Face

/ Clay D. / Leave a comment

I gaze at my reflection in the mirror.  I wonder who I am, if I am worthy.  I wonder what other people think of me.

I was probably a preteen when I remember first staring at myself long and hard.  I was riding down the highway with my older brother, peering into the car’s mirror.  I remember thinking that I had soft, feminine features.  I didn’t look like a man.  Of course, I was not a man, not like my brother was, but I felt that I should have looked more masculine.  My pudgy, round face and red cheeks were completely opposite of how I wanted to look.  My narrow, pink lips and long eyelashes (the ones my mother had always made such a fuss over – “Look how LONG they are!”) certainly did not help my cause.  In fact, after I had stared at my face for quite awhile, feature by feature, my visage sort of morphed into that of a girl.  My mind asked, What if I was a girl?  This face would be OK if I was.  I would make a better girl than boy.  

And no, I am not transgender – never have been, never will be.  It just seemed at this time that my face was not suited to sitting on a boy’s body.  The rest of me was very boyish.  I was husky (fat if you will), with broad shoulders and strong arms.  It was my soft, fragile face that belied me.

Even today, if I pause long enough to study my features in the mirror, my face doesn’t look strong.  I still have a chubby face and rosy red cheeks, only now I have crow’s feet, bags under my eyes, and graying sideburns to go along with them.

I suppose everyone says it at one time or another, but this face has seen a lot.  For 43 years it has presented me to the world, everyone who I have come in contact with.  It’s been with me through all the bad days, as well as the few good ones.

I have a small scar right beside my right eye.  When I was about four, I was running in the back of my father’s drugstore, where all the medicine bottles were kept on tall metal shelves.  I tripped and smacked my face right into one of the shelves.  I cried, man oh man did I cry.  They were huge, soppy tears that went on for a good while.  I don’t remember anything about the incident after that, but I must have gone to the town doctor to get stitches.  At any rate, the scar is not something I ever thought about growing up – it was just part of me, not something to be embarrassed about.  Later, in my teenage years, someone asked me about it, and I told them the story of how it happened.  Then I realized that the scar kind of made me bad, the good kind of bad.  I had a war wound in a visible place, almost like a tattoo must make you feel when you show it off for the first time.

I have another small scar below my lower lip.  I have no idea how I got it.  I don’t remember getting it – I just remember one day looking in the mirror and there it was.  How could I never have noticed it before?  I do not know.

My nose is crooked.  I noticed for the first time in high school.  My girlfriend’s friend was looking straight on at me in class one day when she remarked, “Your nose is crooked.”  I went home and looked in the mirror later, and agreed, that yes, it is indeed crooked, pointing slightly to my left.  It’s not extremely noticeable, but easily spotted once you’re looking for it.  Once again, I don’t know if it has always been like that, or if some long-forgotten face smash left me that way.  To this day, my wife swears that she broke my nose when we were wrestling one night, and that it has been crooked ever since.  Yes, her foot whacked me soundly right on the side of my snout, causing a loud “pop”, but my nose was crooked long before that night.

I have a unibrow.  It first became prevalent when I hit puberty.  My father used to say that it made me look mean, like a bulldog I’m guessing.  He meant it in a kidding sort of way.  As I went through high school and on into college, I became more self-conscious of it.  The thought of shaving it never really entered my mind.  That was just something you didn’t do.  If you had a unibrow, then you had a unibrow.  Finally, in my senior year of college, as I was making arrangements to attend seminary (which I never did do), I shaved it right before heading to the seminary for a get-acquainted weekend.  I wanted the people there to think I was a happy, light-hearted person, and I thought that shaving it would help lessen the impact of my thick eyebrows and my eyes, which I thought sat too far back in my head.  I don’t know if it worked or not.

My left earlobe is bigger, redder, and puffier than my right one.  I first noticed this about 16 years ago.  I was looking in the mirror and as I was studying the symmetry of my face, I noticed that there was no symmetry in my ear lobes.  Somehow, without my knowledge, the left one had developed a noticeable droop and was puffier than the other one, like some sort of amorphous blob.

I may have other notable facial characteristics, or perhaps they are already there and I haven’t noticed them yet.  At any rate, my face, as with all faces, has evolved into something more than what it once was.

When we’re children, our faces are bright and smooth, without the cares of the world chiseled into them.  As we go through life, our faces grow and change along with our minds and the rest of our bodies.  They become layered with age; we have wrinkles, moles, freckles, scars, and sun damage that all add to the painting that is our face.

