Coming Home

In my experience, not many things can hurt like having someone shut you out. You try to talk to them but it ends up that you are ignored. You want worse than anything to see, and be seen by them. You try so diligently to be seen or heard. It makes your heart tremble, and makes those around you aware of how badly you are effected by it. This week, I tried to help a friend. I was not sure how it would go, but then again I never know how God does things: he simply does them. I ministered to this person for hours on end. I told my wife about how I had ministered to her, and about how she was asking the proper questions of me and I was spoon-feeding the proper answers. I nourished her through the spirit, and hoped for the best. Afterwards, I felt good all day. I felt like I had really reached someone. I was not shocked, but at the same time not initially pleased to see that I was brushed off the day afterwards, but I chocked it up to just perhaps giving her too much to think about. At first I felt a bit upset, like maybe I had messed something up. The fact that I am also close to this person, and have known them for years probably made that stick out to me a bit worse. It was NOT my place to feel this way though, as I quickly understood. How many times does my pastor try to reach people to only have a figurative door slammed in his face? How many times more would he still approach those same people? How many times was Jesus cast aside? In fact, Jesus died for people that listened to Him, people that didn’t listen to Him, and even people who would deny Him. It was not my place to feel slighted by this, so I quickly changed that tune. To me, after the tumultuous week that I was enduring where I bared my soul at Celebrate Recovery, and faltered in my service on the Sunday* before, this was a refreshing challenge. It was one that I feel like I came out of ahead, as to understand that this was more the “will of God” that I could even reach someone in His honor. To truly be ever “coming home,” will mean that I give more of myself than I plan on ever receiving back. This was explained to me best through scripture:

For God is not unjust so as to forget your work and the love which you have shown toward His name, in having ministered and in still ministering to the saints.

Hebrews 6:10

I have also learned that seeing old faces can warm your heart, but seeing a lack of the faces that you cared to see the most hurt worse than could be imagined. I had a reunion this past weekend, and if you were there and are reading this, do not fret. I was happy to see you. I would not have made it priority to show up if not the case. The thing was, I have 2 very old friends. They were the first 2 faces that I remember seeing as a youth, and I love them very much. Both made a huge impact on my youth, and also on my path to get where I was during High School, and up until today. Neither were at the reunion, and it was okay without them, but I missed them greatly. It made the evening seem to drag a bit, however, as there were no people that I had to come see. Since the two of them were not coming, I just simply came to have fun. Which, it was interesting to say the least. To see how some people had changed was amazing. To see how some people stayed the same was as well. I walked by a memorandum of the friends that we had lost. There, I saw another old set of faces. They were also 2 very good friends of mine that had been lost to us. One was lost just last year to cancer, while one was lost many years ago. To say that it didn’t strike a sudden feeling of remorse would be such a lie that I cannot bring it to my lips. I missed my friend that we lost in the last year badly**. He was on my middle school team in basketball; We played on the Stars. He was one of the first people that I remember speaking to in High School. He was very down-to-Earth, and real. The other friend was a brother to me***. He was the first person that witnessed to me about faith in Christ. He was killed in a car accident while I was still in High School. He always knew what to do, and when to do it. I miss him daily. Both of these gentlemen were the life of the party. Not because they drank it up, or got wild when around everyone else, but because they were just the most awesome people to be around. They were the kind of people that command attention when they walked in the room. That was the type of guys that they were, and that is why they are so missed. They were giants. Both of them have went to see the Almighty, and have been placed in the house that I wish and hope to see someday. When I am “coming home,” I hope to see them both waving to me as I come through the gates of Heaven as well. 

For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands.

2 Corinthians 5:1

Lastly, these last days have been as bittersweet as any has ever been to me. I have lost my baby cat, Pepper to her battle with feline diabetes. She is “just an animal,” but to us she is a major part of our family and part of what makes it whole. She has been doing poor in health now for the better portion of a year. Unfortunately, this past weekend, she quit eating and drinking. It became impossible to give her the medicine anymore, as when not balanced out with food and water, it could also prove to be fatal. She just laid around all of Friday. I knew she was feeling bad, but no where near as bad as it would be by Sunday’s end. She just layed around, eyes open, not moving. She will be missed greatly, and I will never replace her in my heart. I am choked up as I write this passage to let others know how I feel. It pained me to come home from break to say goodbye to her, only to see her expire as I walked in. It was incredibly difficult to dig a 3 foot deep hole that was a foot wide, and 2 feet long to put her in. It was hard to do a lot of things at the end, but this is the point of it all: She was my baby. It was hard. It was just hard to let her go. I already missed her more as I sat down after placing rocks over her where she now lays in the ground. In the beginning of our relationship, I didn’t want her brought home. We had lost a kitten already,  and here my wife comes with a different litle one less than 2 years later. I didn’t want any more attachments, and Andrea knew that. But, then there was this little ball of grey fur licking my head like I was another kitten at 2 am the first night as she snuggled over my head. I loved her from that moment on. She was more than a pet, and more than a companion: She was family. We told Ashleigh, our 4 year old daughter that Jesus was coming to take the kitty away to His house. Hopefully she understands, but in the meantime she wonders why Mommy and Daddy cry just out of the blue and for no apparent reason. Even though this is a painful week, I rest in the word that Pepper cat is also “coming home.” I know that if that is the case, then my sadness will be erased when I ultimately see her again.

Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God.

Luke 12:6

This has been a excruciating week in three facets. I am mentally tired, physically exhausted, and spiritually drained. This week has taught me that you can only do so much while here on Earth, and that you need to make as much of an impact on those around you as is possible. I have learned that it is okay to mourn those that you miss, and share that mourning with others. It is natural to feel remorse over your past items, and the way that people have affected you. I have also learned, again, that you cannot “fix” other people. That is not what I was put on this Earth to do. I was put here to be a servant. The same as our Lord and Savior was. I have been opened up to so many different things this week, and most of them have brought me pain. God never said it would be easy to live this life. Whether in sin, or finding righteousness, we all cry out in pain. For some, the pain lies on the surface and is easily view-able. For others, that pain is buried away. It is up to each of us to try our best to do what we can with what God has given us. My journey is still a work in progress, and weeks like this one challenge my faith. Happily, I can say that I came out of this one unscathed, and that my strength still lies in the Lord. When I am gone, and others mourn me, I just hope that I have made the impact that it is in me to make. Then when I am “coming home,” I will know that Jesus will be waiting there for me. Waiting to reunite me with my friends, and family. Even the four-legged ones.

*I missed church Sunday as I was exhausted from the reunion, and the drive to and from it.

**Todd was a great friend of mine who recently was overcome with cancer. Excellent man and husband. Wonderful father.

***Nick was a guy that you wanted your daughter to marry. He was a Christian, and a brother. I lost him in high school, way before he should have ever gone. God needed an angel for something very special, and Nick was the only one who could fill those shoes.

My faith tested: Version 2.0

As many days go, my Sunday was off to a slower than normal start. I was up early enough to get to church “on time,” but was still rushing. It was cold outside, and I have lost a significant amount of weight since last year. This is not said to get a response from you, but more to explain why I was running as behind as I was. I had nothing to wear, as most of my 2x clothing that I could wear the last time it was cold looks like a tent on my body now. I finally just decided on a shirt of white stature, with no sweater vest(which I really wanted to wear), and ran for the door. I have a bit more back drop for you as well: we were very tired! I mean really tired. It seems like NO ONE in my household sleeps anymore, but honestly this time, we were bushed. We had gotten to bed later than we expected, and we were knowing that the next day would be painful but could now do nothing to stop that. So when we got up, late, and started getting ready we were cold, sleepy-eyed, and rushing. Altogether, not ideally how we would like to prepare ourselves to go to the church that has accepted us with open arms in the last year and a half. We pull into the lot, and ride the shuttle bus over, as my daughter loves the bus. In fact she is always the first ready, since she gets to ride the bus, and I bet she would drive us there herself if she could. So, we get to the bus doors, and feel the cool brisk air against our faces as we depart, and then walk to the church. We were met with the familiar faces of my crew up front that meet and greet everyone that come in on Sunday, and we started to walk her back to where she checks in for her room on. I have been getting the children’s church communion every Sunday now for around 2 months, and I am happy to help my wife and her mentor out in this fashion. I LIKE to do this for them. It makes me feel very happy to know I can be of service to them, the little kids that are in their service upstairs, and also our church family in general. All it requires is a brisk walk all the way across the church to the school’s gym, and then up about 20 steps to the loft where it takes place. Ok, my last bit of back information and we can go on with the rest of the story.* I am tired of the current condition of my body. I have tried a new set of exercises that a friend gave me, and it includes squats and lunges. If you don’t know what those are, join the club. I had no idea what I was getting into. These things SHRED your thigh muscles. In fact the things hurt so bad that I cannot function normally. I can’t feel how high I have my feet raised, or how much pressure I have to put down. It is a nightmare at the moment. But since I did these exercises the night before I was at chuch carrying these trays all the way across the building, my nightmare was just about to begin. God was going to see how I would react to adversity – this time IN His own house!

Let me also tell you, as a reader, that I have N-E-V-E-R felt like this when I work out. My muscles are not fatigued like when I run or do cardio; rather, they cry out in pain as if they are being broken. I am okay with this, however, as I know that God calls me to have a body fit for His service. In 1 Corinthians**, there is a couple of verses that was shared by the author, Paul, about such a thing as this.

“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body.”

