Today is a season finale. I'm probably not going to do anything crazy like dress up in a funky costume (however, I am wearing khakis instead of jeans today). When I walked outside today the sky was grey and overcast, which is quite OK with me because it also cooled things down. Other than that, nothing really extraordinary marked to day. It's a season finale day though. It's time. Now, don't get worried, I'm going to continue blogging and imparting my brokenness, deep thoughts and dry humor to the masses; but I'm going to take what I have now, bind it into a book and make it available. I'm not doing this to make money, I'm doing it mostly for closure. Yesterday is a shadow. For me it's my shadow...But it's still a shadow.
C.S. Lewis wrote in his book "Till We Have Faces",
"I ended my first book with the words no answer. I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away. What other answer would suffice?"
This is not the season finale because I have any objective answer to my wanderings. It's a finale because all my other days have brought me to this minute. Broken moments, happy moments, stressed moments, victorious moments, defeat stricken moments, and mundane moments that I thought would never end, did end; right now. And those moments strung together through tears of good and bad have made me who I am. I don't necessarily have nuggets of wisdom to offer, but I do have Jesus Christ. And that's enough for me, all other things are shadows and will fade. He's my answer and while it might not be an answer objectively to a particular topic, all other topics are vapor within the draw that this man, Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ, the Son of the Living God, the Bridegroom, the Lamb that was slain, the Eternal, has on my fleshy heart.
What does the trailer for the next season include? Hmm. Brokenness, joy, peace, answers, more questions, surprises, and hopes. I definitely will be going back to the Reservations that I ministered on. Maybe for a week, maybe for good, but I must go back (it's the closure thing again). This new season will have a lot of new characters too, so I invite you to stay tuned as I chase after God...as He sweeps me away.
Be God's,
Joel Bidderman
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Monday, June 27, 2005
Navajo Sunset: Remembering to Remember Part 8
The cold nipped at my nose and lips as I peaked my head out of my sleeping bag. I laid there for a good 10 minutes watching my breath form from the chilled morning air. Unzipping my bag I slipped into my 2nd day jeans and went out to the port-a-potty outside. As I stepped out of the trailer the sun was fighting its way over the mesas as a fog formed over the valley, partly from the rapidly changing morning climate, and the other part from the wood stoves that were already burning hot all over the valley. The sporadic sounds of sheep and goats blended with the sheep dogs in my groggy state as I stumbled to the second port-a-potty because I remembered from the previous day that the first one didn't have toilet paper in it. After my morning commode visit I stopped mid-way between the port-a-potty and the trailer to look at the rising sun still coming over the mesa, with Bessie's Hogan to my left I just soaked in the morning. The cool air oozed into the slowly waking-up parts of my joints and mind.
Before we had a trailer on the land I'd sleep in Bessie's spare room. The Navajos are a matriarchal culture, and Bessie's word went on her land. The bed in her spare room was warm, and so comfortable that once you fell asleep it took quite a cacophony of events to wake you again. The blankets were heavy, and that probably explained why you would sleep so deeply...they would just push you deeper and deeper into slumber.
As I shuffled around outside, I heard the spring on Bessie's screen door open and heard her yell in her broken english, "Joel! Eat!" "OK!" I yelled back, as I made my way to the hogan, convincing my body to wade through the wind chill that walking created. Walking into her home, I said "Desk'azz" (cold), as she smiled, nodded, and said desk'azz ot' (yes, cold) back to me. Bessie always got a kick out of me trying to speak Navajo. Sometimes I wondered if I was anywhere close to pronouncing things right. Bessie would often make potatoes and ham for breakfast. It doesn't sound like much, but when Bessie made it, it was as gourmet as potatoes and ham will ever be. She would also toast some bread, and make some strong coffee (just the way I like it...or just the way I can taste it). She'd ask, "Where's Bill?" To which I'd always answer, "I don't know, he's out there somewhere." Finishing the meal I would say, "Thank you, Bessie." and I'd go outside to see what Bill was up to. Bill was always fixing something, or helping someone. Which is partly why he's one of my heroes.
