Sulking

“It is the ability to choose which makes us human.” - Author Unknown

Some huge part of what it means to be human is our ability to choose. Our depravity, woundedness, glory and our transformation are all seen in the choices we make.

Some part of me was sulking over the constancy of choice that fills my every day.

How many choices do we make in a single day? Is there no rest? A little break... a couple of passes... you know, like a "snow" day?

Good over evil, a serving of vegetables over the old-fashioned glazed donut, listening versus talking, saving instead of spending, stillness over distraction, choosing to love instead of dis-engaging, smiling, reading over the boob-tube, life over death, to worship God rather than euphoria, assume their good heart, serve, courage verses cowardice… (on and on it goes!)

Then I read a column by Dennis Prager in which he observed,

Every change for good must be constantly renewed, but changes for the worse are often permanent. Goodness must be fought for every day, over and over…

It caught my attention as being true.

I want change! I want to change! But often I want it to be easy… instant… entirely of God and requiring nothing of “Me” (note my hiding behind a pseudo-spirituality). 

Our lesser choices seem to have an enduring quality that our more noble choices lack. My choice to rage in hidden bitterness toward a cruel and former friend doesn’t seem to require the constant renewal, the regular reaffirmation that the choice to forgive, reconcile and love does. The choice to furiously follow God through the day requires a volitional strength and constancy that an extended spiritual malaise doesn’t.

Holiness and character displays itself in the thousand different choices I make each day. And there are times I am weary from the choices.

And then Paul speaks, "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." - Galatians  

I will not give up!

“Life is change. Growth is optional. Choose wisely." - Author Unknown
- Craig

My Story: Act III, Scene I

It was evening. I was eight, my younger brothers and sisters had just been put to bed. Mom and dad wanted to talk with me alone in the family room of our home.

It was then that time stopped; winter began; and the earth’s rotation was altered; Santa was exposed; never again were there “blue moons” or innocent warm summer days lying on the grass imagining shapes, characters and creatures in the billowy clouds above. The neighbor’s dog became mean, my younger “brothers” and “sisters” weren’t really brothers and sisters… my family became opaque, a faded hue, less real.My bedroom became smaller and now there were nightly burglars and malevolent strangers perusing my windows, terrorizing me, waiting for the opportunity to do me harm. It was that evening I learned of a father who died, and it was then that something in me died as my mom had.

My father was drafted and killed in the Korean Conflict. My mom was 21, I was three months, 14 days old. The concussion, the trauma of God allowing her lover, a fine and godly man die left her lifeless… about 6 rows from the front, on the left, in a pew alone crying most every Sunday. 

She remarried. A retired naval officer became my dad; he adopted me and changed my name from McConnell to Barnard. I was too young to remember any of this and the secret was neatly kept until the evening I was called into the family room. There I was told, “Craig…your dad isn’t your father. Your father was killed in a war when you were born. I married your dad when you were little…and he loves you very much”. And for this little guy all the adventures of boyhood in our Southern California baby boomer neighborhood were indelibly changed.

It is inevitable. We’re all wounded in some way. (To think you aren’t is to scoff at the beauty of Eden, the heart of God and the violation that sin is.) The scar of our wounds endure and with them some message that becomes the script by which we live.

As a young boy the first draft of my script was, “I’m different. Everyone else has a father…  There is something wrong with me!”

As life unfolds the message goes through numerous edits while staying true to the theme. The second edit came in my adolescence. Living disoriented with the pain and loneliness of not having my “real” father coupled with a variety of insecurities centered on the abiding question, “What’s wrong with Me”, and a culturally affirmed rebelliousness it was pretty easy to provoke my dad, the 20 plus year naval veteran. And so, having lit his fuse, at the intersection of the hall and his bedroom, he grabbed me, shook me and for the first of several times told me, “You are nothing but a seagull. All you’re good for is sitting, squawking and shitting”.

A Navy “Lifer” knows a seagull when he sees one.

No significant re-edits were needed following this.

I have absolutely nothing to offer… I sit, squawk and shit. Period.

That script held up well…for decades.

