Plans

Work changed a couple of years ago, and plans became astoundingly more important and valuable.
So I changed and a plan and execute lifestyle at work.  It has produced results like I have never seen.  I find myself looking back at places planning might have made a difference, avoiding regret and trying to learn.  I find myself looking forward and beginning to apply better planning to the possible future.

The regret process is hard to avoid.  I need divine help to avoid it.  I can say I have been going with the flow.

Even riding on the waves that my Father makes, I have to plan to  be at the shore and on the water with my  board.  So there has always  been a planning element to my coasting.

So how does planning work better?  I am beginning to see that I do more of the important stuff, thereby serving my neighbor better.

So planning for the love of God and His creation is a good thing.  Oh, the other planning is planning to quell the fear of failure.

Gonna chew on that, too.

Not what I need

I can not get what I need here, but I can testify about having gotten what I need, here.

I wonder if my addiction to the approval of man will ever be gone or at least scarcely noticable on this side of death.

As long as I have the Spirit of God to show it to me, it will be noticeable if there.  As long as I have the Spirit of God, it will diminish.

Hi, my name is Dave.  I am a human attention addict.  Because my faith is small.
I will not always be addicted to the approval of man, because my faith is adequate.

The Hunger

There is an antidote for the hunger.  It is love.

But what if the hunger is so common that it is normal?  The hunger is for love in all of its forms.  The norm is to spend a whole human lifetime feeding the hunger with everything except love.

I realized eight days ago that there was a reason I was obsessing over an idea, a plan, a hope.  I hoped, for the millionth time that the idea, the plan, would result in satisfaction, with satiation.  But I have done this enough, lived this way enough to know that nothing I can plan or produce will satisfy.  I asked the Spirit for help and was advised to take every thought captive that exalts itself above the knowledge of God.

So first I recognize that I am pouring my life into, out for, an idol.  So I stop that, and repent.  Now I can grab the idol and run with it toward God.  and it slips away like smoke.  So while I am within the veil, I can fall down and be loved.  and like before, I wake up wondering what the attraction was.

Where did those saxes come from?

Estimated Prophet.  Where did they come from?

Thumbs up, Thumbs down.  The interactive radio of Pandora.  Makes me feel important to be able to effect my listening list without buying the music.  Kind of a halfway place between owning and radio.  Makes a man feel powerful.  ;-) 

We need that so badly.  To believe we are the masters of something.  To feel significant in some tiny way.  To be able to shape our world, our experience in some way.  But then when it comes to sensations, we can do that.

But what can we shape for others from the tiny human love we have?  The best of us has love that distracts others from the desperate ache for rest and peace.  The distraction is so temporary.  As soon as the relief sets in we know it is temporary.  That is why we don't even trust Christ.  We are waiting for the Gospel to wear off.

Father, I am a little oil pot, short and stout.  Here is my handle, here is my spout.  When I get all filled up, hear me shout, "Tip me over and pour me out!"

Fill me up with the Spirit of You, until I can not hold any more and I know it.  My only recourse is for you to pour me out on someone.

Celebration

Celebration has been misappropriated.  Like nearly everything else.

Celebration is a holy thing that is by and for God.  It is just so easy to celebrate, that it quickly becomes by and for others.

I can not take celebration back.  Like the pastor's wife who wanted to take back the rainbow.

I can celebrate the Kingdom Now.  I can celebrate the majesty of God in me and around me.  I can celebrate the brideishness to be seen.  I can celebrate the victories won out of love, in the midst of the battlefield.

I can celebrate my Father who persists in loving me.  I can celebrate the family in which I have been set.  I can celebrate the oil of joy saturating me and making me functional in the Kingdom.

I celebrate You, Daddy.

Home, Loved, Changed

I think I need to visit Illinois more often, even if it is just via google chat.  There are people there who have something I need.  Love.  They have some for me.  In five days they did not run out.

You walk different when you know you are loved.  I know I have since the revelation of Father's love.  Now, again, with a fresh dose of family love.  One of the worst things about spiritual pride is thinking you have everything you need.  Father, forgive my pride.  It is particularly yucky today.