When I met Bill, it was when I worked at the American Indian Christian Mission. I thought he was with a work group at first, and I asked him how long he was there for. Bill said in his gruff earthened growl, "I'm here till I die." It seemed kind of morbid at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it sounded determined. Bill (quite elderly, yet healthy and solid) told me to call him Old Bill...so from then on, that's what I called him. Old Bill, had been a lot of places in his lifetime, and I came to see that (at least now) whenever he noticed God doing something he would get excited. When he heard that a VBS in Burntcorn Valley on the Navajo Rez erupted into many coming to Christ, he left to become a part of it. That's where my friendship with him cultivated I think. I wanted to be a part of it too, so for about a year I began getting up at 4:30 - 5am on Sunday mornings to drive the 5 hour trek with Old Bill to the Navajo Rez. Those drives were great. Some of them I fell asleep for, but usually I watched the sun rise while talking to Old Bill. There's something about listening to someone who has been tossed and turned in the waves of life that makes them overflow of wisdom. Often, Old Bill would tell stories and they just be random experiences, but every once in a while out of the mix would be a nugget of truth so deep that you've be convinced that it is that truth that God wanted to shoot into your heart right that second.
[Fast forward to yesterday]
Yesterday I was on my way to the House of Prayer to set up. (Last week I stayed up late thinking about Bill, hoping that he was OK and wondering where he was. I was able to get a friend to email me Old Bill's mobile phone number, so I gave Bill a call) Through the crackle of a breaking connection I heard Old Bill pick up and say hello. "Hi Bill, this is Joel Bidderman." I explained that I just wanted to say hi and let him know that I was thinking about him. He was happy to hear my voice. He is still in Burntcorn and last week they just had a workgroup out to do work and VBS. I told him what was doing: that I finished my degree in sound engineering and now I'm on full-time staff with a worship and prayer ministry. Old Bill, knowing that my dream was to minister through music said, "Joel that's great" he said, "You know, quitters quit, but we cling to God." Through the crackling connect he either said cling or complain...either way would be applicable, but that's not the point. Through chasing after God in this season I've had to face deep parts of me of failures, pain and trials. I needed someone on the outside looking to help me see that though I might be confused, God's got me. God could have done it through anyone, but He chose to speak through my faithful friend on the Navajo Rez.
Even now, if I close my eyes hard enough I can see the sunset sweep across the Burntcorn Valley, as lights from the homes begin to speckle the valley floor. The windmill sitting with rust looks back at me, over the sheep in their corral right in front me. The cold begins creeping again, but now in a different way. In a way that it seems to be chasing you down. But if you sit there quietly enough, you can almost hear your heart beat. And as I hear my heart beat I can hear a song beat to its rhythm. "Take my hands, and use me in ways I do not know. Take my feet, and lead me to the end of myself...and right to Your throne." And as the melody swirls up with the song of the Heavens singing "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord our God. Who was and is and is to come" my heart swoons at the thought that one day Jesus the Bridegroom is coming back for His Bride: me, you, the Body of Christ. And in that day the chase to the end of myself will end...it will end at Him. Swirling colors of the multicolored sky will all dull and fade into the beauty and light of Him whose face shines like the sun and whose eyes burn with fire (a fire of love) for His Beloved. In that moment all complaining will be a vapor, and all clinging will be all that matters.
Before we had a trailer on the land I'd sleep in Bessie's spare room. The Navajos are a matriarchal culture, and Bessie's word went on her land. The bed in her spare room was warm, and so comfortable that once you fell asleep it took quite a cacophony of events to wake you again. The blankets were heavy, and that probably explained why you would sleep so deeply...they would just push you deeper and deeper into slumber.
