Storms of Perfection

I decided to switch Reflections of a Ragamuffin from Blogspot to WordPress this morning…mainly because I wanted the flexibility of having multiple pages on my blog. (If you notice up top, I have include a tab called “My Story” and have written and uploaded Act 1 thus far.)

The transition was fairly simple, although I am still learning the WordPress interface. Since my header image on Blogspot did not fit the new WordPress theme that I chose, I had to spend some time rethinking what I wanted that image to look like. I started thinking about visuals  and imagery that could represent the journey that Melody and I have been on for the last 10 years. Our journey has been painful and has taken turns that we never imagined. Through it all, however, there was a thread of hope…a ray of sunshine.

With that thought on my mind, I did a search for “storms and sun” to see what kind of images would pop up that contained those contradictory elements. The image that I used in the masthead was one of those images, and here are a few more. Let me know if you like some of these better than the one I chose.

Each of these images really struck me, but the one below haunted me. I found myself staring at the photo for at least 7 or 8 minutes, thinking about our story and how this image symbolizes so much of what we have been through. I used it for one of the headers above, but, because of the height limitations, it really didn’t do the image justice.

Here is the full image.

The raw power of the tornado is captured incredibly in this image and provides quite a contrast to the rays of sunshine exploding through the storm clouds. As our relationship was torn asunder by my addiction and infidelity, through it all I can look back and honestly say God provided rays of hope on even the darkest of days.

Which masthead do you prefer? What do you think about this image?

Trusting My GPS

Driving home from my conference in Orange Beach, Alabama this past Thursday, I found myself winding through small Florida towns…faithfully following the turn-by-turn instructions of my Garmin GPS navigation system. When I realized that I was in Florida, it dawned on me that maybe…just maybe…my Garmin might be taking me the wrong way, or, at least the long way home.

You have to know that my driving has become so much more stress free since I gave myself the Garmin for Christmas in 2007. It is so nice to be able to hit the road at 6 or so in the morning headed to a meeting somewhere in Mississippi and not only get turn-by-turn directions for how to get to my destination, but also get an estimated time of arrival. This is huge because so much of my stress pre-Garmin was related to not knowing exactly how long it was going to take me to get to a destination that I had never been to before. The thought of a crowded room of school administrators waiting for the “PLATO guy” was none too pleasing and has virtually become a thing of the past since getting the Garmin.

So there I was in the panhandle of Florida, having left a town in Alabama trying to get to my home in Alabama, suddenly second-guessing my trusty Garmin that was taking me through Florida. In that moment I realized just how much faith and trust I put into my dashboard device. I reflected on that as I made another turn and twittered,

“I wish I followed God as faithfully as I follow my Garmin’s turn-by-turn directions.”

I was exposed. Why was it that I was only second-guessing the Garmin because it had unexpectedly taken me into another state to get me home, yet I second-guess God so often for so much less? I thought about how many previous trips I confidently made the turns I was told to make…even the trip that took me on 3 different dirt roads! I flippantly thought “O well this is different” and kept driving with confidence and made it to my destination just fine.

Yet I so quickly second-guess my Heavenly Father when life presents an unexpected turn in the road and my orphan thinking immediately wants to take over. I think the key word there is “unexpected” and gets to the heart of the matter. I am fine as long as long as things are unfolding as I expect them to unfold and get upset when I start heading in a direction I was not anticipating. I exhibit more faith and trust in my Global Positioning System than I do in my Abba Father who created the universe and everything in it and yet still knows how many hairs I have on my head. (A few less than yesterday, I might add.)

Preaching the Gospel to myself each and every day involves reminding myself that God loves me and that His heart and plans for me are good…even if my circumstances in the moment seem to tell a different story. I am learning to die to my expectations and to live each day as a wild-hearted adventure with my wild-hearted Abba Father who loves me with an intense, consuming love. He is my Gospel Positioning System and He has never left me or forsaken me.

Misinterpreting My Story

This past Tuesday was profound for me. I watched a 20 minute video that allowed me to see my life from a completely new perspective and it left me weeping. It has been awhile since I cried that hard.

The video is of Donald Miller, author of Blue Like Jazz and Searching for God Knows What talking about story. What is the big deal about that, you ask?

First, here is the link to the video. It is just under 20 minutes, but I assure you it will be 20 minutes well spent.

