Severing Ties With Lies

Even as a little bitty boy, I was strongly encouraged to be watchful after spiritual highs because they tend to be followed by spiritual lows. Well, I was not mindful of that bit of advice when, shortly after the day of fasting with my family, my faith was severely tested on a multitude of fronts:

*  Pride
*  Ingratitude
*  Impatience
*  Hatred
*  Grumbling
*  Joylessness

. . . and so many more . . .

Unlike Jesus who flawlessly passed the test after his 40 days of fasting, I failed to notice the true nature of the temptations coming my way and I dove head first into them.

One such temptation came in the form of a friendship. I was still 9 years old when a 12-year old boy befriended me and the two of us became inseparable in a matter of weeks. Not a day passed without his coming over to my house to see me. We would play and talk until my parents deemed it was time for him to go home or for me to prepare myself for bed.

My parents and siblings often told me how glad and grateful they were about that friendship -- I think it was their way of encouraging me to develop strong male friendships since most of my friends were girls at that time.

I, too, was glad and grateful because there was so much that was good about that friendship:

It was the first time another boy saw me as I really was instead of as an object of ridicule or pity.
It was the first time that the real "me" felt important to a non-family member.
It was the first time that I truly felt heard and understood.
It was the first time I had a friend outside of school.
It was the first time I could let my guard down.

It was quite euphoric!

Unfortunately, I clung to that friendship so tenaciously that I turned it into an idol. In fact, as if to a powerful drug, I became so completely addicted to that friendship that I soon turned my friend into a personal 'god' -- he was my savior, he was my life, he was my all.

In tendering the most honored seat of my life to another human being, I foolishly allowed my selfish wants and wicked desires to usurp God's authority and suppress the precious truth He so kindly revealed to me.

"You shall have no other gods before Me."

Exodus 20:3, NIV

Instead of glorifying God and giving thanks to Him for the extreme kindness He exercised in providing me with a much-needed companion and friend, I insulted the Most High God by exchanging His glory for the baseness of mortal man whose highest kindness could only pale in comparison to God's. So, as a result, my thinking lost its anchor and my heart followed a progressively darker course, plunging me into a sea of confusion.

This confusion is clearly expressed in Romans 1:24,

"Therefore God gave them over

in the sinful desires of their hearts

to sexual impurity . . ."

In my confusion, I replaced God's truth with lies:

God gave me a good friend. 

I turned His gift into an object of lust.

God gave me someone to shine His light on me.

I opted to let my own darkness repel the light he offered. 

God gave me a buddy to show me the beauty of friendship.

I used him as a romantic character in the wild fantasy of my life.

After a year, I became sick and worried over my friend potentially discovering the shameful lust that kept getting stronger within me. I grew tired of the ever-widening distance that threatened my relationship with the Father. I turned intolerant to the increasing erosion of my faith made possible by my failure to cling to God and His Word. So, I prayed for strength to cut ties with the lies inspired by that friendship.

The tie of that friendship was soon severed. Although a major part of me missed him terribly for a long time, the other part heartily welcomed the gleam of hope that penetrated my soul. I was glad and grateful to be free from the fangs of such impure thoughts . . . at least, for a while. It would take years and years of journeying with Christ before those syrupy lies would be banned from my mind. 

Thankfully, God is faithful. 

Hallelujah!

His love never fails His followers on the journey.

Praise the name of Jesus!

Holy Father, help me to understand that every time I try to hold onto someone or something, I am merely imitating the yearning You have placed in my heart for You. In fact, adjust my perspective so I may clearly see that I can only cling to You because Your hand is upon me with every step I take. Please direct me to cut ties with all the lies I feed my mind so I may follow You in spirit and in truth all through this mysterious journey. In Christ alone I pray. Amen!

True Fasting (Part III)

Today is Ash Wednesday -- a most important day that begins the season of anticipation for Easter Sunday in the Christian Liturgical calendar.

As I welcome Lent into my life this year, I find it fitting to wrap up True Fasting with a third entry. This one relates to the lessons God has taught me on this topic since that morning in Port-au-Prince, Haiti when I was but a skinny 9-year old boy.

As I reflect back on all the subsequent seasons of fasting God has since allowed me to enter, I find that childhood moment with my family to be a pivotal marker on my journey of faith. It has taught me to see how much in common there is between true fasting and following Christ:

1. Spiritual Awareness

Daniel fasted for 21 days (see Daniel 10) and was given fresh insight by God. Like him, each time I fast, I am brought to a place of greater awareness of the evil forces that exist in the spiritual realm. Those forces of evil are diligently working to hinder Christ-followers from receiving His love and accepting His grace and truth. So, following Christ or true fasting is living in a surrendered manner to Christ's lordship which subdues the devil's schemes.

2. Costly Sacrifice

Like David said in 1 Chronicles 21, true fasting has opened my eyes to see that a sacrifice that costs nothing is no sacrifice at all -- it is fruitless, it is worth nothing. Following Christ has caused me to ask myself daily, "What personal loss am I to experience today, Lord?" Each costly sacrifice, then, intensifies my repentance in Christ's righteousness by giving me a broken and contrite heart.

3. Season of Preparation

The believers in Acts 13 worshipped and fasted until the Holy Spirit told them to set apart Barnabas and Saul for a special ministry He had reserved for them. Likewise, God has revealed to me that the time spent fasting is a season used to set me apart for the work to which He has called me. It is used as a sign of humility, a weapon to combat spiritual warfare, a time to connect my heart with God's power, an act of willingness and readiness to receive the Holy Spirit's guidance and wisdom in my life.

Said guidance tells me that I am to: 

*  Preach the good news first in my behavior then with my words

*  Be winsome in manner and speech

*  Strengthen other Christ-followers

*  Encourage people to remain true to the faith

*  Testify about God's work in my life and the lives of others

*  Commit disciples to the Lord

*  Pray and fast continually until the Lord returns

4. Stripping off Unholy Garments

Prayer, this most intimate form of dialogue, is the communication that true fasting allows me to have with God who uncovers false motives and strips from my heart potential desires to appear holy and spiritual. Following Christ reveals a passionate Lover who has no use for any lofty word or imposing shrine I am tempted to throw into the mix. No amount of religious words can compensate for my clinging to worthless idols or treating others unjustly. True fasting has taught me that following Christ means to live a holy life in the freedom of Christ's righteousness.

So, back on that day of long ago, Papi and Manmie planted a seed of true fasting in the heart of their little 9-year old boy. I spent the rest of the day enjoying the time of worship my family had and when dusk came, I was truly famished. Yet, I was reluctant to let go of the new hunger that I began to feel -- a hunger for God Himself.

