What I'm Counting On

I've recently been going through a season of understanding where I place my Hope. It's important that you understand what I mean by hope so I'll define it for ya.

hope
1. (n.) a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.

2. (n.) a feeling of trust.

The word expectation is also important to define here.

Expectation

1. (n.) The act or state of expecting or looking forward to an event as about to happen.
2. (n.) That which is expected or looked for.

3. (n.) The prospect of the future; grounds upon which something excellent is expected to happen; prospect of anything good to come, esp. of property or rank.

4. (n.) The value of any chance (as the prospect of prize or property) which depends upon some contingent event. Expectations are computed for or against the occurrence of the event.

5. (n.) The leaving of the disease principally to the efforts of nature to effect a cure.

The Biblical definition of the word Hope means to be "exceedingly expecting".


What I've realized is that I've put a LOT of hope in things I can't rely on. I think we all tend to do that though. Either its that person we like or that job we want or even that grade we want, we tend to put a lot of trust into something or someone that simply can't be depended on. It's not that that person isn't "good enough" or "reliable enough" or what have you or that you're not "smart enough" or "experienced enough" to get the job or grade that you want, its just that it's all built on sand. Things change. That is a fact. So if our hopes are constructed around something that can change then we can lose hope and that is the easiest way to wound our hearts.

Proverb 13:12 says:

Hope deferred makes the heart sick,
But when the desire comes, it is a tree of life.

I found myself in this place where I was just so terribly heartsick by my circumstances and I couldn't help but cry out to God and ask: "What is going on?!" "Why do I feel like this?" "What am I doing wrong, Lord?!"

God brought me to this verse and it has really caused me to evaluate my hopes. 1 Peter 1:3 says:

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,"

I've really had to make a conscious effort to keep my hope in Christ alone. What things am I hoping for instead of hoping in Jesus? Because those same things can be the death of my heart. Every time I hope in something that is shifting and changing I risk heart failure. I risk apathy. I risk hurt. This is huge! Because in Proverb 4:23 it says:

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.

BOOM! How can we expect to live a full life if our hearts, from which EVERYTHING WE DO FLOWS, are always sick?! So I was checking out John Mark McMillan's Album "Borderland" And its been the sound track to this season of my life and the song "Counting On" has become my anthem. Because quite frankly He is what I'm counting on. For my business. For my future spouse. For my breakfast every morning. For my health. For any fruit in my life. I'm just a branch sown into the Vine. I can't do anything without him, I rely solely on Him to bring life to my death.

I suck at mediocre

I've spent the majority of my life in extreme situations. I grew up with a single father who spent most his time trying to make ends meet. We never had much. I suspect that we were close to homeless and without food more often that he'd care to admit. I grew up with 3 siblings. We usually hated each other or loved each other. We never really just got along. I've lived in sheds with dirt floors and apartments along Sandy boulevard. People either liked me or hated me. There really wasn't much in between. I've got an extreme personality. It makes it hard for people to deal with me, I've always been that way. Lately I've been trying to change that. I don't like hurting people with my course or sharp attitudes.

What I've finally realized is that I suck at normal. I'm not good at doing things moderately. I can't even have a conversation moderately. I have to feel extreme to one side or the other. I feel deeply passionate about things, people, ideas in extreme ways. Even my choice to follow Christ was taken in a very extreme way. Either I'm all in or I'm all out. I'm no good at normal. I suck at mediocre. I hate doing mediocre work. I don't want anything to do with it. It doesn't just bore me, it irritates me. I like tackling big projects, difficult obstacles. I love problem solving. The bigger the problem the more interested in it I get. But I suck at day to day things.

Sometimes I even procrastinate day to day work just so I can be under a time crunch to get it done. I create extreme situations to make it more challenging and interesting. I thrive under pressure. Put me in an extreme circumstances and 9 times out of 10 I'll perform flawlessly. Put me in a mediocre situation and I'll probably mess it up.

Even with people I have a hard time interacting with people I don't have relationships with. Either they like me or they hate me. Everyone in between is awkward and hard to talk to. Which also makes it difficult to meet new people because I pretty much have nothing to say to them. Ever. Sometimes that causes me to be really rude unintentionally. More often than not I inadvertently insult people because I don't even think about the weight of what I'm saying.

