A Call to Warrior Poets (pt. 2) THE BLEEDING HOPEFUL

Strong people have scars. Some are visible. Those that take longest to heal are not.

Scars are remnants of the stories that shape us. Some of these tales begin with, "Hold my beer." Many aren't nearly as lighthearted. A good portion our scars are self-induced. The majority are inflicted from the outside.

Yesterday I watched a bit of one of my all-time favorite movies. Those who know me well, might smirk, aware that my all-time list is as long as a slow moving freight train. That said, Warrior comes in very near the top. (Not to be confused with The Warriors from the late 70's; with the famous bottle clinking... "Come out to play-yay-yaaay" line. Sorry, back on point.)

Warrior is a story of, well, warriors. Each of the major characters is scarred in his own way. And though  the context of the film is MMA fighting, the physical scarring is vastly overshadowed by the psychological and the relational. It is a story of failure and bravery; of deep-seated scars and hopeful hopelessness. It is a tale of bitterness, brokenness and desperation. And ultimately, emerging from the canvas, comes a portrait of the ultimate warrior-poet principle - love conquers all.

Warriors, and especially warrior-poets, are propelled by higher purpose. They are fueled by principle that burns in their hearts and flashes in their eyes. One of my favorite "Hold my beer..." tales comes straight from the pages of the Bible. (You might ask, "How is he going to tie in a Bible story to an MMA movie?" I don't know. Let's see where - and how - it goes.)

The warrior-poet whose portrait I hope to paint in pt. 3 is such a guy: Conflicted, angry, hopeless, hopeful - with a fire in his belly and lightning in his corneas. He is one of David's Mighty Men - as in King David, David and Goliath, David. This warrior-poet takes an incredibly audacious faith gamble. But that is what warrior-poets do. They believe. They trust. They Do. (When others only sit around and talk.)

We'll get to this warrior-poet in the next post. I'll wrap up for now with this thought: It would seem to us the best path is the easy one - a straight stroll on nicely paved roads. But few warrior-poets see, when looking in life's rear-view, nicely paved roads with clearly marked lanes and easy-to-read neon road signs. Instead, they often trek their way down dusty winding paths. Sight lines are often blurred and corners are hidden. Bridges are under repair and require some emotional four-wheeling. Many stretches are overgrown with thorned branches. These slap. They cut. They scar.

Scars are painful; even for Warrior-poets. But they move forward. They are the bleeding hopeful.

I began by writing Strong people have scars. In reality, we all have scars. I guess strong people have learned to live with them and the stories they tell. Everyone has scars. Warrior-poets - the bleeding hopeful - just don't attempt to hide them.

For now...
D

Lessons From Max #9 | DISTRACTIONS

Distractions get a bad rap...
Granted, continual distraction results in a meandering path through life. Maybe more accurately, obsessive distraction can be a symptom of a life that has not found, or has lost, purpose. (More on that in a subsequent post - if I don't get too distracted).

When we live in our purpose - when we have discovered and walk the path of our life's largest WHY - we are freed up to enjoy distractions. This may strike you as counter-intuitive, but stay with me.

Max loved walks. Walks by the lake. Walks in the neighborhood. Walks through a trail in the woods. He loved them all. I only had to get out, "Max, wanna...?" and he was at the door dancing, ready to go. (see LFM #1 | DANCE OVER THE LITTLE THINGS). As much as Max enjoyed the adventure of a car ride to the lake, and as excited as he was about the walk itself; he loved the pop-up distractions that inevitably came. In one location, which will remain unnamed until the statute of limitations times out, I would take Max off leash to chase deer. These were cocky deer. (I am convinced they may have been demonic deer.) They knew they could not be hunted or harassed. That is until Max and I came through for our evening walk. Not to worry, Max never caught one. Frankly, he wouldn't have known what to do if he did. But off he'd go like a blonde-red bullet in pursuit. I could almost hear the dear say, "Oh S...!" I always wondered if Max thought he might someday catch them, or if he just wanted to see their haughty hides goaded to run.

Distractions came in many forms. But always on the walks. Always as Max was pursuing his higher purpose, of being with and loving his family. Max's favorite distraction was people; not geese, not the attention-grabbing smells. Cats didn't garner a second look. But people - Max always tugged a little at the leash to say hello; to feel a stranger's hand on his head.

I guess that's the point of this post. We get distracted by so much. And obsessive distraction is a signal of an off-course life. But if we are ever so focused on the next step that we lose site of people, we are at least equally off course.

Jesus had a purpose. I would argue that if anyone, anywhere, ever had an overriding purpose, it was Jesus. His destiny was a cross, and his goal was to honor the Father by sacrificing himself for people (us). Interestingly though, when we read the gospel accounts we see Jesus continually being interrupted. Distractions galore. A blind guy. A sick woman. A rich kid. In each case Jesus stopped, turned, climbed a hill, walked over to a tree, stopped to write in the dirt - whatever; and addressed the person.