As I shuffled around outside, I heard the spring on Bessie's screen door open and heard her yell in her broken english, "Joel! Eat!" "OK!" I yelled back, as I made my way to the hogan, convincing my body to wade through the wind chill that walking created. Walking into her home, I said "Desk'azz" (cold), as she smiled, nodded, and said desk'azz ot' (yes, cold) back to me. Bessie always got a kick out of me trying to speak Navajo. Sometimes I wondered if I was anywhere close to pronouncing things right. Bessie would often make potatoes and ham for breakfast. It doesn't sound like much, but when Bessie made it, it was as gourmet as potatoes and ham will ever be. She would also toast some bread, and make some strong coffee (just the way I like it...or just the way I can taste it). She'd ask, "Where's Bill?" To which I'd always answer, "I don't know, he's out there somewhere." Finishing the meal I would say, "Thank you, Bessie." and I'd go outside to see what Bill was up to. Bill was always fixing something, or helping someone. Which is partly why he's one of my heroes.
When I met Bill, it was when I worked at the American Indian Christian Mission. I thought he was with a work group at first, and I asked him how long he was there for. Bill said in his gruff earthened growl, "I'm here till I die." It seemed kind of morbid at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it sounded determined. Bill (quite elderly, yet healthy and solid) told me to call him Old Bill...so from then on, that's what I called him. Old Bill, had been a lot of places in his lifetime, and I came to see that (at least now) whenever he noticed God doing something he would get excited. When he heard that a VBS in Burntcorn Valley on the Navajo Rez erupted into many coming to Christ, he left to become a part of it. That's where my friendship with him cultivated I think. I wanted to be a part of it too, so for about a year I began getting up at 4:30 - 5am on Sunday mornings to drive the 5 hour trek with Old Bill to the Navajo Rez. Those drives were great. Some of them I fell asleep for, but usually I watched the sun rise while talking to Old Bill. There's something about listening to someone who has been tossed and turned in the waves of life that makes them overflow of wisdom. Often, Old Bill would tell stories and they just be random experiences, but every once in a while out of the mix would be a nugget of truth so deep that you've be convinced that it is that truth that God wanted to shoot into your heart right that second.
[Fast forward to yesterday]
Yesterday I was on my way to the House of Prayer to set up. (Last week I stayed up late thinking about Bill, hoping that he was OK and wondering where he was. I was able to get a friend to email me Old Bill's mobile phone number, so I gave Bill a call) Through the crackle of a breaking connection I heard Old Bill pick up and say hello. "Hi Bill, this is Joel Bidderman." I explained that I just wanted to say hi and let him know that I was thinking about him. He was happy to hear my voice. He is still in Burntcorn and last week they just had a workgroup out to do work and VBS. I told him what was doing: that I finished my degree in sound engineering and now I'm on full-time staff with a worship and prayer ministry. Old Bill, knowing that my dream was to minister through music said, "Joel that's great" he said, "You know, quitters quit, but we cling to God." Through the crackling connect he either said cling or complain...either way would be applicable, but that's not the point. Through chasing after God in this season I've had to face deep parts of me of failures, pain and trials. I needed someone on the outside looking to help me see that though I might be confused, God's got me. God could have done it through anyone, but He chose to speak through my faithful friend on the Navajo Rez.
Even now, if I close my eyes hard enough I can see the sunset sweep across the Burntcorn Valley, as lights from the homes begin to speckle the valley floor. The windmill sitting with rust looks back at me, over the sheep in their corral right in front me. The cold begins creeping again, but now in a different way. In a way that it seems to be chasing you down. But if you sit there quietly enough, you can almost hear your heart beat. And as I hear my heart beat I can hear a song beat to its rhythm. "Take my hands, and use me in ways I do not know. Take my feet, and lead me to the end of myself...and right to Your throne." And as the melody swirls up with the song of the Heavens singing "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord our God. Who was and is and is to come" my heart swoons at the thought that one day Jesus the Bridegroom is coming back for His Bride: me, you, the Body of Christ. And in that day the chase to the end of myself will end...it will end at Him. Swirling colors of the multicolored sky will all dull and fade into the beauty and light of Him whose face shines like the sun and whose eyes burn with fire (a fire of love) for His Beloved. In that moment all complaining will be a vapor, and all clinging will be all that matters.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Hope: Remembering to Remember Part 7
You never know when things are going to set off a defining moment in your life. They just sneak up on you, or upon you. It's like a building up of little moments, then out of the blue (or the grey); everything compiles to break open on you. Sometimes it creates tears, joy, agony, or all three.