Donald Miller | How Narrative Shapes Culture

I realized as I watched Donald Miller talk about story that there events in my own story that I had misinterpreted and misunderstood. The biggie happened when I was 22 years old. Up until the fall of 1993, everything in my life had unfolded in basically a positive direction. I started preaching at 15 and also had a dream to play Division 1 basketball and my junior year in High School, Samford, a school that had just moved to Division 1, started recruiting me.

“Cool God! I love how You are working these things out!”

Samford stopped recruiting me for an athletic scholarship my senior year but instead asked me to be an invited walk-on. Still cool, because by that time I had secured a Presidential scholarship to Samford.

“God closes one door and presto another one opens!”

I get to Samford and soon realize that I don’t have a spot on the team as a walk-on. I grieved the death of that dream for awhile, but about 2 weeks later I get a call from back home inviting me to pastor a new church being started on Lake Wedowee.

“Oh now I see God. You closed the basketball door because there is no way I could pastor if I was on the basketball team. I get it!”

I pastored Lakeside Community Church for 2 years and resigned in May of 1993, the same month that I graduated from Samford. Frankly, I was burned out because I had no idea how to set boundaries and was wearing myself out trying to serve as pastor. Rick Ousley did a revival that month in Randolph County of all places and I met with him and he invited me to join Brook Hill’s “Road Warriors”…a group of music and preaching evangelists that Brook Hills was going to promote and send out. He told me that Brook Hills was going to put together a 4-color glossy brochure featuring all 10 of us “Road Warriors” and then were going to mail it to every church in the SBC.

“God, You are simply amazing. I don’t even have to figure out how to promote myself or start an evangelistic ministry! Thank You!”

So Melody and I, still newlyweds, lived off of savings for that summer and highly anticipated the brochure going out in the fall and all of the great and wonderful places we were going to get to go to and speak. Our first “Road Warrior” meeting was scheduled that fall and I couldn’t wait to hear how everything was going to be unveiled. Well, five minutes into the meeting I discovered that the purpose of the meeting was for me to inform the committee concerning my plans to launch my ministry. What? That was not what I was told. Never once did anyone mention the glossy brochure.

“God, what is up with this? We need money!”

I left that meeting panicked and completely dejected. For the first time in my life, heaven seemed silent. The next week I was in a coat and tie interviewing for a job selling cellular phones in Roebuck, Alabama. I found out about the job in the want ads. I NEVER pictured myself working a secular job. I had been called to preach at 14. I spent 4 years studying for the ministry at Samford. What was this all about?

As I listened to Don Miller speak about story, God took me back to those events in the fall of 1993. For the first time in my life, life threw me a curve ball and I felt like I had struck out. There was no “open door” waiting for me to walk through. It was a devastating blow that would have profound effects on my life.

Looking back, I felt God was pretty pleased that I was on His team. He had called me early and had gifted me to proclaim His word because He had big plans for me in His kingdom. Selling cell phones in Roebuck, Alabama was not a part of that plan. Couldn’t be. So I came to two fatal conclusions about God and His heart toward me based on that series of events:

1)God is angry about my struggle with pornography and this is His punishment.
2)God can’t be counted on to take care of me. I am now own my own.

Those two lies were deadly and would have a profound impact on the rest of my story. I realize now that I parted company with God in a sense that fall. It wasn’t a conscious parting ways, but at the heart level I felt like God was mad with me, was punishing me, and that I had better fix things on my own and then come back and have fellowship with God. I vowed to work harder and to be more devout, but in my heart I was not so sure God could be trusted or counted on.

In this paradigm I was in, I could not invite God into my struggle or my problem but needed to deal with it on my own so I could once again find favor with God. At the core, I didn’t believe that the Gospel was true. God couldn’t love me as I am and my proof was having to sell cell phones in Roebuck. Donald Miller’s words from the video shot into my heart Tuesday when he said,

“Joy doesn’t change us…conflict does. Conflict is necessary in every story.”

Wow! How I wish I had seen my life in the context of a narrative during those fateful events of ’93. Instead of seeing God using conflict to punish me, what if I had interpreted that as Him loving me well? I was convicted Tuesday of how I have bought into the story of American consumerism more than God’s bigger story. I have made judgement calls about my story based on comparison to the American Dream rather than THE story that God is telling.