A great artist begins his portrait with a one dimensional drawing of a face, then one by one paints in the features that make the individual unique.  The experience of life does that same thing to our faces. They have much more and are much more in our later years than we can ever imagine as a child.  It is fascinating to me to look at an adult’s childhood picture, with its young, clean face, and see how time and genetics have layered on the characteristics that slowly transform a girl into a woman and a boy into a man.

Who knows what my face will look like in 20 or 30 years?  It will still be me, only with more stuff added on.  Just as my face right now is the most complex it has ever been, my face then will be an even more complex masterpiece, slowly created through the process we call living.

A Special Night

/ Clay D. / Leave a comment

My father was not one to laugh a whole lot, at least in the company of others.  Most of the time he seemed weighed down by the pressures of his life – our home, his business, other financial matters perhaps.  It is for this reason that I so fondly remember those few times that he laughed heartily around us.

One of these times was the first night that our home had cable television.  Our tiny, rural town had just been connected to a cable network and our house had been hooked up earlier on that late September afternoon in 1982.

We had experienced cable before, especially me.  My sister had gone away to college a few years earlier and when I went to visit her, I would always stay up as late as possible, watching HBO and whatever else I could find on her TV.  I was especially excited because we now had not one, but three premium movie channels to choose from, as well as several other standard cable channels of that time – TBS, USA, ESPN, and others.

That night came our first opportunity to dive into the world of cable television together as a family.  The movie “Airplane!” was on HBO.

Mom and I were watching it in our den and Daddy was watching it in his room.  He always watched TV in his room by himself at night.  I think that was his way of escaping away by himself.  He had to deal with people all day at work, so that was his time to relax and be himself.  As my mom and I watched “Airplane!”, every so often he would walk through the den and ask us if we’d seen such and such part of the movie.  Yes we had.  A couple of times we laughed about one scene or another.

Finally, he decided to stay in the den and watch the movie with us.  He rarely sat down in the den at night.  Come to think of it, he rarely sat down in the den at all.  At any rate, I remember thinking that it was nice that we could all sit there and watch TV together. We three kept laughing at all the funny parts of the movie.

Finally, one scene pushed us over the edge.  We lost it when a lady on board the plane has a panic attack and the stewardess (as they were called in that day – now they are “flight attendants”) begins slapping her face to calm her down.  The camera pans down the inside of the plane, and we see a line of people waiting to get their turn at her.  They are all holding something – a wrench, a baseball bat, a crowbar .  The three of us were rolling with laughter.  I looked over at Daddy and he was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.  I remember that he had to take off his glasses so he could wipe them with the handkerchief he always kept handy in his pocket.  I don’t think I ever saw him laugh so hard as he did at that moment, either before or after.  It was a great evening to be together as a family.

Every time I think about “Airplane” that special night comes to mind.  It reminds me that there are many good times to be had in life.  Sometimes they’re planned, and other times they just happen.  And sometimes you don’t realize they’re happening until long after they’ve ended.

Baby’s Feet and Baptism

/ Clay D. / Leave a comment

Recently I was sitting in church at one the many round tables situated in the room.  Directly in front of me a young mother had placed her baby in its car seat with its tiny feet pointing in my direction.  As much as I tried to ignore them, I was captivated by the precious, perfect little feet.  The child, who was probably only a few weeks old, was covered with a blanket all except for his little feet.  They were poking out and squirming back and forth innocently.  Try as I might, I was drawn in by the simplicity and innocence of these tiny feet.  Of course, they reminded me of my own children’s feet many years ago.  Something about the little feet and toes, coupled with just barely being able to see the child’s perfectly round little head, brought me extreme joy.  The innocence and beauty of the scene captivated me.

On the screen in front of the auditorium a video clip from the previous week’s service played showing a special needs boy being baptized.  Watching him proclaim his faith in Jesus and knowing that he was now a part of the kingdom of God brought was a big joy point for me.  I found myself in tears (small as they might have been).  My emotions were stirred by the combination of the baby’s tiny feet, along with this young man receiving Christ.  I didn’t fight the emotion, or the tears, but allowed myself to experience this moment fully.  I dabbed at my eyes without embarrassment, living fully in the moment.