What a potent seed!

What a rich heritage!

What meaningful lessons and experiences!

What fruitfulness has been borne from true fasting!

Father, may my following You be the very essence of true fasting so that I may long after Your love which is the only satisfying meal for my hungry soul, the sole potion that infuses my spiritual veins with strength, the single water source that turns the baked clay of my heart into rich soil and a verdant field! Amen.

True Fasting (Part II)

Is it possible for a 9-year old boy to experience the joy of true fasting?

The above question ran through my head that morning, and I became more and more curious about the joy which my parents and siblings exuded in the midst of fasting and praying. So, I returned to the room to be once again a part of the family's activities.

I took my seat while Manmie was praying about our need for God to remove our spiritual blindness and replace it with spiritual sight or insight through the light of His Word. Had I known the following verse back then, I simply would have quoted it in agreement:

"Open my eyes that I may see wonderful things in Your law." 

Psalm 119:18, NIV

Though I had not yet learned it, this verse eloquently expresses what I heavily sighed to God on that day so many moons ago. God, in His infinite wisdom, once again began to operate on me and the zillion blinding scales of self-centeredness and insolence proceeded to fall from my eyes. 

I began to see.

I began to perceive God's truth.

I began to receive the blessedness of God's law. 

As I observed my parents, in particular, and listened to the reading of Scripture about fasting, I slowly began to understand that true fasting is clearly an expression of love to God. I realized that my parents' decision to allow me to eat earlier that day was because they knew coercion should never be a part of fasting. It was to be my own choosing to sacrifice my personal comfort and convenience in deference to total surrender and commitment to my heavenly Father.

My heart broke. 

Did I miss my opportunity?

Did I mess it up completely?

Guilt and remorse filled my heart to the brim as I considered the deplorable behavior in which I had indulged. Thankfully, however, through God's grace, I learned that the Father is a God of a zillion chances. 

No, I could not un-eat the food I had already consumed.

No, I could not undo the actions I had allowed myself to commit.

But . . .

I could learn to hunger for something different.

"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,

for they will be filled."

Matthew 5:6, NIV

I could learn to crave an altogether different substance.

"Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk,

so that by it you may grow up in your salvation,

now that you have tasted that the Lord is good."

1 Peter 2:2-3, NIV

I could learn to pick up my cross, deny my flesh, and follow the Master.

"Then Jesus said to His disciples,

'If anyone would come after Me,

he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me.' "

Matthew 16:24, NIV

My focus began to shift from being the loveless leader of my life to being the love-filled follower of Christ. Almost imperceptibly, the first ray of joy penetrated my soul. Oh, the bliss! I was not prepared for it but gratefully welcomed it when it came. 

And God was about to reveal so much more to me about true fasting . . .

Father, I continue to be amazed by Your teaching and guidance through every experience of life -- even my worst failures. Deposit in me an increasingly fiercer hunger and craving for You, Your righteousness, and Your nourishment as I strive to walk daily in Your ways. Amen!

True Fasting (Part I)

Shortly before Fat Tuesday or Mardi-Gras in 1984, Manmie and Papi called a day of fasting for our family. As a young boy, I was unsure that I would be able to last the whole day -- the plan was to fast from dawn to dusk. We began with a time of singing and scripture reading followed by individual prayers. It was fun and special for the whole family as we sat there, worshipping our Lord together.

Then 8:00 am struck . . . and the first pang of hunger paid my stomach a visit.

Yikes! "This is going to be a long day," I thought.

Call it mother's intuition or mind reading but Manmie took one look at me and proceeded to pour me a glass of water. My tongue and throat heartily welcomed the fresh liquid; I drank and my stomach felt better. Nonetheless, as the family continued to pray and fast, my thoughts started drifting to other things.

I began thinking how dangerous it was to spend a whole day in total hunger. Could they not see that a poor 9-year old boy needed food? I was soon consumed with idle thoughts, failing to pray and neglecting to see the spiritual resources available to me.

I stopped paying attention.
I ceased praying altogether.
I clouded my mind with fun stories.
I entertained myself with more interesting matters.

An annoying sound interrupted my reverie -- it was the voice of Papi bringing me back to reality. He had just asked me to pray and I was too busy daydreaming to notice or acknowledge him. Worse yet, I did not have the faintest idea about the nature of the prayer request.

I mumbled a half-hearted prayer (if one could call it that), clipped it with a nonchalant amen, and looked up with a perturbed look as if to ask, "Satisfied?" The insolence of that moment still sends cold and remorseful shivers up my spine.

I suppose a number of things could have happened at that time. Yet, one thing that I do remember is that the focus of the day changed. I cannot even remember the original reason my parents provided for our fasting but, after my sour countenance made its appearance, Papi told Manmie that I could go eat something because I was not ready to fast.

I gladly went and ate whatever I could find while my family continued on their fast. After filling my stomach, I was at a loss for what to do. Now that I was no longer hungry, I could think clearly and understood that I had crossed the line with my siblings, with my loving parents, and with God. I soon felt lonely and miserable. From where I was, I could hear the resonant voices of my parents and siblings as they sang and prayed together. Their stomachs were empty and yet they were filled with a joy that was unmatched.

I wanted that joy.
I wanted to be in that room.
I wanted to take back my actions.
I wanted to really fast and pray again.

Could that be possible?

Father, I thank You for being at work on my behalf. So often, I am blinded by immediate crises and fail to realize that the One who is in me is stronger than he who is in the world. Too often, I forgo the discipline of prayer and fasting, preferring instead to indulge in chow time and gorging myself on cheap carryout that leaves me empty and lonely. Surprise me, dear Jesus, with Your generous plan of true fasting on this beautiful journey of faith. Amen. 

A Thorn in My Flesh

Recently, I was studying the Old Testament book of Haggai when a particular memory came to my mind with a freshness that shook me to the core. I was reminded anew how much it, too, has significantly impacted my heart on my journey of faith and love.

It was a regular Sunday morning. I attended Sunday School and the teacher's lesson covered the special love God demonstrates by designing each person in a unique way. My 9-year old brain registered how nice it felt to think that, long before I was born, God's eyes saw me as being truly special. It brought comfort to my heart to entertain the thought that the Father crafted every detail, nuance, and contour of my whole being with His skillful hands.

Of course, I immediately thought of all the wonderful traits, qualities, and skills that earned me human praise and approval:

- A pretty voice
- A gentle spirit
- A smart brain
- A kind disposition
- A compassionate heart

"Yes, God loves me!," I happily mused.

