asked myself that question too when I stepped off and found the invisible ground. I fell about 10 feet down and slammed onto what I thought was the pavement and my final feeling. Then I got up and looked down and was a little relieved. I knew all along that I was taking a really illogical route to freeing myself from myself. The problem was that I had always trusted in myself. This step off the ledge left me with no answers. I stepped off and gravity failed. There was more to life than what I could see, even the ground beneath my feet."

"So what now though. Nothing has changed. I still got nothing. I still wrecked everything that loved me. But here I am standing on this invisible ground in the night with some guy I don't know, wondering if you are an angel or a demon."

"If I were and angel, I would have caught you. If I were a demon, I would have pushed you. I am a person who walked up those steps at a certain time and found a guy that has never trusted in anything but himself trying to find the guts to step off that ledge. I saw you and I saw myself."

"You mentioned that Peter started sinking when he saw the waves engulfing him. I kinda see the waves man. I am figuring out now that I am standing on top of the world with only a clear view below me. It's starting to freak me out."

"Peter began to sink because of doubt. But did Jesus let him drown? He put out His hand and pulled him up. Faith is trusting that God is in control even when we doubt and let the world bring fear into our hearts. Acts of faith have never been strong ones, but extremely vulnerable ones, mixed with intense emotion. You think Abraham raised that knife to his only child without intense crisis of the mind? He was a mess unlike any other. He doubted for sure, but took the leap anyway. This was faith. He was rewarded. You have been rewarded. So I say what you do now is stop and think. Forget quickly what you have always done in the past and let God answer your questions. Walk in the light of day and connect yourself to something different. We have choices. No matter what your history has given you, you have the choice to be who you want to be and see things the way you want to. You are free. You are starting over. You are forgiven."

"Who are you?"

"Does it matter right now? Right now I am only a witness to what God has done in you. I am a humbled witness."

















Sing.
Migrate.







Thanks for reading...Z

Stepping Off The Ledge

The night was humid, a sticky humidity that made you want to be frozen in the winter ice. On top of that building something happened...something outrageous and entirely out of the ordinary. Something magical was what he was looking for as he plummeted to the cement. But this was only his plan...

"Don't tell me what to do! You don't know me, you don't know anything. You just found me here, now move along and mind your own business, this is not your business." He stands on the edge of a building overlooking the lights of a city that promised him something new and wonderful, but delivered only the ugly truth about himself. He was going to have to be him, no matter where he lived.

"I am not telling you what to do. I am telling you what I would do. I would just jump. Just go. You took 100 flights of stairs to get here because the elevator is broken, why not jump?"

"I can't right now. I need you to go. I don't want anyone to see. I want to be alone."

"I was up here once you know. You aren't the first person to step on this exact ledge in the night while happy people are sleeping. I was here once in this exact same spot...only ten years ago. I came here to celebrate the night everything changed. I was not you, I was me in your shoes and I stepped off that very small piece of concrete you stand on now. I just did it. I stepped off and I fell down. At first I thought I was still falling, but really I had fallen on something hard hanging over the sky, invisible to my eyes. I stepped on it many times and jumped on it, hoping it would break like glass but nothing happened, even when I had walked clear across these buildings. Someone was telling me that I had no choice, I was going to understand love, no matter how hard I resisted."

"I am not messing with you. I am not crying for help. I had no idea anyone would be here. Tonight is the night, just go away and leave me be. I didn't ask you to be here."

"Then jump. But before you do, understand that there is more to life than what you see in front of your eyes. There is much more. Before you go I want to show you something." He closes his eyes and pauses for a moment and walks to the ledge and steps off without hesitation, devoting his body weight to gravity. Gravity failed. He steps his foot down on the surface of something unseen and takes another. He walks ten feet into the night then turns around and holds out his hand toward the man on the ledge.

Perplexed, clearly, He says "How are you doing this?" An understandable and fair question to ask at this point in time.

"Step off man. There is this story in the Bible where Peter was in a boat in the middle of the night and Jesus came walking on the water during a terrifying storm and tells Peter to step out of the boat. Peter does and begins walking on the water just like Jesus. Peter starts looking around and takes his eyes of Jesus and gets scared looking at the waves and storm and starts to sink. Jesus reaches down and grabs his hand and pulls him from the abyss. It takes faith to see God ruling in your life. It takes faith to know that you aren't in control of the waves and lightning, but God is. You can step off that ledge and be assured that you will fall 100 stories and die, or you can step off in faith and grab my hand knowing that God is the floor beneath you. Or...you can turn around and walk away and end up here again in a month. I say take my hand."

"I'm scared."

"You think Peter wasn't scared when he stepped out of the boat? He was terrified, but faith is not about knowing you are in the hands of God and walking without doubt. Faith is still stepping off despite the doubt. Take my my hand out here, knowing you are taking His. "

His hands shake and shiver on the roof that may change his life. He looks up in tears at the sky...at the God he has doubted his entire life. He has no choice now. He came all the way here and walked 100 floors x10 steps each. He had to trust because he had nothing else to lose. He steps off with his eyes closed and his hands shaking and finds the floor. He opens his eyes and looks down at the street full of moving cars a thousand feet below. He begins to laugh. Even he has no idea why he reacts this way... it is surely inappropriate for the moment, but he cannot help it, so he gives in and just stands there on air laughing while tears flow down his face.

"Didn't I tell you not to jump? Didn't I tell you that it was what I would do? Why did you jump?"

