Never Alone

    

Can you recall a defining moment in your life?

Cattle. Cornfields. Rolling hills and gravel roads. These were the backdrop for this farmboy’s formative years. 

Hearing God’s voice was associated with hearing from the adult members of the community. That seemed to be a strong element of faith for the small town I was raised in. I do not recall any emphasis of hearing from the Creator individually, although it may have been present.

Sunday School. I still have images of the many stories of the people of God being led by His voice. Abraham, Samuel, Moses, Daniel, Mary - Then there was Jesus, God Himself living amongst and relating to common everyday people like me. I guess that relational element is what caught my attention as a boy, and later fueled my search for God as a youth.

Culturally, I made myself a target with my lack of hygiene, propensity to lie, and anger issues. In a small class, everyone knows everyone, and the pecking order is very defined. In my class of students, I saw myself as one up from the bottom of the social totem pole. I hated my life. I hated me. I longed for change. 

My non-coveted societal position followed me into my Jr. High years, culminating in a pivotal moment - perhaps THE turning moment of my life.

A large group of us were on a campout at a local State Park. It was a still, frigid October night in Nebraska. The sky was clear. The stars, very bright. The crisp, cold air seemed to intensify the twinkling brightness. 

The smell of harvest was in the air, and the moon lit the path in front of us as our group of nearly 40 moved along through the bright night. 

“Let’s ditch Chris,” someone yelled out, and everyone scattered into the shadows of the trees that cluttered the park.

Normally, I would have given chase. It had become a game of sorts, though “game of survival” was most fitting for me. But that night I decided: I am done running.

Stars, turned fuzzy by the tears in my eyes, filled the beautiful, Autumn night sky.  A tight pain now clenched my throat and heart, threatening to hold my words back. But one escaped in a desperate, tight, raspy cry: “Gohhhd…” 

The prayer itself, as a word, does no justice to the depth of the utterance. For my soul was crying out, “God, if you’re real, I need you now more than ever!  I am alone and I am hurting.”

In that instant (for such things happen in a flash, even though they take up much more space on paper) I heard God:

“I will never leave you.”

These weren't mere words on a page or flannel-graph stories from a loving teacher. They were intimate, resounding in a strangely familiar sound off the walls of the secret place within me, the place where I was first known before even my mother comprehended my existence.

And in that exact, razor-edged moment in time, I knew I was loved and known by My Creator.

You and I are never alone.

Is Progress Debilitating You?

What picture comes to mind when you think of progress? 

It was a very tragic accident, one that I will never forget. One that changed my friend’s life forever. 

I was home on break from my freshman year of college. My home team was playing for the State Championship. Coming from a tiny farming community in the Midwest, I knew everyone on the team. I considered it a real treat to be seated among the spectators that night to watch my people play!

Spirits were high and a buzz filled the air with enough electricity to power a small town.  The teams lined up for the opening kick. 

The ball went up in the air and down the field into the waiting arms of the young return man. He turned his eyes up field and began to make his way through the maze of humanity that was seeking to take him out! My friend was about to be that guy.

With his sights set on the opposing ball carrier, he was about to inflict a manageable amount of pain on this would-be hero who no doubt had notions of a touchdown run emulating him to instant hero status!

Then it happened. 

Shoulders back and head lowered...Head lowered.

As my friend went to make the tackle, he lowered his head. Mass met mass, body parts flailed, and two bodies hit the ground as all momentum came to a screeching halt. In an instant, time stood still. 

He lay there, motionless. 

All the air of anticipation and excitement was instantly sucked out of the atmosphere. The unthinkable had happened. It invaded my friends’ life as an unwanted nightmare. It changed the course of many lives around him too.

My friend redefined determination, courage, and faith as he tackled the many difficulties which that night prescribed for him. His trust in God in the midst of pain and disappointment is a once familiar story which I have lost touch with over the years, yet one that no doubt could be written if not already.

But for us in the here and now, tackling with the head down cost my friend normal use of his legs and arms. 

Remembering this story has me asking the question: What price do you and I pay when approaching life with our heads down, charging ahead to make the next big play without taking the time to keep our heads up and our eyes on what’s in front of us? 

How many times have I just plowed through life without perspective, without taking the time to stop, look and listen - to regain perspective and connection to the bigger picture?

I am coming to understand progress as simply the next step. It would seem the pressure of our day is for that step to come in leaps and bounds, charging forward with our heads down. But what if we were committed to simply taking the next step with more awareness of God and what he is saying and doing around and in us? What if we were more aware of what the very Presence of the Living God was doing in the lives of others, more aware of their stories?

Perhaps gaining this new vantage point could help evaluate tasks in light of the larger context and provide space to readjust goals and realign action items in the journey of getting where we want to be.

What do you think: How might Jesus’ idea of progress differ from that of the world we live in?

As always, I'd love to hear from you! Pull up a chair and leave a comment below.  Or you can message or email me at: eppik5@gmail.com.

Grace to you as you purpose to simply take the next step.

The Power of Choice

I'm choosing to be here.

You know the feeling, don't you?

Struggling to get out of bed after a late night...On a Monday morning! Reluctance to step through the doors into a crowded room of complete strangers. 

What’s your difficult choice?

This morning, mine is choosing to show up to make this next post. 

What is it that makes crossing a simple threshold so intimidating and formidable?

Perfectionism. Procrastination. Chasing runaway ideas and simple activities into the woods of distraction rather than making the hard choice - the oftentimes less adventurous decision to stick to the trail of the task at hand.