I had lunch out today.  Yes, Christmas day.  Even Golden Corral was closed.  But Hibachi Grill was not.  Not swamped at 1:30 on a Sunday, but busy enough.  I needed to be around people today.  Today I know more about why people get lonely around the holidays.  People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.  I heard that many years ago from a wise woman.  YuckYuck.

Father, help me find those who you have filled with something for me.  Help me find those who you have filled me with something for.  Teach me to touch them when I find them.  Break down the walls.  And thank you for the spirit of prophecy.

Have mercy on and deliver and heal the ubergruppenfeurher.

Another Friday Night

There is something about the transition into the weekend. Last week it was running up to get the boy. This week sitting over supper with the men of two Baptist congregations. I prefer a transitional event to just going to the house.

Work is such a big thing right now. Every week seems so full, yet there is room to stop and move into a couple of days of rest. Well, at least relative rest. I just spent the last hour on the phone and computer. But they are put away now.

And the weekend is underway. No big plans. Really the best part of these weekends without the lad are the routines of maintaining the livability of the house. Trash run, vacuuming, laundry. There is a rhythm there that is satisfying and much better than sitting. Sitting does have it's place. So does at least a bit of yard work, especially since cooler weather is here. Another transition.

There has been such grace for the trials and challenges of the work week, Father. There has also been genuine emotion, as well, with properly placed expression. At least I think so. Father, I am so certain there is room there, in expression, in safe expression, for further restoration of my soul. There is still so much that gets in the way of full freedom to pour out the love you keep me full of. When I will let you. Thank you. You are the definition of faithful.

Tarred

Only one reason. Pride. If I trusted God instead of myself I wouldn't be so wrapped up trying to hold my world together. This existence is hard to maintain with the strength of one person. Especially one broken person.

And then I am trying to rescue everyone else, at least emotionally, at the same time. I can not even take care of myself, and here I go determined to keep the whole frackin' world happy.

As a consequence I have become a good enough liar that I am really beginning to fool somebody. Only problem is that the somebody is me. To everyone else I am just as bad a liar as they are. Some of them even know it.

Father, I sure hope that all of this means I am close to some sort of turning point. Or at least to get wiped off so I don't feel so scummy for a while. At least none of this fools you...or puts you off your love for me. Stinky, I get to lean back and listen to the unwavering beat of your heart. What a marvel is your loving kindness. It continues to draw me to you and away from my mess.

Thank you. And of course Bill reminded us that there is going to be a mess where anything real is going on.

Serenity

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.

It is the only way I am going to make it through. For a minute there, I thought I was not going to need God. Fool that I am. I am so grateful that I do. I just hate to keep forgetting, and then go through the "opportunity" once again of remembering. I am grateful for the "opportunity" as well.

Fear has been upon me these last several days/weeks/months. How long have I been turning my gaze from my Beloved only to gaze upon my own pride.

I hope that fear is gone. I am perfectly loved. But then I forget. How can I forget that I am so loved. Maybe that is heaven. Not forgetting.

Father, forgive me this stupid pride. It hurts so badly to see how far I have wandered from my Home. I am doing my best. My best just isn't good enough.

In a Box

It does not really matter how big the box is.

Keeping a box to hide in is the thing.

Describe the box to explain it away, to rational-lies the holding of it. "Well, it is only a ________ box, so it is not the kind you mean."

If the box separates the joints of the church, then God is opposed to it. Not me, just my box.

My box is made of pride. Other things to make it look different, "customized." But pride that says that I can construct a hiding place for my self that will be sufficient.

Then how come, pride, I feel, know, that my box is inadequate?

Because that is the work of the Spirit. Sure, I feel fear, but more, I feel naked.

This is primal stuff. I am not alone. Sure, this is my personal walk. It is just that everyone has one, too.

I guess everyone does not choose a box. What do they choose...when not choosing to trust Dad? As someone with a box habit, I will bet the alternatives look foolish to me.