"I had no choice. I have nothing left, now I feel stupid, as if I have everything and almost left it. I had built a fortress and vowed to never leave this place...this hopeless place. So I stepped off, begging there to be something out there that cared and here I am standing on nothing."

"Then I guess you know now."

"I guess I do." 










Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

Covering Your Eyes - Part 2

Going back to my last blog about covering our eyes to the scary things...I have been thinking about it and another thing stands out about it. Possibly



the biggest thing we cover our eyes to is ourselves. Maybe it is fear of what we know is underneath all of what you put out into the world, or maybe it is because the thought of such a person is revolting to you and you simply will not believe you have become what you have become...someone you never wanted to be.

It isn't at all what you see when you look in the mirror. People see what they want to see when they look into those. It's more about what you see when you lay your head on the pillow at night and you cannot keep it from surfacing. I realize my worst nightmares in the vulnerability and silence of the night. It keeps me awake sometimes, thinking that I am not what God is leading me to. I am not. This is a fact. I resist, like a baby that is so tired, but tries with all of his might not to fall asleep. It usually isn't about misfortune or bad luck, it is usually self sabotage succeeding. Sometimes we think we are too good and sometimes we think we are too bad. There are problems with both thoughts.

Too good: This is pride. We aren't too good. Our good deeds are soiled menstral clothes to God. Nothing we do is good. We are no better than the guy that beat up that old woman, we are just different with different circumstances and leading from God. There is simply no excuse ever, for self-righteous behavior.

Too bad: This is pride. We are thinking too much about ourselves. This is destructive because it helps no one. We cannot see with God's eyes, but we can take His word for it...He gave His Son for us because He loves us. We are worth more than we may think. Our mistakes do not have to ruin us and become more mistakes. We can ask forgiveness and walk away from them, with assurance they are forgiven and forgotten, at least by God. To some people, we owe apologies.

The point is to take the blinders off if they are present and active in distracting you from God's path.


Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading. - Z

Covering Your Eyes

I remember going to King's Island as a kid. There was this ride called the Beastie!!!!!!! It was hundreds of feet of towering fear drenched in the blood and torment of the souls of demon puppy ears.  I was 178 inches under the height requirement to ride this fear inducing monstrosity. On the other side of the park, there was a ride called the Jr. Beastie. This one had my name of it. I got in the car with my mom, who also liked roller coasters and my older brother in behind us. He didn't know yet how he felt about roller coasters. He was sitting next to a stranger, some guy that answered the call for one single rider. Maybe his girlfriend had left him at the alter and this was going to be his honeymoon that he already paid for. Who knows how he got the misfortune of sitting next to my older brother's first roller coaster learning experience. The ride started and my brother was already in tears. By the end of the first 10 foot hill, he was hysterical, being rocked and comforted in this strangers arms. He cried to get off the ride and covered his eyes.

This is what we do when we don't want to know what's going to happen. As children, when there was a bogey man in the room, we pulled the covers over our heads and pretended we didn't just see what we thought we saw. Sometimes we would just rather not know what was standing in front or behind us. My son is like this. He is afraid of everything. I have never understood this because I have only really feared two things...Nuclear Holocaust and being in a plane crashing into an ocean of sharks. He is afraid of the color of the sky in the summer. If it is red, he thinks a tornado is coming. If it is green, he things that tornado is going to throw up. It took me a while to really understand that the fear was real and not just a superficial phobia.

The fact of the matter is that it doesn't matter if the thing that a person fears is real, because the fear itself is real...and sometimes crippling. It is scary to take a chance on something. I grew up in a family that took chances. My whole life I have taken the chance more often than not when I recognized the opportunity. I may have had smoke in my eyes but I jumped anyways. Until I had something to lose. I didn't recognize that there was anything to lose until my eyes were opened and God gave me a family to care for. All of the sudden with my infant son lying on my stomach and a picture of my wife on the dresser, I realized that I absolutely, positively, empirically cannot lose them. Things change then. Good and bad.

Good- You learn responsibility. You learn that some things are not worth opening your mouth or acting on in a whim. You learn that there is more to life than your instincts and human carnal nature.

Bad- You learn really fast to love your life and take no chances, even if God is drawing you to them. You can sell your very soul to the mundane.

You cannot hold your hands over your eyes on the scary parts. You have to watch those horrific things  to learn. Today a little sweet old man was told he was gonna die by September this year, the morning of his birthday. My instinct was to go spend the day with the other sweet old man down the hall who was going home happy, but my heart kept tugging at me to keep my eyes open. We must see the things that scare us. We must face those fears. This builds character in us. Below are examples of people I have met that have removed their hands from their eyes and met the storms head on.

This guy that fought and lost a thousand times with addiction, but kept dusting himself off and going to those musty basement church AA meetings. He walked 2 miles to get there...and still does.

This woman who fought cocaine addiction and a brain tumor to emerge a wonderful parent and actress. She died unexpectedly several years ago, leaving behind a 12 year old son, who I pray will keep his eyes open.

A woman who had lost the love of her family as a teenager and the love of the men in her life and raised two kids on her own. She fought through the demons that surrounded her and emerged with her head above the surface.

A badly burned man who had been set on fire by his step father as a small child because he refused to watch his mother abused. He had lost 7 fingers and all resemblance of a human being. He was homeless and on crack, but called me at night from a pay phone downtown to pray with him as he faced his demons. He did fade away into the night and I didn't hear from him again, but I believe God still reigns in him.

A mother and father who lost their firstborn to something no one could ever understand, and his kids that will never understand why daddy left. But they fight on.