(I will continue the story, but let me ask... Do you know your wound? What script/message have you been given with it? Could it be that there is another script for us to live by?  Where and how do we find out?)

- Craig McConnell

Matador

While chatting on Facebook with my friend David Schloske I was perusing his “Home” page and was captured by his favorite quote. I read it three times. It’s great!

"There are many people who think they want to be matadors, only to find themselves in the ring with 2,000 pounds of bull bearing down on them, and then discover that what they really wanted was to wear the tight pants and hear the crowd roar".
- Terry Pearce "Love All Serve All"

There are times our desires are fulfilled resulting in a little more clarity about that which we more deeply yearn for.

There are things we hope for, and have absolutely no idea what comes with it.

I have experienced both in spades.

How about you? - Craig

Road Warriors

I just walked into our home having driven home from LA after a couple of weeks with our family and friends over the holidays.Yes, that’s me in my Santa accoutrements with my numero uno “helper”.

Lori stayed in LA for some extended time with friends giving me the gift of a two day drive.

I spent much of the drive silent. I’m always amazed how much God has to say if I am merely quiet. 

"We live in a noisy, busy world… We have become a people with an aversion to quiet and an uneasiness with being alone." – Jean Fleming

"Be still, and know that I am God”. – Psalm 46:10

I was silent, he was present.

The entire drive seemed as though I was “NASCAR-ing” across the Mojave, canyon lands of Utah and the mega-Rockies with my best friend – who happened to be The God of All Creation! I drove, he sat next to me in passenger seat with one foot raised up on the dash and an elbow hanging out the window. Two road warriors spending a couple of days on a long drive free associating, asking one another questions, pondering the deep questions of life, drinking in the scenery and laughing together over all the unique oddities of the Inter-State Nation.

Early on I was profoundly convicted of being a poor lover… both of Him and so many others. The faces and wounds of those I hate and have yet to forgive popped up. Loving others authentically, strongly, wisely and from the heart is the high bar we’re called to live and I fall far short. Short short. I have wounded many by overt dismissal or disengaged and cowardly withholding of compassion. My need for repentance, forgiveness and a deeper walk with Christ surfaced over miles of open highway. (The issues here will be a focused theme of God’s work in me this year for sure!)

One truck stop and an In-And-Out Burger later* there came a transition.

What I became aware of was the intensity of my desire to be a better man… to love others courageously as I was intended… and as they were meant to be!

The repentance, sorrow, conviction and the horror of how I can live didn’t push me into the shaft of condemnation, self loathing and shame. Instead the pierced hand of my travel mate, the Sovereign Just Savior, patted me on the knee, then the shoulder as he pivoted and turned looking at me and speaking words of forgiveness that settled the issue... and offered the invitation to all that’s needed to love/live well.

About that time we cranked some tunes by Tom Petty, Ashley Cleveland, Stones, Alan Jackson, Tim McGraw, Foghat and Jeff Beck. There is, for me, at times, a grace in loud music. We were two bobble-heads enjoying one another at 85 MPH. streaking across Utah.

The desert and canyon lands of the West are drop-to-your–knees beautiful.

 Is beauty definitionally indescribable?

Whether it’s nature, a person, music/art… I find myself lifted by the hope/reassurance, joy of beauty. I’m more alive, more passionate and thinking more clearly in the presence of beauty than I am in homey gray hues of the foggy world that often surrounds me.  

The epic views of terracotta mesas, plateaus, deeply cut river canyons, red clay cliffs and formations fostered visions of castles and fortresses, cowboys and Indians… of some ancient and future life. I repeatedly slowed down or pulled into a lofty vista point to gaze… and then to feel, in the same moment – very small/finite and yet very vital in the mythic story of God.

I was silent, but all of nature was grousing. The artic wind was howling and I’m certain all the rock massives and sentinels were crying out… groaning for that yet-to-come future time when we shall be liberated from bondage to decay and brought into the glorious and full redemption and freedom of God (Romans 8).

I was quiet, all of nature was singing.

Driving for hours through the dramatic trophies of God’s power and craft we listened to the sweeping sound tracks that fit the country – Out of Africa, The Mission, Dances with Wolves. It was eternal!

