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Saguaros Stand

'Saguaro with sunset' photo (c) 2009, kanu101 - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Saguaros stand lonely sentinel, clinging to life in arid soil. Looking like nothing so much as great green fingers and arms upraised, pointing to an empty sky. There is a distance between them, which can’t be crossed.

Like the distance between human hearts. How well can we know another? How well are we known? When we all stand, looking to the sky, bearing a question which is ours alone.

Like the cactuses, do we stand alone under the fiery gaze of a cruel, uncaring sun? Are we destined to forever rise in such close proximity to the community we need, only to find we are always and forever alone? That the spark can’t bridge the gap?

It is a Sisyphean task.

This continually reaching out, and it not being quite enough.

Yet I stretch my arms to the sky–for Who Else has the words of life? Like the cactus, I choose to stand. Though the hot sun beats down, and the dark night closes in.

I choose to believe…

That…

I…

Am…

Not…

Alone.

Even when life is hardest, I will deny the darkness, and beat back the night. Even though it feels like it, one thing we never are:

We are never alone.

Have you ever felt alone?

Have You Been There?

Have you been there? You know–that place.

What place?

The one where you’re maligned and misunderstood by those closest to you.

There are ways, and there are ways, to deal with this.

One way is to shut down, hide within. Which means putting on a false face–a facade. But it hurts to hide who you are from those closest to you.

And the self will find a away out.

So what do you do when it doesn’t feel safe anymore to be you?

Like I said, you can hide. But this has a way of festering. Resentment is bound to grow whether you’re conscious of it, or not.

How do I know? I’ve been there. Dealt with that rejection.

I’ve been in a men’s group, and made the mistake of sharing my (personal) convictions about the age of the earth. The group imploded. Made me not want to have friends anymore. Made me want to skip the risk.

I’ve done it with family members, too. When my motives were called into question, when I’ve changed my mind about something… and was rejected. When something in social media spheres happened that was both unlocked, and unasked, for.

Somehow it was my fault.

When a friend of a friend questioned my salvation, and family members didn’t step in to defend me, but rather gave credence to it.

So I learned to hide.

And in hiding, I became vulnerable. When it was no longer safe to be me around those closest to me, I found an outlet via email. At first, it was just this fun thing where I could let my hair down, be me.

That was refreshing.

What I didn’t realize at the time was how much of myself I was investing–how much time, thought, life was going to this unreality.

Because it came to the place where I was constantly refreshing my email, looking for a message, a word, a something to…

Make me feel like me. Because I didn’t know who I was anymore.

I ask you: have you been in that place?

Take it from me: it’s far better to face your fears, risk rejection, and have the difficult conversations. (Consider this: Jesus himself spent his whole earthly life being rejected by his own. Yet in it all he did not sin).

If you’re hiding from those closest to you: take your mask off. Lay down your rapier wit.

It’s time to be vulnerable. For it’s in being thus open that, yes, we risk rejections, but at the same time paradoxically find grace.

Are you wearing any false faces today?

Naked In The Dark

The last few months have left me feeling so very shaken and squeezed. Despite our best efforts, medical intervention, and significant investment, things haven’t changed: my dear wife is falling apart before my eyes.

Yet God remains silent.

Despite a renewed commitment earlier this year, I feel myself drifting. There is a distance growing between me and my Father.

I’m not sure I care.

I felt this same enmity when, all those years ago, I prayed for my grandmother to live, and she didn’t. Instead, my grandfather, whom she cared for, was moved from sibling to sibling. And finally into a home. (While an uncle sold off all his earthly goods to pay off debt).
Whatever comfort may come from God seems cold, distant, indifferent.

And I’ve found I’m not strong. I’m weak and worn. I want my wife back, I want our life back. Every day a piece of my heart is torn out when I have to leave her in tears to go to work.

I don’t smoke, yet I dream of getting a pipe. The bottle sings its own siren song to me: I am comfort, I am peace, lose yourself in me.

I am tempted. When it seems that no comfort is forthcoming from the Father, it’s altogether too tempting to find it elsewhere. The bottle, smoking, that channel on TV.

Yet all are smoke and mirrors, promising things they cannot deliver. I feel like Frodo, who near the end of his quest, said he was “naked in the dark” with “nothing between me and the wheel of fire.”

And if I feel this way, how must my dear wife feel? Just this morning she said, “I want a vacation from my body.”

