Sunday, May 21, 2006

It's all about Him <><

A funny thing happened on my way to Heaven. Actually, a lot of funny things happen on that road. Somehow, in my case anyway, I took the command to have the faith of child and...well...screwed it all up. If you find the word "screwed" to be un-Christian, I'll just add that to my list of disappointments. It's odd, though, isn't it? If we can just capture and bottle that innocent faith the moment we first received God's grace, then this journey would be oh so simple. But it ain't.

I find it ironic that we are more sure of our salvation during those few seconds when our sinful life outweighs our new life in Christ by about a trillion to one. The more we venture into the faith, the more stuff we pick up like thistles in a dog's tail. We learn about Calvinism and otherisms and pre-millenialism and all kinds of other stuff with long fancy words that are somehow supposed to add understanding to John 3:16, when really that's all I need.

One of my favorite songs is "The Heart of Worship." It's a song lamenting the fact that we've created worship for our own entertainment more than what it's supposed to be--giving glory to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, praising Him for his sacrifice, his blood spilt on the cross. While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. I don't remember the chapter and verse, and I don't really care. I know it's there and I know what it means. Despite my every attempt to "educate" myself on doctrine, it all comes down to a few simple words that give me a right to look to the King of the universe and say "My Father" and gives Him the joy of calling me His child.

None of this has anything to do with writing yet it has everything to do with it. My best prose is worthless if it doesn't give Him the glory. My "heart of worship" is in the words I write, even if they're only read by a few people on an obscure blog, I know that there's an audience of One who rejoices when I finally get it right.

Father, I pray for my fellow writers who wonder if it's all worth it when they pour their lives onto paper, knowing full well that their's may be the only eyes that ever see what they've created. Whisper to their hearts, remind them that nothing is lost in eternity. Every word is seen by You, and nothing more should matter. Amen.

Friday, May 12, 2006


I'm really slipping. A month since my last post. I can blame it partially on my ailing back, which keeps me from sitting. I've decided that I severely strained a muscle in my lower back, thus the amazingly slow healing time. X-rays showed no spine problems. The problem is, I start feeling better and go out for a tumble in the backyard with my kids. The next day I'm right back where I started from. I feel good now. Sitting as I type this. You learn to appreciate little things like sitting down when it hurts to do so.

Okay, onto other things. We had turkey camp two weekends ago. This time, my young 'uns went along. They were good for about half an hour of turkey hunting. They found the box of .22 bullets and my old single shot much more entertaining. I see a firearm safety course in their near future, though.

I'll tell more on the great turkey shoot later. No, we didn't get a bird. But it was a great weekend and possibly the last I'll spend with my dad, who is retiring and hitting the open road with my mother. More on that later as well.

Okay, off to the catfish tournament with my son! It's cold and wet. Pray for us!