Woven in and out of the drive I found myself whispering prayers, praise, adoration and worship softly to God. These were tender and intimate moments - from the heart, deeply loving. Then I would come around some bend to a whole new dramatic vista and would begin shouting (screaming) out the testimonies and confessions of my heart… It was a rebel yell of glorious and wild praise.

In a mile or so silence would return, and we road warriors would continue the communion and joy of being together… chatting,it would seem, about all things important and a few not so.

"God was pleased to pour into my soul a great spirit of supplication, and a sense of His free, distinguishing mercies so filled me with love, humility, and joy and holy confusion that I could at last only pour out my heart before Him in an awful silence. I was so full that I could not well speak.” - George Whitefield

And so it is.

– Craig McConnell

* When you travel calories, carbs, fats and sugar don’t count… right?

A Roller Coaster

I truly appreciate all the words and prayers that have come since I shared my diagnosis in the last blog. Thank you so much!

After learning of the Leukemia I initially experienced waves of shock/surprise, fear and anxiety. But as with many disrupting events in life those expected emotions were mingled with the unexpected.

I remember as a young boy standing in line to ride the rickety old wooden roller coaster on the Santa Cruz Boardwalk… it was named “Certain Death”, “Giant Dipper”, “Bone Crusher” or some other frightening moniker. As the line shuffled slowly forward to the sound of car loads of screaming riders I became more and more frightened… and excited.

Something big, life threatening and adventurous awaited me. I was scared to death and pulsing with excitement as well.

Similar to that, in the first season of facing cancer I also had a sense of exhilaration that I had just stepped into some life and death adventure with stakes higher than anyone ever chooses.

I knew God was present and to be found. I knew, though I felt very alone, I was not alone. I knew I was in for an epic ride… and there actually is something very sobering and keenly thrilling about that. 
 
Faith in God and a gripping terror were strange bedfellows for a season.

Early on I asked myself the question, “What has really changed with my diagnosis of Leukemia?’

My first response was “Everything!!!”.

Every moment is now colored by my need of God, the desire to live, the awareness of some dastardly disease lurking in my body, there’s a new level of lies from the adversary. There’s the throbbing desire to live well, a crisper appreciation and love of family and friends. 

Some relationships seem to be changing; some seem to have withdrawn a bit… as if I have kooties, or relate to me from a posture of denial as if I haven’t been diagnosed with anything. Then there are a few, who only a couple of months ago were practically strangers to me, I have turned to late at night with the need to be listened to or to simply be with over the phone.

Free reading books on history have been replaced with books on nutrition, detoxing, exercise and coffee enemas. Tears flow more often from the music I listen to. My prayers are probably more of what I always wanted prayer to be like but never experienced.

I hold Lori a little tighter and gaze a little longer into my daughter’s eyes.

The word hope seems to have bright flashing lights on it I hadn’t ever noticed before…. it seems like everything has changed.

My second response was… “very little” has really changed.

I’m terminal, mortal?

Actually that has always been true. I’m destined to die at some point whether it be in the womb, in combat at the age of 23, in an accident at 36 or in bed at 92.

What’s new is that this reality is now reality… ever present.

As it has always been, my life is in God’s hands… yeah I’ve got leukemia… but I could live another 30 years or choke on a chicken bone next Thursday.

My every breath comes from the Lord. Each and every breath. I realize that more deeply now but it’s always been true.

There’s something sobering and keenly thrilling about that.

Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. - Psalm 90:12

– Craig McConnell

 

 

Leukemia

This last May 9th I was in Dulles International Airport with a 15 minute lay-over prior to boarding my overnight flight to Zurich to consult/coach a group of gifted Swiss leaders who were initiating the first German language Boot Camp.  I plugged in my computer hoping to charge the battery a skosh and noticed an email from my doctor.

It said, “Craig, please give me a call.  Your labs [from routine physical 2 weeks earlier] are back and Houston, we may have a problem..."

What?

I read it twice. Is this a joke?