It seems maybe that when we are on course, some distractions actually fit our purpose after all. I think these (purposeful) distractions fall into two categories: 1) Stop and smell the roses distractions. These are self-explanatory. And 2) People distractions; which are in reality our real point of purpose in the first place.

So there... Go in peace and purpose. And be distracted!

BTW... No one remembers the dogs that stayed in the middle of the course!

For now,
D

Lessons From Max #8 | REGRETS...

I'm cheating a little on this one. What follows is a Lesson from Max for sure. But it is spurred to the forefront by something I read from Pulitzer Prize winning columnist Charles Krauthammer. (And just as Max was apolitical, nothing that follows has anything to do with one view or another.)

Krauthammer announced today that he is dying. In fact, he revealed he has been given only a few weeks to live. That itself is tragic. But it is not what captured my attention.

What grabbed me by the soul was something a dying man wrote in a farewell message:

I leave this life with no regrets. 

It was a wonderful life -- full 

and complete with the great loves 

and great endeavors that make it 

worth living. I am sad to leave, 

but I leave with the knowledge 

that I lived the life that I intended. 

-- Charles Krauthammer 

I don't know that I am weighed down by regrets. I really don't think so. Sometimes however, I find myself fearing they may appear. I want to be able to write what Krauthammer wrote. More than that, I want to live it. 

As special as Max was, I am not comparing a dog's life to a man's. I am simply drawing a parallel. When Max left us, he left with dignity; and, I believe, no regrets. I think that is possible for each of us. Possible. Achievable. Difficult. 

Regret I think, is eradicated through purpose and love. When we live on purpose and in our purpose the suction cups of regret lose their stickiness. No matter what the specifics of an individual's purpose-path may be, universally we share this: Our greatest purpose is to love and be loved. Max demonstrated it. Krauthammer beautifully wrote it. The greatest teacher-philosopher-spiritual-guru (who happened to be the Son of God) said it -- Love God, Love others, Love yourself. Boom... no regrets!

Max was a pure soul. In reality, he probably couldn't do anything else but love and be loved. You and I have choices to make. Krauthammer concluded: I lived the life that I intended. I like that. I intend to have no regrets. 

Thank you Charles. Thank you Max.

For now...

D

A Stumbler's Walk | SUFFICIENT GRACE

Sufficient Grace

My grace is sufficient for you...
--2 Corinthians 12:9

Do you need grace today? I'll ask another way: Do you need power? We tend to think of grace in terms of covering our inadequacies, a balm applied to our failures. But grace is and does much more.

It is by grace that we are not given what we deserve. It is by grace that we are given what we do not deserve.

As James puts it:

Every good and perfect gift comes from above, coming down from the Father of lights 

with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. 

--James 1:17

Q: How powerful is grace?
A: It is sufficient.

Wait, shouldn't this covering and empowering grace be overwhelmingly abundant? Shouldn't God cover a "3" on the need-grace scale with a "10" measure of grace? Shouldn't there be puddles of grace everywhere around after the grace shower rains down; so we can scoop a little extra up and store it away for use later?

Grace doesn't work like that. (Think manna from heaven; Exodus 16 - it's worth a read). New grace is given each day; actually moment by moment. Leftover grace - if there were such a thing - would spoil. And future grace, though promised, cannot be utilized. Today's grace... this moment's grace is sufficient for you. It is sufficient to completely cover, completely forgive, completely empower.

And how strong must we be? Well, our part is to rely on God's grace. To lean on and into his power. Our job is to embrace weakness and trust his strength. God says:

...my power is made perfect in weakness. 

--2 Corinthians 12:9

It would be easy to write of God's sufficient grace at certain times. This is not one of those times. It is a time when the preacher (or blogger, as the case may be) must hear and apply what he is writing. (Actually, every time is that time.)

God, I am weak, but you are strong. I need your sufficient grace in this moment.

For now...
D

A Stumbler's Walk | FLAWED

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

FLAWED...

I will boast of the things that show my weakness. --2 Corinthians 11:30

Thankfully the writers of the various narratives, histories, poems, and letters that make up the Bible never attempted to cover up the flaws of faith's heroes.

David's murderous lust. Peter's tempestuousness. Sarah's lack of faith. James' and John's ambition. Real people with real strengths and real weaknesses; real faith and real doubts. Much like us.

Paul is one of those super-saints with whom we feel we cannot relate. His shadow is cast over much New Testament and the formation of the early church. He authored one half of the New Testament. Yet Paul is flawed. His story is not a simple one. It is not fairy-tale clean.

