Confessions: Conviction

From the depths of my soul, it rose

Sending whispers to my mind

With the great power of a sword,

Driving to my heart’s core,

It laid bare my intentions and desires,

My thoughts and treasures

Never before had I seen such uninvited force…

What is its source? Who wields its power?

Maybe it’s just the atmosphere

Playing jokes with my head…

So I’ll calmly ignore the call

And turn away from the mirror…

………………………………………………

Ironed black slacks and a button-up shirt, while sporting the classic Doc Martins’ or Shetchers’ black dress shoes.

Hair perfected to its position with a combination of gel and hairspray. You can say this is because my mom and dad taught me two different ways of styling hair.

A smile, to defer attention away from me to my parents.

Yes, this is a pastor’s kid getting ready for Sunday morning.

It would be impossible to count the number of sermons, conventions, Sunday School classes, or other church related activities that I have sat through.

You learn to figure out the point of the sermon in the first few minutes just by the name of the sermon and the verse being read.

“Nothing new”

“Heard it before.”

“What haven’t I heard?”

Having grown up in a very Christian family environment, the Bible was never far from conversation.

In fact, a simple family dinner could turn into a theological discussion about church or why so-and-so needs to come to church or how this person is a bad person.

When you spend the first 15 years of your life as a pastor’s kid, you think that somehow you have a head start on this thing called life.

That somehow you are on an A-list of Christians

It is this weird self-righteous thing…that unfortunately, I probably thought at one time.

And maybe, down somewhere deep inside, I still struggle with.

And you may not be a pastor’s kid, but maybe you are there too.

Thinking that you are in the right. Thinking you have the right view. Thinking that you are the one that is keeping this world sane. That so-and-so needs to see through your eyes.

Thinking you know it all.

I still have that thought from time to time.

The thought that I do know better than others

The thought that I have heard it all before

The thought that you can’t teach me anything

I can get so stuck in my ways of thinking, so stubborn with my beliefs and opinions

That it seems like I truly am the center of the world

That God is after my glory

…

You ever really look at yourself in the mirror?

I mean like examine every detail about you

It’s haunting isn’t it?

The third-person perspective

What you thought you looked like in a moment is completely erased by the image you see before you.

Immediately, you start adjusting your hair or your clothes so that you don’t look ridiculous.

It’s almost instantaneous

This thought rising to your head

This conviction.

“Something isn’t right.”

There is this vision you have of the way things are supposed to be, and you seek to make things right.

Try it. I dare you.

Conviction.

Now, imagine that you see all of these things about yourself but do absolutely nothing to fix it. You, in fact, have the thought that something is not right, but are overjoyed just with the fact that you noticed something was wrong. You even praise yourself for having the thought, though you didn’t conjure it up yourself.

…

So there I am, a pastor’s kid.

Church attendee. Leading worship in youth and Sunday morning service.

Doing dramas for church and such.

Sermons and Sunday Schools fly by. Too many to count. I hear the same stories over and over.

But every so often…

A word is spoken that strikes to my heart…

“Something isn’t right…”

“I don’t read my Bible…”

“I talk bad about others…”

“I don’t tell others about Jesus…”

“I don’t feed the hungry…”

“I don’t do all of these things that Jesus said would be signs of being his disciple…”

“Am I really following after him?”

“Something isn’t right…”

“This reflection in the mirror is not the person that I am supposed to be…”

It hits my mind like a load of bricks

And yet, I stood there, seeing my flaws and all, and was impressed with myself that I felt so convicted.

That I had the right feelings.

That I had the right heart towards the things of God.

I turned away from the mirror, and ignored the image I saw.

Never turning back to right the wrongs.

I deceived myself into thinking the mirror would fix it’s own problems and that the image would change over time.

It took 19 years of my life to realize that conviction is not enough.

That the mirror is doing its job.

But I wasn’t doing mine.

Conviction doesn’t save. It only points out the issues.

God says to not only hear his word but do it.

Otherwise, you are like a person who looks square into a mirror and yet ignores the reality that you are in need of serious repair.

Conviction is not the end, but a means to the End.

Stop praising your feelings and start looking in the mirror.

It will point out your need of a Savior. 

Questions: Power or Illusion

“Ta-Dah…(laugh) It’s gone…”

Magic.