An Answer to The Lazy River

/ Clay D. / Leave a comment

Wow.  There is so much hurt in that piece.  So much pain shows through.  I must have really been hurting when I wrote that.  But it was the truth – that is how I felt at that time, as well as many times before that and many times after.  It is hard to know how to formulate an answer to that diatribe.  It is all so raw and heartfelt.  If I were reading it and knew that someone else had written it (instead of me), I wouldn’t want to jump in on top of him quoting Bible verses and telling him how he’s wrong.  That wouldn’t do any good at all, but would most likely alienate him more, driving him further away from God.

I guess one of the first things I’ll say in response is that God has been gracious in allowing me to see a different way to look at life and life events over the last few months.  Don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I’ve got everything all figured out by any means.  But I have been blessed to read books, listen to audio, and take part in exercises that are designed to give one a more proactive, healthier approach to dealing with life.  I’ve still got a very long way to go, but just learning about these methods and beginning to use them to a degree has already made a noticeable impact on my thought patterns.

Life may still seem like a lazy river full of people from all different walks of life, but I would say that now I view the scene much differently.  If asked to describe the lazy river experience now, I would say first of all that there’s much I don’t know and don’t understand about the “ride”.  I don’t fully understand why we’re all on the ride, other than that God created us and started us all at the beginning of the ride.  For many different reasons (reasons that have taken up books and books of explanation), we don’t all begin with the same equipment, and along the way our experience may change dramatically, either for better or for worse.

For example, at the beginning of the ride we may be floating merrily along on a fine inner-tube, only to have it punctured by a low-hanging limb or other unforeseen object, leaving us drifting in the water.  On the other hand, we may find an orphaned pair of sunglasses lying on the edge of the water and, stretching with all our might, manage to snag them as we pass by.  Now we have protection from the sun for our weary eyes.  Are these all happenstance events?  I believe ‘no’ is the correct answer, as God orchestrates everything in our lives according to His will.  We will never understand it all while we’re alive on this earth, and maybe we won’t even understand once those of us who have chosen Christ reach Heaven, but it is truth to say that God’s plan includes us, and in the end all works out for the best to those who have placed their trust in Him.

Yes, I know this all sounds very high and mighty, and I struggle with this truth often – very, very often.  But somewhere deep down inside I know that this IS truth and that if I hold fast to it, I will be OK.  Quite often the flesh part of my nature is not satisfied with trusting in God, and instead wants to rebel and whine about why something is the way it is when it doesn’t make sense that way.

But in the end I must simply trust God.  What other choice do I have, or anybody else for that matter?  We are here, like it or not, and I believe it is in our best interest to align ourselves with the Creator of all this that we see.  But it goes beyond merely aligning ourselves with God.  We are commanded to worship Him, giving Him the honor He deserves.  We are His created beings, designed and built to worship and serve.  Now, I will be the first to tell you that these ideas often do not sit well with me.  God knows this, so it’s no surprise to Him.   For a good part of my life I have felt that I was entitled to do my own thing.  So that’s what I have done, for the most part.  Oh, I’ve tried to include God along the way, hoping that His plans would fit in with mine.  Sometimes they have, but it seems like more often than not I am on my own, wondering what ended up happening, and wondering why God did not give me clear direction.  Obviously, this is no way to live.  Unfortunately, this has pretty much been my story since my late teen years.

This is why I say that we really have no choice but to try it God’s way.  He tells us over and over in the Bible to trust Him.  Proverbs 3:5-6 is one of my life verses.  It’s the one I go back to time and time again when I finally realize that I don’t have all the answers and that maybe there is a better way.  “Ooooh yeaaaaaah – trust God.  I had forgotten all about that. Let’s give it a try.”

I can’t say that every situation has always worked out the way I wanted it to or thought that it would, but somehow everything has always worked out.  Most of the times the terrible outcomes that I’ve built up so much in my mind never come to pass.  It seems that it’s not so much that there’s increasing suspense, with a grand moment waiting to find out the outcome of a situation.  It’s more like the whole thing evolves into something different, so much that the original fear and anxiety melt away as the situation becomes something else altogether.  This is simply my casual observation, and may not hold true for others.

Back to the lazy river analogy.  As I’m floating along, I simply must trust God that He knows what He’s doing.  I believe it is to my advantage to praise Him and thank Him throughout the ride.  By acknowledging His workmanship in the beautiful clouds overhead, or the birds chirping in the trees along the bank, not only am I give Him honor and praise, I’m also helping myself by keeping my thoughts focused on the positive things in life, instead of the negative.  It is no coincidence that this action agrees with Paul’s commands in Philippians 4:8 to do just that.

