regeneration :: Musings

Does the work I m doing really matter at all?
Who will still be here when I fall?
I guess I m just reaching out for something more longing for God, for something more.

It s a little like nailing applesauce to the wall, but there s just this longing for more inside that I ve been trying to feed by motorsports, family, books, et cetera, and it s not working. I have been bemused while images of the past torment me, flashbacks of all-too-recent encounters with places, people, and things with which I should have never communicated. This morning I woke up and a snippet of song came into my head:
It is my sad duty to inform you of a four-foot restriction in humanoid height.

This odd little line is from Genesis Get Em Out By Friday , in the days when Peter Gabriel was the frontman and strange was the order of the decade. Of course I can recite just about all of the lyrics for you, should you so desire, but at 5:30 in the morning, the intrusion of a secular song of a band and a genre that I have purposely avoided for the past few years was a most unwelcome visitor to my early morning mental fog.
Sometimes the past just won t leave you alone.

Music used to be an obsession for me. I was once an owner of over 1,000 CDs, mostly of albums of progressive rock bands from the better parts of the last century. Having experienced a revival of sorts in my life, I destroyed all of my secular CDs, tapes, and records, but went through several different cycles of reacquisition of said albums and subsequent destruction of same, as I backslid and returned, backslid and returned, backslid and returned.

It was not until around four years ago that I totally destroyed, once and for all, the last of my secular CDs and never went back.
Well, mostly. There was that time where I BitTorrented several collections of Genesis, Gentle Giant, and They Might Be Giants, but these collections were deleted shortly thereafter, as the guilt from the piracy and the burden that I was acting as a dog returning to its own vomit overcame my desire to keep the music around.

At least I didn t spend another several thousand dollars in a desire to build my own earthly kingdom of music.
I have probably owned and destroyed some twenty to thirty-thousand dollars worth of music in my life. To say that I was obsessed is an understatement addicted would be closer to the truth.

The change came when I looked at the cover of a boxed set that I had just tossed in the trash can. I looked into the empty eyes of the lead singer, and saw in those dark, empty eyes something which I had not noticed before or something I knew very well but had denied in my obsession. The quiet voice asked: Tell me, are those eyes the eyes of one filled with the Holy Spirit, or ones of a man filled with something else entirely?

I knew the answer, and from then on, aside from the minor toe-stub of the aforementioned BitTorrent slip mentioned two paragraphs ago, I have only owned Christian, jazz, big band, or classical CDs. The progressive rock, the depressing stuff that I had formerly immersed myself in, has been gone for some years, and the obsession has since been broken.
Many Christians don t see any harm in secular music, and after overcoming an initial desire to judge these as being bad , wrong , and immoral , I have since decided that others may have more liberties before God in the areas of entertainment or other believers take more liberties out of ignorance than I.

As for me, my obsession with secular music was something akin to cocaine or heroin, so therefore, like a reformed alcoholic who can never taste the wine again for danger of return to his former habits, so I can never return to that music.
There s freedom, and then there s freedom. My land of freedom does not include secular music.

I am no longer afraid of it, but I do not seek it out, either.
This morning I was regretting , thinking about R, and I realized that I was being a bit hypocritical. I wasn t giving grace back to these, the Christian friends with whom I had shared many a laugh and a concern.

I have to understand their viewpoint. Both R and C come from a Charismatic Protestant background. R s church is a larger Pentecostal congregation, C s a smaller church with a pastor from Africa.

The larger church is a vibrant African-American community, a great big loving family. The smaller is a close-knit community of mostly African or American descent (an interesting mix, to be certain). The larger is a more flamboyant congregation whom one might see at any time on one of the local religious stations.

Michele and I both raised our eyebrows and smiled not in mockery, but we did enjoy the difference between their church and ours.
When we went to R s wedding, we were pleasantly surprised to see that the several-hour-long ceremony was actually more like a church praise service. If you ve ever been to a gospel sing , you ll have the picture.

It was much different than the traditional services we had attended, mostly of our white friends but even different from those of our black and Hispanic church friends. ( is multicultural to an extent that surprises most visitors.)
C s church is an interesting one.

I have met the pastor a couple of times, and have even graciously received a copy of his book. Being from Africa, the solution to just about every problem is the laying on of hands, the impartation of the Holy Spirit, and the demonstration of the Gospel in power, as demonstrated in the book of Acts. They don t have enough good hospitals over there, or medicine, so if you re sick, you come to the altar and God heals you.