I have many more, but you wouldn't want to read them and you get the point. 







Sing.
Migrate.






Thanks for reading...Z

Dignity

One of the difficult things about working in a hospital on a floor that has so much grim illness, is having to watch the horror of a body shutting down. We don't think about that often in our busy lives. Most of our nervous systems fire and our bodies cooperate with what our minds tell them to do. We usually don't think about their betrayal. This betrayal of the flesh from the mind is the most saddening part. Many of my patients are not coherent enough to decipher what is going through their minds, but some of them are. Some of them understand fully how bad it hurts to have the dressing changed on their pressure ulcers. Some of them can just shake their heads and look at you with embarrassment when they have been incontinent. They have lost their dignity. They have lost control of everything except for pain. Right now I tell myself to press down these keystrokes to send this message across the world to the dozens that read my words. I never think about the possibility that I will not one day be able to express myself at all. I may not be able to speak or write things down. There may be an end to my written history, at least how I see it.

One of the organizations I respect the most is Hospice. Hospice deals in dignity. I think that is pretty admirable. They don't care who you were when you were still a cowboy, they only care that you don't go out screaming in pain. They make it not hurt anymore. This is a very basic of love. When my son broke his femur, I would have torn off my own flesh to make the hurt stop. It made me sick every time they had to touch him and make him shriek in pain, it cut me deeply every time. Pain is a large part of the human condition. It is the very thing we have always feared the most. When I was a boy it took several nurses to hold me down when I had to get a shot. Now I see things that make me want to cry. As a student, one of my patients had an open amputation above the knee, but could not speak anymore. Every day I had to tear that dressing out of the open wound as it had dried, removing pieces of her life with it. She could not speak or scream, but tears rolled down her unresponsive face. I remember coming in to clinical after Hospice had taken her care over and removed the bandage and got no tears at all. No reaction. Her pain was gone, taken away by the people that deal in dignity.

I want someone to come and read this passage to me every day if I ever become unable to raise my voice in coherence. Rev. 21:4 "He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever." There may not be a more comforting passage in the world in regards to our state of humanity. Those who find themselves in the fellowship of God are His Children. The Bible says that those who believe have the right to be called a child of God. I can only imagine what God feels when we are in pain. The Bible even gave us His Spirit, which intercedes for us with groanings that cannot be uttered. When we cannot even express ourselves to God, He is still at work. No promise of reduced suffering for knowing Him. I could do nothing to end my son's pain as badly as it hurt me. He can do all things, yet in this present time, we are a subject to the pains of being human. I believe He did tear off His flesh to give us the hope that we see in that Revelation passage. He is in the business of dignity too. He gives us hope and strength to stand firm in the shadow of death.








Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading. - Z

When You Wake Up

    
       He picked up a picture of his mother attached to his father, only with a label on the side. The picture was old enough that his fingers caused damage to the delicate peeling that threatened to eliminate the memory of it's subjects. It was like a fire had peeled it away for years and years. The scrape of the wheel and the flash of light brings out the shadows hidden behind the cracks and 70's chandelier giving light to darker places in the memory. Smoke billowed from his lips as he breathed in what would pierce the amateur breather. Below, his feet kicked back and forth, just as they did when he was young and sat in this very same pose in this very same moment 20 years ago. The chill in the air made the smoke billow like a forest fire from his mouth as he blew rings which seemed to connect for a moment, then evaporate into the night sky. Beside him sits an entire box of memories all tattered from different fingers holding them in different atmospheres. He throws the one in his hand into the water below him and watches it dance with the moon until his eyes could no longer see it. He reaches for another. He is wearing a cape in this one, and running crazy, pointing at something on the other side of the camera. His hair was long, curly, and blonder than he ever remembered it. Behind him were streamers many different colors and children laughing as though no one were watching them. No shame or feeling of embarrassment for their lack of human dignity. They are little eulogies for their own funerals that will be taped to a poster board many years from this moment. But here, they are more alive than the stems that pierce your fingers when you pick the rose from your grandmother's garden. He watches his own hand fling it into the abyss and watch it join the parade of dancers fleeing the place they have called home these last 20 years.

     The last one finds purchase in the moonlight saying goodbye like the loons do when the sun is going down. Finally a key. He knows full well what this key unlocks, but in his mind, what it has locked. He throws the key high into the air several feet in front so he can watch it's reflection tear through his eyes and into his heart, knowing this is the last of it. This is goodbye. He cannot hold on to it any longer. He has to let go now. He knows there is much more on the other side of where he has taken residence. His home for his entire life feels no more like his home now than a box in the water, floating toward the morning sun taking in water. The ghosts that once sat at every corner waiting for him to pass, now sleep in the sun, appearing only in his dreams from time to time. What kept him here is gone.

     He climbs back over the wall and walks back to his car from the bridge. Something is pulling him back and eating at his throat, but it is ignored this time. He looks straight forward refusing to become ashes and turns the key and presses down the pedal. He knows the sun will be up soon.


Photo credit to: http://intao.deviantart.com





Sing.
Migrate.






Thanks for reading...Z

Being Used By God

Rom 9:21 "When a potter makes jars out of clay, doesn't he have a right to use the same lump of clay to make one jar for decoration and another to throw garbage into?" NLT

Ever wonder if you are being used by God in a negative way?