I don’t know how to traverse that. How do I deal with it? I try to be strong for her, remind her that God’s strength is perfected in weakness. But it’s entirely too easy to believe for someone else, and have no faith left for ourselves.

I am naked in the dark.

God help me.

Over The Edge(r)

This is a guest post from my friend, Ricky Anderson. Ricky is a Christian, husband, dad, database guy, and vehemently denies owning any more than one shed. His blog is at Ricky Anderson.net, and he can be followed on Twitter @Arthur2Sheds.

Please note that this post is part of a series on anger; there will be others as well.

—————-

I was angry.

No, I was out of control. I had been sent out to edge and mow the lawn, and I was ticked.

Our edger was an old one; inordinately heavy and obnoxious to use. It was electric, which meant plugging in the extension cord and hoping it’d reach the end of the yard. Anything it didn’t reach had to be trimmed by hand. That edger and I didn’t get along.

image

Partway through my disgruntled efforts, the cord got snagged on the swingset. I didn’t want to walk all the way across the yard to pull the cable around the pole it was stuck on, so I simply yanked.

And yanked.

And yanked.

Harder.

And harder.

With no result. In my 12-year-old immaturity, I lost it. I started bashing the edger into the ground. I yelled at that stupid edger. I pulled out every word I’d learned at school.

Then the head of the edger broke. I turned it off and dropped it. As I started to calm down, I was rational once again and became afraid. What would I tell Dad?

I looked up and froze. Dad was standing ten feet behind me. I didn’t know how long he’d been there.

I mentally started packing my bags for military school. Maybe the circus would take me, or one of my uncles. I didn’t know whether to run or cry, but I knew this was not going to go well.

After a few moments, my dad spoke.

“Well, I guess it’s time to replace that old weed whacker. Hop in the car, let’s go.”

We got a gas-powered edger that weighed next to nothing. It was wonderful. And Dad never said a word about my childish tantrum.

Sometimes when I’m angry about a situation and I’ve messed everything up, I don’t want to pray about it. I don’t want to go to my Father and show him what I’ve done. So I get angrier and angrier, avoiding what I know I need to do.

And I wonder if he’s watching the whole thing as my Dad did, just waiting for me to calm down and let Him “make all things new” (Revelation 21:5).

Buddy the Elf Likes Sugar. Do You?

If you’ve seen the movie Elf, then you know that Buddy (perfectly
played by Will Ferrell) likes sugar. Likes it so much that he puts
Maple syrup on spaghetti!

The dialog in the scene goes like this:

“Do you like sugar?”

“Is there sugar in syrup?”

“Yes.”

“Then I like sugar very much.”

'still-of-will-ferrell-in-elf-large-picture' photo (c) 2012, travis - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/2.0/

———————–

I guess I’m like Buddy in that I, too “like sugar very much.” I’m
especially drawn to it in times of stress, when sleep has been
fleeting, when life is hard. I’m sure there’s solid science behind
this–the way sugar lights up the brain’s pleasure centers, etc.
That’s what keeps me coming back. I know sugar isn’t good for me, and
did at one time drop forty pounds from my frame by restricting my
intake of it…

But it might as well be cocaine–because it makes me, for a time at
least, feel good. But what goes up must come down: the “sugar crash”
comes altogether too soon. Leaving me looking for more… Sugar! So I
chase pizza with a candy bar, a soda, etc.

And isn’t that just like human nature to turn time and time again to
things that just aren’t good for us? It could be food, drink, sex,
sin… Wherever we look apart from God for solace, comfort,
significance, for that warm ooey, gooey rush that floods our dopamine
receptors and dulls our common sense.

Today alone, I’ve had three Krispy Kreme Original Glazed doughnuts,
and the equivalent of a pot of coffee (it takes quite awhile to build
up that level of caffeine tolerance). It’s not good, but it’s my
crutch to get me by because–especially since my wife and kids have
been ill–I haven’t been getting nearly enough sleep.

I know I need to cut it all off, but I don’t want to, am afraid to.
Where would my energy come from during the day? Maybe–and this is
crazy–God meant it when he said that his grace was sufficient? But
how come I don’t trust him, and keep shoveling sugar down my gullet,
following it with quarts of coffee? Maybe, just maybe, his strength
really is perfected in my weakness?

Could be. Could very well be.

But how about you? What’s your “sugar?”

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