As you listen to Donald Miller, think about what lies you have believed over the years that have shaped your own story. God is Sovereign and truly does work ALL things together for our good.

I want to embrace the conflict and step boldly into my story and the stories of others. Want to join me?

Carpe Diem in Greenwood, MS

I am sitting at The Crystal Grill in downtown Greenwood, MS and have just devoured some great Southern-fried chicken (white meat, of course), mashed potatoes and gravy, candied yams (with just the right amount of cinnamon and sugar), and a piece of chocolate pie with meringue so high I’m certain my server had to clear it with NASA. The meal was wonderful and I’m incredibly stuffed and in great need of a nap. (I might just head on over to The Alluvian.) The bill just arrived and my entire meal was less than 11 bucks! How in the world?

Because I needed a plug for my laptop, they led me to a separate dining room that was somewhat secluded from the rest of the restaurant. The only other patrons in this particular section of Crystal’s were 4 generations of a family eating with the owner, Mr. Ballas. Because I was by myself and they were so loud, I could not help but overhear their conversation.

Turns out Mr. Ballas came over from Italy and, as he put it, “could not speak a lick of English” when he arrived in the states. He told them about the Depression and how he worked a month as an apprentice to the dishwasher before he even started getting paid his $1 per day wage. I was captivated as he spun story after story, finishing up with the tale of how he eventually wound up in Mississippi’s Delta.

As they departed a few moments ago and said their goodbye’s, I made a decision that I want to be a better storyteller and a more observant Ragamuffin. I long for the day where my kids and their kids and maybe even their kids are all sitting around a table enjoying a meal listening to how things used to be. In the meantime, I want to live in the moment and savor each and every precious minute of life.

Planning is important, but for too long I have lived with an eye to the future and have missed special blessings happening right now. I want to seize today. Here are some photos of The Crystal Grill.

(Notice the new masthead for the site? I’d love to hear your feedback on it!)

Braille in the Men’s Room?

On our way back from Orlando last week, we stopped somewhere north of Gainesville to take a potty break. I pulled into the convenience store, walked in, and did a quick scan to hopefully find some helpful signage pointing the way to the men’s room. This particular store had the “facilities” in the back right corner of the store, and, like so many others like it, required a Garmin GPS system to navigate around the heat lamp hot dogs, potato chips, magazine racks, cheap trucker hats, and sunglass displays to get the bathroom.

While in the bathroom waiting to wash my hands, I noticed one of those molded plastic baby changing stations mounted to the wall with the big blue Koala bear logo on it. Maybe it was because I was brain-dead from the road or maybe it was because the dude holding me up at the sink was obviously OCD about clean hands…whatever the reason…I started reading the label on the baby changing station.

And then I noticed it.

In the lower right hand corner there were these little bumps that, after closer inspection, I realized was Braille. Yep…you got it…Braille! Yes, THAT Braille, silly.

And that led to some obvious questions…

(See…you are already asking them! Don’t get ahead of me now.)

My first thought was to remember the labyrinth I had to walk through to even get to the bathroom in the first place and wondered how on God’s green earth a blind person would make it to the bathroom.? With an infant? Unassisted?

And even if they were able to pull off that feat at this particular establishment, how many convenience stores did they have to go to before they FINALLY found one that had a baby changing station? How many MORE did they have to go through before they found this store that provided such stellar customer service as to even provide a baby changing station with Braille?

And now you have a blind guy, in the men’s room, unassisted, with an infant strapped to the baby changing station. Is he REALLY going to be able to change the baby by himself? Didn’t someone drive this dude to the store? Can’t they change the baby for crying out loud?

“Sir, that is not where the diaper goes.”

Here is a picture of a baby changing station just like the one I saw. Next time you see one like it, look for yourself to see if I’m lying about the Braille!

So as I’m looking online to find the above photo, I read one of the descriptions given by one of the web sites that sell these baby changing stations. Here is what I found describing one model. (My comments are in red and emphasis is mine.