I will warn you, this post is gonna seem angry, but it isn't. It isn't anything but a question that I have yet to be able to answer sufficiently enough to give a proper conclusion. I have studied the Bible for 14 years and have been teaching it for 11. I am in no way a Bible scholar. I cannot read Greek or Hebrew, although I did try a "Teach yourself Greek in 7 weeks" book, but only made it 5. The point is, that from what I have read, people have been used by God for both positive and negative reasons, at least as far as they are concerned. All are positive as far as God is concerned. Judas fulfilled prophecy, but did he have to do it? God hardened the Pharaoh's heart to change his mind about Moses, but did he have a choice? You do have to wonder if you really think about it, if everything happens for a positive outcome. The Bible says in Rom. 8:28 "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." This gives us reassurance that the outcome is always for our best if we love Him, but it does not say we will perceive it that way.


A few years ago, I was walking on the Southgate High School track with my wife for the first and only time ever. As we were walking our first lap, I bent over to pick up a cell phone. I opened it and checked the contacts to see who I should call to tell them their phone was lost. I opened the recent calls and saw a kid with my father's apparent last name. I was torn on what to do. I had heard that I may have a cousin that goes to this school and  had to assume as a person who is always looking for the voice of God, that this may be my chance. I had always wondered about my father's side of the family as I had never met any of them...or my father. To my wife's surprise, I hit the call button and spilled out my guts to some teenager, hoping for some answers. He told me he would call me back after he spoke with his dad. He called back an hour later and apologized for not being able to help me and was sorry I couldn't find my father. I would not give up. There was a reason I picked up that phone.


A couple of months later, I went to his Myspace page and found my sister. For the first time, I looked at another person with my father's eyes. To my wife's surprise, I messaged her and spilled out my guts to her. I don't really know why, I was just desperate to know something about her...anything. I spoke to her over the course of several days with excitement at every message. I wanted to be her brother. In the end, she had spoken to her/our father and come to the conclusion that I was not her brother. That was that. I sent her the blood test results, but got no answer. She acknowledged that my father received the letter I sent to her grandfather (I only could track down his address at the time) telling my father I forgave him just after my introduction to Jesus. Again, she said she was sorry I couldn't find my dad. Again, I believe my mother. I had found him. Just no one else believed I had.


Years later and I still don't understand why I came across that phone on that day with that number being the last called. I thought that when I called it my leap of faith would finally get me the answers I was searching for. I believed that God was setting me up for something beautiful. Instead I was left with disappointment. I often feel like He was setting me up for more failure for the purpose of giving my father no excuse. This is a troubling thought for me. Not because I don't believe that God is righteous, but because as Christians, we have this attitude that God is always using us to make us happy. God never promises us this. God promises it to work for our good, not for our happiness.


I thank God for all the things He has freely given me. I never deserved any of them. I am not complaining at all. I am not asking for answers, I am only asking questions that may or may not be answered in the time my pulse beats resurrected blood. I know that God is always good. I know that God sees the beginning and the end of the parade, but my only observation is that sometimes the middle gets a little messy.








Sing.
Migrate.






Thanks for reading...Z

Conditioning

What does a real human being look like? Sometimes it is hard to find one. Sometimes is seems like I find one in a day, which is crazy, although I may be wrong about my judgement of flesh vs. robot. We are a conditioned society. In many ways what atheists say is true, we are very often a product of who raised us. I can tell you that I was raised in church and most atheists would tell me that is why I am a Christian...because my rebellion phase naturally ended and I reverted back to what I had been taught in my childhood. However predictable your life may be, there are always the unexplained events. I may have been conditioned to look to Christ, however, I was not conditioned to reject Him and try to commit suicide. In fact I was conditioned to believe that was a ticket to hell. I was conditioned to believe that bad things come to those that do bad things, well I did bad things and because of God's grace, I got everything I have ever wanted out of life. There literally is nothing I desire that I do not have. What conditioning did that?

I went to church my whole life and if you had asked me the single most hated thing in my life, it would not be my heartbreak from a girl. It would not be my dad that left me. It would not be the people who disappointed me. It would be church/God. It would be the people that looked at me from above their glasses when my girlfriend got pregnant by me. I found my refuge in those that were disenchanted by the actions of "God's people." There is no conditioning for that. My life is a direct reflection of the work of God. I would have rather followed a lemming than to follow Jesus, but the story ends how it does and I am found following my God...who is real...and doesn't care how you were taught to believe.








Sing.
Migrate.





Thanks for reading...Z

Right Now

Maybe soon I will be creative again, but right now I am just tasking. I am doing the things that life right now requires me to do to keep my family from gasping for air. It isn't fun or pretty. It requires mandatory showers when I get home and an 8:30 bedtime. I get home from work and can only think of my pillow. I think to myself, "I want to write!!!!!!" But find myself in bed dreaming before I can realize I am hearing the alarm for tomorrow go off at 4:30. Here is a short list of things I miss.

Working in sweatpants without supervision.
Going to the bathroom when I want to, not when I get a chance to.
Having a lunchtime revolved around hunger, and not afternoon medications.
Speaking to my boss because I desire to, not because he is calling for the 10th time before lunch.
Typing things and being creative...tonight my hands were in both blood and crap at the same time.
I miss my students so much. So much.
Above all, I miss my family. I can see why Laura has always wanted to work from home and been jealous that I did.