No only is it disobedience to God in the form of envy, it will do me no good to look around at the other riders and compare my circumstances with theirs.  No matter if they appear better off, or worse, I will have more joy and worship God more fully by showing my gratitude for what I have, trusting God all the while.

At the end of the lazy river ride, however, is when the fun really begins – at least for those of us who have made Jesus our Lord and call ourselves Christ-followers.  We will all have to wait patiently and endure until that day..

The Lazy River

/ Clay D. / 1 Comment

Below is a piece I wrote a few months back, when I was in a much different place spiritually and emotionally.  I’m posting it here now because when I recently went back and reread it, I was stunned by the raw emotion within it.  I have edited it only slightly for content, so please forgive the grammar.  I have written a response to this piece, which follows this post.

 

I want to believe and trust in you Lord.  I want so badly for this to be the norm to be who I am just like it was years and years ago – back when it was easy to trust you and I didn’t question everything.  I just took your word as it came, realized and accepted that the promises were for me and carried on with life, trusting you for things. Oh, it wasn’t always that easy and simple – by no means was it that way.  But at several points in my life it WAS that way, I did trust you and feel one with you, believing that you had my best interests at heart, believing that you loved me and cared for me.  I guess deep down I still believe those things – that you want only the best for me.  However, it’s so easy now to doubt all that.  I’ve been through so many trials, so much heartache, so much pain and numbing depression for so long that I can’t help but doubt, can’t help but wonder what the reason is for all this.  I wonder what purpose you could possibly have in mind for all this.  I wonder why you don’t make it all go away.  I believe that you have the power to make it disappear once and for all.  You have the power to enable me to enjoy life, to begin each day knowing that there’s a reason, a purpose that I got out of bed, that it’s not just another random day in my boring, monotonous life.  I believe that you can do all this, so why don’t you?  Why don’t you allow me some happiness like I used to have in my life?  Why did I have to peak at 13, 14, 15?  I’m now 42 – that’s a long time to struggle and be unhappy.  Yes, I’ve had a few good times, but they have been few and far between.  And lately they’ve been very few with a lot of in between.  I remember Daddy sitting on the carport almost every night after work, after a swig or two of whiskey.  He’d drink coffee and smoke, just staring off into the distance toward the end of the lot.  What was he thinking about all these years, when he was 50 or 60 years old? – after I’d already come onto the scene.  Was he pondering his failures in life?  Was he wishing that he’d never contracted TB and had to leave the city, bitter that he was living out his life in a podunk little town?  Probably he thought about all these things and many more which I’ll never know about, never coming close to thinking about.  What deep, dark secrets had he packed away in his head?  The bigger question is this: will I be doing this same thing for the rest of my life?  Will I sit and stare and ponder and regret and wish and hope – not dreaming, because those days are long past.  It is too late for dreams now.  They are things for youth, those who have energy and zest for life, those who have not been weighed down by heartache and pain and disappointment and depression for decades.  For years now I have sat outside, mostly in the evenings, pondering, regretting, mournful about the past, bitter about the future, feeling stuck in a drab, joyless existence for the rest of my days – feeling powerless to change anything in my life, resigned to accept what I’ve got and drift along with the current through the rest of the lazy river of life, until I reach the end and have to turn in my innertube.  It’s not been a fun ride.  I thought these things (life) were supposed to be pleasant, relaxing, enjoyable.  I look around and see others taking pleasure in their ride.  They’re laughing with family and friends, enjoying a cool drink along the way, kicked back on their innertube, sunglasses and sunscreen on to protect them from too much of a good thing.  Then I look at myself — I have none of those things.  Yes I have a family to enjoy (which I do), but no cool drink, no sunglasses, no sunscreen.  I’m squinting from the glare all the way around the path.  And I’m not even on the innertube, just holding on with one arm while in the water, shoulders getting more and more sunburned.  Yes, there are others I notice who don’t even have an innertube.  They’re dog paddling, trying to stay afloat and conserve their energy at the same time, hoping not to get a cramp before they reach the end.  Looking at their plight does, in a way, make me thankful for my innertube to hang on to, thankful for my family to talk to.  But, it also causes me to question the ride, the whole experience.  Why do these people have so little, when others have so much?  Why is that elderly man so miserable on his journey, fighting to keep his head above water with nothing to grasp on to, when just a few feet away a 20-something sips his lemonade, holds hands with his young wife, and playfully dangles his feet in the same water which threatens to overtake the old man?  Why was he not given an innertube as well?  It doesn’t seem fair.  Oh, I know – nobody ever said life was fair.  But what about the fact that none of us even asked to get on this ride?  We didn’t sign up for it, not me, not the old man, not the 20-something.  We all just somehow found ourselves here, only in vastly different circumstances.  We didn’t ask to get on the ride, and we can’t get off the ride (oh, there’s a way, but it’s not desirable).  The old guy can question aloud why he didn’t get an innertube, but nobody has acknowledged him yet, much less given him any relief.  I’d like to have some sunglasses, even a cheap dollar store pair, but so far nothing.  I squint while another smiles with ease.

