Epiphany

Romans 12:2 ... be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

This is part 8 of a story to help me process ... and discover Freedom. (continued from part 7- Hysterical)

(Part 1- Where am I?; Part 2- Discombobulation; Part 3- Revelation; Part 4- Hesitation; Part 5- Veritas Liberabit Vos; Part 6- Misery)
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"Are you OK?" Jesus asked.

The laughter had subsided and I was deep in thought.  Doubt.  I doubted so many things.  Every thought seemed to be second guessed and then doubted some more.  It was comfortable sitting here next to Jesus.  Just being in his presence.  It reminded me of the old days and our time together, but my mind was full of doubt.  How can he still love me?

"No.  No, I guess I'm not OK,"  I replied.  The honesty felt right.  As if just speaking the truthful words brought peace to my overwhelmed mind.  I wasn't okay.  I haven't been okay.  I have been stumbling along trying to figure out what went wrong only to perpetuate my stumbling.

"Do you want to talk about it?"  The words were so genuine.  He wouldn't push me more than I was willing to go.  For me, he would nudge, guide, prod and persuade, but that final step had to be mine.  Seek and you will find.  Knock and the door will be opened.

"Not really," I spoke honestly again.  I did, but I didn't.  I wanted to tell him my worries and fears, but I didn't.  I wanted him to tell me where I went wrong, but I didn't.  I wanted to explode my emotional frustration and have him tell me everything would be okay.  But I knew it wouldn't be that simple.  Core parts of me had to change.  Core parts of me had to be refined.

"OK," he replied.  He knew me so well.  If he out right told me to do it, I wouldn't.  However, if it was my own decision, I was committed.  The fact of the matter was I had to talk about it.  I had come to furthest reaches of my faith, and the chains that bound me up prevented me from going further.  I was like a dog tied to a post in his yard.  I had to be released from those chains to move on.

I stood up from where we were sitting under the tree and walked away a couple of steps.  "I suppose I should," I finally said, turning to face Jesus.

"Probably."

"But I don't even know where to start."  Thousands of thoughts flooded my mind.  Every doubt.  Every confusion.  Every failure.

"Well,"  Jesus stood and walked over to me, "You started along time ago."  He placed his hand on my shoulder, "And you are doing great."

I blushed.  His words were such a contrast to my inner dialogue.  I never felt like I was doing great.  I felt like I had failed miserably.  The times that were great I figured was the result of my wife and her faith.

Jesus' arm wrapped around my neck in a head lock and forced me to hunch over.  "Ouch," I cried, even though it didn't really hurt.  "What are you doing?"  I was fighting trying to get away.

"I.  Am.  Just.  Trying," he breathed heavily as if he were exerting himself, "To.  Get.  It.  Off."  He finally released me and backed away.  I looked at him surprised as he scrutinized me.  He stepped forward again, "Maybe if we ... "

"What?!"  I cut him off, confused frustration filling my voice.  He stopped.  One minute we're laughing, the next he's trying to rip my head off.  I was already on an emotional roller coaster, I didn't need this.

"You know I am surprised you don't have more bruises," he said and started pacing back and forth, still scrutinizing me, as if, at any moment he would pounce on me.

I looked at him with a puzzled expression.  I was beyond confused.  Sometimes Jesus did the most bizarre things, said the most bizarre things.  Was this because it was my mind?  Was I imagining these very things he did and spoke?  The inner workings of my own mind were strange enough as it was.  It certainly could be me.  But I wondered, maybe Jesus was speaking to me the way I needed to be spoken to. 

Here we were in my place of prayer, long ago an intimate place of connection with my Savior.  He often had spoken to me in a way and with words that were exactly what I needed to hear.  It has been awhile since we've met in this place.  Our recent encounters have been so much more reserved on my part.  Here, though, all pretenses were gone.  He could say what needed to be said and I could be myself.

"Yes!" Jesus exclaimed and lept at me.  Before I could fully grasp what he was doing, his shoulder barreled into my stomach as he tackled me to the ground.  Our momentum tumbled us down the hill a little way.  It sounded like Jesus was giggling when our bodies finally disentangled from eachother.  "You're it!" he yelled and ran back up the hill.

Hysterical

Romans 8:31 ... What shall we say then?  If God is for us, who can be against us?

This is part 7 of a story to help me process ... and discover Freedom. (continued from part 6- Misery)

(Part 1- Where am I?; Part 2- Discombobulation; Part 3- Revelation; Part 4- Hesitation; Part 5- Veritas Liberabit Vos)
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When we finally reached the beginning of the trail and the grassy meadow, Jesus continued on toward the tree at the top of the hill without stopping.  I wanted to stop walking.  I wanted to slump to the ground.  I wanted to disappear, to be anywhere but here.  But I continued following, my feet stepping automatically.  I had asked for this.  I had asked for help.  I had wanted to be "free".  Free to screw up.

I was numb.  I was depressed.  How easily I got there.  I could go from confident and bold to defeated and depressed in a heart beat, when reminded of my ineptitude.  I tried to remember scripture, but "we are more than conquerers", or "there is now no condemnation" didn't bring any comfort in my present state.

Jesus stopped at the tree and placed his hand on the trunk.  His eyes were closed as if in prayer when I finally made it to the top.  I stood and watched him, wondering.

