He Left the 99 for Me

Alone and forgotten, or so it seemed
My life felt full of shattered dreams
Despair and pain had overcome
I was certain I was not The One

The storm raged on, the rain poured down
In midsts of darkness, I almost drown
The knocking so subtle my ears could faint hear
My pain and suffering persisted in fear

Self-inflicted wounds seemed to seal my fate
Anxiety, shame, and loathing self hate
“I’m not worthy,” my lips attempted to say
But Christ opened the door, and came my way

“Come, Child, I never left you – I’ve been here at the door
I suffer with the meek, the weary, and the poor
While you could barely hear me knock, I waited My time
Until your heart was willing to surrender to Mine”

“Now come with Me and join the ninety and nine …”

None of us is ever so lost that Christ does not persist at the door knocking. In Revelation 3:20 He promises, “I stand at the door and knock, if anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come and dine with him, and he with Me.”

Christ does not bring a bag of cold Chicken Nuggets (unless that is your thing …), He desires to feast with us. Spend the evening with us until we sleep. Keep His Spirit with Us and abide with us forever.

When I was in my deepest despair, I pictured that door and Him knocking. But in my mind, there were layers and layers of brick wall between me and that door. I kept trying to take down a wall one brick at a time, but it seemed hopeless and futile as new walls were appearing faster than I could tear one down.

It was then that I cried out, “Oh Jesus, save me!”

The walls burst into powder and disintegrated, and the door flew open. We had a lot of work to do. A lot to clean up. The twelve steps aided me, as did therapy, a sound sponsor, family, and church leaders.

Despair will come in its various forms and try to offer a cheap substitute. Often, I keep it out with a “do not disturb” sign on the door. Other times, I may open the door and let it in for a while. Regardless, I eventually realize that it is not for me. And I remember that the only dinner guest is Christ, and He won’t put up with a pity party for long, only long enough to remind me of His Love for me and to reset the table and continue the feast.

I pray the same is true for you. If it is not, I invite you to ask Him.

By Pete, Writing Team

I miss you God

My youngest daughter starts her senior year in high school soon. She had been housesitting for friends today and called me this evening for a ride home. She and I have a relationship that has allowed us to connect in honest, authentic ways off and on over the last few years. So, on my way over, I imagined that I would ask her how her heart was and admit that I have been feeling melancholy lately.

I thought I might tell her about the summer between my own Junior and Senior years. My best friend Bill and I had been inseparable for a couple of years by then. We ran in the same circle of friends, enjoyed some of the same pastimes and sports, and knew how to raise a little hell without getting into too much trouble.

Earlier in the summer, he had gone to another state to spend a few months helping on his uncle’s farm. I think it must have been one of the first times I really missed anyone because I remember the feeling being unfamiliar and deeply uncomfortable. One night, when the two of us would otherwise have been camping or out deflating our friend’s tires, I walked down the street, sat on the curb in front of a church, and had a good cry alone in the dark. I remember the pastor came out and sat with me for a few minutes and asked if I was okay. I still don’t know why he was at the church so late at night, but I felt a little better after I assured him I was okay, and he disappeared back into the church.

What I would have told my daughter about that summer and that feeling is that it was very much like I’ve been feeling lately. Whether God has pulled away from me or I from him doesn’t bother me too much right now. What matters is that He’s been my best friend for a couple of years now, and He’s been gone for a few months, and I miss him terribly. Just like I was that night in front of the church, I’m okay. But I’m hurting and can only look forward to a reunion that I hope comes sooner rather than later.

I would have also told her that this isn’t uncommon. I’ve been here before. And I seem to remember very godly people talking or writing about times when they felt God’s absence, even feelings of being forsaken. Jesus himself exclaimed, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” in his final hours on the cross.

Tonight, my daughter had other things that needed to be talked about, so I didn’t get a chance to tell her all this, but one of these days I’ll tell her and encourage her to be patient because He always shows back up. I have a feeling it’ll help ease the pain sometime in the future when she feels similar.

I miss you, God. I can’t wait to feel you near again.

By Ty, Writing Team

Relationship Core

Just the other night, I was at a summer cookout with several members of my congregation. There was food, activities, and good conversation. I took part in a little bit of everything, but ended up spending most of my time talking with another brother who I had only been vaguely acquainted with before. He and I talked at length about our different careers, our families, and various stories from our past. Afterward, I thought about the activity and the conversation, and it struck me how experiences like those help me to feel like I’m a genuine part of my community. They build up familiarity and understanding with one another, and that has great value in a world increasingly starved for human connection.

At the same time, it also struck me how that alone just isn’t enough. The activities were fun, the food was good, and the lengthy reminiscing with the other man was substantive, but none of it got to my real core. No one there saw the depths of my heart like my brothers in recovery have.

But personally, I think that’s okay, because I know where I can get that deeper connection. It’s okay to have different circles of relationships: acquaintances, neighbors, coworkers, and family, each of which I share different degrees of myself with. It is okay to let them get to know me as far as they want to, but not go beyond what they’re comfortable with or what is appropriate for the situation. It’s okay, because I know that I’ll always have my core group who know me on the deepest level, who will remain secure in their love and brotherhood for me, even with all my greatest hopes and shames laid bare. Because I have that core, I am able to accept every other relationship for what it is.

It wasn’t always this way, though. Years ago, my layers of relationships were missing their core. Back then, long conversations with the neighbor a few nights ago would have scratched one itch, but also exposed a deeper and unsatisfied one. That experience would have reminded me of my yearning for a best friend, a spiritual brother, but I wouldn’t know how to meet that need. I would awkwardly use childhood tactics with the men who I thought liked me best. Something like, “hey, want to come over and play a game together sometime?” Even if they said yes, it still wouldn’t be what I wanted. They might come over and hang out, and it would be nice and all, but I would still be left dissatisfied, and I wouldn’t even know why.

What I know now is that what I always needed, and what I believe everyone needs, is someone that I could be totally honest with. Someone that I could tell everything to. And, speaking from personal experience, total honesty with God alone just doesn’t cut it. I believe that all of us need to find complete honesty with another walking, breathing human being. It’s just something that we’re wired to need.

Obviously, being totally honest with another person is a scary thing, and it is too rarely modeled in our everyday relationships. To that I say, we must go to the places where that honesty exists, even if we’re not totally ready to lay everything on the table. A great place to start is to look up the nearest “X anonymous” group, where X is whatever we’re most afraid to be open about. If we go where people are willing to be totally honest, it becomes easier to pull the curtains back bit by bit, whereas if we stay where people are partially closed off and never connect at the deepest level, it feels like our innermost cravings can never be filled.

At the very least, that’s the way it worked for me. Like I said, I used to lack any deep and intimate spiritual relationships. I used to refuse to be totally honest with anyone. I never let any other person know the real me. But then, as an act of faith, not knowing what to expect, I finally let my guard down. I opened my heart to a therapist who was a true brother in Christ. I went to the Warrior Heart bootcamp. I started attending Sexaholics Anonymous. I allowed myself to be fully seen by men who I now consider my true brothers. I felt loved and secure in their fraternity, and that taught me how to be loved and secure in my Savior. So as I said earlier, I don’t wander around with an empty hole in my heart these days. Today I am able to have a polite conversation with my neighbor, and it is good in its place, and I can have full vulnerability with my recovery brothers, and it is good, too.

By Abe, Writing Team