Father, forgive my pride and habit of pride. I am not able to protect myself, and as long as I try, I can not give love. I want help getting out of the box. I want help abandoning the box and the box habit. I want to walk away from pride and the sin of self sufficiency. Most, I want not to go away from sin, but to walk habitually toward you and with you, leaning on you.

Please restore my fascination with you and my revulsion with pride.

Father, be glorified in your church.

Listening

It is turning into a season of listening. There is grace for it. Starting tomorrow I have to stop heading off to the next destination, realizing that when I am listening, I am on station until the listening is over. I am not going to judge the speaker, the content or the listener, the venue or the crowd. Just the waves of grace. Is this too selfish...to be about the listening, but to be about the grace to listen?

Father, I see a bit of what is up. I really want to listen, but more I want your supernatural ability to love with my ears. I want the ease of coming to rest in the assignment, free from the need to contribute, judge or coach. Free to feel you very near as you help me listen.

Why?

Coming here is the best thing there is. How to introduce others goes back to love. So I will rest here, soaking in love. When I leave, every experience of me will be enhanced by the love that saturates me. So I rest here in love, in the arms of love, in the river of love, hearing the voice of love, soaking and saturating with love. Clinging to love for dear life. Being rewired by love. Having my soul restored by love...and coming away as a carrier, a vector of the infatuation infection.

I sit at rest here in love. The oil of joy facilitates going over under and around obstacles, taking love in where it is needed. To cause someone to say, "What is that?"

Father, teach me to love by making loving my newly reset default response. For every stimulus, the response is love. Automatic and not needing contemplation. To love where love is needed. To love the fatherless. Hold me. I need you so I can bring you the glory.

honor

What an honor to be able to hear and express what I hear. My Daddy has a place for me at his table, and one for you as well. There is no lack of places, only lack of those who will come, even be carried to the table for lack of ability to approach but no lack of will to approach.

In this world there are few enough invitations. Yet the kingdom of God is all about the invitation. And the acceptance.

There is so much that I am not willing to do, though it is right there. There is so much to do and so little doing needed. Just to stand. Like Ruth said. Praise until you worship. Worship until the Glory falls. Stand in the Glory. Stand in the Glory. What else is on that side of the rent veil Glory. What else is in the wilderness, standing in the embrace of Love. Glory. A bath gets cold. A sun rise becomes full day. A poet's song ends brilliantly. Then there is Glory. Stand in the Glory. Leave when you have to. Stay as long as you can. Glory. Get used to it. It burns up chaff.

Father, I want to be less and less chaffy. Or is it chaffish? Thanks for the Glory you have given us to stand in. And endure your kisses.

Rest

What a treat to have a day of rest. Not about work to do, but to say no to anxiety. To say no to poverty. To say no to fear. To say no to picking up old baggage. To say no to striving for heaven. To say no to lovelessness. To say no to shame.

Thank you Father for wanting me. And thank you for wanting everyone else home enough to send your only begotten son to show us. Have mercy on the hard of heart. Bring us back to the moment of awe. To the moment we knew there was more.

A Quiet Saturday Morning

I really like my quiet Saturday mornings, especially the ones when my boy is with me. He is the best 14 year old there is. I really see the fruit of trusting God with him. I am still constantly tempted to fret about him. That will probably pass when....?

I just finished reading a facebook comment by Shawn Bolz on recent prophetic utterances by Bob Jones and Rick Joyner.

It gave me an interesting measurement of where the place is that I am standing. It is not so much standing as leaning. and I am pretty sure I would be leaning there for my strength, no matter where my body was residing. and all that matters is where I am leaning.

How can I live like that? I am seeing it real. I saw it in how I presented the material to the crew yesterday morning. It is fearlessness. I was not fearless, but each challenge makes way for me to lean harder on the arm of my Beloved. Each time I trust Father, I am less inclined to make the mistake of doing anything to self medicate or self rescue. Wherever I am supposed to be, that is where I am.

How can beacons be on the move?