After a long moment, he opened his eyes and turned towards me, "I love you," he said.  No he doesn't.  Jesus closed the gap between us too quickly, his hands grasped each side of my face, compelling me to look him in the eyes.  "Yes.  I do."  Tears welled up in my eyes and my breathing heaved.  How can you?  He stared at me with such intensity, such love, such compassion, his eyes darting back and forth between my own.  I wanted to believe him, I really did.

He released his grip on my face and walked back to the tree and gestured towards it looking at me, "A man had a fig tree, planted in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it, but did not find any.  So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, 'For three years now I've been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven't found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?'  'Sir,' the man replied, 'leave it alone for one more year, and I'll dig around it and fertilize it.  If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.' "

"I know that parable," I said, "So what?  Are you going to cut it down?"

"I doubt it," he replied.

"It hasn't produced any fruit in a long time,"  I said defiantly.  What was I doing?  Trying to convince him to cut it down?

"I'll just ask for another year," he said simply.

He took a couple of steps towards the trail we had come down, "That was some trail."  He chuckled, seemingly to himself, "Narrow and difficult."

I was indignant.  "Well if that's not the way, what is?"  My frustration seeping out in my words more than I wanted.

He took a couple of steps towards the cliff face.  He made an exaggerated survey, straining to look as far as he could to the left and then to the right.  His head tilted back as he looked upward and then he stumbled backward as if the height was too high.

"Wow, that is one big mountain," he looked at me with a mischievous smile, "Too bad you don't have more faith."

My jaw dropped in surprise.  Did he just say that?  Was he joking?  Why would he say such a thing?

"Aw, come on.  That was a good one."  His eyes drooped in sadness, then quickly returned to a smile.  He stepped back to the tree and sat down.  "I thought it was funny," he said as much to himself as to me.  "Come on, let's talk."  He patted the ground next to him, inviting me to sit down.

I was guarded.  Anymore, I was always guarded.  This wasn't an eager moment for me.  I wanted to talk to him, to hear what he had to say.  I wanted to be free, I had to be free.  I knew I couldn't carry on in my life the way I have been, but I was filled with so much doubt.  

Doubt.  I laughed.  To myself at first, but then it caught momentum.  It was uncontrollable.  I would try to stifle it, but then burst out again.  Doubt.  I couldn't contain it, pent up emotion being released.  Jesus was smiling and laughing with me.  I doubled over, it felt unnatural to laugh so hard.  I would start to settle down and then erupt into laughter again.  I don't know how long I went on that way, but after some time, with tears in my eyes and a pain in my stomach, I made my way over to sit next to Jesus.

"I told you it was a good one," he said leaning into me and giving me a hug.

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Mark 11:22-23 ... Have faith in God.  I tell you the truth, if anyone says to this mountain, 'Go, throw yourself into the sea,' and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will happen, it will be done for him.


continue to part 8- Epiphany

Misery

Romans 8:1 ... there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

This is part 6 of a story to help me process ... and discover Freedom. (continued from part 5- Veritas Liberabit Vos)

(Part 1- Where am I?; Part 2- Discombobulation; Part 3- Revelation; Part 4- Hesitation)
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After Jesus had pulled me back up the ledge he stepped back and looked at me, beaming.  His smile was so big, it caught me off guard.  I gingerly stepped away from the ledge edge and rubbed my shoulder, unable to think of anything to say.

With a final appraisal, he said, "Ok, then.  Let's go."  He effortlessly hopped off the edge to the ledge below and disappeared where I had struggled up from before.  He took a couple of steps where I could see him again and turned back to look at me.  He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken, "Are you coming?"

I looked towards the cave I had fled from, confused.  Not that I wanted to go back there, but surely that was where we should go.  I looked back at Jesus below with a questioning look of my own.

"That's not the way.  C'mon, I'll help you down," and he took a step forward his head dissappearing out of sight again.

I shuffled forward to the edge of the cliff and could see him waiting for me.  Climbing down was always so much harder than climbing up.  Looking past Jesus, I could see the river below, distant and ominous.  The ledge I was on seemed a much safer place to be and I backed up a step or two.

I let out my breath, unaware I had been holding it.  I really didn't want to go anywhere.  I was emotionally exhausted.  From the climb up, from the effort it took to walk into the cave, from the failure of having run away from it and from the certainty I was going to fall to my death.  I was too tired to climb back down, but I certainly didn't want to go back into the blackness.  "Urgh," I moaned, as I reflected on these things.

I was a mess.  I was confused.  How can Jesus accept me like this?  Here I was thinking I was doing the right thing and he tells me it is not the way.  You can't hear God.  I can't hear God.  How many times have I done something only to discover that's not what God meant?  I wanted to do the right thing, but I got it wrong so many times why should I bother trying anymore?  Surely, there were more capable people that can actually hear God.  It used to be so easy to know what to do and I just did it.  Now, it felt I had misstepped so often I would be more of a detriment to God's purpose than a help.

However, I still wanted to please God and the thought of letting Jesus see me in this state of confusion and uncertainty moved me to action.  I smirked at the irony.  I put on my false confidence and peered over the ledge again.

"Feet first would probably be best," Jesus said with a gentle smile.

I turned around and got down on my knees.  I backed up slowly until my knees and then my thighs were sliding over the cliff edge.  As I shimmied backward the rock began to dig into my stomach.  I could feel it scraping as my shirt pulled up.  Oh God, don't let me fall. My feet were searching eagerly for a place to step, and I felt Jesus grab my foot.  I continued to lower myself down as he guided each of my feet into a foothold.  Once I was on solid ground again, I brushed myself off and straightened my clothes.