Shrink Wrap

/ Clay D. / Leave a comment

Ronnie nervously slid onto the therapist’s couch.  No matter how many times he came here he never quite got used to it.  The room’s darkness and odd, musty smell always reminded him of his grandparents’ cellar when he was a boy.  It was almost comforting in a way, taking him back across the years to gentler, less anxious times.

After a couple of minutes of compulsory small talk, Dr. Melling changed tones.  “Well, Ronnie, what has been on your mind?  What would you like to talk about today?

Ronnie fidgeted nervously.  “Well, God I guess.  I mean, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about how I view God, about how I see myself in relation to Him.  That’s been on my mind a lot the last few days.”

“God.  I see.  Tell me more about what you’ve been tossing around in your mind then.”

“Well, I don’t really know how to begin – seems like I never do.”  Clasping his hands behind his head and relaxing a bit, Ronnie continues.  “These anger issues that I’ve been dealing with all these years – it seems like lately they’ve been getting worse.  We talked about all that last time I think.  Anyway, I’ve been trying to figure out what it is that triggers these outbursts that I seem to have no control over.  It seems like the least little thing sends me off – somebody cuts me off in traffic, I spill something on my shirt or bump my knee on my desk.  I may not consciously realize it at the time, but the first thought that goes through my mind when something like that happens is, There goes God.  He did this.  He’s testing me again.  It’s like, when something goes wrong in my life, I automatically attribute that to God.”

Sensing a pause in Ronnie’s thoughts, Dr. Melling interrupted.  “So what you believe is happening is that either consciously or subconsciously you blame God anytime an event happens to you that you feel is bad or negative.”

“Yes, I guess that’s the best way to put it.  I don’t know why I believe this and  I certainly don’t know why God would be testing me in this way.  It’s hard for me to wrap my head around this.  What I’m saying is, on the most superficial level reason tells me that it is God testing me.  It may be that He has some ideal in mind of what I’m supposed to be and through these “trials”, or whatever they are, He is trying to mold me into that.  I’ve always heard that God is more interested in your character than your comfort.

Stroking his chin thoughtfully, Dr. Melling repeated, “More interested in your character than your comfort. Interesting.  Go on.”

“Like I said, when something negative happens to me, sometimes I’ll just lose it.  Snap. Like that.  It feels like I have all this frustration and rage boiling just beneath the surface.  I do pretty well to keep it in check most of the time.  I can smile and go along with a lot of things.  But when I feel like there’s been one more injustice forced on me, I snap.  In the back of my mind it’s like I’m telling God through my anger that I’ve had it with His games – that I hate them, I’m sick of them, and I’m going to yell and curse to show Him how much I mean it.  I know it’s wrong to lash out like that, but I’ll admit, it gives me a feeling of being in control.  Sometimes I don’t feel very much control in my life.  Maybe I’m using anger as a way to give myself some measure of power back in my life, or even to put some distance between myself and God.  Does this make any sense?

“Well, yes, I believe it does.  I believe I understand precisely what you’re saying.  You’re being passive-aggressive with God, Ronnie.  More importantly, however, is do you understand what you’re saying?  After all, that’s the most important thing.”

“I believe I do,” continued Ronnie.  “I’m just not sure what to make of this battle that’s raging inside my head.  What I’m saying is, when I really stop and think about what I believe to be true, that is, on the deepest level, I don’t really think that God has it in for me.  Sure, He may send trials my way to help mold me into who He wants me to be – I’ve always been taught that – but deep down I guess I believe that He has my best interests in mind.

