No Locked Doors

My bare back rests against soft flannel sheets that fit snugly over a fluffy pillow-top mattress. Embraced by the darkness, I am alone with the thoughts that challenge much needed sleep and welcomed dreams. The temperature under my down comforter invites a coma like state, but I just can’t seem to achieve it with the swimming pool of “what to do’s,” and, “what I haven’t done’s,” floating past my closed eyes lids. No amount of dancing sheep can save me from the numbers on my glowing alarm clock that rapidly increase against my will. I imagine the clock is a bomb that will detonate once it reaches 08:00. The distraction does not help me to drift away to a dream land in which I can save the day any faster though, so I let it drift into the night that still holds me awake. Anxiety builds within my chest as I begin to pray for a release from my own mind. A prison that I must come to terms with. It is more secure than Alcatraz, better protected than any military installation, and I can never escape, alone.

Instantly I feel the calming presence of the Lord around me, the swimming thoughts and memories sink as His hands lift me up from the depths of my despair and solitude. I begin offering up pieces of myself that would otherwise also weigh me down. Instead of asking the Father to take certain things from me, such as the desire to drink or smoke cigarettes, I offer them to Him. I then ask Christ to fill the void with His peace and His presence. A list of every hurtful desire arises within my brain until I nearly call out to Him in the night without humiliation or shame. Spilling over each downfall I hold on to somewhere within myself, I give them one by one to God almighty. I see myself as if looking down from my bedroom ceiling. My warm body looks like Swiss cheese, but I still give more. The Lord openly takes my guilt, pain, shame, pride, humiliation, neglect, and self-indulgence. He begins to fill me up with Himself. Seeing it with my minds eye, it is still hard to believe, but I see it! The many holes within me are filling up, being replace by the One who holds all the keys and the One who opens all doors.

Waking the next morning, I try figuring out what time I must have finally drifted off to sleep. It does not matter though as I feel more rested and more awake and more alive than I have felt in years. Crawling out from under the heavy covers and off my soft mattress, I fall to my knees on the cold floor. I give thanks and praise to the One who freed me from my prison. A voice is present, not in my ears, but with in my heart. Feeling its presence and touching its words, it speaks to my very soul. “I am always with you and through Me you are free.”

Romans 6:14, Sin is no longer your master, for you are no longer subject to the law, which enslaves you to sin. Instead, you are free by God’s grace.

True to Thee

Matthew 5:45, In that way, you will be acting as true children of your Father in heaven. For He gives His sunlight to both the evil and the good, and He sends rain on the just and on the unjust, too.

Rain pours down outside my bedroom window. It’s one O’clock on the dot and as I sit in the soft glow of the low lighting that surrounds me, I listen to the hum in the air. All is calm within and around me; I’m safe within my sanctuary of solace. The dismal storm that raps against my double pain window reminds me of times not too long ago- times of despair, walking the wet asphalt alone at night drunker than any ten men should be. But the rain tonight is cleansing as it pours down, unable to penetrate my domain. There is a storm outside my window, but tonight, I am dry, and I am not alone.

Staring at the coin my wife bought me when I hit six months of sobriety, I read the words beveled under my thumb, “To Thy Self, Be True”. As my life is not my own, but His, I feel that I must be true to myself, by being true to Him. I am no longer the man that walks the wet streets of downtown Portland after closing time, wandering and stumbling in search of somewhere to pass out. Dishonesty with myself told me that I was okay. Now, holding tight to the cold metal coin in my palm, how could I have ever thought that was “normal” behavior?

I’m in the eye of a new storm. One that has awakened my soul. The wind that howls around me penetrates every atom that I am made up of. That force is the Lord. Rain drenches my clothes and soaks my skin. That moisture is every tear I cried that Christ still holds in His hands, released upon me to remind me of where I’ve been. Coldness strikes my bones, allowing me to remember the warmth of His embrace. This is the cradle of His love. A truth is found in the eye of His hurricane. If I’m still, I can hear it. More than that, I can feel it calling to me, this truth. It says, “To Thy Self, Be True”.

In knowing you my Lord, let me find my true self. I praise you for weathering the storm with me. Your Holy Spirit reminds me tonight, that I am not alone. Amen!

Luke 22:28, For you have remained true to me in my time of trial.

His Love, My Passion

2 Corinthians 13:13, May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.

There is a part of me that loves customer service and sales because I love being able to make people happy. I would not say that I love to work, so much as I love performing actions that lead to an end result. The end result is always love in one form or another. If I sell someone a product that will enrich their lives and brings them happiness, I have manifested love. That is a job I can find passion in.

Passion is what actually drives anyone to do anything. Going to work just to make a paycheck is an excuse, and a bad one at that. The truth is, there is a passion behind the need to make that pay check. Whether it is to provide for your family or to simply buy things to impress the world around us, there is still passion there. And the passion is love or the need to feel loved. One example could be: Your data entry employee, who loves his or her job, does not actually get a warm-fuzzy feeling from plugging numbers for eight hours a day. The passion is in the end result that gets them acknowledged for a job well done (love), and earns a wage to take to the bank in order to provide a future for his or her children (again, love).

It brings me so much pleasure to show my wife love and affection. There is nothing I would not do to make her happy. Aimee is the cheese to my macaroni and God is the butter and milk that binds us together. The passion that drives our relationship is love. As God is love, may I recognize that it is His passion in all that I do.

John 2:17, Then His disciples remembered this prophecy from the Scriptures: “Passion for God’s house burns within me.”