Jesus looked at me, "You OK?"

"Yes," I lied, and immediately regretted it.  Why would I lie to Jesus?  He knows exactly what I am thinking and even that I'm lying.  Stupid.  Stupid.  But somehow I managed to say, "Yes," a second time, as if saying it twice would make it truthful.

He smiled, "OK," and turned around and began making his way down the trail.  Defeated and angry at myself I followed after him.  Why do I do that?  Am I so used to false pretenses, that to lie about how I am doing to Jesus himself came that easily?  I shook my head in dismay.  Maybe I should say something?  Confess my sins.  Ask for forgiveness.  No words came to my mouth.  You brought this on yourself.  I don't deserve his forgiveness.

And so we continued down the trail.  I trudged along, ashamed of myself.  My inner voice making relentless accusations that were all true.  Jesus would stop now and then and look at me.  Maybe to see if I was still following, maybe to see if I needed help.  I never made eye contact, how could I?  Once I caught up, he would continue on and I just followed after, head hung low, lost in my own misery.

You are a failure.  Nobody needs you.  God doesn't love you.  You've let Him down.


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continue to part 7- Hysterical

Veritas Liberabit Vos

Hebrews 12:15 ... See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many.

This is part 5 of a story to help me process ... and discover Freedom. (continued from part 4- Hesitation)

(Part 1- Where am I?; Part 2- Discombobulation; Part 3- Revelation)
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I must have sat down, stood up, paced around and sat down again a hundred times.  Why was this so difficult? I already knew the answer:  I hated my inner dialog.  And here I was confronted with facing the depths of my mind.  The darkness before me represented everything I hated about myself and that is where this trail led.  The trail we had prayed for to find "a way out".  The truth will set you free.  These words entered my mind once again.  The encouragement they had held on the climb up, was gone, now they rang as a taunt.

"I can't handle the truth," I mumbled out loud and chuckled, finding little mirth in my words.  "I CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!" I yelled out in anger towards the unmoving sun, and slumped to the ground once again.  I wanted to cry, to let the tears flow and find solace in my sorrow, but they wouldn't come.  Why was this so difficult?

I sat and stared at the hole of darkness.  You can't do this.  I have to do this.  You can't do this.  I was so cruel to myself, I was my worst enemy.  I suppose this whole cliff represented that very thing.  I was trapped in this place because I had accepted, as truth, so many lies.  I am a horrible husband, I can't be a good father, I am a terrible leader.  These things came to my mind unbidden and lingered there.  The cave mouth threatened to rip me apart like the maw of some mythical creature if I dared to enter it.  I imagined saliva dripping from its teeth in anticipation of devouring this tasty morsel.

I shook the image from my head, "Whatever," I spoke aloud and stood boldly. I walked to the cave and without hesitation I stepped from the light into the darkness.  I closed my eyes in expectation of something and cringed.

I stopped, fully engulfed in the darkness, and opened my eyes again.  Nothing.  Just blackness.  I turned behind me and could see the light from the entrance.  I felt around, just barely able to reach the walls to either side or the roof above me.  With so much room, I didn't feel claustrophobic.  I shuffled forward, not wanting to trip on the unseen, and constantly waved my arms in front, above and next to me.  The thought made me smile, I must have looked silly.  I was feeling confident, the fear having subsided.

I moved in this manner ever so slowly, but the light from the cave mouth seemed much more distant now.  It was my only point of reference and indicated I was moving forward in a straight line.  What are you doing here?  My inner voice, though silenced for a moment, spoke up again.  

Why are you doing this?  Because I have to ...

You have to do what?  I have to be free from the lies ...

They aren't lies, you know that.  They are.  I said this inwardly with more confidence than I felt.  I already knew how this conversation would end.

You were unfaithful to your wife.  My heart sank.  It was the truth.  It wasn't a lie.  It was always the first thing I reminded myself of.  I was unfaithful to my wife.  I had sex with someone else before I was married.

You took your wife's purity.  My heart sank.  It was the truth.  It wasn't a lie.  I pressured her into having sex before we were married and then tried to believe we didn't.

You have committed adultery.  My heart sank.  It was the truth.  It wasn't a lie.  Jesus even says if you look at a woman with lust in your heart, you have committed adultery.  Pornography has too often been a vice.

I had nothing to say.  How could I respond?  It was true.  I wanted to be free from the lies, but how do I escape the truth?

You can't please your wife.  Wha .. ?  My wife loves me!

You are a failure as a husband.  That's not true ...

She'd be better off with out you.  I ...  

And this is how it went.  I would remind myself of my failures and the truth became indistinguishable from the lies.  It always started this way and with that foothold, the accusations would come in a flurry.  Still caught in trying to defend or justify a truth, I couldn't dispute the lies.  Taken one at a time, I could start to form rational thoughts about being forgiven and being a new creation, but those thoughts never came one at a time.

You are selfish.  You don't love your wife as Christ loved the church.  You are lazy.  You don't spend enough time with your kids.  You expect to much from your son.  You are a horrible father.  You can't hear God.  You stifle the Spirit ...

I began backing away from the unseen voice, flailing my arms in defense of this verbal barrage.

You don't deserve to be at your job.  You are an incompetent leader.  You have nothing to offer.  You don't take care of yourself.  Nobody likes you.  You are a hypocrite.  You cast judgment on others.  You are a liar.