Though I did not say that out loud to the other children in attendance, I was sure they could see the conceited pleasure that was displayed on my face.

Then, bang!, my pride received a big blow.

Out of nowhere, there came this depressing rupture -- a molten volcano stirring my breast with shame and guilt. Perhaps it was the recent interest in romance novels or something altogether different that brought it to light. Whatever it was, I sensed a new sensitivity being unearthed from the deepest recesses of my soul. I became aware of something that was hidden to me up to that point. For the first time, the full weight of how different I felt in comparison to others around me fell heavily on my shoulders. I realized that, though I felt much more comfortable with the girls around me, the boys were the ones I idolized.

I wanted to be like them.
I wanted to be liked by them.
I wanted to be affirmed by them.

It took but a second for me to realize that this innocent wish had a sexual twist to it. I found that I had to admit to myself that there was this deep-seated, though unwanted, same-sex attraction inside of me. As self-loathing quickly invaded my heart, a new revelation hit me:


Could this be the reason I was so mercilessly teased all these years?
Did others know something about me that I didn't even know myself?

Some of the derogatory names and derisive epithets that had been thrown at me since my first day of school came rushing to my head.

"Little sister."
"Biological mishap."
"Sissy."
"Loulouse."

I started weeping in the middle of the Sunday school lesson and quickly left the room. A few of the children who were closest to me ran after me and, no matter how hard they tried, I simply could not tell them what was going on inside of me. When I was finally left alone, I chose to forgo going to the service and went on a stroll, all the while wiping away tears and pondering heavy questions.

How could I ever tell anyone?
How could God let that happen to me?
How could I ever entertain such thoughts?
Was there truly a mistake when I was conceived?

Through the flurry of questions, salty tears, and troubled thoughts, God's Word came to counsel me,

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,

before you were born I set you apart."

Jeremiah 1:5, NIV

I knew those words were spoken to the prophet Jeremiah but a line from a little Creole chorus I learned in Sunday school came to me at that moment -- "Chak pwomes nan labib se pou mwen" which means, "Every promise in the Bible is for me."

Whoa! 
God knew all of me before I was ever conceived? 
He set me apart before I was born?


So, He knew that these unwanted feelings would someday prick my heart like deadly thorns in my flesh. I was not sure that I felt comforted by that knowledge. On the other hand, His Word clearly maintains that I was not to nurse nor encourage nor act upon said feelings. Yet, God did not take them away.

"Why, Lord, did You not exclude this same-sex attraction from my makeup?," I silently pleaded. "Could it have been an oversight?"

In answer, King David's words entered my consciousness:

"My frame was not hidden from You

when I was made in the secret place.

When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

Your eyes saw my unformed body."

Psalm 139:15-16, NIV

  

There was no other way to look at it; God foreknew and ordained every aspect of my being for His glory. The grace of becoming His follower should be sufficient for me to accept what He requires of me. Whether the task was easy or difficult, it was not for me to question because only His grace and love could allow me to obey Him. In fact, I slowly began to see that this thorn was placed within me to prevent any inkling of conceited pride or self-righteousness to take root in my heart. God graciously allowed it to torment me so that God's power might be revealed in my weakness.

It has allowed me to see that I could never earn God's special attention nor could I ever deserve His love. Still, Christ's love is relentless. He was, is right now, and will always be a faithful, righteous, just, compassionate, and gracious Lover to His followers.

On that long ago day, the Lord of perfect love won my feeble heart. By His grace, I made a promise to obey Him and to acknowledge Him as my Lord, my King, and my God.

And, I humbly said, "Thank You, Lord, for my thorn! But, will there ever be a rose?"

I simply felt His assurance strengthening my faith, "Walk with me, my son. Walk with me. That's all you need to know. My grace is sufficient for you."
  

Father, You are the Sun of righteousness in my darkness and a glorious Shield in my weakness. Your honor, love, and favor are bestowed on me not because I am worthy, but because You choose to love me so completely. Help me to humble myself before You. Guide me to resolve not to defile myself with worldly choices and fleshly enticements. As I journey with You and follow You closely, draw me to feast on Your love, Your Word, and Your truth. Amen!

O Be Careful Little Eyes

Gone.
The TV craze was over.
There was still the desire to lull my mind with entertainment but one thought of being locked out of my house was sufficient to keep me in check.

I began assuming a certain cockiness in my demeanor, thinking about my new self-control. I even congratulated myself of becoming quite godly, thank you very much!

Unfortunately, as Solomon the wise says,

"Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall."

Proverbs 16:18, NIV

My demise came in the early part of December of 1983 when a new bait was extended to my reach and, almost without thinking, I took a big bite.

I was hooked instantly!

Having always been an avid reader, I was not only on the lookout for new books to read but readily feasted my eyes on any material that was out in the open. At 9 years of age, I did not have the presence of mind to discern what was inappropriate literature for my mind, heart, and eyes, or even for my gender. So, I was completely unprepared to resist the alluring pull of what lay on my older sister's bed one afternoon -- a romance novel.

I had never seen one of those before. The cover page should have been enough to keep me away but, unfortunately, it acted as a magnetic field yanking my hand towards it. I held the book in my hand, read the title, devoured the image of the couple pictured on the cover, and felt as though my whole body was on fire. I determined right then and there that I simply had to read that book.

Had I only known what I was truly doing . . .
Had I only grasped what an unwise choice I was making . . .
Had I only stopped what I never should have been doing . . .
Had I only listened to the still small voice of the Holy Spirit warning me . . .

Had I only . . .

But, my story was different -- quite different!

I did not know.
I did not grasp.
I did not stop.
I did not listen.

I did, however, know enough to snatch the book away and not let my parents catch my reading it in broad daylight. I read it all very quickly in the privacy of my own little corner and realized that I wanted to read more such novels. Soon, I was reading eight or nine of them per week, completely neglecting to do homework or anything else that truly mattered.

It did not take long for this new reading diet to take its toll on my brain and behavior. I lost my appetite for the Word of God, preferring instead the cheap food of smut and fantasy. I lost all interest in age-appropriate entertainment and discussion, favoring a more grown-up version of my reality. I lost my sense of childhood. I lost my first love for God and what He deems good for me.

More surprising, yet, was the loss experienced by my very eyes. I lost the ability to see things as they truly were. I lost the biblical perspective that God established to guide me in the way I should have gone for His glory and purpose. I did not yield to His wise counsel which reads,

"Do not arouse or awaken love

until it so desires."