Moments later I boarded the plane with my “Friendly Skies” companions and informed Lori from my cell of the email and asked her to follow up with my doc on what’s going on. Fifteen minutes later as the announcement to turn off all portable electronic devices for takeoff is being made my phone rings and Lori hurriedly reports, “Your white cell count is elevated. When you get back into town he wants to do some more tests. On your flight he wants you to take an aspirin, get up and walk around every hour, and lose weight.”

I ’m a little disoriented/spinning with what’s unfolding. Not sure if I was offering reassurance or asking for it,  I ask Lori, “Is everything okay… are you okay?”  She responds, “Yeah, I’m okay, I’m fine. It’s just a little something he wants to check out later, I love you”.

Wheels up and into a long night my heart’s posture was, “God, what’s up?”

I didn’t take the Ambien® (sleep aid) I was anticipating because I had to get up and move around every hour. I had taken an aspirin with my vitamins that morning so I checked that “box”, but wasn’t sure how to lose any significant weight on an 8 hour red-eye to Switzerland other than resisting the Snicker bar in my carry-on (which I did).

Every moment of the flight I was praying and pondering life… my life, death… my death, my family, my script of the future, my health and whether or not I had blood clots, heart issues, high blood pressure, H1N1, a parasite or a brain tumor?

Was I overreacting, misinterpreting a doctors generic concern over a minor abnormality in my blood work? Am I a hypochondriac? Or it some scheme birthed in hell to spin me into a self-absorbed disengagement from the team and epic importance of this mission (The FIRST German language Boot Camp!!)?

In what felt like the same amount of time it took Rome to fall I arrived in Switzerland, and though it was in the middle of the night in the states, I emailed my doctor, “Hey I’m speculating about my health and have died and buried myself five times on the flight… what’s going on?!”

He responded: “Your white cell count is elevated, around 20 thousand, normal is 10 thousand or less.  The kind of cells are lymphocytes.  We need the hospital to run some tests and repeat the counts to confirm the possibility of CLL, chronic lymphocytic leukemia.  When you get back let’s get the testing done and I will get you in to see a hematologist.” 

Leukemia!!!

And then there was the silence of my entire being recalibrating as I grasped each of the eight letters of the word and then the word as a whole… L-e-u-k-e-m-i-a .

It felt foreign, intrusive, large and daunting and very, very personal word.

I had a friend die of that as well as a colleague I supervised in my last church!

I’m a dead man walking… what do I have, 3 weeks to live and I’m stuck here doing a men’s retreat in Switzerland for 2 of  them?

I chose not to call Lori and tell her the news over the phone from so far away nor did I share it with the Swiss Team. I was on mission and sensed strongly that God would give me the grace to accomplish this task while privately processing all the anxieties, fears, free roaming emotions, questions and the reorientation my diagnosis was raising.

On the second day in country the Swiss guys suggested I spend some time with one of the team, Gerd. The other four team members and I had spent time together at Boot Camps, Advanced Camps and at our home in Colorado. So Gerd and I went for a walk along a streamside trail in a high elevation meadow with the Eiger and Jungfrau peaks overlooking us. It was stunning beauty. I asked Gerd for a bit of his story.

He shared that he was a retired professor at a German Medical School, former president of the German Cancer Society, and a survivor of an aggressive/acute Leukemia. I managed to ask a few more questions about his “survival” of cancer and then stopped walking to find a rock to weigh down. Finding one, I begin to sob, eventually finding the words to tell him that I had just learned of my diagnosis, the day before!

He sat alongside me, and took all the time needed for me to express my shock and fear, he listened… asked several questions and reassuringly led me to a deeper understanding of “life” and “health and how neither is determined by the condition of my body. 

He was fathering me. And God was fathering me through him.

I’m 36,000 miles from home, alone for the next eleven days (hiding my diagnosis from my wife), about to participate in a historic “first” that will require all of me, and I’ve just learned I have cancer… and yet I’m not alone, God is present… so very present. And he has silver hair – just as I’ve always imagined, a German accent and responds to the name “Gerd”. I was BLOWN away! I don’t know how long we sat there. It was a good amount of time.