Ronnie paused for a moment, lost in thought.  The doctor chose not to interrupt this time.  “But you know,” he continued while staring at the floor, “what really bothers me I guess is that even though God may not be sending these things my way directly, why doesn’t He do something about preventing those things that do happen to me?  I understand that these things may come into my life for a purpose, but I simply can’t get past the fact that I feel like a lab rat in a maze caught up in some kind of experiment that I’ll never understand the purpose of.  It’s like I see God as a scientist, off to the side looking over the top of his glasses.  He’s watching His subject intently as it struggles to make sense of its surroundings and find the end of the maze.  There may be a purpose to it, but it is so far beyond the grasp of the rat that it makes no difference.”

Ronnie paused again and looked up at Dr. Melling.  “Am I the only one who’s ever felt like this?  Does this make me a bad person?”

The doctor answered, “Well, Ronnie, I’ve been doing this a long time.  I see all kinds of people come through here.  Many of them are Christians with doubts such as yourself, many others don’t know what they believe, or they’ve believed something for so long it’s become a part of them but now they realize they have no idea why they believe it.  I’d have to say, no, you’re not the first person to have ever felt this way, to have had these sort of thoughts.  Questions and doubts are a natural part of being a human being.  We all have them.  We’ll never have the answers to all our questions this side of eternity.  And I’m not sure we’ll even have them then.”

“That’s good to know,” Ronnie said.  “I just wish I knew how to deal with all this.”

“Tell me this,” said Dr. Melling.  “What do you think God thinks about you?  Do you think He’s pleased with you?   With your actions?   Do you think He loves you anyway, no matter whether your actions are pleasing or not?”

to be continued…

Cruise Control Life

/ Clay D. / 1 Comment

For all of my adult life I have longed to live what I call a “cruise control” life.  Sitting back and having life come to me, without significant worry or stress, is the perfect picture of what life should be.  Everything is in place and I have plenty of money, to the point where I never even think of money.  It is just there.  My relationships are all good – my wife and I love each other, the kids are great, I have plenty of warm, intimate connections with friends and extended family.  Everything about my life and those around me is in place.  The basis for attaining and maintaining this idyllic life rests largely on money.  First and foremost, there must be plenty of it, not necessarily Bill Gates kind of money, just way more than I think I need or want, therefore allowing me the peace of mind to enjoy life, knowing that the funds are there, and keep coming in, for me to relax, not worrying about the unforeseen, and simply be in the moment, enjoying life in the present at all times.

Just imagining this kind of life brings to mind a very warm, perfect sort of existence where EVERYTHING is good.  I have to be very careful not to harbor on these images because they are in fact fallacies and do not exist as such.  It is so easy to fall back into that kind of thinking.  It is very comforting to imagine that that life is out there and that somebody somewhere has it; therefore I can possibly have it also if I try hard enough.  

When I was finishing up my college days, I did not have these ideas. I felt led to go into ministry, and was planning to enter seminary right after college.  Money was really not on my mind.  I did not have that mental competition to live as the world lives; I did not relate myself to the larger peer group of the world.  I only wanted to live and to serve God.

The turning point came when I was introduced to a multilevel marketing business.  To put it simply, in a very short time frame I became consumed with this idea of the cruise control life – plenty of money, high lifestyle, smiles all around.  In the world of multilevel marketing, individuals who have attained great success in the business in question are held in high regard, and paraded ad nauseum as examples of what the new recruit can someday be if he or she is dedicated and patient enough, and of course puts enough work into the business.

In the business I was introduced to, one particular individual caught my attention, and I quickly became enraptured with trying to attain his lifestyle.  To me he had it all – pretty wife and gorgeous kids – but much more importantly, he exuded peace of mind that could only come from having more than enough money.  In fact, this is the image he portrayed – almost that he had so much money, he didn’t even know what all he had – not exactly, but sort of.  He described his huge house with a pool and basketball court set on a large wooded lot, his several cars – including a Rolls Royce – his condo on the beach, and on and on.  I remember once hearing him say that his investment income (not the income from the multilevel business) was six figures.  As part of the motivation process we were able to go to his house for an hour or so while in his hometown for a business conference.  I was in awe to say the least.  The house was amazing, as was the outdoor barbecue area and all the beautiful landscaping.  We did not go inside the house, but I didn’t need to – I was firmly hooked at that point.

