How I Survive the Ugliness

~ A Personal Testimony ~

When we have meetings or seminars or church services, it is our habit to ask that some people share what they are thankful for by sharing personal testimonies.  To me, this is a very powerful part of praise & worship.  Very personalized.  Very real.

The only thing about this is that, generally speaking, the pastors or ministers don't get to share such testimonies because they are going to share the Word.  And if they have a testimony, well.  I suppose it is simply presumed that they should weave it into what they preach or teach.

Now sometimes that works just fine, but other times, it doesn't. 

I agree that leaders must be careful in how much of their personal lives and experience they share to maintain a certain credibility.  But that has a limit.  Because, just as I need to know more details about a person's life to most effectively pray for them, others also need to know enough about my personal life experience to effective pray for me as well. 

Thus, with these things said; allow me to share some of that on-the-ground experience and a particular 'Healing Salve' that God uses in my life to keep me from losing my mind.  (Yes, I said that.  *smile*)

My Service

I have come to embrace the lifestyle principle that 'Love Serves.'  So I try and serve people in a myriad of ways simply in the capacity of having a genuine, Put-Myself-in-Their-Shoes kind of love for them.  This makes for some very interesting days.

I do not have what most people I know would term a 'Normal Life.'  I see things that most people don't see (and don't need to).  I do things that most people couldn't get themselves to do (but could certainly support me in doing.)  I ask sacrifice of my family and an immeasurable grace in allowing me to walk-out God's particular call on my life.  They give it.

I walk very much on the dark-side of life.  And please believe me when I say this, I don't like it.  I would do otherwise, but 'otherwise' is not what God has called me to do. 

Instead, just this week, He has had me deal with divorce; adultery; incest; rape; and a lot of sickness (A Lot!).

I have walked the ever-thin-wire of sharing the Gospel among a sub-culture of homeless people on streets and in canals, where many would kill me for a pair of $30 tennis shoes. 

I spent two full days (during the day) in a drug & alcohol center listening to tragic stories and trying to advice, console, and pray for interns and their families.  I spent another two days visiting families of these addicts listening to and witnessing the profound scarring of their lives. 

I prayed and sat with an 83 year old neighbor who is afraid he will die and leave his wife behind, whom he loves very much.  (Thank God they are both saved)  And I tried to talk to his unsaved family members about real relationship with Christ; only to be insulted and despised for having turned their Mom & Dad away from their previous involvement in the Catholic Church.  ( "If he goes to hell, it is now on your head" )

I gave refuge in my home to a drug addict from the canal a block from our house, because another man had lost his temper and wanted to (had already tried to) kill him.  I attended to his wounds.  I fed him.  I gave him the use of a shower.  And he stole my son's cell phone (which had been left in the kitchen) on his way out.

I arbitrated a division between leaders in a small, new church.  They did not split.  They decided to continue in unity.  Then two days later (yesterday) they became angry with me because I said I wanted to support them in every way I could, but told me that, when they asked for money, 'I didn't show them love.'  (I would gladly have given them money if I had it, but they didn't believe I didn't have it.)

I have preached six sermons in the past four days.  Nineteen people were saved.  Eight people were baptized.  All expect me to adopt them and disciple them (which we do in our home, in other homes, and sometimes in churches) But then again, we are just two people.  We could use some help.

I have not seen my three grown sons or my grandchildren in Las Vegas for some time.  And I cannot promise them when I may have the chance to see them in the future...

My 22 year old Bolivian son had to see a doctor this week - And we had to spend money we didn't have.  We had to fix the car - And we had to spend money we didn't have.  We had to help a neighbor with medicine - And we had to spend money we didn't have.  (The 2nd best thing about heaven will be 'no need for money')

My Steel?

Now I know most people must think I am made of steel or something, but they are wrong.  I have emotions.  I feel the pain of all these things that I touch.  I feel the tiredness of getting to the end of myself and needing to say no to things that I really want to say yes to but just can't.  (And I feel the hurt of being accused of not being loving because I sometimes have to say, no.)