No.  No.  No.  No.  The only words I could form under this onslaught.  I couldn't do this.  I was even a failure at this.  My own voice began to take up the mantra of my inner voice.  It was true, all of it.  With my eyes squeezed closed in foolish protection I didn't notice when I backed my way out of the darkness.  Slumped over, waving my arms in desperation, I continued to stumble backwards to escape.  I was a failure.  I could never succeed.  Why should I try.  My inner voice had fallen silent as I continued my self-attack.

It was too late when I realized I had backed my way to the edge of the cliff, my balance was already lost.  My eyes shot open and I threw my arms about, frantically trying to regain my balance.  Of course it would end this way, I thought as I resigned myself to falling, I deserve to die.

In that moment, I felt a strong hand grab my forearm.  My fingers instinctively tried to grab back.  My body lurched as it awkwardly adjusted to this new anchor, swung down and bounced off the cliff face below the ledge with a thud and an, "oof."  I twisted painfully under the strained of my arm being pulled over my head.

I looked up into the most beautiful face.  The eyes were full of compassion and love and concern.  His mouth turned into a slight smile as he said, "Hey."  Jesus.  Jesus was reaching over the ledge, my arm in his grasp.

All I could think of to say was, "Hey," in return, and he began to pull me back up to the ledge I had fallen from.


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continue to part 6- Misery

Hesitation

Matthew 7:14 ... narrow is the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.

This is part 4 of a story to help me process ... and discover Freedom. (continued from part 3- Revelation)

(Part 1- Where am I?; Part 2- Discombobulation)
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The way got difficult fast.  I was far enough along that I could no longer see where the trail had started.  I could clearly see the tree and the meadow around it and the river below.  I closed my eyes quickly.  Don't look down, don't look down.  I have never been afraid of heights, but I was testing the scope of that fear.  I scooted, slid, climbed and felt my way along.  Sometimes I was side stepping with my face to the cliff, other times I was facing outward.  The way was difficult.  It is funny how at times like these you find your voice to pray.  Oh God, don't let me fall.  Every once in awhile the ledge trail I was on ended and I had to climb up a few feet to get to where the trail continued.

I chuckled to myself.  The Bible says that the road to life is narrow and difficult.  When I pictured how that would physically look, it wasn't too unlike the trail I was on now.  Which made me chuckle again considering I was still in my own mind.  I was determined to press on no matter how difficult it became.  I had no intention of returning to the meadow below.  It is funny how easy it is to continue forward when you've made that determination.  So on I went.

There was no easy way to measure time, the sun still wasn't moving, but I was far enough along now the tree was a distant smudge in the green that surrounded it.  Every now and then I would pick up or kick off a loose rock and watch it tumble through air ... 1 one-thousand, 2 one-thousand, 3 one-thousand, 4 one-thousand, 5 ... I saw the distant splash quickly disappear in the fast moving water.  Man, I was high up.  I tried to look above me, the face of the cliff continued upward at least the same amount as it did downward, but the angle was so awkward it was hard to tell.  As long as there was a trail, I would continue on.

As I got to another point where the ledge I was on ended, the trail above was higher than it had been before.  It was above my head this time and I had to stretch to reach the lip.   It was amazing how much more constricted my body movements had become.  If I was on the ground below, I would just jump and shimmy my way up.  Here, though, I couldn't even bring myself to jump and peek over the edge.  I surveyed the ledge and cliff face looking for a good foot and hand hold.  They were there, but just too high to get started without fear of falling.

I remembered a small boulder I had stepped over down the path and went to retrieve it thinking it would be a good stepping stone to help in the climb.  It was too awkward to carry on this small ledge, so I ended up scooching it along with my feet, stopping regularly because of the workout.  I eventually got it to where the ledge ended and stepped up.   It was just enough where I could pull myself to my tippy toes and peek over the edge.

The area opened up quite a bit.  It was a huge indentation in the cliff face and had a wide flat shelf, almost like a porch.  From the small boulder I was standing on, I could easily reach some foot holds to push myself higher.   I stopped momentarily with my chest resting on the new ledge and my feet dangling behind me.  Oh God, don't let me fall.  I fought the rest of the way up and quickly stepped away from the edge and sat down.  It was surprising how secure and relaxed I felt even though the drop off was only a few feet away.  I savored the moment and rested.

After short minute, I stood to physically explore what my eyes had already surveyed.  The trail continued on into a crevice.  It was not straight back, but at angle opposite from the trail that came up the cliff face.  After about a twenty foot corridor the trail turned back into the cliff and disappeared into a hole.  And when I say disappear, that's what it did.   The darkness was so black, the sun light barely penetrated inward two feet and then nothing.   I reached hesitantly inward, my hand feeling along the cave wall, my foot staying firmly in the sun lit portion.   It seemed like the path continued on, but my heart raced at the thought.

I stepped away to reevaluate my surroundings; to make sure I didn't miss another ledge or trail.  There was definitely nowhere else to go.  I looked above me for another ledge, and even peeked over the edge I came up, to see if there was something there.  I suppose I knew I wouldn't find an alternate route.  I walked back to the cave mouth.  The opening was big enough, that it looked like I could walk upright comfortably.  But who knows what happened inside the cave after that first step.  I found my self in a cold sweat as I thought about walking into the darkness of my own mind.  My breathing was shallow and my heart felt like it was beating unevenly.  I was scared.  All the confidence and determination to continue forward was gone.  And for the first time since I set my foot onto this difficult path ... I hesitated.


