Strength & Weakness

by | Sep 30, 2020 | Uncategorized

I needed to visit the chiropractor.

The tweak in my back wasn’t going away by itself. It was right in the center, all the way down at my waistline. It was more nuisance than discomfort, but ignoring it wasn’t making it better. I mentally scheduled a brief trip to visit Dr. Foster in the morning.

The past two months have been enormously rewarding but physically punishing. While the impact the prayer garden is having on the city is amazing, its construction was difficult. Manually handling truckloads of cement, mulch, rocks, and brick seemed unending. Digging trenches was just as brutal.

At the same time, I had been chipping down a stump in the backyard, trying to get it level with the ground. I loved pounding away at it with my ancient, dull mattox. I was also splitting the logs that were stacked against the back fence, getting them ready for Erin to burn once the cool autumn air sets in. The ornamental trees had curvy grain making their logs hard to split, and that had taken a toll on my back also.

It was exhausting and had left me a little chipped around the edges, but the simple truth is that I loved every minute of it. There were days when I felt like I could do anything, that I had no limits. I was excited each time I drove my old pickup to get another load of materials. I snuck out of the house before Kim would know I was gone to beat on the stump or split a few pieces of wood that weren’t needed for months. To each his own, and I had found my happy place.

Smiling with satisfaction as I reflected on the abuse I had absorbed recently, it struck me that I shouldn’t have been able to finish any of this. For the past year and a half, The Great Fatigue had overshadowed my life. For 18 long months, unexplained tiredness had spread through my body making simple tasks too burdensome to consider attempting.

Losing my previously unending fountain of energy was an enormous blow. The running and workouts that had always helped me to find peace immediately stopped. Eventually, I couldn’t imagine walking around the block, moving furniture, or navigating other small tasks. Sometimes it was too much to survive a full day at the office.

I saw doctors and prayed for healing. I yelled at God to give me my life back. I was alternately in denial, full of anger and simply depressed. None of it gave me what I wanted.

My dance through life slowed to a crawl.

I didn’t go down without a fight. I stubbornly kept trying to do things my body told me weren’t going to happen. The more I fought, the worse I felt. The worse I felt, the more I fought back. Working hard was more than just my passion, it was my style and a major part of my identity. I considered it a gift from God and held on as tightly as possible while it evaporated through my fingers.

Gradually, I accepted that this might be who I am now. My hours at full speed were replaced by long stretches sitting in my recliner. Instead of focusing on the activities in front of me, I became more attentive to what was going on around me.

My mom’s health was rapidly deteriorating. Unable to hide behind neverending activities, I took time to consider why she was special to me. Her passion for living in the moment inspired me to carry on her tradition. She may not be with us anymore, but her legacy is still teaching me how to be a better person.

Erin got engaged and then married. Without any of my own obsessions competing with her agenda, I was able to focus on the details of her big day. Hopefully, she had the wedding of her dreams, but even if it wasn’t perfect, she knows that I poured myself into her event. Every day since then, I have tried to give her emotional support, knowing that I can’t do everything for her anymore.

Kelly, Preston, and I were always too busy to spend time together alone, just as brothers and sisters. With big changes befalling our families, we needed each other. The calendar I had kept full was suddenly empty and we took time for our first Sibling Weekend. The tattoos may be our most visible reminder, but the connections we re-established are the most valuable.

When COVID began to rage, it shocked the nation by stealing its busyness. Already isolated in my own exhaustion, I was able to focus on opening our home as a place of worship for friends. Others moaned about what they had lost, but we rejoiced, celebrating Jesus and our friendships. I rediscovered the intimacy of the church when the large gatherings shut down.

Instead of racing out to build the next thing or chase the latest dream, I’ve had a lot more time to consider what is important to me and who I want to become. Making Waves has grown by fifty-five posts in this season’s quiet, spirit-filled moments. I have focused on being honest and transparent about my walk with Jesus, reaching people across the country. The closeness I’ve enjoyed with my God is a reward far more valuable than anything I’ve had to give up.

In his wisdom, God knew that my unbridled enthusiasm would have been an obstacle in a season that needed quiet reflection. Ironically, I was strongest because he made me weak.

I would like to believe that I am more mature now and able to discern when it is time to pour myself out physically or lean into others emotionally. I am not though. During my two months of physical strength, my obsessive focus returned allowing me to make tremendous progress on the project in front of me but losing the contemplative nature that marked the previous months.

In some ways, I am weaker when he makes me strong.

The Apostle Paul made the same observation. Just like I have prayed without ceasing for him to restore me, Paul prayed for God to “remove the thorn in his flesh”. Paul was focused on himself, but God had bigger plans for him. For however long it was needed, the thorn reminded him of his reliance on God, made him humble, and allowed God to guide his path.

I am gaining a better Paul’s two paradoxical statements. When his prayers for strength were denied, God’s message to him matched The Great Fatigue.