And delivered just Lot, vexed with the filthy conversation of the wicked:

(For that righteous man dwelling among them,

in seeing and hearing,

vexed his righteous soul from day-to-day with their unlawful deeds

2 Peter 2:7-8

I may have an anointing to do what I do, but I don't get the privilege of leaving my emotions out of the game.  (As much as I'd love to sometimes)  I feel things.  They build up in the emotions of my soul; in my mind; even in my physical body.  Like Lot, I get 'vexed' (or contaminated) by the things I seem to find myself swimming in daily.  So how does one keep to any emotional balance?

My Saving Salve

Open wounds weep.  That weeping keeps those wounds wet and open to infection.  It prevents them from closing - At least until someone applies a salve that staves the weeping and allows the wound to heal.

That salve for my eyes and ears is children

I can sit with a child all day and never get tired of their comments; their way of expressing themselves; their corny, innocent, stubborn 'Kid-ness.'  I mean, it's like a drug.

The look in a child's eye.  The total absence of fear.  A genuine smile.  Their freedom from the knowledge of the reality that surrounds them.  Their ability to live in creative illusion - To break the bonds of gravity and fly in dreams.  To not even think about staying on the ground.

The three children in the Newsletter picture are all children I spend time with.  (In what spare time I have)  Sometimes I play football with them.  Sometimes 'army man' in the dirt.  Sometimes we attack their dogs...or their brothers or sisters...or even their parents in a make-believe war. 

Sometimes I drink imaginary tea or pull a Huck Finn and get them to help me wash the car.  (Help?  Yeah, right!)  And sometimes I let them sit in my lap and drive the car, (to Daisy's glare of 'Man!  I don't know about you Michael!')  And then sometimes...  Just sometimes...  I just like to sit and listen to them talk.

I think that is best.  Just watching and listening.  (When they're not fighting with each other, of course)  They can say the most amazing things!  They can see the most amazing things in their imaginations!  They can notice things in the grass I would never see.  And when I can get them to pray for me, I hear God every time.

An Example

The other day at the mission school, a small frog got into one of the classrooms.  (They're itty-bitty little yellow and green things with smooth skin; only about the size of a quarter.)  It was a class of eight year olds, and when William finally caught the frog, the teacher asked him to take it outside and 'get rid of it.'

William left the room, and about a minute later, there were screams from the classroom across from William's class.  The teacher arrived to investigate.  I was spectator.  The girls in the other classroom had settled down.  And the other teacher came out with the story. 

William had snuck-up to the classroom window; looked inside; waited until he had the girl's attention, and then...he swallowed the frog and grinned.

Now the teachers were mad and William was in trouble but I was dying with laughter!  Actually...living with laughter would be a better description.  "You said 'Get rid of it' he kept repeating.  (Too much!!!)

That 10 minute experience kept me smiling all day (on the inside, anyway) 

God brought it to my mind when I was in the hospital later that afternoon.  The Salve! 

He brought it to my mind in traffic. The Salve!  

He brought it to my mind that evening as I spoke to Daisy about how we were going to pay for the car repairs and...I smiled.  Daisy said, "What's to smile about?"  I told her the story.  And it broke her up.  The Salve!   (I'm grinning right now just writing about it)

So tonight, I just kind of wanted to 'Stand Up' here in this Newsletter and give my own testimony of how thankful I am for all the crazy, wonderful Kid-Salve that God massages into the soreness of my life time and time again.  Thank You Lord!  Thank You, Thank You, Thank You!

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If you're a parent or grandparent and have one of these wonderful creatures living in your home; do me a favor.  The next chance you get...tell that kid they are wonderful!  Tell them they can do anything with God.  Tell them they are going to change the world.

Kids just like them have changed mine, more times than I can count.