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continue to part 5- Veritas Liberabit Vos

Revelation

I don't think we know what freedom is.  I don't think I know what freedom is.

I can tell you what freedom means.  I can even appreciate freedom.  But do I understand it or grasp it?

This is part 3 of a story to help me process ... and discover Freedom. (continued from part 2- Discombobulation)

(Part 1- Where am I?)
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When I sunk to the ground I became acutely aware of where I was, like a fog dissipating on a clear day.  I was in my own mind.

I didn't recognize it at first and it no longer looked the same, but it was definately familiar.  A long time ago, I began to come to this place in my mind when I prayed.  A quiet peaceful seclusion where I could speak frankly with Jesus.  I remember the first time I pictured it was in a vision of a sword falling from the sky and landing on the top of the hill, the blade buried in the soil.  God was asking me to take up the sword, in much the same way of a young Arthur.  To take up my calling.  I struggled a long time before accepting what the sword represented.  I had many conversations with Jesus there, with the sword in the background.  Many one-sided arguments and excuses.  With such an intimate encounter with God, that place became where I would go when I prayed.

The tree wasn't there originally, nor was the creek.  They were there in subsequent pictures and visions when I way praying.  Sometimes I would be under the tree chatting with Jesus next to me.  Sometimes we would be on the hillside playing catch with a football, or even a couple times with trac-ball.  The tree ever present, but with much more life than what I was seeing now.  The creek had been more of a babbling brook, gently flowing in the background, with rocks and boulders that it meandered its way past.  Now, I was looking at a dead tree and an unpassable river.

The cliff face came much later.  I had gone through a period in my life where there was a unknown future.  I had often explained it as a "Black Veil" I couldn't see past or beyond.  That black veil was encroaching this prayer place.  At some point during that time, the cliff face was present when I went to meet Jesus there.  I had never explored this area in my mind like I had just done.  When I was there, what was before me was clear and crisp in my mind, but the distance was a blur, like an artist painting something up close and using dots and squares and lines of paint to represent whatever's in the distance.

More recently, when I visited this place it felt different.  It was like I was visiting a place from my childhood and it felt awkward to be there as an adult.  Since moving to Hawaii, things have been different.  God has exposed things in my life that are not of Him, and has encouraged me to discover more.  Sometimes I have been eager and sometimes I have not been eager.  To be aware of fruit in your life like anger or addiction is one thing, but to seek out and discover the root of that fruit, so you can remove it, can be overwhelming.

In an eager moment, I invited my pastor and his wife to come and pray with me and my wife through some of these roots.  To help "guide" me in discovering them.  Afterward I was emotionally spent.  For the first time in my life I could clearly see the chains that bind me.  And they were huge, like the chains from a massive draw bridge on a medieval castle.  What do you do with chains like that?  It was also revealed that I was trapped in some way.  While we were praying, our pastor's wife had a picture of a wall that was holding me in and I immediatly pictured the cliff face that was present in my prayer place.  The more I pictured this place the more I came to recognize I didn't know if I was or wasn't trapped.  I had never felt like I couldn't leave, but I had never tried.  As I described to her my place of prayer, she prayed that God would reveal a way out.

Here I was, seeing clearly for the first time what my refuge had become and realizing I was trapped.  As I pondered this, it was easy to wonder how something that was from an intimate encouter with God could result in a place of confinement.  I came out of my reverie and stood.  I turned my back to the hill and the tree.  Before me was a ledge trail that went up the cliff and away from this place.  Obviously the way out we prayed for.  With a new found eagerness, I set my foot on the path to freedom.


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continue to part 4- Hesitation

Discombobulation.

This is part 2 of a story to help me process ... and discover Freedom. (continued from part 1- Where am I?)
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I decided to follow the river down stream.  As I walked I thought through what I had seen and what I could remember.  This experience was to real too dismiss as a dream or fantasy, but my mind felt hazy enough to outright accept this as reality.  I was tempted to pinch myself again, but the pain was still a fresh memory.  The roar of the water brought me out of my reverie as I walked closer to the cliff.  I couldn't see any water coming down the cliff face and wondered at the noise.  Each step seemed to amplify it exponentially.  I tried to continue my thoughts about where I was, but the noise was drowning them out.  My curiosity of the sound soon became greater than my curiosity of my circumstances and as I approached where the river met the cliff I could think of little else.

It was an odd noise.  It was definitely water related as it had the sound of crashing water that a waterfall would make, but it also had an eerie warble or echo to it that sounded out of place.  As I got closer my left ear developed a distant hum thump.  I could only describe it as if it couldn't make sense of the sound waves it was hearing.  I could see now the river did not continue along the cliff, but disappeared.  With this new information I quickly concluded, as the mind can do sometimes, that the waterfall went into the cliff somehow and the weird out of place sound was an echo of some sort from crashing into a cavern.

The volume seemed to max out and as I neared, the hum thumping disappearing as my mind now understood the sound.  It was still loud, but I was used to it enough that I could formulate thoughts once again.  The hole in the cliff face was about the width of the river and barely taller than it.  It looked like the river crashed so hard into the cliff face it made its own hole to continue on.  There was no splashing or over-spray, the water simply disappeared and crashed somewhere below the sound echoing from the mouth of the cave.  In fact, now that I was standing next to the cliff face, the sound was actually quieter, as if the echoes were only shooting outward from the cave mouth.