Paul was a man of incredible faith; a picture of passion and mission. But I think Paul was at times a lonely man. You can hear it in his voice when he gets personal in his writings. Groups of people, both within and outside the church, continually attacked Paul's credibility and motives. He was mocked, ridiculed and worse. He was also, on a few occasions, abandoned.

Paul was a man of strengths. His greatest? Intimacy with his weakness. It is in this understanding of his own inability that he was enabled to completely rely on God's power within; God's power to transform.

And the same is true for us. There is a swelling confidence that comes when we choose not to hide our weaknesses from God. Instead, when we reveal ourselves completely to him, his grace will do in and through us what only he can do. And the results are beyond our wildest imaginations.

What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, 

what God has prepared for those who love him...

--1 Corinthians 2:9

God, your grace overwhelms my weakness.

For now...

D

A Stumbler's Walk | THIS DAY...

Saturday, May 14, 2016

THIS DAY...

Behold, now is the day of salvation. 

-- 2 Corinthians 6:2

Today - this day, however much remains of it - is an important day. It is the most important day; because it is the day, the time, we are given.

And in this day, however much remains of it, God wants to do something in our lives, and through our lives.

Spiritual procrastination is an infection. It is ailment from which we all suffer at times and to various degrees. Prolonged periods of the affliction dull us to the presence and purpose of God in our lives. (That last sentence may be worth a re-read.) I do not have a guilt-goal here, but our misunderstanding of this day's importance (however much remains of it) affects not only us, but others.

Look carefully then how you walk (live), not as unwise but as wise, 

making the best use of the time, because the days are evil.

-- Ephesians 5:15-16. 

We have best intentions about what we will do, or begin, tomorrow. But tomorrows become todays, and before we know it, yesterdays.

Now is the day of salvation.

It is always in the present that God works in our lives. We can reminisce about what he did in the yesterdays; and that is a good thing. But we cannot live there. As one preacher put it: We can no more operate today on the grace God gave for yesterday than we can drive our car on the gas that we burned to get around yesterday.

We also trust him with our tomorrows. And that is a good thing. But we cannot live there. To stay with the metaphor, our grace tank is only large enough to hold what is required for today.

God gives GRACE-GAS for this day, for now.

Today - however much remains of it - matters. It is the NOW that God is at work in us and around us. Jesus said to Zacchaeus, "Today salvation has come to this house," (Luke 19:9). Why? How? Because Jesus had come to the house. And that moment was the moment; the Now is the day of salvation moment.

Jesus has come to our house. And because he is present, this day - however much remains of it - matters.

God, help me to make the most of the time.

For now,
D

Lessons from Max #6 | BE LOVED

Max loved to be loved.

It sounds pretty simple, right? It should be. But we often derail our fulfillment and well-being at just this point. What sounds simple in concept can be in practice, paralyzingly difficult.

We want to be loved. We like, even love, to be loved. However we may struggle with allowing ourselves to be loved. It is an issue of self-worth.

Lesson #6 from Max: ALLOW YOURSELF TO BE LOVED. 

I don't think Max ever had a day in which he felt unworthy of love. When he heard the vacuum fire up in my attempt to scoop up the thousands of fine blonde-red hairs from the carpet, floors or seemingly infinite spots, he didn't feel unworthy of love. As he played, or laid in the sun, in the back yard while I picked up his leave-behinds, he didn't feel unworthy. Max's only real vice was curling up and sleeping on a living room chair. I'd half get on to him. He'd climb down while giving me a you know you love me anyway expression.

There were the occasional folks that didn't care for Max. (See Lesson #4 | YOU ARE MORE). If he noticed at all, he chalked it up to their loss. (I know I did). I think in such encounters I could see a bit of wonderment in Max's eyes - "Hmmm, what was that? - and then it was gone.

When we really love, we expect to be loved... and don't get hung up on when love is not returned. So I guess I should amend Lesson #6 to: LOVE... AND ALLOW YOURSELF TO BE LOVED. Each of us is worthy of love. And the more we love, the greater our discovery and ability to be loved.

I knew I would eventually write Lesson #6 (and all of the Lessons from Max) on the last day of Max's life. Max became very sick very fast; with no hope of recovery. The last two days we spent with Max were horribly beautiful. (Wow, two years since, and my screen has suddenly become blurry.) We loved on Max, and though he could hardly stand, he allowed it. He loved it. Finally, on that afternoon we took Max into the Vet, we were crumbling. Max was not. A woman sat in the waiting room crying, having either received bad news or because she was there for the same reason we were. Max walked over and laid his chin on here knee. In his discomfort he comforted her. And he warmed our hearts and broke them at the same time.

Max allowed himself to be loved. And he taught me a lesson.

For now,
D