The demons over there don t have as many easy places to hide as in our modern, sophisticated Western culture, so if someone is demonized, it s much more evident. When the preacher lays hands on you, sickness is driven out, demonic spirits flee, and amputated limbs grow out. It s an amazing place.

If you want to see God work, you have to visit a Third World country. (That s a note to self.)
It is unfortunate, however, that in the midst of such mighty works of God, that legalism can rear its ugly head and manifest itself with lack of compassion for the hurting.

It is generally seen among Protestant churches, and especially among those named as Pentecostal , that if one is hurting, it s one s own fault, for various reasons. Either the hurting person is in sin, they have a curse against them, or something else, but it s not possible that they could be hurting because God actually might want them to experience emotional pain, for the development of the compassion of the one who is hurting.
God does not put sickness and disease on us to teach us things, but sometimes we will remain in that state for a time for various reasons.

If Jesus disciples have never felt pain, have never borne the stripes (whether literally or figuratively) that were also laid on their Saviour, then said disciples are mere children. If, however, these children have tasted persecution and pain, then the evil that has come against them will prove to be for their good, and the good of those around them, in the fruit of compassion, goodness, and patience.
It is with this grace considered that I look back on that post and think, in the manner of the Lady of C.

S. Lewis , how young I was yesterday! At least, however, I am learning to give and receive grace, and to love.

Despite the risk of further rebuke, I will not shun R and C s company, and by God s empowerment, I will be able to patiently bear the occasional persecution for my faith (or lack thereof) by my fellow Christians. If I can t get along with the brotherhood, after all, I am no more suited for ministry than a horse is suitable for milk and steak.
R and C and I used to be best friends.

We had lunch almost every day together, and had a prayer group (dubbed the Sons of Thunder ) that met just about every day as well. It was good, though not always comfortable iron does not sharpen iron easily without a lot of friction.
Lately, though, I ve come to decide that we are not good friends any more, just acquaintances.

The change came because of receiving too little grace when I would run into problems. It seems like I m dealing with something or other just about every week, and when one thing gets resolved (or temporarily so), something else rears its ugly head. If it s not depression, it s finances, If it s not finances, it s my job.

If it s not my job, it s our kids. If it s not our kids, it s something else. Conquer one thing and discover that there s another thing to conquer.

Such is life. I m not trying to be bleak, just saying that I struggle just like everybody else.
I m a real, honest, genuine Christian parent.

Our kids get sick sometimes. I get sick sometimes. My wife gets sick sometimes.

We struggle with money having been constantly short of it since Miss Sarah came along almost five years ago.
The thing is, when I tell people this you, my wife, my friends on and offline I m telling you that we need prayer and a helping hand. I m not asking for prayer just so you can persecute me for my lack of faith.

I do have faith. I know I left it here somewhere maybe it s in my other pair of pants, but I know it s around here, and I ll find it soon.
The thing is, I find that faith doesn t exempt you from troubles.

Sometimes it helps you get out of them, but you re not automatically exempted from trouble because you re a nice Christian, you pray fifteen times a day and you read your Bible. No, when you sign up with Jesus, you re asking for trouble. You get eternity with God both here and on the other side, but you have trouble over here, and trouble of all sorts.

I know God doesn t put sickness on people to teach them lessons. Jesus came to destroy every yoke, every scheme, every plan of the enemy. Sickness is of the devil.

Yet I ve been sick. Why? Well, I ate at Taco Bell Sunday night when I know perfectly well that it s not good for me (and has thus far proven to be singularly incompatible with my digestive system).

Maybe the taco-maker didn t wash his or her hands before making my items, I don t know, but regardless, the stomach problems are symptomatic of a minor case of food poisoning. It s my fault. Bad food causes sickness.

It s also my fault, again, because of something I went back to this weekend, something I know that I shouldn t have done, that I shouldn t have gone back to. That s being dealt with today. Sin opens you up to the work of the enemy, thus flinging the door wide and welcoming things like sickness into your life.

That s just good, plain Bible truth there. It s not fun, but it s an incontrovertible truth: you play , you pay.
Anyway, R me yesterday and told me that he s been struggling lately too, with family and things, kind of similar to what I m dealing with.