I remember when I met Hope. Recently I had met two other people: one named "Faith," and one named "Charity." Doing the scriptural math, I realized that I was one person away from meeting a triad of faith, hope and love. So my attention was grabbed when we were on the Apache Reservation one summer afternoon, and a young, beautiful teenage apache girl came to where the group was and introduced herself to me as Hope. Yes! I found Hope! The puzzle was complete. As I got to know Hope I enjoyed seeing a joy in her, happiness, and a transparency. Life can be really hard on the Rez, and Hope was pretty honest about her trials...and while I don't know the depth of those trials, I could tell when she was having a hard day. She was a part of a group of girls that would call me "Papa Joel" or "Grandpa Joel" (I preferred "Papa Joel"). Hope was one of those that when she was in a good mood could automatically cheer you up, just with a smile. She was connected with a church youth group, went to conferences with us, and seemed that even in the storminess of life, was making some good decisions.
It was late February when I got a call from my friend Ron. I was traveling the nation helping churches, speaking at different ministries, and doing concerts when I was in East TN eating dinner with a group after a 30 Hour Famine. My phone rang and Ron spoke with a passive tone. Going to a quieter place outside, he let me know through broken pauses in his voice that Hope had committed suicide. In shock, my mind just had a hard time taking it in. After I was off the phone with Ron, I just wept outside, and sporadically continued to weep. It hurt badly.
One person I talked to around the time of the incident told me in so many words that I needed to "get over it" and "move on." That person was apparently ignorant of the gravity, they tried to relate but to no avail. I learned in that time that the weight of times such as those is not something that you "get over." It's something that changes you. For better or for worse, you are somebody different afterward. Hope changed my life. Happy on the outside can sometimes mean dying on the inside. There are Hopes all around us. Life is short. Life is valuable.
I remember when I met Hope. Recently I had met two other people: one named "Faith," and one named "Charity." Doing the scriptural math, I realized that I was one person away from meeting a triad of faith, hope and love. So my attention was grabbed when we were on the Apache Reservation one summer afternoon, and a young, beautiful teenage apache girl came to where the group was and introduced herself to me as Hope. Yes! I found Hope! The puzzle was complete. As I got to know Hope I enjoyed seeing a joy in her, happiness, and a transparency. Life can be really hard on the Rez, and Hope was pretty honest about her trials...and while I don't know the depth of those trials, I could tell when she was having a hard day. She was a part of a group of girls that would call me "Papa Joel" or "Grandpa Joel" (I preferred "Papa Joel"). Hope was one of those that when she was in a good mood could automatically cheer you up, just with a smile. She was connected with a church youth group, went to conferences with us, and seemed that even in the storminess of life, was making some good decisions.
It was late February when I got a call from my friend Ron. I was traveling the nation helping churches, speaking at different ministries, and doing concerts when I was in East TN eating dinner with a group after a 30 Hour Famine. My phone rang and Ron spoke with a passive tone. Going to a quieter place outside, he let me know through broken pauses in his voice that Hope had committed suicide. In shock, my mind just had a hard time taking it in. After I was off the phone with Ron, I just wept outside, and sporadically continued to weep. It hurt badly.
