Older and Closer
The late spiritual writer Henri Nouwen asked a question of himself, “Did getting older bring me closer to Jesus?” I ask myself a lot of questions as I get older. What am I doing with my life? Am I fulfilling what I was created for? Why have I not achieved what I thought I would? If a believer—a follower of Jesus, not just a religiously inclined person—does not get closer to Jesus as he or she gets older, isn’t it likely that something is probably wrong, or at least improvable? If a married couple doesn’t get closer as they age,…
The Poison Ivy Tree
The top photograph is a tree in our yard that was infested with poison ivy. The tangled brown mass and most of the branches you see are dead poison ivy after I sprayed several times and went to the doctors’ to treat poison ivy rash eruptions all over my body. The tree was planted with care by people who came long before us. The poison ivy would have sprouted all by itself at the base of the tree soon after. And it was neglected and allowed to grow and infest and take over the tree—so much that half the trunk’s…
The 1/64″ Scratch
Mike’s text message read: “I needed to know so I gutted the valve. Found the problem. 1/64” scratch in brass seal inside valve. To big for the new plungers to work.” My breath stopped in one of those you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me moments. His message continued: “We were hopeful that the less expensive fix would have worked.” Yes, Mike, so did I. About $950 worth. The backflow device for our church in Walnut had been leaking for a while, and it was growing worse to the point of continuous flow. I had replaced all the inside parts myself a couple of years earlier,…
Die and Rise
When I came to Louisiana, I was hungry for whatever God had for me, as I had been through the preceding year. But in my mind the big move opened an opportunity to go through some kind of death to my previous life and resurrection to what God might do in my future. My first weeks here were on one hand filled with the busyness of moving into a new place. On the other hand, during those weeks I felt something deep within me die—aspects of my identity, attitudes, and priorities. I was glad for the change. And this may…
Cast Down
John’s mistreatment escalated. One February afternoon, when I was twelve, he drove me to his house. He gripped my wrist, casually strolled into his mother’s kitchen, and introduced me as his girlfriend. She examined me head to toe, curled her lips, and then busied herself stirring a pot on the stove. John nudged me towards the back porch. “Sit,” he said, as if I were his dog. What happened next was far worse than anything he had subjected me to in the past. On that day John forcibly stole my virginity. Until then, I had no idea what intercourse was….