There's even a lie within that, isn't there, pitting the concept of "task at hand" against adventure. For the path that i am on as a writer is an adventure in and of itself, new discoveries around every bend. 

On this trek I am always learning about myself and others, about God and vulnerability and transparency. Like the sweat and cramps and shortness of breath that accompany a good hike, these things may not always be comfortable, but they are accepted and sometimes celebrated aspects of journeying through the writing process.

So here I am.

I have chosen to be here, in this place, right now, though my feet are aching, my back is stiff and the rocky, rutted incline on this stretch of the trail makes every step a heavy chore.

It is not glamorous. I am out of breath. But when I make it to the crest of this climb, when I hit that publish button, I will stop and notice the view from there. I will rest a bit and survey the landscape, enjoy the view.

What hard choice have you had to make today?

Pull up a chair and share in the comments below or email me at eppik5@gmail.com. There’s a good story there just waiting to happen, and I’d love to hear it!

Gabriel's Story

On February the 21st 2021 I decided to give my life to Christ.

I was struggling with life. I was scared, confused and lonely.

I've known about Christianity for my entire life.  I just never wanted to believe.

It was like, everyday I lived a life of lies and a life of sin. 

I was scared people would judge me if I was a Christian... and they will. The devil is going to send people and things to bring me down... and I won't let it happen. 

Now that I've made this decision I am not turning back, and that might mean leaving some people behind.  Some of my closest friends might become the people I need to avoid...Or this will bring us closer.closer.

the story behind my decision

I had people picking on me, people bringing me down.  I was depressed and so alone. I felt like everyone was leaving and everyone was just wanting me gone. 

Then I remembered all the people that were for me and not against me, people who were cheering me on...and I wanted to be like that. 

On Sunday, February the 21st, 2021, I started to worship again and I started to journal. 

When service starts ending my pastor says, “The altars are open.” I hesitated for a while, then I told my dad I was going to the altars. He went with me and we prayed.

I thought about all the things I was going through, all the pain, and at that moment I heard God calling my name.  At that moment I decided I was giving my life to Christ. 

And now it's been like two weeks and I've been doing way better.  I've stopped so many things that I should have quit a long time ago. 

I've been journaling and reading scripture. My life is on the right path, finally.

Happy Adopt'cha Day

Honesty: I'm struggling to get out of 

The cadence of poetry.

I want to write a story, 

one about Abby’s adoption,

But the flow of writing sentences is muddled,

Is being hijacked by the rhythm 

of sing-song rhyme.  

The giddy up of poet's line

And lyric and beat and marching of time

Keep cutting in, keep trying to steal this dance

Of the very story I want to write

Of this memory’s great romance.

I want to write of Abby 

and our choice to make her ours.

Of the struggle she knew and how she grew

To meet us where we are.

She came to us with fists clenched tight

Her body tense and her voice at the height

Of piercing ears and grinding nerves

And demanding our attention

A little soul racked by pain 

of another’s ill-intention.

I want to write of that girl, 

whisked away that very day

From a place of harm, 

to our loving arms

By a worker, bless his heart, 

on his very first placement case

A savior of sorts that defining day

Of new stories, of a fresh start.

Holding her, it seemed, was all we could do

my wife always moving, always carrying, 

never putting her down, it seemed.

She cooked with her strapped 

so close to her chest

All day long this momma was nest

That nurtured and coddled and brought back to life

This little baby girl, this tiny precious...life.

Yellow duck raincoat and hot chicken soup

Piano and Sax and ole Ramen noodle

Carving out clay and sucking on things - 

I just took her out and gave her a ring!

We chose her that day and 

we choose her still

We’ll choose her forever,

I know that we will…

...Because we already have.

Can you think of a time when you knew you were chosen? I'd love to hear!

The Power of Good Words

 

Today is launch day!

Many anticipate it. Some prepare for it. But only those being carried by it really appreciate its power, much less it’s risks and it’s rewards.

A few weeks ago I experienced the resurrection of a craft. New life has brought with it many hours of writing already, and goals I had only tinkered with but never dared set. 

Today is the step forward that has been eluding me, and it feels like much more than one foot in front of the other. Today feels a bit more like power, a mighty lift off!

But more than an official publication of my blog, today is about the power of story and words and heart. 

Words have power.

They can set trajectory, carry us away, bring us together, even lift us to a place of greater perspective. We all know their destructive force as well. We’ve all felt that, and sometimes shuddered to hear them passing through our own lips. (Can you relate?)

But today is about words that give life.

Today is about words that move us forward and take us to new heights; words that build and heal and give us courage to face the storms and obstacles that life brings for every human being.

In keeping with the thoughts of C.S. Lewis, today is about good words.  They may not necessarily be safe to our egos and our pride, but they are always good. 

May the words I write here be those kinds of words. May they encourage and raise and give hope to you, the reader, as they do for me in writing them. May they be my story and may you find your own within them.

Most of all, may these words come from a place of connection to a source of power far greater and gentler than a rocket’s blast. May they flow and grow from a soil - not a launch pad - that is well tended, well fed, and deep enough to support what grows above ground. 

May they point us all to Jesus, who’s compassionate strength is all we need to thrive in this world we live in.

Every new seedling, like every rocket, reaches for the sky. 

Will you join me in lifting your head, in turning your eyes to Jesus, the Living Word? He authors our faith. He writes our story. He finishes it and publishes it and puts it on the shelves for all to read so that the whole world can see who He is.

May our stories be His stories!

Where is your faith soaring right now? Where does it need resurrection power? What word would you like to hear right now?

Feel free to share below or email me at: eppik5@gmail.com.