One person I talked to around the time of the incident told me in so many words that I needed to "get over it" and "move on." That person was apparently ignorant of the gravity, they tried to relate but to no avail. I learned in that time that the weight of times such as those is not something that you "get over." It's something that changes you. For better or for worse, you are somebody different afterward. Hope changed my life. Happy on the outside can sometimes mean dying on the inside. There are Hopes all around us. Life is short. Life is valuable.
Monday, June 20, 2005
Of Waking Up: Remembering to Remember Part 6
Black
Don't touch your forehead!
Black
The blur of numbness kicks in. Figures above me, one of which looks a little familar. The familiar one looked like my mother, the others I suppose were doctors. The one to my left asked, "What's your name?" "Joel Bidderman," I said. I thought it a little odd at first, since he could have just asked my mom because she was standing right there. Then he asked, "What day is it?" I said, "October 29th." To that he said something like, "Actually, it's the 30th; it's 12:45 in the morning." Great, of all the doctors I got the sarcastic one. But apparently up until then I had been saying all sorts of nonsense, and the little answers I had just given him were the most coherent. I had been unconscience up until then. All the lights, white walls, and even the white clothing hurt my head to look at. Slowly over the next hours I pieced together that I had been in an accident, and almost died. Now, all the things that went through my mind up until now are all insignificant next to this truth: God is in control. Not in the obviously christianesely regergetated statement. I mean, I knew down in my gut, beyond denial that God not only took notice of me, but wanted me around. I didn't know exactly why He wanted me around, but I knew He must of had a reason.
Now I know (at least in part). He likes me. Not just loves me, but loves me, delights in me, and desires intimacy with me. My exsistence isn't just a meloncoly, "oh, He doesn't mind me taking up space" exsistence. No, He's altogether interested in my place on earth. This is why my accident means so much to me. It's not just that I survived, but that I was pulled through and out of the dark by the Universe shaking Hand, as He let me know in so many ways that He loves me.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Manna and Glory: Remembering to Remember Part 5
I think that it's funny that when the Israelites were in the wilderness, God's answer for their food need was Manna. Many naturally figure that manna was bread, when the Bible doesn't say that. Manna actually means "What is it?" (Exodus 16:31) Leave it to my omniscient Creator to give a provision that has a name that's actually a question. It says that: "It was white like coriander seed and tasted like wafers made with honey." So we know that not only was it edible, but it was tasty (however, too much of anything gets old quickly). The eternal question is "What WAS it?" I mean, seriously. Was it angel dandruff, the first draft of snow, or do they eat it in Heaven? We may never know, but I was thinking about the manna in my life.
I lived without a vehicle for a while. After a lot of walking and such, God finally gave me one. One was a Buick...no wait, two of them were Buicks. For a while I thought that Buicks were all that they drove in Heaven. One Buick was as old as me (a 1977), and the other one was a 91. It's funny my vehicles would always last right up until the very end; then at the last possible second, God would bring another one along for me. Some of them were definately Manna Vehicles (What is it? Vehicles). It's funny how things always happen suddenly and at the last minute with God. Unless of course it's so far ahead of time that you don't know you need it until years later.