The point is, I have lost a lot of weight, but my “core” has had no work, and all I have done is downsize my fat. I have made it from being a huge fat person, to being a small fat person, but the belly and flab remains. These exercises will start me on a path to having better muscle quality, and that will lead to calorie burn while I am rest as well. Good for me after, but not great for me at present. Well, by now you can probably see where this is going, but we will continue it anyways for the sake of argument. I round the corner and start up the steps. I am walking up the 20 steps at a slow pace, as I know that I am accident prone as it is. Besides that, I can feel that this day is not normal; something is not right. It is a perfect storm of sleepy, workout, and rushing. I make it to the top step, and trip – I then fall right on my face. To my credit, Jesus must have helped me fall and then subsequently get up. I didn’t get hurt, and I wasn’t cussing up a storm in the middle of the church loft. The ironic thing was, I could SEE this day. I was aware that I was actually kinda cocky when it came to how confident I was with communion trays. I have carried 15 of them at a time from the sanctuary back into the prep room before, without incident. in fact, I usually tell our new guys that are nervous that “I have NEVER spilled a drop, so don’t fret! We can do this!” Flash forward to Sunday. I lay on my stomach with the trays barely held off of the floor. The juice runs freely from them off onto the floor. I could feel juice in my beard, on my face, and on my clothes. I was furious! I was mad at myself for many reasons. I didn’t get enough sleep, and had not given my body ample rest. I had worked out too late at night and as a result was fatigued in my muscles as well. I was rushing to get back to my post up front as I was running late. I was also too arrogant about never spilling the communion before. All of this came into perfect focus as I stand looking down at the juice which represent’s our savior’s blood, and bread which represents His broken body that was put to death on an instrument of murder for our everlasting souls. I was about to cry. I was literally dumping out communion in a trash can when my wife and Rachell came upon the scene of the accident. They tried to calm me down/help me out/make me feel better. By that time it was too late. Somehow, Satan was able to find me in a weak point at this impenetrable fortress of a church and attack me in front of God, His son, and all of His servants doing good work on the day of the Sabbath.

Satan put the thought in my head, and I ran with it. I wanted to leave. I was pelted with grape juice on a freshly cleaned white shirt, and had my face covered as well. “Go Home!” was the cry in my head. Even though my heart opens like a safe every Sunday when I hear Warren start to sing from the sanctuary, my head was in charge now. I had to get out of here before I made a fool out of myself, or caused a scene. I do have a bad temper still , and even though I am working on that graciously with His help, I still have bouts of rage as well. I was beside myself. I still needed to be downstairs giving out bulletins to our denizens as they poured through our doors, but instead here I stood in front of a sink washing off communion trays as they were soaked. I felt bad not only because I was generally embarrassed, but I could not shake a thought in my head. The thought was that I have just spilled the sacrament, and now I am having to “throw away Jesus.” I know that may sound silly, but even now as I write this, I feel it in my chest. My heart quickened. I felt saddened. There was more remorse than I could have explained. Here we are, every Sunday to open our hearts and minds to accept Christ, and take a meal with Him, but instead here I stand casting Him into a trash can as my heart weeps, and my head screams at an immeasurable volume to run from these doors at a pace not yet seen from me before. To His divine credit, Jesus tried to calm me down right away. He sent two angels in form of our youth pastor and her charge, my wife, to my aide almost instantly. They both tried to comfort me, but it was too late. I fled. I was out of the doors so fast that your head would have spun, I looked like an NFL halfback going on a 40 yard scamper towards the goal-line. I didn’t wait for the shuttle, and I ran down to my car and headed home. When I got home I made the right choice, however, and I prayed. I hit my knee, and put my head in my hands. I asked God for repentance of what wrongs I had done this week, and I begged Him to make me understand what had just happened. Then as I was about to shed my first remorseful tear, the clarity came into my brain like a lightning bolt: It was just juice, you did not sin by casting aside the messy remains of the trays, and the reason that you fled was because I could not bear to see you in the anguish that you were presently in. This was not so much said to me as it was communicated to me***. My face lightened. As I got dressed, I found a shirt to put my favorite sweater vest over just like clockwork. I had a small meal and reset my day. I was slightly more rested, and had a sense of relief like I had not felt in some time. God sent me back into the church to listen to the worship music. He made me help with communion so that I would not lose that good feeling that I get on Sundays from helping others. The rest of the day was uneventful, thankfully, but it made me stop and count blessings in my life. God has turned my ear, my heart, and my soul. He has done works in me that no parent could do, no lover could do, and no man or woman on this Earth could do. He truly is Heavenly, and benevolent to all those that follow Him. To say that He has saved a wretch like me, is an understatement. He helped my faith yesterday. A being that is the alpha, and the omega. A being that has made accident victims walk, and dead rise from the graves. He still took time out of His day to make a believer stronger in his faith. I was not injured, and I was no longer saddened or upset. God takes EVERY opportunity to protect and comfort His children. He will not leave us face down covered in messes that we don’t comprehend how to clean up. He never sees anything so insurmountable that He cannot solve it, since after all, He IS God. It is a helpful lesson to learn, and one that I was happy to learn yesterday.

How faithful is the Lord to us? Listen to the words of the Bible itself:

God, who has called you into fellowship with his Son Jesus Christ our Lord, is faithful.

1 Corinthians 1:9

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-23

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.

1 John 1:9

* Paul Harvey

** 1 Corinthians 6:19-20

*** Can’t explain it – will not try to here either.