That being said....I am dong well. I am working really hard at something I had no experience at, and it's going really well. I am competing...and winning. My manager tells everyone she can that she is proud of me and introduces me to hot shots. The food is terrible, so I bring my lunch. I use the elevator to go up and the stairs to go down. I have a problem with delegation to my aides because I have always had problems with delegation. It isn't pride I don't think, it's guilt, because I always believe I can physically do it myself. I miss my wife and kids and forget to help with the day to day things that my loving wife does without being told too. I'm gonna be working on that. I feel good about myself, like I have accomplished something. It is really nice to punch the clock and not have to take my stress home with me every night. Except sometimes I do. But most times I don't, but Southeast Detroit is a rough place to work without feeling bad.


That's all for now. I have been up for 19 hours.






Sing.
Migrate.







Thanks for reading...Z

Security Blankets

"I have buried you, in every place I've been, you keep ending up, in my shaking hands." Bon Iver

It is still here...buried in my guts...this feeling of being someone different than who I've become.  Sometimes that scared little kid still sits on front of the strange enigmic saxophone player in the park talking about the end of the world. I was five at the time and learning about nuclear war. I bury that kid whenever he reaches from the depths. There was something altogether different about him than I am now. He was scared of everything. He was always unsure of himself and expected everyone to reject him. He was always playing out these scenarios of everything he dreamed was true in his head. This kid was weak, so he gets to die. He gets to taste the bitter pill of being forgotten, until he is remembered.

I am loud.

I am not going to be ignored.

I am not scared of anything.

I never get embarrassed.

I can handle rejection.

I am the burier of weakness.................yet I spill it out here.

Sometimes, I wake up and I am still that kid. I still need a heater to sleep and the window open. I still need to feel safe when I am most vulnerable. I still need to make up scenarios to restore my mind to peace. When I was that little kid, I would feel insecure and just go into the living room where my mom slept and lay on the floor next to the heat register. I would wait for the creaking and dinging that would happen just before the heater would kick on. When I heard that noise, I would feel safe again and fall asleep in it's loving warmth.

I've had the crap kicked out of me many times since I was that little kid. I learned to be strong. I learned to kick back and fight and win. One of the things about me is that I seldom lose. I refuse to lose. But despite my aggression, I still hate confrontation. I still hate to feel insecure. When I do, I find myself under an open window with my heater. Maybe no one fully grows up anymore. Maybe we bury ourselves and weaknesses in everywhere we go and hold them under most days. Maybe sometimes, they emerge and we fall into their arms to find comfort and peace.

Is there something wrong with that? Will slept with his "Woobie," a little satin jacket he had as a kid until the day he died. It had been sown so many times, it looked like a Halloween freak show, but he would not sleep without it. It was his connection to security and comfort. When he felt vulnerable, he grabbed hold of it.


What is your security blanket?


Photo credit to: http://thirty3flashes.deviantart.com

Crawling Into Data

What I have to say is nothing new. I will not wow you with information I do not possess. But I think it is worth writing down anyway for history's sake.  Sometimes, it isn't the new things or ground breaking discoveries that we as people need the most, it is the constant reminders of things we have learned a thousand times. We all know that lying is wrong, yet we often do so without a second thought. We know that it is wrong to slander others, yet we often do not even notice when we are murdering someone with our lips. The thing that has been sitting in my stomach and aching me in this culture that is quickly trading human interaction for electronic relationships, is the lack of human touch. We are losing the humanity that comes with knowing the person your venom is directed at is a human with blood coursing through their veins. People who go to breakfast in the morning and have a cup of coffee and read the newspaper, or Reddit. People who miss their parents and daily think about the day they buried them. People who enjoy roller coasters and want Boblo Island to come back.

During this year's Republican primary, one thing that has stood out to me the most is that people seem to toss aside the knowledge of the person on the other side of their screen and all that data, actually being a warm human being. People tossing insults, lies, and sharp words at each other like they are flaming lawn darts aiming to punish the soul of the person who simply disagrees with you. I am guilty too. I have noticed an increase in paragraphs I have written, then deleted before posting, realizing that they do NOT glorify God. It doesn't have to be an inflammatory statement to be pointless. God says to let your words be few. Much of what I say has no real point as far as glorifying my God.

I ask myself...would I say this to the person if I were face to face? No. Probably not. Because then I would feel bad, because I don't like confrontation. Unfortunately, the internet has become a haven for confrontation from those that also don't like human confrontation. You simply can delete the person, block them, then slander them and they will never see it. Data is unforgiving, lifeless, and brutal. A simple number will never change it's mind because of the look on the person's face in front of it. It will thrust the cold steel into the bowels and turn to another and repeat.

People are not numbers.

We can open the newspaper and read the obituaries and the stories of people who have died and we can have no emotion at all. We did not know them. People die everyday. It is life. It is the end of all people. Who cares. Who cares? But what if you held that person's hand as they died? What changes then? Human contact reminds us that we may be all different, but we are all the same. At my job, a person will die and you will put them into a bag and put tags on them. You will call the proper outlets for organ donation and whatever. You will sign the right paperwork and be done with it and on to the next thing...until the family get's there and wraps their arms around you in utter agony. All they see are their family photos stored in their minds, and the way their mom or dad smelled on Christmas Eve. There is no number for that, it cannot even be recreated. This is the beauty of life and death. God is present in both.

Often we forget that God is also present in our interaction through electricity. Your words hurt or mean just as much as if face to face, yet we lack the discernment of judging a person's face.

Let's keep it clean and civil. Let's handle our electric communication as Christ would handle His physical interaction. Let's make it a point to actually stand face to face with another person sometimes, instead of over lights.







Sing.
Migrate.