Not wanting my time with the team nor the conference to be about me I asked Gerd to keep my issues confidential. Throughout my time their he would put his hand on my shoulder during times of worship… it was Gerd’s hand… yet it was a larger, even stronger hand – the same hand that has touched us all at our times of crisis and need. It was God. And it was Gerd… who would pull me aside to offer words needed to stay the course while fear, anxiety and confusion surged back and forth. It was Gerd who would pray and check in on the fragile condition of my heart. Several times he spoke to my fears and doubts insisting that “We simply must life! Live life!” and that the best offense against cancer is waged from the heart. With his vast medical knowledge and in a sagely voice he told me that a certain and sure indication of living well was to… “Have a little whiskey and chocolate every night”.

So much more could be shared.

After 12 days I returned home. I hadn’t shared my diagnosis with Lori over the phone, choosing to wait until we could hold one another and talk with our eyes and heart. Reunited I found that she had known of the cancer from the beginning and choose to wait until my mission was over so we could circle the wagons together.

 
There will come a day when I attempt to put a few sentences together that describe what my wife means to me… and brings to me.

I went in for extensive blood and genetic tests that confirmed I have Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia (CLL). I’m asymptomatic and in the early stages. My Hemoc used an analogy to describe my specific situation: there is a burning ember in a dry grassy field with a warm breeze blowing. The hope is that the ember is extinguished by God, or never ignites the grass.

I’m under the care of great docs and am getting good counsel. Since May I’ve survived the initial waves of fear, hopelessness and the frisky dose of the “blues”. 

I’ve got a lot more to say about all of this, and will in time.

My goal is to live life fully; not let my identity be defined by cancer; fight like hell, and have a little whiskey and chocolate every night!

- Craig McConnell

Note: Until last week only my family, close friends and a few intercessors were aware of my diagnosis. I wasn’t ready to deal with a wider circle. Now I am. Besides, so much of what God is doing in my life now is linked to cancer… how could I keep silent about all of it?

Within a few weeks of the diagnosis of Leukemia I got another call from a different doctor on the pathology reports from several biopsies that had been taken… they proved to be Melanoma; thus the “frisky dose of the blues”. They’ve been removed! I blog on that experience as well. 

Another blog from this summer pretty well captures one of the primary themes of God’s work in me through this season thus far. 

Thanks so much for your prayers.

My how God has changed!

I’ve been reading through 35 years of my journaling.

My how I’ve changed. My how God has changed!

Now, of course God hasn’t changed, but a boat load of my beliefs about Him sure have.

Over the course of a Christ-follower’s life long journey any beliefs he has about God that are beneath Him (God) will be dismantled and discarded.

Dismantled by God.  Discarded by us. 

After all, the Author and Perfector of our faith desires truth in our inner most being, and we, who are children of light cannot coexist with darkness once it’s been exposed. It actually takes a herculean effort to repress truth/beauty/love, and such is the power of deceit whether chosen or not.  But God, on His part, will arrange life to surface the aberrant convictions/beliefs we hold that, unattended, will eventually cause us great grief. The preferred time to find you’ve built your house upon the sand is prior to the tempest!

As we walk with God, press into His word and feel the fury of life’s storms our immature/sub-biblical/second-hand beliefs will be outed and readily tossed on the rubbish pile of “religious notions”.

A.W. Tozer said it well,

"That our idea of God correspond as nearly as possible to the true being of God is of immense importance to us. Compared with our actual thoughts about Him, our creedal statements are of little consequence. Our real idea of God may lie buried under the rubbish of conventional religious notions and may require an intelligent and vigorous search before it is finally unearthed and exposed for what it is."

Read the Gospels and you’ll see that God is supremely more interested in the unseen motives and beliefs that govern us than He is in our external behaviors and verbal declarations. Real change, lasting change starts on the inside – in the arena of motives and beliefs,  and then works itself out in our actions and deeds; thus, one of His redemptive purposes in orchestrating of all the annoying hassles and struggles of life. God will initiate the vigorous unearthing of that which we truly believe about God, about His view of us, our epic role in His Larger Story, the life we long for and the Adversary set against us so that we might know the truth.

In short, if you want to know what a person really believes, their doctrinal declarations may not tell you nearly as much as how they live, pray, relate to others, worship and deal with life’s grave disappointments.