There was definitely no way to cross the river.  Besides the water moving too fast and being extremely cold, there was not a way I saw to climb up the far bank.  More likely I would get sucked into the over hang of one side or the other and end up down the hole I was looking at now.  Even if somehow I were able to cross, so far I had seen nothing but prairie and it would be a long walk before I discovered anything else.  I decided to walk along the cliff face back to where it met the upper portion of the river.

I looked up towards the top of the cliff and it was even harder to make out than before.  The sun was still shining bright and the sky was such a brilliant blue it was hard to look at.  Every once in awhile I would see a small lip and a nice handhold in the cliff face that I would stop and try to climb.  The highest I made it was about 10 feet and then I would get stuck or panic that I was too high.  It was unrealistic that I would be able to climb to the top anyway, but it was fun to try.  The height of the cliff was hard to fathom.  1000 feet seemed too high of a guess, but anything less seemed too little.  At such an awkward angle, standing at the bottom, I just accepted it as being really really tall.

The tree at the top of the hill caught my attention now and then.  I sat to rest once and just stared at it.  I couldn't tell what kind of tree it was.  I thought maybe if it was still alive it would probably be a fruit tree of some sort.  Even though it looked dead it had a lot of character to it.  The kind of dead tree you might read about in a book or see in a movie.

Now that I was well away from the water falling, the noise was all but gone.  And now that I thought about it, there wasn't any other noises.  No rustling of wind, no buzzing of insects, no sounds you would imagine to exist being outside.  My footsteps barely even made a sound in the soft grass, if any at all.  I suddenly clapped, the silence weirding me out.  The sound echoed off the cliff face, but dissipated quickly.  I yelled.  It was the first time I used my voice since opening my eyes.  My throat was scratchy and an awkward sound escaped, but similarly echoed and faded quickly.  I cleared my throat and yelled again, a barbaric yawp one might say.  The echo didn't last long once again.  I had a thought about the grass acting as a sound absorber, and thought about it sucking the sound out of the air in the same way it seemed to have sucked the life from the tree.

Continuing on, I hummed to myself having found my voice and even sang a little.  Now that I was aware of the absence of noise, it was eerie and I couldn't walk too long in the silence before filling my head again with some sort of noise.  I thought randomly about different things.  Each thought seemed fleeting and I found myself avoiding any sustained thought about where I was.  Almost like I was reserving any further pondering until I had seen and explored what ever there was to see and explore.

I was far enough past the hill now, I could see that the river was wrapping around towards the cliff and I was where it met the cliff face in short time.  From here, as far as I could see up stream, the river followed the base of the cliff.  Other than that, the river looked exactly the same.  Flowing quickly, and disappearing under the far bank.  Along the cliff side the water had warn away enough rock, there was a slight over hang there too.  Cautiously approaching the bank on my side, I laid down to get another drink as it had been quite awhile.  For some reason, seeing the water again made me thirsty.  Satisfied and refreshed, I stood and rubbed the cold out of my hand.

Although still quiet and muted, the periodical splash of water was a welcome sound.  I already liked this side of the river more than the other side and certainly more than the silence in the middle.  The grass rose and inclined a little where it intersected the cliff and river, and upon further inspection I could make out a little ledge.  I walked to the ledge and from here could see the water was about 6 feet below .  The ledge was about 12 inches wide, narrower in some places, wider in others.  It looked like it was naturally occurring, uneven and steep.  I could make out a couple of places where the trail was broken by a ledge, but continued on above it.  I tried to follow it with my eyes, but besides going up, I couldn't make out much more as it blended in with the rest of the cliff face in the distance.

I considered my options.  Following the trail was the obvious choice.  At least to go as far as I could and see where it went.  It was definitely narrow and the way looked difficult, but having followed the river to the waterfall and having walked the entire face of the cliff, I couldn't image what else I would do.  I looked at the sky to gage how much more daylight I would have and stared in surprise.  The sun hadn't moved at all.  I had the impression it was moving earlier, but now that I was thinking about it, that was more from me moving and it's relation to the cliff face.  As I thought more purposefully about time, I realized it hadn't moved at all.  Time had certainly passed, I guessed it had been a couple of hours since I opened my eyes, but the sun hadn't moved.  My mind wrestled with this inconsistency and I sunk to the ground confused.

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continue to part 3- Revelation

Where am I?

This is part 1 of a story to help me process ... and discover Freedom.
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My eyes fluttered open and quickly shut again.  I let the dull ache pass as my eyes adjusted to the light behind my eyelids and slowly opened them again.  My heart was racing like I was awakening from a panic in a dream, but there were no lingering thoughts and  I couldn't remember the dream.  I tried to catch my breath, but it was irregular.  I sat up quickly, my heart quickening its pace even more as I realized I had no idea where I was.

I controlled my breathing, taking deep breaths, trying to calm myself as I took in the surroundings.  I was sitting on the side of a small hill, the sun was high in the sky, only wisps of clouds marring the deep blue expanse.  As far as I could see was a wide open plain.  I stood as if it would help me see further.  Down the hill, just past where it leveled out was a creek.  From the distant roar the water sounded like it was moving fast.  As I turned to my right the plain met a huge cliff face.  I could not clearly make out the top and it hurt my eyes to try and focus on where it met the sky.  Directly behind me, on the top of the hill was a single tree, its life long since drained from its branches as they desperately reached out.  As I continued around, the cliff disappeared into the distance and I was looking out onto the plain once again.

