Halting Amongst the Himalayans

I had delayed.  I faltered in that fatal moment of the first foot fall upon the ascent.  I had halted and in my faltering I had forfeited my momentum.  I willingly laid hard earned traction at the base of this unexpected climb.

And in my halting I had hastened the heat of the day.  And now I stood basking or better yet, baking in the heat of the day.

I had had speed, momentum and I had lost it all.  And now, if I would ever be able to manage to traverse this climb it would surely be fueled and fired by something in the future, for I had faltered and lost the fuel of my yesterday.

And now, I was exhausted and frustrated.

And then He asked, "Why did you delay?  Why did you tarry rather then climb?"

And in a flash I knew the answer was simple and yet, silly ~ I had halted because this hill was unexpected.  We had just climbed long years through the Himalayas and as we had descended into the first valley, I had intended NOT to climb for sometime.  This hill.  Too soon.  Unexpected.

And in this halting I had hastened the heat of the day and yet, the hill was still ever before me.  And the halting had come in with a questioning, "Why now?"  and surely, "Why me?"

And the halting at this hill had swallowed whole the speed I had gained coming down through the Himalayas.  The Himalayas had been so . . . hard and so . . . harrowing.  Something inside of me said something of a 'deserved rest' or something of that selfist sort.

And so at the base of this unexpected ascent I sat and sulked and sullenly sorted through all the reasons why I 'deserved' a rest, a repose if you will.  And the longer I sat and sulked with my - SELF, the less and less I felt rested.  And it was certainly nothing of a repose, this was just self-absorbed, narcissism at its finest.

When I finally came to my senses, He kindly set my feet to stepping a slow and labored stride up the side of this hill.  And as we ascend He graciously grants healing to atrophied muscles and thank You Jesus for muscle memory!  For endurance forged in the Himalayas and lessons learned into achy muscles are still within.  Even after a pity-party at the base of the climb He allowed me to regain that which I had known amongst the Himalayan rises.

And on this earth we will know much of labor and much of climbs ~ my advice to myself (and to another if the other care to receive) is never to falter at the foot of a new climb but maintain momentum as you manage up the new mount.

He NEVER said it would easy here amongst these earthly Himalayans.

And we can all rest in heaven, in the meantime ~ happy and UN-haltering climbing. 

Mini-Miracles

I heard this thing once ~ that art, that creative lifestyle ~ is to put forth your best, your best creative effort everyday and bring about a mini-miracle for the world about.

And in that moment of hearing and knowing the reality of that 'bringing about of mini-miracles' I feel the weight of the battle that rages within, my conflict as a "writer" or an "artist," this conflict has been my constant companion for sometime.  For the flesh, the man in me knows that I can not produce a mini-miracle.  Mortal man can not bring forth mini-miracles.  Impossibility.

But . . .  Spirit as constant companion continually reminds that a surrendered mortal in the hands of the Immortal God become living, breathing mini-miracle.  And an artist is only giving color and shape to the mini-miracle inside their spirit man and writer only puts mini-miracle to prose through pencil.

An artist or a writer or whomever, that manages to bring about mini-miracles through their greatest creative effort are simply, surrendered saints.

What mini-miracle of creativity is He calling forth from your life?  Have you surrendered to that?  Have I surrendered to that?

What Can I Say?

What can I say to you?  What can I say to me?  After all these years, what can I say?

These years have simply shown this ~ that there is much joy and great delight to be had.  Tremendous Joy and astounding Delight.

Joy and Delight.  They are so entirely tangible for they are simply He and He is palpable, tangible here and everywhere.  And yet they come to me ~ to you ~ through much pain.  And sacrifice.

So much so is this truth, that the very pain of life and sacrifice of self will metamorphosis into Joy and Delight in self.

Look to the past, into the Ancients, a handful of thousands of years ago and we find first and most ancient of Fathers and he would know the first cut, the first slice, the first loss.  And so soon following this first cut, would come a rush of delight.  The first cut, the first loss of self would be followed by a flood of delight.  Our first Father lay to sleep and succumbed to the Surgeon and the slice would yield to his first loss.  First Father would lose of himself and would fine great joy and sweet delight.

