October Newsletter

To the precious friends God has blessed me with, Hello!

As I’ll delve into in a bit, I’m entering into a season of my life where being alone will be a necessity a good percentage of the time. In the midst of that I’d prefer to not lose touch entirely with the friends not directly involved in my life, as well as share a bit of what I’m learning and growing up in my season of seclusion. To that end, I’d like to write a monthly “life-update” blog. For those of you who have been waiting for a couple of weeks for this first one, I hit a busy stretch of life lately and apologize for the delay.

So where to start? Many of you I haven’t seen or heard from since I graduated from the Honor Academy last year and headed for home. It was quite a transition. Not only was I exiting the relatively protected culture of the Honor Academy, but I also had just gotten back from a few weeks in Uganda and was coming home to a family life centered around taking care of a very sick father. As jarring as the first two might have been, I never really bore the full weight of them as Dad’s situation and my own rather critical financial situation took my almost exclusive focus. God has answered my financial needs in some rather creative ways this year, in abundance above and beyond what I had asked for. And early on some of the income paths He led me down left me with much greater flexibility to be with Dad and the family than the plans I had had would have allowed for.

Dad was battling with cancer for most of the year I spent in Texas at the Honor Academy. After my arrival home, though we didn’t know it at the time, he had only about a month left, departing us just a few days shy of his 60th birthday. I got to be there with him as he breathed his last, and had in fact just finished blessing him, thanking him, and saying goodbye to him as he did so. I remember feeling as if he had heard me and knew it was ok to let go, so he did.

In answer to the question I’ve heard many times this last year, I’m doing just fine. We all are. The transition to our new state of “family” and “normal” took about a month, and then life went on. We all miss him, to be sure, but we know where he is and know that he was at peace with dying, especially knowing he would be leaving Mom well enough off to be secure. Service was always his strongest love language, and even after death his life of service continues to bless us. One of the most amazing discoveries I’ve made this last year in the wake of his death is how many ways I am like him. I see so much of him in myself now; two years ago I wouldn’t have thought that to be true; four years ago I wouldn’t have wanted that to be true. It’s amazing how death changes your vision---almost immediately following it I could barely remember my soul’s complaints and even memories against him (and there were many, as my family life growing up left much to be desired). Only the good remained, and could even be seen much clearer. This past year I’ve seen much of that same good in me, in my passions, gifting, and temperament. Thinking upon it recently, I came to the realization that it almost felt like a mantle had been passed on to me. Indeed, that may just be what has happened, and the things he left unfinished or un-started with his life I can carry on. I think I understand the Biblical tradition of a father speaking a blessing over his sons better now, and though Dad never quite did so with his words, I feel the weight of that nonetheless.

Moving on to other matters, this last year has certainly not been the easiest for me, particularly from January on. I’ve gained a much more up-close and personal understanding of brokenness, something I had desired before in name only. The actual experience of discovering my state of brokenness was and is rather excruciating. It feels like death, though later on one finds out that it is only death to the false self, a fellow I’ve tried to be all my life but who actually does not possess any reality and God can have no relationship with him. I’ll write more about this troublesome fellow as this winter proceeds, but for now it’s important to note that the initial experience of brokenness is the unmasking of the false self. This exposes me to the true broken state of my own spiritual life and, shockingly, also places me squarely at the gateway to the Kingdom of God. Blessed are the beggingly dependent in Spirit, Jesus says, for to them belongs the Kingdom of God.

True brokenness will leave you beggingly dependent, as you discover each and every resource you’ve come to rely upon can’t hold water. I picture a deep well full of living water and my soul with a terrible ache to even just touch it. Every single ladle, bucket, or tool I brought from home to obtain the water fails me---all have holes and simply cannot hold the water to draw it to myself. In the same way my false selves simply cannot contain, cannot even touch the life God offers me. They’re all man-made and incapable of the divine. So I sit here at the well and can do nothing else but cry “GOD! HELP ME!!!” Then I sit down next to the well and wait. There is nothing else to do.

I remember first reaching this point somewhere around May of this year. I had discovered my brokenness in a new way (“Something inside of me is broken—it just doesn’t work right”) and my inability to fix it. Both facts stood out staunchly in my heart and grieved me, as much of my false self has been built around my spiritual competency, so this felt like a direct blow. Now, I’ve been broken and unable to fix that before, but the solution I came up with then was to cover up. “You have faults, Joe? It’s ok to let the minor ones show. Indeed, if you embrace them people might even see that as heroic. But if you let the big ones show then people might see the truth about you. Then you might see the truth about you. And who knows what horrors may be hidden there? Don’t go there. Cover up, put your mask back on.” I heard all that and more this time, just like every other time, only this time I didn’t do it. This time I just sat there by the well with my broken ladles and told God that if he wanted me to have His living water He was going to have to get it for me, and if He needed me I was going to be right here by the well, waiting.