Thanks for reading...Z

Timeline

Facebook is changing over to the Timeline look of your profiles which allows users to go back and view the history of one's life. This is both wonderful and scary at the same time. It is like taking a snapshot of a person's entire life and saving it for whoever wants to look in at any time. I can understand that some people hate this new feature. I personally like it a lot, however stalker friendly it may be.

I went back tonight to my posts from when Will died. I have had a series of dreams of him still being alive over the past few nights which brought me to do such a dumb thing. I realized while reading posts that I can remember my tears flowing over, that I have a lot of people who care about me, and cared about Will. I read really awkward posts of condolences from people I have barely spoken to in years, just speechless in the words to say, but were caring enough to try. Of course you didn't have words to say. No one would. There are no words to make a person feel better when their hearts have been crushed, but the attempt is worth more to me than the effort. God has a way of protecting His children. I was angry and bitter at Him, yet He sends people out of the woodwork to lift me up out of the mud.

I have been going back there all day. It is weird, because I avoid thinking about Will as much as I can, because as wonderful as he was and as much as I loved him, remembering him still brings me pain. Today, the dreams would not allow me to avoid the feelings they intended. I just prayed for God to tell Him that I miss him. I pray that prayer at least twice a week and hope when I get to Heaven, he says that he missed me too.

When you look at a historical timeline, you are looking at the significant events of that period of history. I believe that Will spikes a very significant event in my history. The moment my faith was pushed and tested until it broke and God's grace fully engulfed me. Below is my timeline as I remember it.

1978- I was born
1981- I meet my little brother Andy
1983- My father wins the paternity case (No blood tests allowed)
1988- I get tuberculosis and spend a half a year out of school and in therapy
1991- Suicide is introduced into my life by a school friend over his parents divorce.
1993- I meet Will and Joe
1997- My first daughter is born
1997- I meet Jesus
1999- I meet my future wife
2001- I marry my wife
2003- My son is born
2006- My second daughter is born
2007- I contact my sister and get rejected
2009- Will passes away
2010- The crushing of my spirit
2011- I come alive again











Sing.
Migrate.



Thanks for reading...Z

What I Come Home To

People will accept you or reject you based on a thousand different factors. We get up every morning and prepare ourselves to meet an ever changing world. We leave the house without any guarantee that we will be liked, succeed, or survive. We get insecure about ourselves and accept a reality that doesn't have to be true and start that car and enter into a cold and unforgiving world. This isn't news to you. You live it, I live it. The problem is that we often forget what we are coming home to. I have spent this past weekend watching my family. My son, who was stricken with anxiety this weekend, his birthday weekend. He had two major panic attacks this weekend. My wife, who is always worried about having cancer and loves her husband and kids so much she fears losing them everyday. And me....a mess...and absolute mess. I come home to the warmth of my family. I refused  to leave the house this weekend for more than an hour. I refuse to let them go. It is easy to forget the people that will die for you and vice versa when life gets rough. But they are the very people God has given me to survive and be happy. My heart is full. I cannot imagine a better life. There is no "Grass is greener" situation. I have what I always wanted and never deserved. I have everything. The world can reject me...shut me out, but I get to lay on a pillow next to my wife's and wrap my arms around little people that call me their dad. I get to be a dad that they will always love and lay their heads on, instead of the one that is distant.



God has given me all of these things.
God has given me everything.
God is good, not because I am happy, but because He is good, even when I am evil.
God is everything.






Sing.
Migrate.






Thanks for reading...Z

Punching That Clock

I haven't been writing lately. I apologize for that. I have thought about it everyday, but don't have anything interesting or groundbreaking to say. Things are changing for me quickly and I am just paddling to stay above the water, there hasn't been a lot of time to really think about how I FEEL about these things. When one is caught in a place they have no idea how to survive, much less flourish in, they rarely have the time to write down their live experiences of those things. Often they journal at times when it becomes quiet and calm and he get's a sense of peace are safety. So here it goes, because right now it is peaceful. I fully intend to journal more with different things and spill out in different ways, but for now, here is an update.

I am doing well. I am not liking the man I am becoming. I say that because when change happens we rarely like it. It usually shakes the ground beneath us. I don't like it when the alarm clock blasts with the sound of the trumpets of Jericho at 5:25 AM. Most mornings my first thought is "What was I thinking?" As a full time pastor, I would take my kids to school 3 hours later, then come home and start work in my sweatpants and t-shirt. I would put on my music and do what I did. As of late.....if my hand does not grasp that card and swipe it through by 7:06 AM, I will lose a half hour pay and be cited in an incident report.

My last boss was a very brutal man that would ask your opinion about things and take it to heart, and field any complaints and keep them from me in order to spare me the discouragement. I fear now, although I admit it is probably unfounded, that I could lose my job with one simple mistake.

The morning traffic is horrible, but not terrible (I have decreed that terrible is a more harsh word than horrible because of the strong T sound.) I drive down 75 into Detroit before the daylight showers the sky with light and will leave well after it has left. It is a difficult transition. I used to begin projects at 3 AM on a Tuesday. Now I am counting the few hours left after work, before I can drop my head to the pillow. I used to need things to think about to put me to sleep. Most nights, I fall a sleep before I realize I am trying to.

Earlier, I said I did not like the man I am becoming. I don't like him because he is what my family and I need to move forward. I need to serve Jesus full time, but do so with a joyful and serving heart, without pay. This transition really is bitter sweet. I am being forced to live a practical life. I am not practical.





Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

2012

New Years Day night...the very first night it has resembled winter. There is a bite in the air that will instantly entice your hands to pull that zipper all the way to the wind pipe. It's been a pleasant holiday season, and an ending to a very eventful year. I got through college this year. I fought the urge to give up and pressed on in the power of God. I became an RN. I got a job working as an RN. God is good even when we think He is bad. I saw another side of myself this year. I saw an anger I had forgotten I was capable of. I literally gave life all I had left. At the end of this past year, I found myself standing on my feet again. My face left an imprint in the mud at my feet and the dirt remains caked on my face, but my legs are firm. My demons are beneath my shoes finally. The war was long and hard and I expended faith I didn't have to give and wound up unconscious in the arms of God...just as He had planned.

It was a very nice Christmas. I have much to be thankful for. But underneath that torn wrapping paper there is something still waiting for me. I try to get it out of my mind and haven't even thought about writing about it here until now. I didn't want it back. It is a not-so-distant memory of the phone ringing just after my son opened his Nintendo Wii on Christmas morning 2009. The other side of all of that electricity and wires was my little brother Joe and I knew what had happened. Christmas was ruined. Forever, it would be synonymous with loss and confusion.

Christmas Day 2010. I made a choice to make Christmas off limits to any feeling at all. I felt it at times, but pushed it out and turned it to anger. I would simply pretend it didn't happen and that is how I would survive. Just close my eyes and open them when I saw light beyond the darkness of my eyelids.

Christmas Day 2011. I came to this day with the same plan. This time it doesn't work and I realize this every day since Christmas. Under that paper torn in happiness, is a very real and serious issue I have to come to grips with...My brother killed himself on Christmas and I cannot rewind any tape to bring him back. I have tried not to write about him so much because I know it hurts some of his family to read, and I feel like I am whining all the time. I look at my blog stats and see that there is an influx of people visiting my blog on Will's birthday, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Year's Eve expecting me to spill out here. I haven't written on any of these days this year because I don't know what to say that I already haven't. I am sad, but things are getting better. It hurts to think beyond that. It is easier to pretend. But doing that is forgetting the whole point as to why I began writing for any random person to read. I put down my personal journal I had kept for 12 years and decided to bring whoever wanted to go with me on a journey through my experience of being a human being in a dying world. It doesn't make sense to keep my thoughts and experiences from this blog. For those who read regularly, you know that I don't know all the answers. I don't know most of the answers. Sometimes I feel like I don't know any of the answers. I just write things down as I see or feel them. I try to do this in honesty because I am tired of being lied to and I thing you are too. This is me, take me or leave me behind, I will continue because of the power and grace of Jesus.


2012, I am going to deal with whatever is waiting for me under that paper. And I am gonna share it with you.


Here is a list of other things I plan to do in 2012:
Write a fiction book.
Become a part of the normal masses that venture out into the night to work and return again when it is dark, and actually get used to it.
Stop doing things that my heart hurts after doing, like losing my temper and yelling at someone I love.
Crafting the most perfect batch of beer I have tasted.
Stop letting people that hate me for bad reasons effect me and the way I feel and think about them.

If I accomplish any one of these goals, I reckon I will be happier than I am right now.







Sing.
Migrate.






Thanks for reading...Z

Rust

        It was seconds after the door slammed shut, that I realized there was someone behind it. The ball would drop and I would be sitting beneath the moonlit sky, but buried inside of this refrigerator. I pinched myself twice and slammed a fist into the door, that I could not believe I got inside in the first place. That red glowing light was like some kind of cheese and I was the mouse that just could not resist. Finally doomed. I had made a lifestyle out of following little red lights. Everything about them tells you to stop...that they are profoundly dangerous. But I never much feared the dangerous, but the predictable. I had always said that I would rather die not knowing or by accident than in my bed a hundred years from now, wondering if tonight was the night my eyes wouldn't reopen. As I sat alone in this vertical tomb, my mausoleum, I took it all back. The things I had said. The things I had done. The people I'd hurt. Walking away laughing. I would regret everything.

        Just seconds after the door slams shut, I regret my entire life. It felt deeper than wishing I hadn't wondered into this junk yard and especially sat down inside this fridge. Somehow I wanted to die. I was glad to be getting what I deserve finally. I started praying to rewind the entire tape and record over it. The looks on their faces will haunt my hell I am guessing. I was so terrible to them. Any kid that looked weak, I would pounce on. Now I am under their feet. I slammed my hand into the door again and again until I felt a trickle of warm fluid down my forearm and into my sleeve. I slam it again in anger; and again. I listen as the bones creak and snap as I shatter them on the steel? What was this material anyway? It was soft, yet unforgiving and unwavering. I was trapped.

        Her fingernails were painted red. It was all I saw as the door slammed shut. What witch of a woman locks a child inside of a refrigerator? But I am not a boy anymore I guess. I am no more a child than a feeble old man staring out at the world he once loved. It's been days since that door shut. Maybe years, I don't know anymore. It's too dark in here to count my fist marks in the door. They used to heal and stop hurting. Now they are brittle and falling apart. They bleed no more. I have long since stopped crushing them on the door. The light of the sun crosses only my memory and I am left to my doom. To my regrets...



Photo credit to: http://intao.deviantart.com/





Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading. - Z

When All The Presents Are Opened

You keep moving forward no matter what's behind you, and you put all your love left onto your wife and kids. This is how you survive the things you never thought you could make it through. Without God, none of these things in the formula will work. God is good and as my friend Jerame said, "Even when He doesn't." Your faith and strength in God will not take the pain away, only time will work on that, but it will give you a peace about what happens when we close our eyes, never to awake. Our God gives us the hope to endure the suffering that life can bring. He doesn't save us always from the pain of being alive. He had to endure it. Why not us? Instead of asking why me? Ask why not me?