This man had it all as far as I was concerned.  I wanted what he had.  Over the time I was involved in the business, about four years, I went not only to his home, but also the homes of several other kingpins in the business.  All during this time, this idea of the cruise control life captivated me.  This guy exuded such calm and peace.  I NEEDED what he had.  The idea of no worries was especially enticing to me, someone with known anxious hangups.  I held him in the highest regard, not only because of what he had attained financially, but because all the while he seemed so humble, and gave God the credit for his success.

How could I lose with this scenario?  This seemed to be the ultimate life for where I was at this juncture.  I had wanted to serve God, and now I wanted money, so how could I go wrong?  I could serve God by introducing people to this wonderful business, so that they could also live a peaceful life with no struggles, or problems (all because of the abundance of money they would have), and at the same time I would become fabulously successful (read rich) myself.  It was definitely a win-win situation as far as I could tell.

I cannot fully comment on the theology of all this, especially in this writing.  I do know, however, that over the years I have begun to realize the error of my thinking – there is no cruise control life.  Nobody has everything together in every facet of his life, no matter how much money he has.  There is a struggle somewhere, with something.  Life still comes at you, because we live in a fallen world, and there are still issues and challenges to deal with on a regular basis.

Years later I found out how true this was.  This businessman, this family man, this man of God who I had held in such high esteem, ended up losing his wife because of an affair with his secretary.  Whoa!  How could this happen?  He had it all, didn’t he?  How could he ever need to seek out another woman when he had the perfect wife, the perfect family, the perfect life already?  I don’t know how it could happen, but it did.  Not only did they get divorced, but a large number of the people in his downline (the recruits of recruits of recruits) ended up disassociating with him.  I have no way of knowing how all this affected him financially, or even emotionally, but I know it could not have been for the good.

I feel sorry for the situation he is in, even though it would appear to be from his own doing, but he now serves as a vivid reminder to me of the fallacy of the cruise control life I had held so dear.  If he couldn’t hold his life together with all the apparent accoutrements he had, then I should in no way hope to do the same.  He had exactly what I wanted.  I knew that if I had his life, everything would be perfect.  I’d have no problems, I be more than happy, I’d be content forever, and I’d die happy knowing I’d lived life exactly how it was meant to be lived.  Alas, the life he had on the outside was not enough for him.  Without judging him, it is apparent that he was driven to seek satisfaction outside of his wonderful, beautiful life.

This can and should serve as a powerful reminder to me of the huge error in the thinking I have held dear for two decades.  I’ve never fully been able to reconcile all this in my mind.  A large part of me has still longed for this lifestyle, even after leaving that business long ago.  I have continued to hold to the idea that somewhere out there are those who live this kind of life, and if they have it, then it is possible to attain, and so I must strive for it as well.  It is a struggle that I have battled for far too long.

I try to realize that there is no such lifestyle.  Life will continue to present us challenges on a daily basis, no matter how much money we have.  We live in a world controlled by evil and as such we are not immune to suffering.  God tells us this over and over in the Bible.  How arrogant it was (and is) for me to think I could be above this, especially when there are billions of people in the world with a much, much lower standard of living than I have.  I read a statistic (not verified by me) that said only one out of nine people in the entire world owns a car.  I have not one, but two cars.  I also have a beautiful house with a garage where I can put those cars out of the elements – those same elements that pound the estimated one billion people worldwide (again, not verified by me) who live in inadequate housing such as cardboard boxes, tents, and shacks.

Obviously, I am rich, and for that I will do my best to remain grateful to God.

Dodge City 50 Years Later

/ Clay D. / Leave a comment

The Internet is a funny, wonderful thing. On a recent Friday night as I was lying in bed late I realized just how diverse the Internet had proven to be to me that day.

At lunch that day I was listening to the radio while relaxing in my car at one of my favorite parks in town.  A song came on that I didn’t know, so I whipped out my smartphone, and utilizing a couple of choice apps, was able not only to identify the song and artist, but pull up a video along with the song lyrics – all in a matter of seconds.  I’m sure this would have blown my mind if I had known back in college that someday this would be possible.  I remember hearing a good song on the radio back then and having to hustle to grab the phone book, look up the number for the radio station, then try to get through to the DJ so that I could ask what the name of the song was.  Paula Abdul’s “Straight Up” was one of those songs back in the winter of ‘89.