I walked towards the tree at the top of the hill.  The grass I was walking on was spongy and a rich green, different from the drab brown of the prairie below.  I slowly turned in another circle reevaluating what I had seen.  The view wasn't much different, except I could see down the other side of the hill and where the grass ended at the base of the cliff.  The sun shined brightly onto the cliff face highlighting the detail of every ledge and crevice.  The shadow of the scraggly tree was cast on the cliff side of the hill.  The hill sat in a rough oval, the cliff with a slight concave to one side and the creek to the other.  It seems that maybe the water ran along the base of the cliff and then jetted out around the hill to come around and meet the cliff face again.  I surmised the distant roar I heard was more likely a waterfall, though I couldn't directly see it anywhere.

This place felt oddly familiar and in a quick moment of surreality I pinched myself under my arm and it hurt a lot.  I rubbed out the pain wondering at why one would feel compelled to do that.  I was a little thirsty, perhaps the sound of the water triggering a subconscious response.  The shortest distance to the water was almost directly away from the cliff.  But with no other thoughts coming to mind, that seemed as good of place to start exploring as any.

It was a relatively short walk, but my thirst had increased drastically as I neared the water.  Now that I was closer, I realized "creek" was a poor description, this was definitely a river.  The surface of the water was slightly less than an arm's length from the top of the bank.  Close enough to scoop water with one hand, too far to scoop with two hands.  Somehow I was able to quench my thirst after many reaches into the water.  Each scoop losing half its volume before reaching my lips.  My hand was freezing, but the water was refreshing.  I was reminded of a cold mountain stream.  I stood and rubbed my hand to warm it up.  The water was moving swiftly and it look really deep as far as I could see both up and down stream.

As I faced the river, with my back to the cliff, the water was flowing to the left.  The other bank was maybe 20 feet away.  I could see the water disappear under the far bank where it continually carved away beneath the grass.  Though the ground I was standing on felt solid, the sight caused me to step back a bit as I imagined the same view below me.  There was a drastic difference in the grass from each side of the river.  My side was lush green, spongy and short.  The far side was a dried brown, overgrown and tall.  The contrast seemed like this side was leeching every bit of nutrients from the water leaving nothing for the rest.  I remembered the dead tree and turned around to look at it.  Another odd contrast; as if the grass itself sucked the life from the tree.  I shook my head.  Where was I?


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continue to part 2- Discombobulation

Twin Falls Hike (Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry)

First stop on Twin Falls hike ... usually missed by other hikers (off the main trail)
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Stop number #2 on Twin Falls hike.
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Stop #3 on the twin falls hike ....
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Same stop (#3) from the top...
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Stop #5 (no pictures of stop #4 ... There were nudists there) .... Were going to swim here, but the kids changed there minds. Caleb slipped in though ...
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Stop #5 "upsteam"
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Stop #6 ... The upper falls ....
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Last Stop ... (back to the first stop) ... to finally swim.
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Literal Video Version

Ever notice how some music videos don't quite seem to match the words of a song?

I recently found a website that strives to make more sense of the confusion. They have taken to re-write the song to have it make more sense for the video that was created.

For example ...

Red Hot Chili Peppers - Under The Bridge: Literal Video Version - watch more funny videos

Head Over Heels: Literal Video Version - watch more funny videos

How Beautiful Are the Feet ....

I remember, a long time ago, a message given by Pat Hamman at Northwest Community Church.  Actually, I don't remember the message, per se, as that I remember an illustration he used in the message.  He quoted Romans 10:15, "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!" (Which, of course, is a quote (paraphrase) of Isaiah 52:7).  I don't remember why he specifically used that illustration, but I do remember that he went on to describe his feet as the ugliest, nastiest feet ... but because "he brought good news", they were beautiful.

I have ugly feet.  I remember thinking (I was probably in my early 20's or late teens), "his feet are probably not as ugly as mine."  Granted I don't have leprosy or any severe foot fungus, but my toes are crooked, my toes are also webbed and I get weird foot sores sometimes.

They are so ugly ...

I have always been self-conscious of my feet.  Growing up in the Northwest, there was rare occasion to have my feet "on display".  Wearing shoes and socks most of the time, they were hidden away.  But then there were times when it couldn't be avoided.  Inevitably, at some gathering of some sort, mostly because of my "webbed" toes, someone (usually family) who had seen them would declare, "You have to see Paul's feet!" 

Am I a novelty!?  To be displayed between the "Bearded Lady" and an "Albino Crocodile"?

I remember one particularly scarring incident.  I was in junior high, and our family went to "Wild Waves" (a water slide park).  My dad and I were going down the big slide over and over.  He was perfecting his method to go faster and relaying to me his trial and errors.  "Get up on your heels and shoulder blades," he proclaimed, "But not too fast, I ran into the person in front of me last time."  I remember standing in line, excited to go faster, probably envisioning an outside pass inside the water tube.  Then all of a sudden, my excitement was deflated.  A couple of girls in the line next to us were snickering and whispering to eachother, "Look at his feet!"  and, "Oh my gosh they are so ugly!"

Combined with my already heightened self-consciousness of being in Junior High, wearing no shirt* and my peculiar feet, I was devastated.  I don't remember much of the rest of our time there, I was depressed and enjoyed none of it.

Fast forward 20 plus years.  We now live in Hawaii, where bare feet and flip flops are everyday things.  There are "Beautiful Feet" everywhere!

Apparently crooked and webbed toes are hereditary.

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*Maybe someday I'll write about why "no shirt" is a self conscious thing ... even to this day.

Kaleidoscope Fun!