Song of Songs 2:7, NIV

As a result, I began looking at the people around me with a romantic narrative going on in my brain. I began seeing normal activities as dates. I became aware of this burning desire inside my gut for that which is so rampant and cheap in romance novels. There was this awakening within me but it was completely misguided and lethal -- and that was merely the onset of all that took place in my life because I was not careful with my young, little eyes.

Father, teach me to be careful with my eyes. Set a guard over my eyes and guide me to fix them upon You. You are the beautiful One. You are the lovely One whom I adore. You are the destination of my journey. Help me to follow You all of my days! 

Valentine's Day

"Happy Valentine's Day!"


I remember how I hated to hear those words as early as a 9-year old. 


Why, one may ask?


I grew up with two loving parents and siblings who were . . . well, siblings. They brought along all the delights and quirks associated with brothers and sisters living in tight quarters. One thing was sure, however, I never doubted their love for me.


And yet, Valentine's Day came that year and the for the first time I felt truly sad.  I felt completely left out and purposeless. I could tell that it was not the intention of my family to present it to me in this manner, but I sensed that the celebration of Valentine's Day was only reserved to those who were in romantic relationships or who could aspire to such relationships: 


-  attractive people
-  dating folks
-  lovers
-  married couples 


Inevitably, since my awkward 9-year old self did not fit those criteria, the word left a sour taste in my mouth. I wish I knew back then what I now know beyond a shadow of a doubt. I wish I could have seen the true importance of Valentine's Day.

I wish I knew that it is not simply a Hallmark holiday as some wish to perpetuate. 
I wish I knew it is not about having a good time with a special someone.
I wish I knew it is so much more than receiving flowers or giving chocolate to people. 
I wish I knew it should serve as a reminder to us as fellow inhabitants of this earth to truly love one another in good times and bad times. 


But, I did not know. 


I did not allow myself to hear, to see, to understand, and to experience what my family kept chanting around me:

"Love is patient and kind.

Love is not jealous, or boastful, or proud, or rude.

It does not demand its own way.

It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.

It does not rejoice about injustice,

but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.

Love never gives up,

never loses faith,

is always hopeful 

and endures through every circumstance." 

1 Corinthians 13:4-7, NLT

I could not know because the above Pauline quote expresses exactly that which ran contrary to my human predisposition. I was in a hurry to feel good, to feel treasured, to feel important, to feel praised, to feel "loved" by others. Yet I failed to notice that the very ones from whom I expected all this attention had their own unmet practical needs. I also closed my eyes to others who, in my estimation, were undeserving of my love. 


Now, as a 37-year old, I know that I should feel equally ready to bestow love on the unlovely as well as the stunningly beautiful, the poor as well as the wealthy, the difficult person as well as the most pleasant. I should be more kind and patient to the drivers who cut me off on the expressway or the interstate. I should be more ready to learn about those I call my friends while they are still living instead of finding out their true nature at their memorial service. I should be willing to work and interact with those who oppose my ideologies, philosophies, and ways of life just as much as those who couldn't agree more with me. I should spend time investing in the lives of my neighbors and inviting them over instead of living parallel lives in seclusion. In short, I should be unpopular and think of the benefit of others first instead of my own. In an age where self-aggrandizement is the rule, true love is really tough to come by.

So, yes.


"Happy Valentine's Day!" 


I will celebrate love and the relationships I now have. I will seek to remember that true love takes hard work as it is a lifelong commitment to remain true and faithful to my fellow man. 


I will love.

Father, thank You for loving me so unconditionally and so sacrificially. Grant that I may equally love Your other children on this journey of love. Amen!

Lessons I Learned from Idols (Part II)

The previous post addressed my infatuation with TV, how it became an idol in my life at the age of 9, and five initial lessons I learned from the sin of idolatry.

-  Idols are good things mishandled by people
-  Idols make people lie
-  Idols demand to be worshipped
-  Idols cause people to forgo wisdom and caution
-  Idols leave people hanging

The first half of the story ended with my being locked out of my house because I had given my parents the impression I had gone to bed when in truth I had slipped out of my house, unnoticed, to indulge in TV watching at the neighbor's house way past my bedtime. I was  spotted outside of my home by a woman who literally dragged me to the door which Papi opened and I raced inside to hide under the dining room table.

Lesson # 6: Idols lead idolaters to a place of hiding


From my hiding place, I could hear the conversation between Papi and the woman. She kindly reported how she saw me outside and how concerned she was, knowing how diligently my parents raised their children. She said she knew at once that Manmie and Papi were unaware of my whereabouts so she had to do something.

My mind was wildly looking for ways to get out of the mess I had created but I found that I was running out of ideas. I heard the click of the door latch and soon Papi's footsteps were heard going in the direction of my bed.

My heart felt its first twinge of remorse at the thought of duping my father yet again. Why did I choose to hide from him?

"Lou, where are you?"

His deep bass voice resonated with much power and loving pity.

I couldn't bring myself to answer him right away, so struck was I by the familiarity of that question. It brought me right back to Genesis 3. I saw a real connection between my situation and that of Adam and Eve who chose to hide among the trees of Eden when they heard God's footsteps and heard His voice calling out to them.

"I'm under the dining room table," I pitifully croaked.

I was afraid of Papi.
I was afraid of seeing his disappointed face.
I was afraid of his questioning look and utter disbelief.
I was afraid of having to explain my disobedience and reveal my shame.
I was afraid of baring my heart and admitting that my idolatry had stripped me of my innocence.

Lesson # 7: Idols lose their power when people hide in holiness


With great humility and care, Papi got on his knees and bent over before he could finally see me where I was. His loving eyes hurt more than I could describe because the more I looked into them, the more I realized what an undeserving recipient I truly was. At the same time, they contained a healing power that gave me the strength to accept Papi's gracious hand.

I was guided out of my hiding spot.
I was disciplined.
I was hugged.
I was loved.

More importantly, I was led to discover the power of God's Word that night. Papi patiently taught me how far I had gone from the necessary mooring of my heart. He helped me realize that I had been obsessing over TV and my selfish wants instead of worshipping the only One deserving of such adoration. I was able to clearly see how insulting my idolatry was to the holiness of God.

I wish I could say that those seven lessons stuck with me from then on. Unfortunately, I have slipped, disobeyed, wandered, strayed, and faltered many times on this journey of love and faith. Yet, one thing I do know, my condition would have been similar to that of the fallen angels had God not provided me with an earthly father who was willing to call out to me with such love and mercy.

I am even more grateful to think that the love of my Heavenly Father is greater still . . .

