"Of Mice and Men".

"Only when a man flounders beyond any grip of himself 

and cannot understand things, does he really pray"

Oswald Chambers.

I will tell you a story about a man I saw once, he was tall and strong and proud. This man was given of his wife the task of dispatching a field mouse which had fallen into the "pit" of their egress window (it is curious as to how one kills a mouse in a confined space such as this).

As I watched these events unfold, the man took an oar and began futile attempts to somehow ferret the despised invader from the premises, he poked, herded, and pressed that fat little field mouse. and in spite of the mans harassment's that little mouse with all of its might jumped and bit the blade of that oar in hopeless futility. The mouse attempted to climb the screen of the window in an effort to escape, only to be struck down time and time again. This activity went on for some time until the mouse resigned itself to a corner of the pit apparently exhausted; the man seizing this opportunity, slowly, deftly, hovered the blade of that old oar above that small creature; and in one fluid motion - he became mouse slayer, defender of his wife from rodent uncleanness, a hero.

Why do I tell this story you ask?

I tell this story because I am that man. I have mastery over my environment. I am able to meet the needs and desires of those who rely upon me, and am all to ready to strike those weaker than myself. yes  I am that man, and that is my external reality. Yet in like fashion I am that Mouse; deep within the "pit" of myself striking out toward any intruder. Using all my strength to climb out of the recesses of self; only to be struck down again and again. Yes I am both the one who presses and is pressed, who drives and is driven, who strikes and receives blows. As these roles co-exist within, always opposed - I come to the end of myself, not knowing why I am such; only knowing it is then time to pray.

Luther.

"The long winter".

Psalm 4:3-4 NASB

3 But know that the Lord has set apart the godly man for Himself;

The Lord hears when I call to Him.

4 Tremble, and do not sin;

Meditate in your heart upon your bed, and be still.

I find it interesting; no; I find it concerning that I seem to fall into reoccurring seasons of the seeming absence of God's voice. Waiting for God to respond to the questions of the heart can be agonizing. This dark night of the soul which causes me to cry out all the more for the fathers touch - it does not feel like the blessing it is supposed to be. 

Winter is often long and oppressive for those who thrive in summer. Just as the absence of God's hand in our trials is equally oppressive. Even still He is always there, just unseen from the darkness of our vantage point. We must go on knowing that even in our trials He is working, He is moving, He is running to our aid. And we must be ever moving toward him - even when we cannot see. 

It is with these thoughts that I share a prayer from 2013; with the hope that the reader will endure, persevere, and if nothing else - survive. For He is coming - dare not to quit!

"Father,

I feel so empty today, I feel the great distance between us, as yet again I have given myself to the wind, blowing me every which way but to you. I have plans and designs, to build up all the broken things around me; to fortify myself with valueless prideful endeavors. That I would ever do anything to point to your Son seems an impossibility - yet I look to the peak of that mountain. As to the chasm between us I look to that lone cross. How is it that I reside under the shadow of God? Why have you saturated me with blessing and spoiled me with the good things of temporal life? And so I am resigned to war against the heathen appetites that rage from within. With my gaze fixed and true I will climb that mountain; should it cost my Life - I will Climb!

Amen" 

Luther. 

"The Lost path".

Recently I decided to take my son on one of my prayer walks in the "field' (Woods). He was quite the little trooper; although he was weary of the walking - he did keep his composure. As is my way, I deliberately go off - trail to pray, to whatever secret place the Spirit would lead me. After a time of brief prayer (in  accommodation of my guest) we headed out. It was then that things became interesting.

Somehow I got turned around and had lost my way back to the trail proper. I was headed in the right general direction, but my ill chosen path required we traverse fallen logs, brush, and thorny vines, (which sole purpose was to create trip hazards for small feet) my young charge wan none too pleased! After some time we did find the trail leading out. Walking along the roadside we made our way down to our drive, with house in view my son spoke or better to say the Lord spoke through him.

My son expressed his pleasure and gratitude for time spent together, then followed up with the following statement; "Dad, I want to go again, but if you go alone, Jesus will talk with you - he's cool like that". truly out of the mouth of babes!

I have learned long ago to not discount the words of children, yet it wasn't until several days later that I came to fully appreciate what was spoken. Spiritually speaking; I have found myself in a season where quite honestly I've felt as though the path is lost; not to be understood as my faith; but my specific direction - 'The Trail" as it were. I am still headed in the right general direction, yet my way has been cumbersome of late.

Even still I am comforted by the knowledge that if I must traverse this path alone, I know that the Lord will talk with me. And if He talks with me - in this place - He truly is with me. So while my way seems obscured by the fog of circumstance;

- I will find my way ........ Home!

Psalms 16:11 (ESV)

"You make known to me the path of life;

In your presence there is fullness of joy; 

At your right hand are pleasures forevermore".

Luther.