” My power works best in weakness.” (2 Cor 12:9)

In a different season, he was in high spirits and rejoiced

“I can do everything through Christ who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:13)

None of us knows what is coming around the corner. Our next divine moment may require all of the strength we can summon or maybe it will be best to sit powerlessly and rely on faith alone. Strength and weakness are a matter of perspective.

Although it is impossible to predict what will be required of us, we can put our faith in the Father to provide what we need. Sometimes that will require a mighty gift. Other times will require clearing space in our lives.

His grace is all we need.

I am overwhelmingly thankful for what God has accomplished through me. I am learning to accept my situation, whether in plenty or little and instead focus on my purpose in the moment. Both in strength & weakness, may my life be to his glory.

In the Garden

In the Garden

by | Sep 21, 2020 | Uncategorized

Rain in North Texas is unlike anywhere else I have lived. It is a rare day that sees a soft, steady rainfall that lasts for hours. Precipitation seems to explode out of the same wild passion that inspires Texans to behave as we do.

A deluge had opened up as I tried to set the water basin in the hole we had dug the day before. The basin was three feet on each side and only twelve inches deep, but was proving difficult to install properly. As I stretched my level across two adjacent sides, it showed that I was a half bubble off plumb.

Anybody that saw me would have agreed.

It was a site to behold. In the middle of a torrential downpour, I was standing over a hole that was filling with water, pouring in a bag of sand in an effort to achieve a smooth, flat, level base. I paused long enough to look to my left and then to my right and laughed out loud at my total solitude. Anyone peering at me through a foggy window pane would have assumed I was a lunatic.

In my mind’s eye though, I was the same little boy who used to stomp in puddles and run as fast as possible before sliding down the slick, grassy hill in the back yard. The caked mud on the double-thick knees of my Toughskin jeans would elicit questions from mom when she found them buried in the laundry, but that was a problem for another day. This moment was filled with the smell of wet leaves, the sounds of pitter-patter surrounding me, and the feel of rain running down my face. There was nothing quite like playing in the rain.

For another hour, I unnecessarily extended the job I was working on. All of my careful efforts would be undone overnight when the wet soil collapsed around the carefully leveled basin, but I didn’t care. Today was more important than accomplishing a task, it was about relishing a simple joy in life.

Eventually, I carried my tools to the truck while my socks squished inside my work boots. During the drive home, the radio sat silent while I listened to the hypnotic “thwip-thwip” of the windshield wipers on high speed.

Why had I ever stopped playing in the rain? How had I forgotten the raw delight?

Over the past two months, the construction of the Prayer Garden has painfully strained muscles, come at a financial cost, and consumed countless hours. However, as I poured myself into the job, God refreshed my spirit, filling me with the innocent joy of my childhood. I have had one of the greatest summers of my life.

The harder I worked on this gift for Him, the more he reminded me that work and play can be the same thing, that spending what I have to glorify Him is part of my created purpose, and that countless hours are only a part of the unending days that we will spend together.

As it nears completion, I am in awe of how it has all come together. My hands may have been at work, but His plan has been in action. It is undeniable as you approach the space that has now been consecrated to Him.

A “welcome” sign invites you to step off the busy sidewalk onto the stone steps that navigate through the garden. In the center is a tall cross, with the distressed look of the old, rugged cross from the hymn. At night, it radiates a golden light that can be seen from blocks away.

Water bubbles out of a stone at the foot of the cross, shining with the fiery light of the Spirit himself. It splashes and gurgles as it bounces off the colorful river rocks, gradually erasing the background noise of Main Street traffic.

Flowers, bushes, and other small plants fill the space with beauty. Green, purple, orange, and white colors grow in a beautiful fabric that only He could weave. Planters separate the benches and provide privacy, even in the midst of the downtown area. In the corner, a small olive tree is reminiscent of ancient stories that still guide us today.

Birds sing and squirrels run across the pine bark nuggets that blanket the ground, encircled by a ring of bricks that mark this ground as hallowed.

Beauty draws you in, but serenity holds you captive. It is the perfect place to sit on the handcrafted, cement benches and enjoy time with our Lord. Whether you bring a spirit of Thanksgiving, a burden of mourning, or a search for answers, He will join you there.

This year, a pandemic provided me with the time to work on building a special present. I took a break from my responsibilities to worship God in my own way, using what He gave me to glorify Him. I hope that other people will find the same peace in this place that I have found. I think they will. That seems to be the way of the Kingdom.

I would like to invite you to take time to visit this special place. It is gorgeous in the day, but spectacular when the sun has set. The address is 206 W Main Street, Lewisville. Parking is plentiful. If you want company, just call me. I’d love to go with you.

P.S. Thank you to everyone who poured themselves into this project, but a special thanks to Steve Thomas, Hank Cates, Steve Hermann, and Kim. It would not have been possible without you. I love you all.