I m wondering to myself if he was going through this before and didn t want to admit it while he was judging my situation, or whether his situation is payback, of sorts, for his judgment of my situation.
I m not in sin because I struggle. I make mistakes just like any other Christian, and am usually quick to repent, thus submitting and walking back under the shelter of God s divine protection from sickness, disease, and the like (see Psalm 91).

I struggle because I sin, or suffer from the effects of other people s sin, or struggle because we live in a world which has fallen under the curse of sin for several thousand years and thus contains things like allergens and flu and bad food. That s why I ve been sick yesterday and today.
When I m sick, I don t need you to beat me over the head with a faith stick.

I do have faith. I believe God is Jehovah-Rapha. My faith isn t strong enough yet to believe that I will be instantly healed of everything just because by His stripes I was healed , and I publicly admit that.

Perhaps some day it will be that strong, but for right now, the Great Physician is working with our family doctors to expedite my healing. There s no shame in that, no matter with the TV preachers tell you.
I hate to say it, but I wonder how many problems in and among the Church result from judgment: judge not, lest ye be judged .

In the meantime, I m just not going to talk to R and C any more. I don t need people to tell me how little my faith is it IS small, and I admit that. I need someone to wrap their arm around my shoulder, either literally or physically, and help strengthen my faith, pray for me, encourage me, do whatever.

When I m better, I ll return the favor and do the same. The giver of grace receives grace himself, and is obligated to pass that grace on to not only the original benefactor, but also to anyone else in need. Pass it on.

Maybe he wasn t judging me, but it sure seems like it, because I hear similar things over and over again. Even if it s not judgment, it feels like it. No thank you I get by with a little help from my friends, and if you re not helping, then you re not really a true friend.

I just hope that this will be a lesson to myself not to judge other people who are going through bad circumstances.
I m in the midst of trying to catch up with most of my favorite blogs (the ones who have their RSS feeds enabled!), but decided to pop over here to create some original content.

It s funny I m reading books which have some sort of Christian magic talking about The Chronicles of Narnia and it seems like yesterday, a sort of spell was broken off of me, as well.
Not an enchantment or something that a witch or warlock could bring upon me ( the curse, causeless, can never come ), but things are definitely different.
I had said my friend was feisty I meant that in the most kind way, but his comment really well, in a way it rocked my world.

You see, up until the moment I had read that comment, I had been under this overwhelming impression that the Christian life is one doomed to difficulty, stress, and bother one that involves a lot of dreary work, work, work.
I m starting to see God as a much kinder person, Jesus as well, maybe not as Aslan from Narnia, but similar, almost as if C.S.

Lewis knew a much different Jesus than I have known.
To me, Jesus has always been, though He is the One Who brought me into the faith by His great sacrifice and resurrection, he has always been a somewhat distant figure to me.
Now I m thinking that he s different.

Much different. Nicer. Still Almighty King of the universe, still the Creator, still the mighty end-time Judge and Conqueror, not someone to mess with, but then
someone more kind-hearted and tender than I had imagined.

I don t know what s up, but I like it.
I don t know if it has anything to do with the medicine I m on (an antibiotic to get rid of this throat infection) or maybe I just didn t have enough sleep last night, but
That s kind of unusual for me, because usually (especially lately) I ve been stuck as in a cloud, frustrated over the seemingly continual sickness and lack in my family. Of course, there was the heavy weight of condemnation on my shoulders, weighing me down: if only I prayed more, if only I read my Bible more, if only I could confess the right things or read the right book or stop wasting time or, or, or
Yesterday a friend left a comment on a post that I had found pretty insignificant it was simply pointing to an article on another blog, an article I had found somewhat profound in its conviction.

He probably thought that he was just being his normal feisty self, but the comment really caught my attention, almost as if I d been summoned out of a trance or shaken from sleep.
Suddenly suddenly God doesn t seem like He s extremely hard to please. Suddenly faith seems attainable more like something you accept and use rather than something you strive, struggle, and beg for.

Healing, provision the main things we ve needed suddenly seem within grasp, through the words of Scripture:
He was wounded for our transgressions,
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
And by His stripes we are healed.
The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
I felt that all-too-familiar feeling of dread and fear on me this morning, once again, as I was on my way to work.