In the splendor of the garden Surgeon would lay slice to first Father and the first cut would lay bare this man to yield forth the first loss, the first loss to man.  And loss would offer such joy, such intense delight that these handful of thousands of years later - man and wo-man would still slip longingly into this sanctified and holy delight.

Our ancient Fathers would know that pain and sacrifice would bring forth joy and delight.

They would work the field, toil in the land, sweat the sacrifice upon the soil and bring forth life.  And joy.  And delight.

Ancient Fathers would witness the ancient of Mothers endure frightful pain to bring forth life.  And joy.  And delight.

It would be common.  It would be understood.  Pain.  Sacrifice.  Toil.  Would yield life.  Joy.  Delight.

The world would soon know a flood of delight and joy - a tidal wave of goodness, the like of which had never been seen before, nor since.

And it would be birthed in pain.  In sacrifice.  Such a pain and a sacrifice had not been seen - He would endure the epitome of pain and such sacrifice, such a deep, awe-inspiring sacrifice that He would sanctify the very meaning of sacrifice.


And the world would know a Love of the heavenliness.  A Joy from the foundation of time that man had not yet held, had not yet touched.

And it came through pain and sanctified sacrifice nailed to a cross.


We take a several thousand year step forward and we find ourselves in a society sick with the lack of sacrifice and people who systematically refuse pain.


And we are lost.  Lost in ourselves.  Lost in our luxury.  Surely lost in our safety.  A society safer then any other peoples known to man - a nation that lives life into their nineties - and all our safety and lack of pain is KILLING.  US.

Why?  Because Joy and Delight our found in the pain and the sacrifice.

Matthew 16:25 ~ "For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it."  (or Luke 9:24, Luke 17:33, Mark 8:35)

John 12:24 ~ "Most assuredly, I say to you, unless grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain."


It is simply Truth.

And when we move from our air conditioned work space, to our air conditioned driving space, to an air conditioned eating place (because we do not even toil to feed our own bodies anymore, someone else will do that thank you very much!), to our air conditioned sitting place (aka couch in front of television or computer screen) - we do not know the meaning of sacrifice.

We live in a land of over the counter medications, restaurants rampant, coffee at the touch of a button, shopping at a pandemic level, churches that make your comfort and entertainment their primary concern.  And we know nothing of pain and sacrifice - in fact we run from it and encourage all of those around us to do likewise.  And yet, this NOT the way of the cross.

And this mad dash for comfort and luxury, the scramble for safety and security is the church, the Body of Christ is consumed with its comfort.

The Body of Christ spends far more time at retreat centers - retreating, relaxing, vacationing, and "healing" - then we do on the streets sharing the Gospel with the lost and the truly hurting.

We sit in air conditioned coffee shops sharing a cup of $4 coffee over an $8 muffin and we call this "ministry, building community, and developing meaningful relationships"  Or maybe it is just spending necessary dollars on unnecessary calories in a very pleasant and charming environment.

Next time, shall we try to take the $12 dollars and go sweat in the streets with the homeless dude, buy that guy, who may or may not smell like death warmed over, a cup of coffee and a muffin and hear his story.  That may be a little painful and surely a sacrifice, and now this is the makings of ministry.  At least the cross's ministry.

Our coffee shops wrong?  Sometimes.  Are retreat centers sinful?  Often.  Why? Because they have helped to foster a church culture that is entirely about self and sick on sitting around talking about how we feel.  And the real concern - we do not even know we are sick.  Satan has convinced us (which was likely quite easy considering our tendency to satisfy self) that "coffee shop ministry" and "restful retreats" are the way of the cross.

And this self gratifying ministry that sacrifices nothing of self is NOT the way of the cross and the church is failing the culture because we have substituted the cross for comfort and then we call that church.  

And yet, the Truth has remained unchanging from ancient Fathers to present - joy and delight were preceded by pain and sacrifice.