This is made ten times worse by my disdain for lying. I absolutely hate lying. I'm terrible at it. I can't even keep secrets because it makes me feel like I'm lying to someone. I'm not deceptive. I'm just no good at it. When I was very young my Grandmother used to get all up in ma grill when I lied. More than once, even when I told the truth she would hound me about it. She was convinced I was just a natural born liar. So I spent my life trying to prove her wrong. If she hated deception so much then I was going to show her how far from it I could stray.

One time I told her to go to her room. She was sitting in the living room complaining about the noise and I evaluated the situation honestly and asked why she didn't just go to her room. I definitely spent the rest of the day outside. I do that to people all the time! It comes out before I can stop and really think about how stupid my statement is going to sound, even when its honest. Frankly people aren't real enthused by it. They think I don't value their feelings, they have no idea that its because I value their feelings that I'm honest with them. That doesn't really translate very well though.

I'm not sure yet if my extremest personality is a bad thing or a good thing but what I do know is that finesse and attention is needed to make sure that the way I communicate myself is less brash. I'm not sure I'll ever enjoy doing normal things or living moderately. I honestly want to burn my life at hyper speed and deal with the crash when I'm dead. I'd rather be so extreme and so loud that people have to tell me to keep my mouth shut (and boy do they) than to spend my life quite and content and at the end be asked why I never spoke up.

I don't even want to hear the question asked "If you disagreed with it, why did you let it happen?". Maybe I'm too extreme. Maybe I offend some people. But what I'll never be is stuck between two roads living in mediocrity.

Today I Had The Most Beautiful Farewell...

Today I had the privilege of seeing my Grandmother buried.

My Grandmother was a key character in my life. She instilled in me an honesty and an integrity which I can owe no other. I would not be the man I am today without her love and care. I think back now on a time when my sister and I were fighting, I was a very insecure young 14 year old boy. My sisters used to call me a fag and a fairy and pretty much any un-masculine thing they could think of. They would attack my identity at its core and they never held back blows. My father taught me to treat women with respect. I was never allowed to raise my hand, never allowed to use my aggression against a girl. However words were something he often abused. So finally after an onslaught of verbal abuse I finally screamed back at her some of the most hurtful things one could ever say about a girl. I remember her turning and literally running off crying. I had finally beaten her at her own game. Then my Grandmother, who rarely left her room came out. She had hear the whole conversation. I can still see her vividly in her psychedelic robe...
"Are you happy with yourself?" She asked. I didn't reply... I wasn't.
"She said worse things to me!" I finally replied.
"It doesn't matter." She relied before I could finish my sentence. She proceeded to read me the riot act. I was furious. It was unfair. Why was I in trouble when she had said the terrible things she had said... it was more than a year before I finally understood what she was trying to teach me. Two wrongs don't make a right. I always believed that... but I had never put that into context. Life altering. Suddenly I began to realize that no matter how someone made me feel... I was still responsible for my actions.

I could write books about the times in my life where this mean old woman would unfairly punish me when I wasn't the one in the wrong. Oh how I hated that. How I was offended by it. My brother would tell a boldface lied and I would tell a little fib and I'd be attacked in an instance. "Sneaky!" she called me. The audacity! When I got older however... I could do nothing but thank her. She carved character into me without me ever knowing it. What an amazing woman.

When Christ entered my life, my thoughts quickly turned to her and my father. Both whom's health was fading and who didn't know Jesus. I spent the first year of my saved life praying and lamenting over them. I remember once driving home with her... after spending the weekend with my father. She told me about a study she was going to at my Aunt Lorraine's church. She talked to me about God and asked me questions about my beliefs... she was so happy.. almost to tears when she heard my answer. GOD WAS GOOD! She had never known a good God. Only a condemning religious God... she was so excited... I didn't see her for another two years...

This Thanksgiving, her health finally began to fail. The family went to visit her. I wanted desperately to finish the conversation we had those two years ago but she wasn't in her right mind... and I got the impression my family was ready to blow up on me at the mention of Christ. I prayed all night the first night for strength to defy my family and blow them off and just ask her if she wanted to hear it. But when the opportunity arrived... it didn't seem right. She just smiled at me. I never asked... so I figured I would come up and visit another time without the family around so that we could talk, just the two of us.

After Thanksgiving we all headed home. The following Tuesday, she died.

I was mortified. The idea... of never seeing her again was crushing. It didn't hurt... I had already lamented her death long before she died because she didn't have Christ... but the reality of no Hope... was solemn.