Every year is hard when you lose someone you love, but every year does get easier as the harshness of our emotions fade into submission to the pain of sin in the world and our desire for deliverance from it. The fact of the matter is that we are gonna have to bleed to come out alive. We are gonna have to taste the poison that death and hell bring to see the grace on the other side. I am not special. I don't get to be except from what many around the world have to endure. I love my God and He loves me, but that doesn't make me special. My birthright in the eyes of God makes me special to Him, as does yours, but I have to live in this disease that entices mankind as well as any other. What's done is done.

He is gone...my brother that slept on an extra skinny, double long bed, right beside me. I am not gonna hear him snore or the strange mumblings he would say in the night anymore. Jesus alone listens to those, but I get the grace that was planted on this day in 2009, when my God allowed us to be shredded into tiny, sharp pieces to get us to Him. My brother is happy and dancing right now. He isn't alone. He isn't in his garage in the cold. He isn't still stuck in that hell he was living in. He isn't the guy that left us anymore. I gave that to God. He isn't weeping anymore. My brother is dancing. He is building things he never thought possible. He is waiting for us. Because of Christ. Because of the cross. Because of the birth of our God into a stable. May God give you every good thing that your heart needs to be free of anger, and sadness, and loneliness, and fill you with His grace. Merry Christmas.



Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

12-25-2009

2 years. Two very eventful years. The first was the worst I have ever had to endure. The second? One that has changed everything about me. Two years ago you were doing things that only God could see and thinking thoughts that only He took to heart. It was quiet and cold and I was sitting ignorant...as I usually am. I wouldn't have any idea you had gone until the morning when people missed you. So what happens two years later after the family Christmas festivities have ended and the kids and wife are all in bed? This happens. I write about you...my big brother, whom I love. Whom I miss so much. Whom I have outlived.

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday and that hasn't changed, no matter how hard I have tried to hate every twinkling light. The celebration of the birth of Christ is just too important to be overshadowed by the anniversary of an enormous enemy victory. It was because of Him and His birth in the very place that the cattle eat and sleep that gives me assurance that you are happy in Heaven right now...because nothing is bigger than the cross, and you believed. This year nothing has fallen from the sky. Oddly enough, two years ago, it was rain all day. There are no parades for you. No one is lighting a candle for you at your house. The world is as it has always been...a very loved by God and sometimes terrible place to be. I am not gonna dwell on the terrible things this year. Last year, those things reigned in my life and made me punish myself endlessly. There is nothing good that can come from blaming yourself for another's actions. So I will focus on my God.

This God. This Beast from Bethlehem. This divider of families and friends. This giver and taker of life. This Savior of all. It all belongs to Him. This day. These wrapped gifts. These moments of happiness with our families. Even these tears we shed over who isn't there with us this year. It is His. He paid for it. He was born in humility and died in agony, but raised in all the splendor of God and clothed in absolute majesty.

This huge God also found His way to weave himself into the very fabric of our lives. He is the tissue that holds the entire universe together. Today we celebrate the day He was born in a barn in the filth of animals. It is because of the loss of my brother that I celebrate today. It is because of Jesus that I can lay my head down and sleep in peace, knowing that my brother has lights strung all over his home in Heaven. I believe he has an ornament of our lives hanging on his tree. I believe tonight he is looking at his mother's dangling ornament. His father's, His children's, His sister's, his brother's, and even mine. His tree is perfect and his lights never go out. Christmas is not a source of pain for him anymore and it shouldn't be for us either. Christmas is about Jesus. His birth into the world to save it.


May God rip away all that holds your face in the cold ground this day. May He lift you up out of the guts of hell and seat you right next to Him in His glory. May we remember His love and love those equally around us.







Sing.
Migrate.





Thanks for reading...Z

Buried in Christmas

Please check out my short story on Blurb.


Click on the words to bring up the entire text on each photo. Or, if you have an iPhone or iPad, download Blurb for free and all your wildest dreams will come true.






Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

Regrets?

I checked it out. Yes, she really did.

People always say they live their lives without regrets. I have never understood this statement. I don't believe it. Even if our mistakes serve to teach us something, wouldn't that lesson have better been learned without the mistake...like maybe if we had listened to wisdom in the first place? I don't buy it. No one is happy about failure. Here is a short list of my failures and regrets. I will leave the deepests things out because I write too many serious things on this blog in such a short span of time. I must water this mix down a bit.

I regret coughing that phlegm ball onto that poor girls forehead.
I regret looking over at those girls watching me skateboard in the 4rth grade, because I regret the terrible wipe-out that ensued and the walk or run of shame that followed as those girls laughed at my demise.
I regret most everything I say that I think is funny, so I say it louder than my normal jet engine volume level.
I regret the way I danced the night I met my wife at a wedding.
I regret that horrible green, skin-tight sweater I wore to show my sexuality on our third date. She regrets it too. It didn't show my sexuality at all. Possibly the opposite of my sexuality.
I regret calling my wife the day after I met her and leaving a desperate message with her grandma. I should have waited the customary 4 days to call....and NOT left a message with her grandma.
I regret shaking my infant son all about while holding him above my agape mouth as he spilled his stomach directly onto my taste buds.



I regret much more serious things as well. Those can wait.






Sing.
Migrate.





Thanks for reading...Z