"This life therefore, is not godliness but the process of becoming godly, not health but getting well, not being but becoming, not rest but exercise. We are not now what we shall be, but we are on the way. The process is not yet finished, but it is actively going on. This is not the goal, but it is the right road. At present, everything does not gleam and sparkle, but everything is being cleansed." --Martin Luther

Monday, April 2, 2012


This is the title of a post I wrote some time ago. It is a post on seeing the title, had made Kel angry, to suggest that I had lost my faith. But it was not what she was thinking. I was still a believer in Jesus Christ but I was lost and disillusioned about this life and what it is and what it is supposed to be, and asking the question “who am I?” Because when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t know who I was looking at anymore. And I realized that much of my faith was what I thought it was supposed to be because it is what I had seen and been taught, things that I thought I had to do and I wasn’t so I felt guilt. And when I got wounded and came home from the front lines…yeah, I got patched up but the wounds went deeper than most ever realized. They went into my soul, a place that only the Great Healer can go. Problem was, I wouldn’t let Him because He was the one who put me in the line of fire in the first place. I didn’t trust Him because of what other “Christians” had done to me and my family. You see, in my faith I had tied fellow believers and God together and when I was betrayed by my fellow believers/sinners I lost my ability to trust them and God because I had mistakenly tied the two together. So pretty much since we got back from Zambia I have been running from God, avoiding Him at all costs. Oh, I still played the part in certain circles. But if you knew me and looked in my eyes you knew I wasn’t right. In my world the sun didn’t come out anymore and my only goal was to get through another day; keep busy so my mind didn’t have a chance to rest, think, clear, listen. I had gotten pretty good at it. But I knew my God, my Father was passionately pursuing me and was violently fighting the enemy for my heart back; HE was relentless. It was getting harder and harder to avoid Him and I was getting tired. I knew this trip to Zambia was God and I resisted- but it was going to happen. FATHER knew I was just about out of steam and HE timed it out perfectly. When I finally collapsed HE was right there to catch me. Not to rebuke me, criticize me, or chastise, only to love me unconditionally, HIS son. All I felt was the love of my FATHER and HIS embrace. That happened the first full day in Zambia, Sunday morning in church. I laid in my Father’s arms and wept and the sun started to peek through the clouds. It was just the beginning of the hard, sometimes painful, cleansing, healing week.

I needed God to remind me who I was- HIS SON.

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