One day of my need for God sticks out in my head and heart. I was in limbo between two ministry seasons and bills were tight; and I'll I knew to do was to cry out to God. I took a trip to the bank to see what I had to pay bills with. The ATM teller told me that I had -18 cents. So now I had less than nothing...actually 18 cents less than nothing, and you can't really pay bills with that. Returning home my knees hit the hard, rough, wood floors of my cabin. I eventually, somehow, ended up reading Exodus 33, where Moses was talking to God about how he was scared and how he didn't want to go forward unless God went with him. God told him that He would go with Moses...and Moses upped the antey by asking God, "Show me Your glory." Forget the squeezing by on moment to moment nuggets of presence. God I want all of you that I can get. So I tried that. I cried out to God, "I will not go unless You go with me! I just want You!" Well, He didn't take me up onto a mountain...but that night I laid out on the pinic table in my front yard. It was a clear night and you could see everything: the milky way, the big moon, and stars shooting on their way somewhere...maybe to see God's glory. I lost myself in the sky. Maybe I didn't see the glory of God...but I saw the glory of what He made. I was hit with the revelation that God has me under control, He has taken my heart, and captured my loyalty and affection. That somewhere in the silence of the moon and shooting stars He told me, "Yes, Joel I'll go with you. I love you." Within the stellar love of my Creator for me, I felt His OK for me to ask for the greater mysteries of Him...and I have been chasing those ever since. The next day a support check came in the mail (for my ministry), the amount covered my overdraft fee and a bill that was due the following day. But even that was not the miracle. The miracle was that I was caught in a cosmic love affair with the Creator of the Universe. That night my prayer said:
So, here I am, my dearest Lord. Here I am with tired eyes. Here I am with my overdrawn banking account. Here I am with my cracked brick walls. Here I am with my arms tied down, legs broken, and old dreamlands dusting on the shelf. Here I am, the pieces of me that I don’t know how to put together. Here I come with my thoughts of who You are. Fumbling and bumbling, I’m trying to let You know that I know You are here. Here I am on the edge of this moment, tomorrow, and myself. If I am Your friend, then go with me. Cut the ropes of this society off of my arms, heal my legs, and convince my often-unbelieving heart that reality is wherever You are. I will only go if You go with me. I beg, “Show me Your Glory.” And when You reveal it, please give me eyes to see it. Let Your unknown be my home. And while I don’t comprehend it, let it somehow give me peace. Amen.
To read my full writing about this day. Click Here
I lived without a vehicle for a while. After a lot of walking and such, God finally gave me one. One was a Buick...no wait, two of them were Buicks. For a while I thought that Buicks were all that they drove in Heaven. One Buick was as old as me (a 1977), and the other one was a 91. It's funny my vehicles would always last right up until the very end; then at the last possible second, God would bring another one along for me. Some of them were definately Manna Vehicles (What is it? Vehicles). It's funny how things always happen suddenly and at the last minute with God. Unless of course it's so far ahead of time that you don't know you need it until years later.
One day of my need for God sticks out in my head and heart. I was in limbo between two ministry seasons and bills were tight; and I'll I knew to do was to cry out to God. I took a trip to the bank to see what I had to pay bills with. The ATM teller told me that I had -18 cents. So now I had less than nothing...actually 18 cents less than nothing, and you can't really pay bills with that. Returning home my knees hit the hard, rough, wood floors of my cabin. I eventually, somehow, ended up reading Exodus 33, where Moses was talking to God about how he was scared and how he didn't want to go forward unless God went with him. God told him that He would go with Moses...and Moses upped the antey by asking God, "Show me Your glory." Forget the squeezing by on moment to moment nuggets of presence. God I want all of you that I can get. So I tried that. I cried out to God, "I will not go unless You go with me! I just want You!" Well, He didn't take me up onto a mountain...but that night I laid out on the pinic table in my front yard. It was a clear night and you could see everything: the milky way, the big moon, and stars shooting on their way somewhere...maybe to see God's glory. I lost myself in the sky. Maybe I didn't see the glory of God...but I saw the glory of what He made. I was hit with the revelation that God has me under control, He has taken my heart, and captured my loyalty and affection. That somewhere in the silence of the moon and shooting stars He told me, "Yes, Joel I'll go with you. I love you." Within the stellar love of my Creator for me, I felt His OK for me to ask for the greater mysteries of Him...and I have been chasing those ever since. The next day a support check came in the mail (for my ministry), the amount covered my overdraft fee and a bill that was due the following day. But even that was not the miracle. The miracle was that I was caught in a cosmic love affair with the Creator of the Universe. That night my prayer said:
So, here I am, my dearest Lord. Here I am with tired eyes. Here I am with my overdrawn banking account. Here I am with my cracked brick walls. Here I am with my arms tied down, legs broken, and old dreamlands dusting on the shelf. Here I am, the pieces of me that I don’t know how to put together. Here I come with my thoughts of who You are. Fumbling and bumbling, I’m trying to let You know that I know You are here. Here I am on the edge of this moment, tomorrow, and myself. If I am Your friend, then go with me. Cut the ropes of this society off of my arms, heal my legs, and convince my often-unbelieving heart that reality is wherever You are. I will only go if You go with me. I beg, “Show me Your Glory.” And when You reveal it, please give me eyes to see it. Let Your unknown be my home. And while I don’t comprehend it, let it somehow give me peace. Amen.