I am captivated by magic tricks.

The disappearing of dice, balls, helicopters, humans. The retrieval of a specific card out of its deck. The bullet catch. The ingestion of billiard balls. The quick change.  The walking through walls. The transportation of a coin from a hand to underneath the skin. The pocket thief.

My eyes are glued to the magician’s every move, waiting to see if I can catch a glimpse of his “powers”.

How does he do it?

I would sit for hours, dumb-founded trying to understand these seemingly impossible feats.

“Where did the card go? How did he cut that person in half? Did he really just guess that person’s driver license number? Could this be real?”

This is what I wanted to do with my life. Magic. This must be what true power felt like.

But then…I learned.

Misdirection.

The look over here as I slip this card into my pocket. The switch off of balls into different cups. The mirrors. The curtains. The secrets.

The illusion.

There is something still mesmerizing about magic, except now I’m not looking to be amazed. I’m looking for the secret. The catch. The scam.

It was a letdown, to know that behind this amazing feat, was just fakeness.

The illusion of power

“Is there such thing as real power?”

That was my question. All of these tricks must be based on something real, right? It can’t all be counterfeit.

And maybe that’s what I thought of God growing up.

The Ultimate Magician.

That if I asked him to make this or that appear or disappear, he was at my beck and call to use his mighty powers.

The give me peace right now. The help me remember everything so I will pass this test. The give me the lead part in the school play. The let this song or text bring me comfort and joy. The bring money to me so I don’t have to worry about finances.

I would sit in church, youth service, my bed. Anxiously anticipating these supernatural signs that would bring me peace about his existence and about my life.

I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited.

The letdown came.

Did God really have that power?

Or was it just an illusion?

Was I getting fooled as others made fun of belief in Him?

It seemed like this power wasn’t real.

That everything was, simply put, just an illusion.

Ever been there?

All these questions of how and why and seemingly no answer or response?

That maybe you've been fooled?

Been there. It’s not fun. At all.

But…the truth is…this power… God’s power

It’s not an illusion.

It’s real. The magicians wish they had these powers but they can’t touch it.

You may ask: how do I know that it’s real?

Let me tell you

2012 has been a year for the history books for my family.

No, we aren’t starving in a third world country.

No, I’m not in danger of losing my life on a daily basis.

No, I am not struggling (currently) to pay for bills.

But this has, by far, been the most trying year of my life.

In January, my grandma passed away.

I have had two family members get engaged and begin full time work to try and support their loved ones.

I have dated and broken up.

I have graduated from college, and seen my younger bro graduate from high school and move off to college.

My older bro had kidney stone surgery , twice.

My great grandma passed away last week.

I could go on…

And yet through all the tribulation, something deep inside has kept us all grounded. Our heads above water. A peace which passes all understanding…

Where did that come from?

There is no illusion. There is peace. But how? Why? Where?

His power.

Still think I’m fooled?

I was driving home with my stuff loaded up in my car from college. I was about to embrace being an adult. I had no idea as to where to start, what jobs to apply for, what I should be doing.

It was emotionally draining since I knew that I may never see some of my college friends again. And that’s when it started.

My battery light came on. This car had been through a lot but nothing seemed this severe before. That light could have come at a worse moment. I called my college roommate and asked him what he thought was wrong. In mid conversation, my check engine light comes on and my AC gives out.

I’m in nowhere Oklahoma. What am I supposed to do? He tells me to pull of the road. I call my mom to explain the situation, which she is not too happy to hear. My roommate calls me and tells me to go down one more exit to some shop he found online. So I do it.

I get to the shop and they tell me both my belt lines need to be replaced. And this is where the real magic happened….

The owner of the store, as we are talking about the car, asks me where I was headed (Flower Mound) , what college I went to and I say OU. He asks what I did in college, and ashamed, I say theater. He kinda laughs, which confused me.

I sit down, trying to figure out what has gone wrong with my life. The owner walks out with the bill and, I kid you not, this is what happened:

Owner: “The reason I asked you all that stuff is that I am on a board at a theater in Lewisville (town next to Flower Mound) and we are looking for young people who are interested in directing? Are you interested?”

Me “Yeah!”

Owner: “Do you have a resume?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry I don’t.”