Over the years I’ve canned, modified and exchanged a whole lot of my beliefs and convictions about love, marriage, parenting, growing as a Christian, and my role in society, church and ministry, sinners, “saints”, sin, the doctrinal issues I’d actually fight over, addictions, grace… and on and on! 

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. – 1 Corinthians 13:11

There is humility in growing.

Now of course there are things I believe and embrace as true that haven’t yet taken deep root in my being.  It could be the reality and extent of warfare in the life of the believer, or the epic role I play in God’s Large Story, perhaps that the redeemed heart is good, or that God’s heart toward me is that of a loving father, or that healing of life-shaping wounds is available.  All true, yet, perhaps not fully governing me.

In some blend of desire, faith, trust and courage I step into those beliefs by choosing to live as if they’re true. Absolutely true! And in doing so I find myself crying out to God in my prayers and in my reflections upon scripture for Him to confirm, instruct and weave these truths into my heart, mind and soul.

Take my once adolescent belief in the omnipresence of God (the attribute of God that speaks of His forever and always presence in all places). I professed that truth, but for decades I didn’t really truly actually believe way down in the nitty gritty of Craig that it was true.  Life pressed in and I begin to realize my unbelief that God was present. I didn’t believe He was present the way that David did, or the way the early church did, or the way others around me did.

I begin to look for Him at odd and unusual times… outside of church, in a  U2 song, in the middle of an argument, when I had the flu or the transmission failed. In odd and difficult situations, with positive and negative emotions my posture was one of questions and seeking, “Are you (God) here… in this?” “God, where are you?” “Is that you?”

And He’s shown up time and time again making Himself known, answering me, speaking, He’s jumped out of the bushes and snuck up behind me enough that His being present is a reflexive lens I now view life from, because it’s true. Truly true!

– Craig McConnell

It Was Ugly

I’m sitting at Gate B-42 waiting, as usual, for a United flight that’s been delayed four times since its scheduled time of departure over two hours ago. I’m among a crowd that is slowly morphing into a mob.

The businessman seated one “Friendly-Skies”-blue vinyl seat over, gets up and for the third time approaches the Customer Service rep at the gate counter. And with three well enunciated words he un-corks vicariously venting for all 150 of us. Less than 10 seconds into his diatribe he crossed the line as our warrior-poet-representative and became a caricature/cartoon of a enraged foul mouthed borderline-abusive man venting all the anger/wounds/disappointment he has experienced over the entire 42 years of his miserable life.

It was ugly.

Satisfied and no doubt exhausted from the adrenaline rush, he returns to his chair and glazed over, though still muttering obscenities, he slouches back.

Two minutes later, having caught his breath, he makes a call on his Blackberry. I easily overhear him talking to his young daughter tenderly over the phone. He’s calm, loving, engaged and thrilled to hear about her day as he expresses his love for her.

It was sweet.

I’ve seen this behavior before…in others.

Then I slouched down into my chair and realize that there’s a voice, a clear, kind voice saying, “Did YOU see that… did you see THAT?”

There are times when events unfold before you that, upon reflection, seem orchestrated by our sovereign God specifically for you. For a reason… as an invitation.

Ahhh yeah… I’ve seen that in myself (less dramatic and public of course!)

It was like there were two different people in one body. Truth is it may have been two different people in one body. Most of us have buttons that, if pushed, set off some response (rage, withdrawal, control etc.) that signals a deeper issue of brokenness, woundedness… a young unfathered heart/place and a foolish/sinful strategy of living. That “signal” isn’t something to repress/deny or shy away from. It’s actually the opportunity to experience the deep and true healing/forgiveness/deliverance/grace our good God offers.

I spent my flight wondering about my need of God and his promises to me.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leads me beside quiet waters,
He restores my soul. – Psalm 23;1-3

He heals the broken hearted
And binds up their wounds. – Psalm 147:3

Heal me, O LORD, and I will be healed;
Save me and I will be saved,
For you are the one I praise. – Jeremiah17:14

7 Iron Bliss

Okay… who’s been praying for my golf swing?

