The Ugly Tree

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Several years have passed, and I mark out each day with a silent wish. I look across the road and I see something that doesn’t belong. A tree that is hideous; a tree beyond any kind of symmetry, a tree that is very ugly. It’s beyond any kind of redemption. It is bad, and needs to be cut down. It is an eyesore.

When I see it, I’m aggravated. It never, ever really belongs. I dream of sneaking past the road and chopping it down. I want it to fall. Why should it blight my eyes? Why should I allow it to obstruct my view of the wonderful mountains? It is all wrong. (I rejoice at every wind-storm.)

But sometimes, God will speak to me through the “Ugly Tree.” There is a moment when we just might see something beyond the normal. It stands, because He made it so. Could not the Father have made it His “visual aid” just for me?

  • In my own personal sin and twistedness, could I be the spiritual version of “the ugly tree?”
  • Could the cross of Jesus be “the ugly tree?” The place where He absorbed all our sin?

Both seem to be relevant to me.

As I type this I’m looking across the road. Maybe it should stay as it reminds me of who I am and how much the cross means to me. Perhaps it should stay.

ybic, Bryan

 

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No Monkey

“What are these scars from?” she asked.

“They’re battle wounds.” I replied.

She looked at me a long time.

“Who were you battling?”

“Myself.” I replied.

My thinking this morning is how long does the battle have to go on? It seems far too long (and lately tedious). If my life had a sound-track, it probably be a very bland and dull roar, punctuated periodically by maniacal laughter. I hope yours is better than mine.

My battle with mental illness has scarred me for life. I can’t seem to put enough varnish on it to be presentable. I’m aware of all these things. And saddened that it has to be this way. My favorite author is Anne Lamott. She once made this observation, “You can get the monkey off your back, but the circus never leaves town.” Monkeys are one thing, the circus is another.

“We walk by faith, not by sight,” my Bible tells me so. Each new day has faith embossed in it. Hebrews 11 tells me that many have gone before me, but they had to journey by faith through pain and suffering. Knowing this, I sometimes feel like “jumping ship.”

I hope you don’t regard me as unduly self-absorbed. Astonishingly, my meds aremonkey1 finally working. Life isn’t caustic any more, just mildly abrasive. But I am still a bit unhappy about my attitude. I thought that these meds would make me incredibly normal, but instead I feel blah.

But blah is good. The terror of running amok through another manic phase scares me thoroughly. Anything is better than that. No monkey, but still a circus. But I’m fully known by the One who loves me the most. Jude talks about being “safe.” This is our responsibility.

“But you, dear friends, must build each other up in your most holy faith, pray in the power of the Holy Spirit, 21 and await the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will bring you eternal life. In this way, you will keep yourselves safe in God’s love.”

Jude 20-21

aabryscript

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Pushing Back the Darkness

 

You, LORD, are my lamp; the LORD turns my darkness into light. 2 Sam. 22:29

You, LORD, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light. Psalm 18:28

Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eyes are healthy, your whole body also is full of light. But when they are unhealthy, your body also is full of darknessLuke 11:34

The night is nearly over; the day is almost here. So let us put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light. Romans 13:12

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light. Ephesians 5:12

There exists a preponderance of scriptural weight in dealing directly with our relationship with darkness and the light.  Darkness is an evil presence.  As believers we must reject the darkness, and turn into the light.  We look directly at Him and we will find our salvation.

But there is a great deal of confusion.  But the entire concept of light over darkness opens our eyes to all that is good, and its worthy of a second look. But evil will insist on its darkness, and we in turn will push it aside.  God doesn’t dwell in darkness, neither should we.

When the blackness pursues us, we must turn and meet its presence.  It must only advance to the place where light meets it.  It cannot advance any closer.  When the time is right, we must push against its evil.  Darkness will never inherit a thing from the children of light.

When we turn to our Father, nothing can touch us.  We are teflon.  We press against darkness and it folds up.  It is an illusion and nothing more.  We shouldn’t be fearful or intimidated by the way it posturea and preens.  There is not a thing there, unless we buy into its foolish pretending.

Darkness will be forever pushed into a corner against our light. We should expect a push back.  But it holds no weight, and has no real significance.  We push back and he folds up.  Actually it is hardly a process and more a rout.  The light will shine and we will move into the place we are have been ordained for.

We take this place that the Father has made for us.  We will no longer be intimidated by a circulating evil.  We step out and the light meets us.  We push against darkness and it has to accommodate us.  He has made it so our hearts are only receptive to grace and light.

We can be touched by nothing except through His cross.

ybic, Bryan

 

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Sorting Out What is Real

It’s a windy cold, gray day here in Alaska.  Very typical for November up here in “the Last Frontier.” Just as typical  is that I have had a heaviness descend on me, (just like when the fat kid sits on the little kid at the bus stop.)

But this onslaught of present grayness seems to be a premonition, I feel, of what I face trying to survive through another long Alaskan winter, (and I don’t know if  I’m going to make it this year.)

Oddly enough, I’ve been thinking about ecosystems and symbiosis How the trees in a forest touch each other with their roots.  The big tree in the sun, “shares” with the little tree in the shade.  It’s the way they gently touch each other– helping, and encouraging and strengthening.

The Church is very much like this.  As a mentally ill believer, I have a lot of needs and weaknesses.  But knowing this, I draw from what God supplies by means of fellowshipping with others, and prayer, and the Word. (FYI.  I’m not good at any of the three.) But I guess I am planted in a good spot.

I think that when we finally make it to eternity, we will be interlaced with each other to the extent we really aren’t sure who is us, and who are our loved ones and our Christian ‘brothers and sisters.’  One thing is certain–we’re not going to survive the journey alone.  We just can’t do it on our own.

I must keep myself rooted firmly into “today”.  I can’t handle tomorrow’s sorrow today.  I have a special friend who believes he has to live “moment-to-moment”.  He says that this helps him navigate the hopelessness and the despair from depression.  One day at a time, and pace myself.  This, and perhaps, be just a little more gentle with myself? Maybe?

An interesting thought, not sure who said it, but it seems true:

“There are places in the heart that do not yet exist; suffering has to enter in for them to come to be.” 

The transformational reason is that we grow after we hurt, that pain endured will change us.  I think this is what God has intended to happen.  (Good thing, not to waste our sorrows.  After all, we’ve already earned them.)

kyrie elesion, Bryan

(Lord, have mercy)
 
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