This summer for about two months I did little else but work. There was nothing else I could do, so I worked and waited. I remember during this season consistently having to resist the urge to “cover up.” In conversations with friends they would ask how I was doing and I would have to confess my state of internal barrenness. The hardest thing of all was having to just leave it at that, not being able to explain or convince them of all the ways “God was using this to do this in me, or for this purpose.” I couldn’t set the record of my spiritual competency straight, as my false self desperately clamored for. I just sat there, unable to explain. And I worked every chance I could. And I waited. There was simply nothing else to do.

“Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; His understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might He increases strength. Even youths shall faint and grow weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:28-31)

If we’ve been in church for any length of time, we’ve heard the last verse of this scripture before, but in many ways the promises listed here of renewal are exactly what I have needed. I’ve been a soccer referee for ten years now, and it pays well and I do a good job, but I can’t remember ever doing as many games in past years as I have this year. Some weeks this summer I reffed as many as 14 games a week, and usually no less than 6. For my other job I deliver about 6 paper routes bi-weekly, and two monthly, with the majority of those being house-to-house walking routes. Now combine the two jobs and you’ve got yourself a very physically demanding lifestyle while soccer season lasts. “They shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint” has been exactly what I’ve needed from the Lord. Thank you, Father, for protecting me from injury and maintaining my energy during those grueling stretches.

As needed as those promises are for me, that is not all promised here; it’s also no accident that eagles are mentioned here. Do you know how an eagle learns to “mount up with wings”? Moses refers to the process in his song in Deuteronomy 32:11, “Like an eagle that stirs up its nest, that flutters over its young, spreading out its wings, catching them, bearing them on its pinions, the Lord alone guided [Israel].” The mother eagle decides her young are ready to fly and stirs up the nest, pushing them out of it. The young eagle then does what any other young eagle would do—plummets downward from his high perch, probably flapping his unused wings awkwardly and complaining bitterly. “How could you do this to me?? I thought you loved me!” But before the young eagle can crash land, mother sweeps in and catches it on her back, bearing it away on eagle’s wings and giving it its first taste of the wonders of flight. The Lord Himself compares this experience to His rescuing power, specifically of Israel from Egypt: “I bore you on eagle’s wings and brought you to myself.” (Exodus 19:4) But this experience of being carried on eagle’s wings is only temporary; the young eagle still must learn to fly itself. So mother eagle lifts it up high in the air and then tilts and drops it again! This cycle is repeated until the young eagle can fly on its own, and if it is ever going to experience life as God intended it to, it HAS to fly.

It’s the same with us. I am fully capable of “mounting up with wings like eagles” in the areas of life God has called me to follow Him in, but the process of learning to do so involves a lot of flapping, floundering, and falling on my part. It’s all perfectly safe, but doesn’t feel even remotely so. I’ve felt like that a lot this past year, and I’m guessing you all can relate too, if you’ve ever really tried to follow God into something you felt way over your head in.

There’s a second fact true of at least some eagles that I find equally if not more fascinating, and even more closely connected to my life right now. A few times throughout their lifetime, some eagles will fly away to an elevated hideaway. Isolated and protected by the setting, the eagle proceeds to tear out the feathers with his beak. They are good and useful feathers and have carried him for years, but out they are torn by the roots. Next its talons must go, then finally the beak is ground to a stub on the surrounding rocks. The eagle now looks pitiful, possesses nothing of value, and is capable of nothing but waiting on God to make it whole again, trusting He will faithfully do so in His time. “But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not grow weary; they shall walk and not faint.”

Over this past year God has asked me for thing after thing in my life to give to Him. To a great extent, they’ve been good, useful things, even things I believe He gave to me Himself. “How can you ask me for that, God? That was a gift from you in the first place! Indeed, I would never have sought it out had you not directed me to it. If you take even that, Lord, will there be anything on earth I am left with?” Silence from the heavens. *sigh* “Alright Father, I don’t understand but it’s yours. Help me tear the roots out.” This has been the process time and time again this past year, and though the actions now are customary, it remains no less painful every time I begin to tug clumsily at another root.

I now am about to enter an intentionally secluded season of life. Though I welcome and would probably deeply cherish efforts by those of you taking the time to read this to call or e-mail me and say hello, I have to guard against initiating that contact myself, as there are some roots there that need to be torn out. I’ve removed distractions, freed my calendar as much as possible, and generally tried to clear space for God to move however He wants to. Yet having said that, I don’t enter this season passively. I want to learn and grow, to be renewed in His strength and to walk in His life. I seem to learn best through reading, processing, and writing, so I plan to do as much of that as I can.

I eagerly await any responses you may have for me regarding anything I’ve written here or just life in general. Thank you for being in my life. Every single one of you receiving this has made it better just by being a part of it.

your friend,

the Beloved one of God,

Joe