No Speech, No Language

The Most High never fails to speak to me especially when I'm the most low. And it seems as though he does it through whatever I'm tuned into. I make it a point to study the word daily, but over the past six to eight months, I've been getting messages elsewhere too. They've mostly been coming to me at work. They're tentative though, because I'm cautious. Let's face it. There is more than one influence at work in this cosmic conflict. So "to the law and to the testimony. If they speak not according to this Word," then they speak for the dark side. I rejoice today in the fact that I am not forsaken. Who knows; maybe, I shall recover it all.

Like an Ol' Dog

They can take the dog out the fight and by stealing his morale make him forget the war. Right now, I don't have the motivation to do anything, well, not much of anything. I don't want to put forth effort at work, so I'm doing the bare minimum. I don't want to do anything at home, so I find distractions or decide to not be there. Chores, hobbies, personal goals, and exercise have all been suspended. It's ugly. I've been pushed out of the dog house against my will, so I know I have to face life. I've come to the realization that life goes on, and others have continued their lives after loss. I recognize the possibility that I can live. I've even been persuaded to see and understand the reason for living. My mind has grasped it, but my heart doesn't have the strength. So I've backed up in my doghouse, and I'll lay here with my nose peeking out. I can see the yard, but I'm not going out there. I don't feel like it. Necessity causes me to do the little things, but I don't do much more. I remember talking to a friend of mine who said you just find those little goals to pull yourself through the day. So my alarms goes off in the morning, and I turn it off. Then I have to decide to get out of the bed. Everything from here til the end of the day is a struggle. So it goes like this; goal number one, get out of bed; goal number two, get ready for work; goal number three... Problem is I don't feel like it. I already knew that it wasn't through my own efforts that I have what I have, but now even my own efforts have seemingly come to nothingness. I feel alone. I feel worthless. I feel beaten, forsaken, and damned to live a pitiful life. I know better, but knowing doesn't convict the heart which leaves me teetering between epic heroism and nihilism. So I have to pray for the strength to reach even the smallest of goals. Dear God help me to fix my lunch, Dear God help me to iron my clothes, Dear God help me to do every little aspect of my job, and Dear God help me to keep believing in prayer.

Aint Scared of Nothing

I remember being a little boy and asking my father, big and bold as John Henry, what he was scared of. He would always say, “I aint scared of nothing.” I always believed him. Now I’m a man, and I don’t have many fears. The problem is that the ones I do have never fail to find me. They like to manipulate me to doing things that are irrational, but “perfect love castes out fear.” (1 John 4:18)

I don’t want to say I was angry with God, because I think that sounds stupid. Really sounds like a bad place to be in. I mean what can a person angry at the Lord do, and how faith seems to atrophy when that happens, but really now, my faith has been shook. You see, I’m sick and tired of learning lessons. I usually learn them the hard way which means I knew better but was just hard-headed. “For whom the LORD loves He chastens, And scourges every son whom He receives.” (Hebrews 12:6) However, this can’t be the case this time. I did nothing wrong. I’m not claiming perfection, but I certainly didn’t provoke the hand of correction. As a matter of fact, that’s the thing right there. I’m not perfect. Of course no one is, but our commission is to “be perfect.” (Matt. 5:48) It’s to love those who have caused us pain and who use us. I want something to take the pain away. I most certainly don’t want to put myself back in the position of vulnerability. If I pray for that miraculous out pouring of the Holy Spirit to affect hearts and minds, because people have free-will and reject the spirit and truth, a faithful prayer, one that prays and believes that what was prayed for will happen, leaves me wide open for disappointment and hurt. I’m tired of being hurt. If I can just pray for acceptance and strength to deal with what life has become, maybe I can progress toward healing. The only problem is that the latter choice is just about me. The former choice requires that I intercede in prayer for others, that I serve others, and that I try to be an influence for the salvation of others. The selfless choice requires growth on my part. I really don’t have the option of irrationality or fear. Growing pains, well, they hurt. As a friendly advisor put it, the Savior put Himself in a position to feel hurt and suffer on our behalf. He hurt before watching His creations choose death. We have to “pick our pain.” What a perfect love that is. I aint scared.

call Him, Call, Him, CALL HIM

Not too long after dinner and even sooner after listening to a Tye Tribbit song, my one-year old son was sitting in his high chair yelling for the sake of yelling. He did it almost with a regular rhythm. I was still rocking in my chair singing the song. "Call Him! Call Him! Call Him!" I sang on every forward rock. So I decided to try to get him to say "Jesus!" instead of the unintelligible shouting he was already doing. I really would have gotten a kick out of it had it worked. It was at this point that Assata, five-year old daughter, says to me, "Daddy, I know Jesus's cell phone number."
"What is it?" I asked with my eyebrows knitted together and already amused. Then she told me, and I even saved it in my phone.
"It's a secret," she added. "You should hide it in somewhere in your phone."
"Okay, baby," I agreed. "Where'd you get it?"
"Miss Nicole and Reaia gave it to me." This is my daughter's best friend and her mother. I told her that I probably wouldn't use it, because I usually just pray when I want to talk to Jesus. Lately, I don't really know what position to take in praying about a situation I have. I'm torn between praying for what I would consider a miraculous working of the Holy Spirit and accepting things that I cannot change. The Word says that sometimes we don't even know what to pray for, but the Holy Spirit interprets. "And in the same way—by our faith—the Holy Spirit helps us with our daily problems and in our praying. For we don't even know what we should pray for, nor how to pray as we should; but the Holy Spirit prays for us with such feeling that it cannot be expressed in words. And the Father who knows all hearts knows, of course, what the Spirit is saying as He pleads for us in harmony with God's own will." (Romans 8:26-27, TLB.) Well, thank God because I don't know if I'm coming or going, but I do know that I can trust the Shepard to guide me through the times when I can't see the path.
I can still hear my mother's usually alto voice swing down into tenor, "If you need the Holy Ghost, tell Him what you want. O..." If you're sick and can't get well, if you need the Holy Ghost, If you know that Jesus is still on the mainline, tell Him what you want. I am, then I'm going to leave the miracle or the acceptance up to His will.