Surface Mounted – Baby Changing Station Horizontal Supports static loads up to 400 lbs. (400 lbs? That gives new meaning to the term “dirty diaper”. You definitely don’t want a blind guy changing THAT load! And what does it mean by “static” load? Can’t jump up and down on it?) Steel-on-Steel hinges with 12 guage steel mounting supports ADA compliant with proper installation. Child protection straps and diaper bag hook. (Something else the blind guy has to find.) Molded-in liner dispenser will hold approximately 25 sanitary liners. FDA approved blow-molded high-density polyethylene with Microban… More Antimicrobial additive (resists odors and bacterial growth). Reinforced full-length steel-on-steel hinge mechanism, with 11-gauge steel mounting plates and mounting hardware included. Molded in graphics and safety messages in six languages and Braille. (And you thought I was making this up!) Contoured changing surface area (nice) is 442 sq in (2873 sq mm). Horizontal Changing Stations: Dimensions: 36 L x 22 W x 4 H

I also stumbled upon this photo, which I will save for another post. I know you are already asking questions about it also.

Do people actually just hang their kid on the wall while they use the john? What has our world come to?

The Blood Spilled for Us

“Drink of it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”

Matthew 26:27-28

The unthinkable happened during communion yesterday. My 10 year-old, Gabe, spilled the juice as he was being served! I have always had this haunting fear that this would happen someday. Well it finally did.

When I saw the communion trays stacked on the communion table, I mentioned to Melody that she make sure she helped Gabe and Keller when the elements were served. We did just fine when the bread came by…everything got passed right along without a hitch at all. Ok…one down one to go.

We were at the early service and I had taken notice of the amount of seats between Gabe and the lady closest to him on his left. There had to be at least 9 or 10 seats between them and I was hoping that the gentlemen serving would not depend on Gabe to stand up and carry the entire tray of juice to the lady. That could end up giving new meaning to the phrase “washed in His blood.” Surely they will serve Gabe and then take the tray and serve her.

Well it didn’t get that far. Melody was holding the tray while Gabe and Keller reached for their plastic communion cup full of juice. Keller got hers without a problem. As Gabe was getting his, Melody, who was holding the tray, looked up at the guy serving them and began lifting the tray up like she was handing it to him. This would have been fine except for the fact that Gabe was a little slow and was still lifting his cup up and over the tray. You guessed it, the cup got knocked out of Gabe’s hand and grape juice spilled everywhere.

I caught all of this out of the corner of my eye. Immediately a rush of hot anger shot down my back and my first inclination was to come unglued with Gabe and give him the scolding of his life about being careful. As I watched, however, I saw grace.

Scotty Morris, the Elder who happened to be serving us, quickly smiled and gave Gabe a new cup. Isn’t that just like God? Just like the Gospel?

As my anger dissipated, I repented. I had to face the fact that what I was really concerned about was my reputation and what the people around us were thinking. Because of my embarrassment, I had almost wounded my son.

I want to be like Scotty Morris…quick to give others a second, third, fourth, or even fifth chance. That is grace and THAT is what the blood is for.

Father, thank You for spilling Your blood for all of us!

Single’s Life Group

(Just a little thing, but I have noticed how many of my recent posts have started with some variation of “Melody and I…”. Today’s post is no exception! I would apologize and try to be a bit more creative with how I begin a post, but, frankly, I am so blessed to once again be able to say “Melody and I” or “Melody and me” after years of longing for that but NEVER thinking it would actually become a reality that I think you can allow me a bit of redundancy here. Maybe when you see “Melody and I” or “Melody and me” simply insert “God’s grace”.)

Melody and I will be sharing our story tonight. Melody will be in one house with the single women and I will be in another house with single guys. We woke up this morning talking through the details of our journey together (and apart) and honestly, it was again a painful experience. Through tears, we talked about how we worked so hard for years to force our life to fit into this clean and neat little box that we could show to the world and other believers as a type of formula for how to live the victorious Christian life. As hard as we tried to pretend that life was predictable and tidy, the more messy it became and the more our delusion was exposed.

This we know to be true…LIFE IS MESSY! Over the years we spent so much time and energy denying this simple truth rather than embracing the messiness and asking God to show up in the middle of it. Real life has a way of drop-kicking trite Christian cliches that we so desperately want to cling to. Through much pain and much chaos, God showed Melody and me that we could run to Him when life made no sense and seemed to be careening out of control. He showed up in the middle of our pain time and time again.

Please pray for us tonight as we share our story. Pray that we would avoid the temptation to gloss over the messiness and only focus on the getting back together. God continues to teach us so much about the process we went through to get to where we are today and we want to be able to effectively communicate that process to the Singles tonight.