Precious Father, just like You walked on Eden's grass in search of Adam and Eve who were hiding from You, thank You for walking on the pages of Your holy Word searching for Your followers. Thank You for stooping down to our level when we hide in the stupor of sin. Thank You for finding us when we are lost, for bringing us back when we have strayed, for healing us when we are ill, for forgiving us when we have wronged You, and for lovingly guiding us out of darkness moving us into the light of Your holiness and love! 

Lessons I Learned From Idols (Part I)

I have always been so prone to idolize people and things that, at first, I did not recognize it as a problem. This post is the first of two entries dealing specifically with one area of idolatry.

If I had to live my life over again, this is one episode (among too many others) I would wish to skip altogether.

Yet, I would not have become the person I am today without having walked through such a deep valley. I would not be relying on God's strength and clinging to Him with all He's given me.

It all began in the fall of 1983. Having grown up with no electricity in my home, it was always up to me to provide my own entertainment. I would sing songs with my closest siblings, tell stories, read by the light of a kerosene lamp, play hide and seek, or simply indulge in "make believe" games. Those activities kept me interested and grateful to God until something changed in me -- I was introduced to the neighbor's TV.

Lesson # 1: Idols are good things mishandled by people.

TV, in itself, is not bad. However, used inappropriately, it can become as lethal as a viper's poison.

That is exactly what happened to me.

TV became my idol and I clung to it tenaciously. 

It replaced my first love for God, His Word, His mission.

It blinded me from the grace and beauty of God's provision.

Lesson # 2: Idols make people lie.

Living in such close proximity to others in third-world Haiti, the bathroom window of my house provided a bird's eye view of our neighbors' living room where a nice size TV was placed. Back then, the neighbors would turn on their TV from 4 o'clock in the afternoon until midnight . . . or until a power outage decides it is time for all of Port-au-Prince to go to bed. So, quite conveniently, I kept telling my family I "needed to use the restroom."Using the restroom meant standing in front of the window, watching programs, leaving the restroom during commercial breaks, and returning to the bathroom to resume watching TV. 

Lesson # 3: Idols demand to be worshipped. 

Of course, things did not always turn out the way I wanted. There were moments when another family member had a legitimate need to use the restroom. There were also times when the neighbors would annoyingly stand in front of the TV, preventing me from seeing what I wanted to see. I began to despise those little inconveniences and felt as though I was being deprived of my rights.

It took a little while for my family to see through my duplicity and my parents soon ensured that my visits to the restroom were curtailed back to a normal schedule.

Inside of me, however, there was a war going on. I had become attached and, frankly, completely addicted to my neighbors' TV. At school, I braved the snickering of classmates only to find out how a particular show ended. I simply had to know as if my life depended on it. 

Lesson # 4: Idols cause people to forgo caution and wisdom.

One afternoon, it dawned on me that I could simply slip away from my house, go to the neighbors' porch, watch show after show, going back and forth to and from my house when the commercials were on to make sure that I knew when my family was going to bed. My family was the only family I knew that kept an early bedtime.

On one of those trips back to my house, I was surprised and relieved to see that a longtime friend of Papi's had just come for a visit. The two of them were in deep conversation.

Whoa! 
How fortunate I am tonight! 

They'll talk for hours and hours . . . and won't notice if I'm gone. 
Yes!!!

So, I stole myself away as quietly as possible and made myself comfortable in front of the neighbors' TV, no longer checking the clock and no longer worrying about my bedtime.

I was just beginning to feel hungry when the clock struck ten. I hurried back to my house and found that the house was completely dark -- the kerosene lamp had long been out. The front and side doors were both locked. And I was on the wrong side of them.

I was locked out!

Lesson # 5: Idols leave people hanging.

Do I knock? 

No, that would mean revealing to my parents that I had gone out without their assent or consent.

Do I go back and watch more TV?

No, TV watching was no longer alluring to me.

Do I stay out in the dark until morning comes?

Maybe, well, no . . . it was a dangerous world out there for a little 9-year old boy.

I was still debating what to do when a woman saw me and said,

"What are you doing outside at this hour of the night?"

"Oh, just thinking . . . ," came my hesitant reply.

She looked at me, glanced at my house, quickly grabbed my hand, and knocked on the door. Soon, Papi opened the door and I raced inside and hid under the dining room table.

Precious Father, I thank You for revealing to Your children and followers how alluring idols can be. May I learn that You are the only One to be revered and regarded as captivating, may I cling to Your truth, may I worship with all of me, may I embrace caution and wisdom in all my dealings, and may I be aware of Your presence all the days of my life! Amen.

By Faith

A great number of individuals look back to the year they turned 13, 16, 18, 21 as life markers. For me, I think of the academic year 1983-1984, the year I turned 9. The next several posts will cover events from that season of my life.

The first story that comes to my recollection took place a few days after my ninth birthday. It was a pretty warm Sunday evening and, as usual, I attended the local Baptist church. That night, a missionary from the Dominican Republic spoke about his work there. His outreach efforts focused primarily on Haitian families who lived in precarious conditions in the DR. My heart was moved with compassion when I saw pictures of little children who were in serious need of food, comfort, love, and the gospel.

As I sat there and listened to that man, I was enthralled by the energy and passion that radiated from him. His feverish love for the people he served in the DR was so contagious that I simply felt that I, too, needed to help.

But, what could I possibly do? I was just a little boy!

Yet, the story of his missionary work kept me interested and I kept thinking about it throughout the service. At the end of the service, he explained that anyone could help through prayer, words of encouragement, or financial support.

I knew I could pray. 

I got option # 1 down.

Yet, somehow, I felt that I was supposed to do more . . .

I was way too shy to approach the missionary.

What encouragement could a little boy give to a grown man, anyway?

So, I counseled my way out of option # 2.

I had no money.

I lacked valuable goods that I could sell.

I couldn't possibly ask Papi and Manmie to give me part of their meager earnings.

So, option # 3 was out . . .

Or was it?

There had to be a way for me to help this missionary financially. My mind kept playing and replaying the images of those needy children and the more I thought about them, the more convinced I became that I needed to pledge to give.

So, I did.

I took a missionary envelope and promised the astronomical amount of 24 gourdes, which was the equivalent of $5.00 in 1983. A mere sum of five dollars is not a whole lot of money to the average American family but back then, that represented a sixth of my father's monthly income. I had no idea where the money would come from but I simply knew that I had to pledge that amount.

I told Manmie that I had pledged $5.00. She and I prayed that God would provide in His time and in His way.

He absolutely did!