Thank you!

When our close friend’s son asked our daughter, Meagan, to marry him we were elated. As the Wedding Week was being planned several rounds of Golf were on the docket. I’d never had any interest in shagging a ball around for 4-6 hours; however, realizing this was an opportunity to spend time with them zipping around in a golf cart while engaged in a competitive sport that involved skill, grace, jawboning and a beer afterward I decided to take it up. So, the humiliating process of learning to “play” began. It’s been a year and a half and I stink at golf… but so does my best buddy who also happens to be my son-in-law’s father and the fourth in our regular foursome and frequent “Best Ball” partner. Misery loves company!

* * * * * *

While on vacation this summer a couple of pros watching me on the driving range had a choice… shoot me and save their course from further damage or intervene. Mercifully they took me under their wing and, with the patience of Job and a smirk, gave me the guidance/help/salvation/lessons I needed.

* * * * * * *

For my lunch break today I went to the local driving range. (Note… what a deal! A bucket of balls, a corn dog, bag of chips and medium soda for $7… I’m thinking “Date Night”)

I pull out my 7 iron and start whacking balls. Whoa! Bam! Biff! Sock! Kapow!  Bar the gates Katie!

I was Captain Junuh, Bobby Jones, and Walter Hagen… I’d found my swing! I have never hit the ball as good… consistently, high and far!

Something’s up?!

I'd gone to the driving range in a panicked attempt to break away from an oppressive spiritual sludge that covered me. It felt like a thick swarm of gunky mosquitoes the size of crows swarming around me that no amount of swatting and screaming could alleviate. I couldn’t out run them distancing myself from them hoping to buy a little time of peace before having to sprint again. Do you know what I’m describing?

* * * * * * *

It had been a beautiful Colorado Fall morning with an apple crisp air and pumpkin hued mountains in the sun’s rising light. As usual I had given time to prayers of worship, consecration, and applying the full and triumphant work of Christ over my heart/soul/mind/body/spirit for the day. It seemed that all my brokenness, desire, deep wounds, yearnings for God, profound and compulsive sins were properly stowed in the caring hands of my Father God when I walked into the Outpost (our office building) and got bushwhacked by a bucket of iced Gatorade brewed in hell.

Suddenly I’m… irritated. Rankled by an email, fuming over a colleague’s presumption, soured by an odd look what’s-her-name gave me… actually I’m enraged by the mere presence of other humans.

The Outpost is suddenly dank and dark and with pairs of creepy little green eyes peering around every corner sneering at me. It was obviously spiritual warfare given that murderous thoughts are not common for me. I had faced this before on occasion… this feeling of being eaten alive by some hideous predator… probably the way it would feel to be devoured by a Lion (which according to all the nature shows I’ve watched doesn’t let its prey die prior to its blood devouring)

Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. - 1 Peter 5:8

I wondered what people without a warfare category do with such overwhelming experiences/feelings?

My morning was spent battling in prayer against this foulness to seemingly no avail. The prayers felt impotent leaving me with a foul mocking echo, “You can’t handle this… your life sucks. You suck! This is your miserable fate!!”

I clung to the truth of God and the promises of victory his word gives knowing that there are extended battles we must fight without losing heart.

They are harder than we expect. Hand to hand combat where time stands still and only the smoke, noise and fury seems eternal.

I recalled the account of Daniel praying for understanding of a vision he had had. At the moment of Daniel’s prayer God immediately answered it by sending a mighty and glorious angel to Daniel (many interpreters view this angel as the pre-incarnate Christ himself!). However, it took twenty-one days of warring with the demonic prince of the Persian kingdom before the angel could even get to Daniel with the answer to his prayer. In fact, the angel needed the help of the archangel Michael to battle this demonic being (Daniel Chapter 10).

There are battles over and for us that remain unseen, and if seen, would explain so much of the long suffering and enmity we endure.

I believed God would give me victory at some point, until then the sulfuric weighted film and crows seemed the dread champion.

Noon-ish the thought that came to mind was, “Run!”, “Get outta here!”, “Get some air, and do something… anything distracting!” My clubs were in the back of the Suburban so I went to the range.