To read my full writing about this day. Click Here
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Sunrises Around the Corner: Remembering to Remember Part 4
An old proverbial nugget (of oriental origin I think) says, "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." I remember when I began my journey away from home. It was so very long ago. I was about 17 or 18 and I was moving from where my parents lived to a nearby town. There was a church there that I was getting involved in and it was a step bigger than where my parents lived...so I went and decided I'd figure things out along the way. I soon learned that life wasn't as easy as I thought it would be.
A morning that I'll always remember was the morning after an interview that I had for a job. The interview didn't go as well as I hoped, actually it was just downright bad. So waking up a little rough around the edges, I left the house where I was temporarily staying to go to my parent's house for the weekend. With my hair a little miffed and sleep still in the corners of my mind, I set out on my hour and fifteen minute drive. Driving down the road my mind was swirling with the weight of my time: disappointment, aggravation, fear, and just downright loneliness. I began talking to God saying, "Ok God, what's going on!? Please talk to me, let me know what to do." Through a well of tears building up in my eyes I felt a still, small voice say, "Look up." As you'll see, my life is made up of moments (ordinary moments) that are made extrodinary by God cutting through in maybe small but significant ways. As I looked up I saw a symphony of colors swirling around in the sky, in what mountain folk would call a sunrise...but that morning it to me was called "Favor." I quickly pulled over on the side of the road and placed the truck into park. I looked again into the sky as my heart raced, and as I did I heard a still, small voice say, "Look what I made for you." Tears pierced my soul. I sat there that morning as I watched the colors slowly disappear into the day...and into my soul. That sunrise was no ordinary sunrise, it was MY sunrise. The day when the maker of the Universe leaned over the balcony of Heaven to tell a little mountain boy that He favors Him. It's true...life isn't as easy as I thought it would be; but God loves me more than I had ever imagined.
A morning that I'll always remember was the morning after an interview that I had for a job. The interview didn't go as well as I hoped, actually it was just downright bad. So waking up a little rough around the edges, I left the house where I was temporarily staying to go to my parent's house for the weekend. With my hair a little miffed and sleep still in the corners of my mind, I set out on my hour and fifteen minute drive. Driving down the road my mind was swirling with the weight of my time: disappointment, aggravation, fear, and just downright loneliness. I began talking to God saying, "Ok God, what's going on!? Please talk to me, let me know what to do." Through a well of tears building up in my eyes I felt a still, small voice say, "Look up." As you'll see, my life is made up of moments (ordinary moments) that are made extrodinary by God cutting through in maybe small but significant ways. As I looked up I saw a symphony of colors swirling around in the sky, in what mountain folk would call a sunrise...but that morning it to me was called "Favor." I quickly pulled over on the side of the road and placed the truck into park. I looked again into the sky as my heart raced, and as I did I heard a still, small voice say, "Look what I made for you." Tears pierced my soul. I sat there that morning as I watched the colors slowly disappear into the day...and into my soul. That sunrise was no ordinary sunrise, it was MY sunrise. The day when the maker of the Universe leaned over the balcony of Heaven to tell a little mountain boy that He favors Him. It's true...life isn't as easy as I thought it would be; but God loves me more than I had ever imagined.
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