Remember when you were a kid and you had (or your friend had) a kaleidoscope?

Word Origin & History - "kaleidoscope" :1817, lit. "observer of beautiful forms," coined by its inventor, Sir David Brewster (1781-1868), from Gk. kalos "beautiful" + eidos "shape" (see -oid) + -scope, on model of telescope, etc. Figurative meaning "constantly changing pattern" is first attested 1819 in Lord Byron, whose publisher had sent him one. Online Etymology Dictionary, © 2010 Douglas Harper

Here's a cool Flash program where now you can make your own!

Ebay to the Rescue

I am no stranger to eBay.  My first feedback from a seller came on 2/12/04 and my first feedback as a seller (from the buyer) was on 3/7/04.  I have purchased over 100 items and sold almost 400.  And at one point, I even had an eBay store.

What, you may ask, am I selling?  Star Trek cards.  Sure, there were a few other items here and there that I have sold.  But by far, of those nearly 400 items I have sold, they are cards from the Star Trek: Customizable Card Gaming series.

As a Star Trek fan ...

... who is the better Captain?

I started collecting these cards a long time ago (1994) along with a good friend of mine.  We would buy packs, trade cards and play against each other.  After I met Mandy (who has her own blog) it faded to the background to be forgotten.  However, I rediscovered them in a box somewhere a few years after we were married.  I remembered enjoying the cards, and though my friend wasn't nearby anymore, I decided to start collecting them again.  Much to the chagrin of my wife and ridicule of my friends and family.

Over the course of time, I bought "lots" of Star Trek cards from eBay or would buy cases of unopened packs to glean what I needed and then resold what I didn't.  That would then fund the next purchase of needed cards. In late 2008 I had collected every single card (over 3500) and all foil versions of any cards that had them.  I even acquired the 25 tournament foil cards (given as prizes to winners of tournaments) even though I never won a tournament, let alone played in one.

Who's the Star Trek geek now?

Now, nearly 2 years after collecting all of those cards I came to a realization:  As a collector, it was the acquiring I enjoyed.  Now that I have them? meh.  They are cool to look at and read how they could be used in strategic game play, but I could never "play" with them all.

Coincidentally, Mandy and I have been looking for things we can sell to provide a financial buffer for those tighter months (every month).  I told Mandy I would start selling off my Star Trek collection to those other collectors that were looking for some of those ellusive cards or sets.

So in June, I started selling on eBay again.  To the right is a summary of how things are selling.  Every week I list a few items, usually a couple of sets and some individual cards.  I should have most of my collection sold by the end of summer.  You can click on the picture to see what is a currently available for sale.  Or, if you are interested in something specific, leave your email in the comments with what you are looking for.  I am ready to wheel and deal.

What's Cool on the Internet?

Every once in awhile I find something cool on the Internet. As I have been pondering why I blog, I thought to my self, "Self, you should share some of those cool things." At the very least it would give me something to write about and share, and at the most enlighten you on things you may or may not have found on your own.

So I am continuing, what has become a regular feature on my blog:

(::disclaimer:: Obviously, this feature is subjective)

So what, you may ask, is worthy enough to be featured in this, er, feature?

Shaun the Sheep

Shaun the Sheep looks like a fairly popular animated series in the UK.  The website has about 60 animated shorts of the escapades of Shaun and his gang.  More than that, though, there are a series of Flash and Shockwave games you can play. 

It was actually the game below I discovered and how I found out about Shaun, Shirley and Timmy.  How many levels can you get through (and how many hints did you have to follow)?

Check out the website, watch a few clips and play a couple games.  Shaun the Sheep ... it's what's cool on the internet.

My Eldest Son - Caleb

I love my first born.  Of course, I love all of my kiddos.  Contrary to what many parents may try to tell you, you love each of your kids differently.  You have different connections with them.  They have different "languages" in which the share their love with you.  There are certainly similarities, but since no child is the same, it is impossible to love them the same.

"Hey Caleb, let me get a picture of you."

"How about a better picture?"

"Nevermind, I'll just use one from awhile ago."

I am the father of four and the first is my son Caleb.  Caleb is named for Caleb in the Bible.  He was one of the twelve spies Moses sent to Canaan to check out the promised land.  Caleb, along with Joshua, were the only two of the twelve that came back with positive, faithful reports of the land.  The other ten bemoaned the people of Canaan being giants and impossible to conquer.

Caleb is the reason all of our kids have Biblical names.  If Caleb had been born a girl, her name would have been Emily.

Caleb is from the Hebrew word Kalebh, literally meaning "dog-like".  My wife (who has her own blog) will try to tell you Caleb means "courageous", but I am not sure where she got that definition from.  The closest, alternate, meaning of Caleb's name I have found is "whole hearted".

With Caleb, we also started our effort to honor our parents.  Each of our kids shares the middle name of one of our parents.  Caleb's is name for my dad:  Caleb Miles Halverson. (Miles, btw, means "soldier".)

I am proud of my son.  He has an honest heart an accepting mind and a empathetic soul.  He has a very sensitive spirit and I pray that I teach and train him well.

Our recent conversations have been about integrity.

I love that Caleb loves things I love.  I understand it is because I am his dad, but it is still cool.  There are many things I can't wait to share with him (like the Matrix) and other things we already enjoy together (like Star Wars and Star Trek).

C ourageous
A ccepting
L oving
E mpathetic
B old

Here is a quick video of him.  Was I ever that goofy?  I love his laugh.