Good Grace

Some days are easier than others. Difference now is that the days are not easier because the circumstances are easier, but rather because I remember to stay in the embrace of grace, and let myself be carried through upon the everlasting arms of love. It is getting easier to love, as the habits of expecting to love, regardless of the response, are daily formed and reinforced. I expect days when, on my own, it would be much harder to love. But the supply of love is so infinitely large.

I am reminded of how much I could have used this in the past. But a big part of expecting to love now exists in me because I did not have it then. God, it was such a barren existence. The dryness of it made me thirsty for real living water.

The pleasure of the writing, now, is that the memory of my dry hard ground still hurts. And so it tells me that my soul is still in need of healing. Help me, Papa to forgive and heal. Help me to release the hurts. Make me more and more like Christ.

Quitting

Tonight this journal goes private. I do not know if it will ever go public again. Now the blogger account simply provides a place in the cloud to store the writing.

I expect this change to change the writing. No matter how hard or not I tried, I was always writing for my potential readers, who would then validate my effort by commenting and telling others about the writing. Approval addiction is a bitch.

Daddy, I need your approval and I have it. I know that you are and have ever been there for me. I have been and will be finding my rest in You. See, even the capitalization has been for them. I know that you will love me if I do not capitalize every reference to you.

It hurts to make mistakes with my boy. It hurts that he does not trust me. And all the while, all I want him to do is trust you. I am so honored that he called for prayer. I think maybe he is seeing my walk with you. I hope so. It is very good. Thank you for telling and showing me how you love me, and teaching me how to love.

Wow. Key words are now for me, not them.

Control

If only it was possible to control the circumstances. If only it was possible to control the future. If only it was possible to control the fear. If only it was possible to control the pain. If only it was possible to still the voices.

But it is not possible and it is not going to be possible.

If only it was possible to release the circumstances, the future, the fear, the pain, the voices.

It is possible. Come to me, all you that labor and are heavy laden. EVERYTHING can be laid down.

I am around a lot of scared people. Father help me to shine with the light of your liberty. Help me show them that they can be free of that body of death.

Veneer. Show the veneer for what it is.

I was just talking with a friend. He asked me how my day was. I can not remember, but I told him that I got lots done and basically what I put my hand to prospered.

I knew that what I said was true. I just could not remember anything remarkable about the day. Maybe I have stopped looking back. What do you think?

Daddy, am I addicted to the remarkable? Or am I satiated with the sensations of listening for you in the fire and the wind and the storm?

Am I willing to be still and know You are God, without being able to talk about a sensation that validated my belief in you? How un-remarkable can I tolerate? Can I have a day full of your glory without having a glorious experience to write about? Even "plain vanilla" is still a serving of vanilla ice cream, an extraordinary treat that most humans never experience.

What is my testimony? I have heard so many say that they do not have one of those "saved from a life of..." stories. What does it break down to?

I knew I needed God with me, Emmanuel.
I learned that I could.
I did my part.
He did His.
I was with God.

Nope.

I know I need God with me. I know I need me with God.
I learned that I could be with God and God would be with me.
I do my part.
He does His part.
I am with God. I am lost in Him and have no interest in living apart from God.
All of that can be without a sensation to describe, a healing, a miracle.

So the remarkable becomes remarkable because it is extra-ordinary, outside of the ordinary.
So when being in the embrace of the God who loves you without reservation is NOT ORDINARY, it is remarkable. But when the embrace of the MOST HIGH is ORDINARY, it can still be appreciated and acknowledged, without being remarkable. "All" it calls for is a life of thanksgiving.

Thank You, Father, for loving me.

This Fountain Never Runs Dry

I can take the tiniest dry ache and put it in the fountain. I thought at first that putting my soul near Jesus was reserved for special events and mountainous issues. Nope. Anything. Right now. For as long as it takes. Any other perspective says that He is not there for you and / or you do not believe He is faithful.

There are no limits to the fountain, and no stain for which it was not made. Try. See if you can shock Him with that dark place in your heart. See if you can get Him to reject your concern as too petty for His attention.

Father, thank You for Your Faithfulness and Mercy, poured out for us all.