Then when I arrived at her funeral... after the family had gathered... two women went up and shared an experience they had with her. They talked about the study she went to. About how she was "spunky" defiant. Oh boy did they know her. How intelligent she was. How strong she was. Suddenly it came to me where these women were going. Two years go, my grandmother dedicated her life to Jesus Christ. She accepted the King of Kings into her heart. Fully convinced, with a faith that would stagger my own, she faced cancer like the Lion I know she is. Peace was the result. Peace. That smile. All that time, she never told me. How could she. Our family was resentful of the entire idea of Christ. When could she have? Such few opportunities.

Now I know, that one day I will see that strong women again. A testament to my heritage  Someone who I am so proud to know I share the same blood with. I came to that funeral broken hearted and left full of excitement. Thank you Father, you are without a doubt, strong enough to save.

Flee the evil desires of youth and pursue righteousness...

Flee the evil desires of youth and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, along with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart.
[2 Timothy 2:22]

I have strived for 3 years in an attempt to maintain purity in both my mind and body. In the society that we live, this is a fight with many causalities. It is not a fight one can take lighthearted. I have my own personal shames and failures in this fight. Yet, in spite of its difficulty and near impossible goal... I push on.

It is not some extreme source of will power or some divine mantle that has given me such a drive to fight. I have been given a very good reason to fight. I have never engaged in a relationship with a girl in which I did not place my full heart on the table. I have and I will always love people as if I will love them forever. Especially those who I had developed feelings for. I am a covenant man. I am imperfect and fail, but I never forget those who I have committed to. I have always been this way, it is a God instilled trait. It is part of my character. As Paul put it: 

"for God’s gifts and his call are irrevocable." 

[Romans 11:29]

Because of this, I have suffered. My poor choices and fickle heart have in the past drawn me in to my own self inflicted defeat. If I were to relate myself best to a biblical character, I think tragically I would best compare to Samson.

Before Christ entered my life, this combination brought me to the brink of despair. Incapable of functioning. It bound me. Crushed me. I had become a shell of the man who I once strived to become. My heart you see, was poisoned. I had discovered realities of this world that made life not worth living.

Fidelity was no longer chief. It was no longer established above relationships. In fact I doubted the possibility of its existence. Fidelity being the value I held most dear. Trust was gone. There was only me. Despite my unwavering loyalty and dedication to those I love. I found that it was never returned when it was most needed.

Chivalry was dead. It was no longer acceptable in our society. I could no longer throw my coat down for a lady to walk across, I could no longer open doors for ladies without being told I was a chauvinist. My strength, both mental spiritual and physical was no longer needed. Women did not want a man who protected and cared for them. What had once been seen as true manly behavior had become a twisted and tainted belief. It was dead. Women did not want to be a damsel in distress. They did not want to be saved. To be sought after. The place and the purpose that I had drawn my strength was found to be an empty crypt. 

Purity was lost. I found that despite my best efforts to maintain my purity (even before Christ's intervention in my life) it was in vain. Purity was no longer valued. It was mocked. Virginity was without value. A clean mind was without place. Things that I desperately fought for. They had become fool's gold. I had been chasing the wrong treasure. My desire for a pure relationship. A pure marriage, had become hopeless.

I found myself in a world I did not wish to be a part of. Love had been my purpose. Every goal and achievement in my life. All the knowledge and effort I had put into my mind, became suddenly worthless. My world had become pain. I had placed my heart out for the world to see, given my strength away. It came back wanting.

Then suddenly, in all that pain... when death had become a longing... like the desire to run away... like a pool of water in the desert. Desirable, promising, peaceful... a savior stepped in.

He restored me. Filled me. Held me together in the cold nights... when despite my service and loyalty... I could still feel the pain. Slowly... like a nurse ministering to a man recovering from war, he brought me back to life.

Three years, I have pursued purity. I have forsaken all relationships. I have forsaken all intimacy. I have given up any form of love that does not meet the requirements of Christ Jesus. I have decided that I will wait forever. For Fidelity. For Chivalry. For Purity. That at the end of my days if I never experience love again, the love of Christ will sustain me. I will stand alone. Forever. For the sake of what is right and true.

Because even when the world comes down on me. Even when this earthly love fails me, there is a savior who will tear apart heaven and earth if I call on His name. He is faithful to answer. He is pure and without blemish. And yet, despite the fact that I am not. He still is.

So I will flee, and I will run. I will run with the young men who have taken up the difficult fight for purity. I will pursue righteousness. Faith. Love. Peace. Because of first my God, who I owe all loyalty and faith. But also because if I can't do so for the one Christ has picked out for me, then how could I ever expect her to.