God provided many chores for me to do at home and in the neighborhood -- collecting and dumping trash, fetching water, et al -- for which I was paid. I worked diligently and was always on the lookout for new chores to complete in order to earn enough money to reach my goal. As a result, I was able to collect 3 to 4 gourdes every month and by the year I was able to honor my pledge which represented two-thirds of my earnings. The whole experience taught me a great deal about patience, sacrifice, and hard work.

More importantly, it taught me that my offering to God needs to always involve sacrifice. And to borrow the words of King David,

"I will not . . . sacrifice a burnt offering that costs me nothing." 

1 Chronicles 21:26, NIV

Father, may I follow You in faith and in truth always! May I enter a life of trust and sacrifice throughout my journey!

 

Turn the Other Cheek

By the time I hit Elementaire I (roughly like 4th grade), the age gap between me and the other children had widened significantly because of my completing the first four years of school in two.  I was the baby of the class and, as such, continued to be the object of scorn and ridicule for quite a while, especially when teachers were not looking.


Prior to my joining the class, there was a boy who used to earn the highest scores in every subject. He truly was brilliant and quite intimidating because of his academic prowess. Unfortunately, he rubbed many of our classmates the wrong way because of his oft-spoken demeaning words alluding to their inferior performance in school.

It did not take long for him to notice that there was some academic aptitude in me -- too much of it, in fact, for his liking. He constantly asked me about my grades and was always relieved to find out that my score was just below his. Though, academically, he was still at the top of the class, he began revealing his concern to others over my gradually turning into such a close second. I am not sure if he felt threatened or what but he soon became less vocal about his superior mind.

When his belittling comments stopped, I found him to be quite pleasant. So, I befriended him. We laughed  and played together at recess. Our friendship grew stronger in class as our teacher decided to move his desk closer to mine. I was elated because I felt that I had finally found the trusted friend that I wanted.

All of that changed when the principal of L'Ecole Primaire Mixte Bethanie walked into our classroom at the end of the second trimester to deliver our report cards. My scores were higher than his across the board -- he was livid.

At the beginning of the third trimester, I was sitting in class minding my own business when I was hit with such force that my face felt hot and burning -- I was slapped! I finally turned to face him and he proceeded to slap my other cheek. His eyes were flaring with anger and lines of hatred streaked his forehead as his words struck my ego:

"What will you do about it, sissy boy?"

I will always regret what happened next. So angry was I to be called that despised name by one whom I had learned to like and trust that all hell broke loose and my right hand rose up in the air. I slapped him back on both cheeks with so much speed and rage that all my classmates were stunned.

I was stunned . . . and so, so sorry when I looked at the disappointed look on the teacher's face. I was so ashamed when I looked at my friend and saw how much I had wounded him. I was grieved to think of what I would need to say to my parents once my behavior is revealed to them.

Yet, none of that pierced my heart more agonizingly than when I heard him angrily utter,

"And all this time, I thought you were a Christian!"

Oh, no!

I blew it.
I was mortified.
I messed it all up.
I allowed anger to govern me.
I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I remember thinking of the words of Christ in Matthew 5:39,

"But I tell you,

Do not resist an evil person.

If someone strikes you on the right cheek,

Turn to him the other also."

As a result of not following the way of Christ, I lost that friend -- he never talked to me again. Try as I may, he never responded to my pleas for forgiveness. He never even acknowledged my presence. I learned the hard way that I should not have retaliated. I should have worked for justice but I should not have taken personal revenge. I should have loved him instead. 

In the end, all the "should haves" in the world cannot and will not thwart God's plan. Even that royal failure on my part will turn out for "the good of those who love Christ."

Lord Jesus, Your words are so difficult and yet so right. There is always an escape in times of temptations if we but look up to You and deny our flesh. Help me to turn the other cheek -- loving my fellow man as You love Your church. I pray for that friend of long ago; help him to find in You what he could not find in me. Help me to release all the guilt, shame, and remorse at Your feet so that I may be free to follow You more closely with each step I take. Amen!

Rating My Life

"Only a few years will pass

before I go on the journey of no return."

Job 16:22, NIV

Growing up in Haiti, I saw some things in real life that most kids living in developed countries are not even allowed to see on the screen. The rating of my life as a young boy would certainly send the average American parent scurrying breathlessly to cover his/her child's eyes. Yet, that was the hand I was dealt.


As an 8-year old, the movie of my life would have earned an R rating for the vulgarity of language I heard outside the confines of my home, the vileness or indecency of moral conduct to which I was exposed at school and elsewhere, and the violence that so often permeated my trips to Nan Miwon -- the public place where I was to fetch water since our house had no running water.

Papi and Manmie did a conscientious and thorough job teaching me and my siblings about propriety and decency. However, they could not shield us from the all-too-often putrid stench wafting from the outside world when we were away from home.

I was awakened at 5 a.m. one morning for my set of  4 daily trips to Nan Miwon. On the first trip, a man and a woman who came after me began to argue over their place in line while we waited for the city to release the water our neighborhood needed. I silently prayed for safety because I knew that a simple argument could very quickly turn into complete disaster. When the water came, I filled my bucket and took it home.

On the second trip, it was obvious that things had gotten out of hand.

I was scared!
I was horrified!
I was petrified to enter the scene!
I was stupefied to witness such violence!

Even from a distance I could tell from the intensity and volume of the sound that it was much more than people bickering. Upon arriving there, I took one look at them and it felt like a knife had penetrated my gut. The poor woman was completely disfigured; it was obvious that she was severely battered, kicked, and mistreated.

I remember looking at the man and felt a wave of anger surging within me. I hated seeing that woman so cruelly treated and discarded as though she was garbage. I loathed the fact that a man would resort to such brutish behavior just to safeguard his place in the water line.

But, no one could have prepared me for what happened next. Not in a million years would I expect to witness the events that ensued.

Out of nowhere came this other woman with a machete in her hand. With one big swipe, the weapon tore through the right side of the man's chest . . . the rest is too painful and too inappropriate to describe.

It was much too much for my young mind to take in.

Later that day, I was not surprised to hear that death had indeed entered the scene.

Death is a daily occurrence everywhere. In my growing up years, however, death was as common as it was varied. I saw a young man running towards Nan Miwon to soak his charred body in water. Unfortunately, he collapsed not too far from my house because the flames lapped up his breath much too soon -- his body was set on fire because he had robbed a house.

A young teenage girl who had attended Manmie's outreach program in the neighborhood lost her life after twelve boys raped her one night. I saw her body and wished I had never seen it.