I had been having the most delicious time finishing on audiobook, when suddenly that feeling came back that I really should be doing something better with the time, but what? What? I should be, really should be, listening to something useful, making the most use of my time
but then I stopped, and those thoughts, that seeming fog that had covered me before, seemed an all-too-foreign thing.

It occurred to me that perhaps this is something I should be resisting for after all, doesn t the Word say to resist the Devil and he will flee? So I did resist it. I told it no .

Whether literally out loud or just inside, I said no , and after lingering a moment, that whatever it was dissipated.
Instead of forcing myself to read my daily Bible passage (something which is generally a good discipline, but nevertheless this morning seemed to be a particularly burdensome thing), I read through some more driver profiles from the Athlon 2007 NASCAR guide .
Last night, I read seventy pages out of , one of my favorite C.

S. Lewis novels. And I enjoyed every minute of it.

I didn t even feel that I was wasting time.
The Word I know and I have picked up quite a bit of it along the years seems more alive, relevant, and tangible than before.
Strangest thing and it all started with a comment.

I think God s up to something here.
Argh.
I could really use some prayer.

Today I ve been bombarded by thoughts and desires for the past past comforts like the house of prayer and Jewish stuff and I m tired of it.
These desires are so strong that, at times, it s almost like they are impersonating a real human voice and literally speaking to me.
I have decided to pay absolutely no heed to these thoughts and obey them not.

With regards to house of prayer stuff and Judaism, I realized this morning that my conscience has been severely damaged in these areas. I have not had the ability to rightly discern anything with regards to these things.
Therefore, I must completely avoid both areas and continue to shut them out of my lives.

(Not the people associated with such things, mind you, but the things themselves.)
I was involved in some intense idolatry and deception for the past few years, and I am not going to go back. Period.

I will not return.
It doesn t matter whether I was hurt . It s not OK to go back.

I will not get snatched back into idolatry. I will not make my interests and desires more important than the will of God.
I got to thinking this morning about (prayer, not pancakes), and made a promise to myself before God (I don t think it was an inner vow, but maybe it was) that I would never go back.

Then I got to thinking what if I picked up guitar again? I mean, not having to do with intercession sets or playing in public or doing anything at IHOP or church or anywhere, but just picking it up to have fun? I could probably remember the chords
of course that set me off on a what if?

tangent and I got sucked up into that whole striving/works/idolizing a ministry thing for a while
and now all this stuff, and I m thinking, why won t the past leave me alone???

? I don t want Matt to go away, but I do want to go away, to never hear of it again. Ever.

Period.
I forgot to mention in . Sorry about that, sis.

Speaking of , I ve decided, after a pretty crummy weekend, that I m not going to ruminate on the past any more. I m not moving any more blog entries over from my old blog, because the memories from that well, the memories sort of caused a relapse over the weekend. I started slipping down that path of deception again which completely wasted most of 2005.

I ve decided that looking at the past is as dangerous as a recovered alcoholic stepping back into the bar. I can t go back. Yesterday I decided that I m going to weed out everything that led me down that path, and remove it from my life permanently.

It s time to close the door to the past and start anew.
One of the barriers towards starting anew, for me, and the reason I seem to keep going astray, is that I don t seem to have a concrete direction for my life other than work my job and take care of my family . I don t feel like I m going anywhere, accomplishing anything, or doing anything important.

So I get caught up in all these movements or whatever that get me sidetracked and ultimately burned.
I want this cycle of insanity to end. I want the past dead, gone, and buried, and some sort of direction for my life.

Want to see , which I just moved over from Blogger just for the heck of it?
Seriously, though, looking back on that post from February 2005, I can remember so much that I ve gone through since then. I m almost an entirely different person.

I ll move a few more posts over here. Not all of them, mind you, since there s over a thousand, and most of them are crap, from my days of wanting to be Jewish or wanting to be a professional prayer warrior. (There s a lonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng story behind that.

)
There are a few good nuggets in there, though, like , which, thanks to the helpful people at Blogger, they were able to save from permanent destruction due to a fit I was pitching at the time, in which I totally deleted that blog. They were able to restore it from backup. Nice people.

Some of you have stuck around through all of the fits I have pitched, and all of the other weird stuff I ve gone through. Tina, Jim, Eric, and Tracey, I m surprised you re still around. Thanks for being a friend of such a weird person.