After a brief argument with the vendor over who the hottest quarterback in the NFL was, and gripping over the fact that he was out of mustard for my corn dog I went to my bay and dumped out the balls and paused before striking the first.

The driving range was quiet and almost vacant; there was an elderly woman and a young jock sharing the range with me. A cold damp blustery breeze was blowing leaves around, distracting me until a huge flock of Canadian Geese glided in for a soft landing on the range (they were directly in front of me at about 150 yards… which is the safest place they could be.).  The stillness and beauty of the moment caught my heart’s attention and I mutter the simplest prayer of the day, “Dear God I need you”.

I hit the first ball… and the Geese scatter. Straight. High looping and long. Whoa! I hit another… “God?”. And another… God came! I began to sense the beauty, strength and grace of his presence. For an hour I was in his presence with my 7 Iron. In his presence there is: victory, joy, peace, and LIFE. In long pauses between swings he spoke of his love of me and my strength in this battle… I felt his smile. The gunk was gone. I was with the Father… golfing!

Amazing!

He remains the ever-present and always surprising God!

- Craig McConnell

Distraction

“Hutchison's Law: Any occurrence requiring undivided attention will be accompanied by a compelling distraction.” – Robert Bloch

 

This is now the fourth afternoon I’ve sat down to scribble out a bit of all that’s unfolding before me to no avail.

There’s a gumbo of fresh thoughts simmering around in my heart and head that I’d love to put out there on paper… (such as): 

… there is a joy rooted in objective truth that desperate circumstances cannot alter.

… what we actually mean when we say that “Marriage” is hard.

… my love of naps.

… the grief and longings stirred up looking through an old school annual.

… an addiction update.

… the breeding ground angry partisan talk shows are for anxiety, fear and hatred.

… General George Patton’s biography.

… how the six “Woes” of Luke 11 effect me.

… when a glass of wine or a well stirred Manhattan is so sweet.

… a friend’s challenge to ponder my being “Chosen”.

… my first impressions of alternative cancer treatments/cures.

.… reflections on my conversion to a warfare world-view.

… how easy I find it to hear God when He’s saying what I want. 

… bowling leagues.

 

I’m still sitting in front of the computer.

Words on each of these musings and more are present… but at the moment I seem unable to put two intelligent sentences together. (Go ahead and count them).

Distraction is familiar territory for me.

One moment I’m bottomed-out in my chair, placid, glazed over in stage 3 of “writers block” and then I find myself in the middle of some project: cleaning out the garage; sharpening every pencil in the house; organizing my library by perfectly aligning every book on its shelf topically in alphabetical order (by author of course); re-folding the family tent or creating a new itunes playlist.

Aargh!!!

The desire to write persists, so I strap myself back into the chair and lean back to process my thoughts and get God’s interpretation of what’s going on. 

Okay, while in silence and stillness there’s a woodpecker rhythmically destroying the wood facia on the north side of our home. I’ve gone out twice to scare him away but, once again he’s returned. This red headed terror pounds on the house giving me, not him, a headache.

Wanting to fight through my dissipation I begin to pray… Father, Father, Father, I come to you now, in this moment longing for you, loving you, worshiping you. I fully consecrate/surrender myself to you… (and then it happens)

Do Red Tail Hawks really have red tails?

At a movie theater which arm rest is yours?

Are eyebrows considered facial hair?

Do you change the heater filter every 30 days or 60 days? It probably depends upon the season. I probably need to replace it every month in winter, every two months in fall and spring, and none in summer…so how many would that be per year? I wonder if Home Depot gives you a case discount?

Distraction.

I snap out of it the way you jerk yourself awake in the early stages of sleep and continue, Lord come  give me focus, strength, diligence. Counsel and father me…

When is my breakfast appointment tomorrow? I better not wear my good shirt I may stain it.

Do you know what I’m describing?

I fear I am much and often distracted.

Even now, this very moment, as I finish this scrawling I’m so aware of the battle required to do such simple things, the most important things. 

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy [and distract]; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. – John 10:10

A battle we must and can win. Join me in fighting it!

– Craig McConnell