Those images kept me awake at night as an 8-year old. I could not understand why God would let them happen. I could not accept my own inability to end the pain, the violence, the lewdness, the anarchy that seemed to go rampant all around me. Yet I knew that only He could answer the questions of my heart.

I cried out to God.
I prayed for mercy.
I mourned the loss of lives.
I begged for deliverance and mercy.

I did not receive the exact answer I wanted but one thing that I did learn back then was that life is a journey that is always short. I lived with the notion that my time could come at any given moment and at any given place. It was that year that I joined my family in memorizing Psalm 90. Verse 12 reads,

"Teach us to number our days aright,

that we may gain a heart of wisdom."

The above verse became the prayer of my heart each time I thought about death. It taught me that though a person's earthly journey begins at conception and ends when death tolls its ringing bell, wisdom will guide a person to be prepared for his/her eternal journey. In fact, the events of life, even though rated as unwanted or inappropriate at time, are the very tools God uses to train people in wisdom.

Thus, my heart was consoled and comforted that God's wisdom would always guide my steps throughout my endless journey.

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil, for You are with me;

Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me."

Psalm 23:4, NIV

So, my life is rated as God's training of wisdom. I am forever grateful!

Father, in times of trial You are always there to comfort me and in dark times Your light shines ever more brightly. May the path I take bring me safely to the heavenly palace You are preparing for all who follow You! Amen.

Why Should I Sing?

I turned 8 in the fall of 1982 and felt increasingly more confident about my identity as a follower of Christ. I slowly paid less and less attention to mockery thrown my way and, interestingly enough, the ridicule lessened. Furthermore, as a member of the local chapter of Boy's Brigade, I began to have more things in common with other boys.

It felt good to be accepted into their fellowship!

So, since those boys weren't known for their love of singing, I naturally hesitated to reveal my voice to them. At the time, my voice was a clear, high, and beautiful (so I've been told) boy soprano and I was convinced that, if heard, the boys would call my voice a girl's voice. With that in mind, I kept my voice close to a whisper in their presence whenever singing was involved for fear of being discovered and losing the sense of belonging I had worked so hard to attain.

Yet, singing was such a major part of my makeup and DNA that I felt as though as I was lying to myself and others.

Well, I was lying to myself and others . . . and God!

How does a fish pretend not knowing how to swim?
How does a bird pretend not knowing how to fly and twitter?
How does a lion pretend not knowing how to roar and hunt for its prey?

Neither could I pretend not having a voice for very long. On a Saturday afternoon during a Boy's Brigade meeting, I went to the restroom and absentmindedly began to sing a new song my older sister had just taught me. As I opened the door to leave, my chef d'escouade (the squad leader) was standing opposite the restroom with a surprised look on his face.

"Was that you singing in there?"

"Yes," came my hesitant reply.

"You have a beautiful voice!"

A polite smile was all the response I could provide. He was one of the kindest men I have ever had in my life. He could see that I felt embarrassed. Being a wonderful bass singer himself, he pressed:

"Why are you keeping your voice a secret? You should sing for us."

It was the first time that I opened up a little to another human being about how I was or might be perceived by others. He listened for a bit and reminded me that in a few short years I would lose the soprano range but that my voice would still be a gift from God. He reminded me that there was no guarantee that I would be alive at puberty; my vocal gift ought to be used in the present.

Through him, I learned that I should use my singing to worship God and edify others. He told me that his eyes always smiled while singing because he wanted to use his voice to love God and people, and that I should do the same.


What a wonderful lesson!

My 8-year old brain and heart did not fully grasp all the implications of his words but his encouraging words did convince me to see that I should sing and that I should sing with all my heart, all my soul, all my strength, all my life.

I have been singing ever since.

Master, help me to praise You with everything I am and have. You deserve the absolute best effort I can exert, the costliest sacrifice I can make, the most vulnerable part I can reveal, the most fragrant offering I can present -- and all that regardless of my abilities and limitations. Help me to follow You with all of myself for You are my all in all. Amen.

Children Will Listen

The year between summer of 1981 and summer of 1982 was packed with exciting events. I turned 7, I joined Boy's Brigade (a program aiming to train boys physically and spiritually), I began soloing more in public (with success), I excelled in academics (completed both second and third grades in one year), and I grew more resolute in my decision to follow God's lead.

Upon returning from our annual summer trip to La Pointe in 1982, I remember dreading the long days of summer and wishing for something to fill my days.

"Careful the things you say,

Children will listen."

It was then that I turned to an "activity" that kept me occupied for a long time -- it was listening. I do not mean the mere act of hearing words, overhearing comments, or even the despised act of eavesdropping. No, I mean, I truly listened. I wanted to listen. Listening became my hobby.


I listened to what people said.
I filed their words into my brain.
I listened to what their faces conveyed.
I read between the lines and made the subtext plain.
I listened intently and endeavored to remember what I heard.

My siblings, growing aware of that skill, began asking me to replay conversations or events that were interesting to them. On many occasions, after a church service, one of my siblings would pretend that I was a tape player and would jokingly press an index finger on me, prompting me to repeat the service blow by blow.

Fine and humorous though it was, that listening skill sometimes felt like a curse. It became so important to me to "listen and remember" that I often forgot to simply be a child. I had to be "on" all the time because I never quite knew when I would need to "perform" or "display" my uncanny ability.

There were also words and events that I did not care to remember. I tried to tune out the unwanted noise of bitter arguments, forget the sobbing of abused children, mute the cries of the battered women in my neighborhood, muffle the insults hurled at kids and women by the adult men in their lives, erase the cussing of teenaged boys, ignore the rumblings of empty stomachs, and pretend not hearing the footsteps of robbers in the night running at top speed for their lives.

Most of all, I did not care to remember the hurtful remarks that were uttered about me.

"I hate the way he talks."
"Look at the way he walks."
"He is such a Mama's boy!"
"I can't stand to look at him."

It was one thing to be bullied by children.
It was one thing to be ridiculed by youthful lips.
It was one thing to be mistreated by immature youths who knew no better.
But, it was quite another to listen to adults and truly absorb their patronizing or derisive comments.

"Careful the things you do,

Children will see and learn."

I remember that day like it was yesterday. It was towards the end of summer of 1982 that an adult male I admired decided to put together some soccer games for the boys in my neighborhood. At 7, I was still very much afraid of what other little boys thought of me. In general, I craved male approval and acceptance more than anything that I could imagine. So, naturally, I wanted to be a part of those games.