I often sit and think about the ability we have with Google to access data and information at our fingertips – it is truly amazing.  What did I do 20 years ago when I wanted to find out the name of the actress in a certain movie? Or try to figure out the name of an old song when I knew only one line of the lyrics?  I guess I did nothing.  We had no way to search for these things.  The library was of course very limited for these kinds of pop culture queries, although certainly valuable for “hard” data searches.  Now at 43, I can’t even imagine not being able to search for information on anything, anytime, anywhere and have the results instantly at my fingertips.  Of course my 18-year-old and especially my 14-year-old really don’t know it any other way.  With their smartphones they literally have access to the world in the palms of their hands. It’s a little scary to be honest about it.

Later that night, after my relaxing lunch in the park, I stumbled upon an app that gave me access to dozens of streams of old radio programs from the middle of the 20th century.  Bear in mind that I have NEVER listened to these kinds of programs, even as a kid.  They were well before my time.  I never had any sort of interest in them and certainly didn’t realize that they were still out there in cyberspace waiting to be enjoyed not only by those who heard them as kids, but by younger generations such as mine.  I really only ever knew color TV and, starting when I was 13, cable TV with (gasp!) 22 channels.

As I was lying in bed, old episodes of “Gunsmoke” streamed from my phone, as well as several other programs I’d never heard of before.  While these programs are enjoyable – it takes quite a different acting skill set to pull off drama on the radio rather than TV – what I found most intriguing were the commercials that were still intact in the middle of the programs.  An old Budweiser commercial was pretty amusing, touting its almost wholesome goodness.  I’ve always enjoyed looking at old magazines just to see the ads.  It’s interesting to see how marketing approaches evolve over the years (almost imperceptibly) as the culture changes.  I remember back in college doing research at the library for a project and finding old magazines on microfiche; I felt like ’d discovered long lost treasure when I saw the old cigarette and alcohol ads!

With the discovery of these old radio programs, the Internet had allowed me to enjoy a piece of Americana that would have been lost to me forever.  I now had access to the same entertainment that my parents might have enjoyed right after they got married in 1950.  The nostalgia of imagining whole families gathered around the radio, waiting anxiously for their favorite program to begin, is very comforting to me.  Maybe that was the highlight of the kids’ day.  After playing outside all day in the surrounding creeks and fields, coming home, eating a hearty supper and catching up on the latest trouble in Dodge City would cap off a perfect summer day.  It was definitely a simpler time, and some would say a better time.

It’s not that we don’t enjoy the same kinds of pleasures today – we just require more sophisticated entertainment.  And who knows, I’m sure one day, 50 years from now, people will get warm and fuzzy feelings imagining our generation quaintly watching DVDs and streaming movies on our 50” widescreen TV’s, tweeting and texting with our smart devices.  They will say ours was such a simple, wonderful time, and perhaps wish they could experience such a quaint life as we have…

At Church

/ Clay D. / Leave a comment

As I was sitting in church this morning, I looked over at the pew across the aisle.  I noticed a cute little baby girl standing up in her father’s lap.  She was not more than a few months old.  Of course he was supporting her so that she didn’t go tumbling over into the pew in front of them.  She was having the time of her life, laughing and giggling while her father was singing.

My mind drifted in thought as it often does.  Pretty soon I was no longer concentrating on the song we were singing, but instead was lost in thought while staring at this young family across from me.  I thought about how basic the father’s role was at that point in his daughter’s life.  At that moment, his was almost entirely a physical role – he was supporting her upright and keeping her from falling and hurting herself.  Of course he has other roles:  food giver, diaper changer, bread winner.  But as the years progress, his role will evolve dramatically in her life.  Soon, he’ll be filling a much more emotional need for her.  She’ll actively realize and appreciate the security he provides in her young life.  But, as she grows and matures, reaching her teen and young adult years, his role will continue to evolve, becoming that of advice giver and an ear to listen to her problems as well as her joys.  As she becomes a mature woman, perhaps with a family of her own, he will no longer provide much if any physical protection for her, but will support her almost entirely in an emotional role.

I thought about my own life at that point.  Both of my children are teenagers, my son in his late teen years, and my daughter in her early teens.  When my son was about 17 or so, it seems I more or less checked out of being an active parent to him.  Perhaps deep down I thought that he was close enough to being an adult that he was capable of making his own decisions – I don’t know what the reason was.  If that was all that would be enough.  However, I also unconsciously stepped back from the father role with my daughter as well.  I figured, I believe, that if one child had made it this far, then surely the other one must be ready as well.  For the last couple of years I’ve been on autopilot.  I’ve felt like a father not so much of teenagers, but of young adults who don’t need me as much.

I realize now how wrong I’ve been.