Owner: “ That’s ok.  (pulls out business card and writes on back) Here is who you need to get in touch with and their email. And if you can’t reach them, then here is my personal information. We will work something out.” (Smiles)

Me: (on the verge of tears) “Thank you so much!”

Owner: “And it’s a good thing you graduated from OU because that’s where I graduated too.”

…

Power or illusion?

I never knew about this theater before happening to breakdown in Ardmore, Oklahoma, and pulling up to this mechanic shop.

I have now been employed by this theater, teaching middle school and high school students drama every Monday night. And my pursuit, before ever knowing about this theater or this job, was to be a high school theater teacher.

Just when I thought I was broken, lost, and abandoned, I saw the power. Like 2 Corinthians 4. I am the jar of clay and His power, His Spirit, is the treasure.

I guess it’s not an illusion of power but the power of the illusion.

When I’m weak, You are strong. 

Questions: Limbs to Lose

April 26, 2003 was just a normal day.

Aron Ralston was just a normal guy.

Escaping from the push and shove of his daily life, Aron took a trip to Blue John Canyon.

He was head-over-heels in love with spectacle of the mountains and cherished the thrill of scaling every nook and cranny he could navigate.

Blue John Canyon was a frequent getaway spot for Aron.

Trying to avoid any distractions from the outside world, Aron told no one where he was headed. With his gear packed and heart pumping with excitement, Aron began his hike into the canyon.

8 miles in from his car.

All was normal. The weather. The view. Everything.

One step changed everything.

While descending into a slot canyon, Aron stepped on a boulder, dislodging it. The boulder came slamming down on Aron, pinning his right arm between the boulder and the canyon wall.

Stuck.

With 350 ml of water left and two burritos in his backpack, Aron assumed his chances were grim.

But he didn’t give up.

Using all of the supplies in his backpack, Aron used any method to try and free his arm in whatever shape it was.

He tried to break the boulder. He created a pulley system to try and lift the boulder. For three days, Aron desperately tried to break out.

No success.

Day four: he knew what he had to do. He had to cut his arm off.

All he had was a cheap pocketknife. Though he made a few initial cuts to his arm, Aron realized the tool would not be strong enough to cut through the bone.

So he stopped.

Day five: Aron ran out of water and started drinking his own urine. He had settled into the reality of his death. He began to film his goodbyes to his family on the video camera that he had brought along. He etched his name into the canyon wall, listing his birth date and his predicted death.

He fell asleep, not intending to wake up.

…

Day six: Aron wakes up.

 Aron has an epiphany. He breaks his ulna and radius. With a dull two-inch knife, he performs the amputation, taking almost an hour to do so.

Now, he is free…but stuck in a canyon, 8 miles from his car. And no cell phone

With his one good hand, Aron climbs out of the canyon in which he was stuck in, rappels down a 65-foot sheer wall one handed, and begins to search for help.

Miraculously, a family from the Netherlands is hiking nearby and spots Aron. They provide him with food and water. And then, a helicopter spots Aron and the family from the sky. He is lifted up and taken to a hospital.

I find myself stuck.

Trapped.

Pinned.

I’m fighting desperately to keep my limbs in tact.

“I don’t think that I could live without them,” I tell myself.

But I’m bleeding out.

I’m dehydrated.

What am I to do?

This boulder is in the way. That’s the problem.

I’m not trying hard enough.

Let me do these good deeds, and let me chant a few prayers.

Let me sing a few songs, and let me read from this book.

I don’t want to think about surrendering that which is made me, me.

I don’t want to sacrifice the habit of thinking whatever way I feel like.

I don’t want to sacrifice my freedom to say whatever I am feelin’

I don’t want to sacrifice my lifestyle of comfort and self-pleasure

Give me a new behavior, but not a change of heart

Give me green pastures and the still water, but not the valley of the shadow of death

Give me freedom, but don’t give me Jesus.

…

But as much as I try, this boulder ain’t going nowhere.

I’m stuck.

But don’t get my started about losing these limbs, I would rather die.

…

What are you willing to do in order to survive?

To live?

To find life?

Maybe not it’s a limb to lose, but maybe it’s a habit

Maybe it’s not your physical death but your spiritual death that is looming

…

Are you holding on to things instead of breaking free?