Well, soccer tryouts were a disaster as far as I was concerned. It turns out soccer wasn't as easy as I thought it was going to be. It was like someone forgot to hand me the manual on how to be a boy. It felt as though all those other boys had something I did not have. They seemed to have a corner on the truth of soccer playing and I was left hanging to dry. To be fair, the man who was organizing the event allowed much time for me to prove myself worthy. Unfortunately, I felt so inadequate in the company of those natural athletes that my embarrassing attempts went from bad to worse.

The organizer finally stopped me and said,

"I don't think you'll ever play soccer, little boy. Thanks for trying. Why don't you stick to singing, or poetry reading, or something along those lines? Soccer is for tough boys and you, well, you're so soft and gentle . . . you'd only get in the way or get hurt. You can hang around the field and cheer if you want but don't waste your time dreaming of ever being able to really play."

I swallowed hard.
I felt so humiliated, awkward, and dejected.
I promised myself that I would never play soccer again.
I did not know how to even leave the soccer field with such a massive failure weighing me down.


I wish I had not truly listened to the words I heard that day. I wish I had not accepted the blow of those remarks as though I had received the gospel. I wish I had not taken the time to memorize the patronizing tone, the belittling expressions on that man's face, and the pitiful looks from the other boys. I wish I had not believed those lies.

Unfortunately, I heard and listened.
I listened and I saw and I cared.
I cared and I learned.

I learned to believe the lies fed me by the world around me. I was like Eve who chose to trust the lies of the serpent in Eden. Though I cursed those lies in my heart, nursed them in my gut, and rehearsed them in my head, I did not choose to submit those lies to Christ who, alone, could reverse them.  I simply wished to die.

"Careful the wish you make,

Wishes are children.

Careful the path they take

Wishes come true."

What a foolish wish I had!

It actually happened.

I died.

I died emotionally.

I no longer cared to listen any more. 

I died because I listened to the cacophonous noise of inadequacy, worthlessness, and pity. I died because I stopped listening to truth. I died because I stopped seeing the beauty and perfection of God's creation. I died because I tuned out the voice of reason and redemption. 

I died because I stopped following but chose instead to err and wander aimlessly . . .

. . . until I went to VBS (Vacation Bible School) towards the end of that summer. It was there that I was jolted back into reality. It was there that Truth came and talked sense into me. It was there that I learned a little verse from what has since become one of my favorite scripture passages:

"Your Word is a lamp to my feet

and a light to my path."

Psalm 119:105, NIV

The VBS teacher helped me understand the importance of tuning out the naysayers of life and focusing first and foremost on being attuned to the Word of God. I was thankfully made aware of the invitation Jesus extends to His sheep, beckoning them to listen to His voice (John 10:27). I was reminded of Eli in the Old Testament teaching little Samuel to say,

"Speak, Lord, for Your servant is listening."

1 Samuel 3:9, NIV

I was revived.

I was strengthened by the truth.

I was made to hear and listen again; I resumed my listening to the voice of truth.

"He who has an ear,

let him hear what the Spirit says . . ."

Revelation 2:7, NIV

O Holy Spirit, take rest in me and dwell in my heart. Fill my ears with Your melodious truth at every turn on the road. Grant that I continually see the light of Your Word shining on my path so that I may follow You securely and serenely into eternity! Amen.

The Almond Tree

It was not hard for my family to tell that I was happy when I woke up the morning of June 28, 1981. As soon as I was out of bed, I began singing joyful melodies, talking non-stop, laughing even when no funny jokes were told, and simply extending kindness to everyone around me.

The activities around the house further grew my excitement. Suitcases gradually filled the gallerie (front porch), snacks were being prepared and packed, dishes were being washed and put away, last minute details were being discussed, and everyone was busy taking care of final preparations for our trip.

It was a long-awaited day!

It was the day that our family would make the annual trek to La Pointe des Palmistes, a coastal town in the northwestern part of Haiti, where we would spend a full week. La Pointe was known for its kind inhabitants, spicy seafood, marinades (a type of fried Haitian pastry), beautiful beaches, majestic palm trees, and (as far as my family was concerned) the wonderful conference organized by the Haitian Baptist Convention.

For me, however, I could not wait to see a friend who lived there.

My friend was not a person.
My friend was not an animal.
My friend was a tree -- an almond tree.

My fondest memories of our annual pilgrimage all feature a beautiful pye zanmann (almond tree) growing in the heart of the campus where my family stayed in La Pointe. I fell in love with it the first time I laid eyes on it. Its trunk was thick, sturdy, and perfect for climbing. Its branches were wide, leafy, and laden with sweet, juicy, and addicting almonds.

The almond tree was loved by all who would take the time to notice it and so, it was often crowded. However, I spent enough time checking on it to know when Tree and I would be alone for a "date." It provided so many things that I needed:

A ready and tasty meal.
A hiding place from troublesome kids.
A shady spot away from the hot summer sun.
A trusted companion who would readily accept and enfold me.

In the arms of the almond tree, I shed many tears. I prayed numerous prayers. I laughed to my heart's content. I sang all the songs I could remember. I daydreamed and planned and wrote and thought and pondered and found myself.

It was during one of those "dates" with the almond tree that God spoke to my heart and softened it enough for me to end my pity party. I was singing my favorite hymn, Great Is Thy Faithfulness, and I must have sung it ten or more times in a row. Towards the end of that time, some verses about God's love for me began to enter my consciousness. Though I cannot remember the exact passages that came to mind, this one echoes the message my heart received on that day long ago:

"I have loved you with an everlasting love;

therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you."

Jeremiah 31:3

Soon after, a little chorus chimed in:

"Yes, Jesus loves me,

Yes, Jesus loves me,

Yes, Jesus loves me,

the Bible tells me so."

Since then, another verse reflecting His guidance and faithfulness has kept me in His love,

"I will instruct you and teach you 

in the way you should go,

I will counsel you and watch over you."

Psalm 32:8

A new day dawned for me.

A new path, a golden path was paved before me.

My soul was revived, renewed, and my passion was rekindled.

God, in His faithfulness, did not fail to provide for me even as a 6-year old boy. He provided parents who taught me to read and memorize God's Word. He provided the desert, the absence of intimacy, the isolation that I felt deep within me so that I might long to be filled by Him. He provided Tree, the almond tree, to be a safe place where my unsettled heart would find the needed peace to hear His still, small voice counseling me. He provided Himself. 

Who could ask for anything more?

Thank You, Father, for not giving up on me. Thank You for supplying my every need that I might long for You, and You alone. Thank You for remaining faithful especially when I go astray. Help this follower to fix his eyes on You all of his remaining days! Amen.