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Showing posts with label Father. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Father. Show all posts

Friday, August 26, 2011

I am Stepping up...


Stepping up., originally uploaded by Christopher Rauch.  View the LARGE version

to the plate.
     In soooo many different ways. Dat's whats up. Tonight, on the Starbucks patio, I have coffee at my right hand, and a good cigar in my left. I have been in constant motion for days and tonight I have chosen to sacrifice a little sleep to get my bearings. I am taking stock. I am evaluating a few priorities and taking a personal inventory. 
     I have been accepted into the nursing program. It has taken me over three years to get here (really it's taken about eight... I needed a few years before I could even find the balls to listen to that quiet little voice in my head, and look at the picture I kept seeing...) When I began this journey, I wasn't even a high school graduate. Now, three years hence, I have graduated Magna Cum Laude from the Georgia Military College, and I am awestruck when I pause to consider the sheer enormity of what God has accomplished with an attention-deficit dyslexic who left home at seventeen without ever having learned how to live. I have a degree today, and I am engaged in seeking another one. I dream of one day being able to provide for a family, and impact my world in a positive way for the glory of my God. I also hope like hell that this is not entirely my idea, but my faith in this grows stronger with every miraculously opened door, and I have finally come to a place where I am at least a little bit comfortable with letting God handle his end and concentrating on mine. Concentration is not my strong suite, especially if I am distracted trying to handle God's business.
      As soon as I decided to go back to school, my dying marriage took a nose dive, and I ended up getting a divorce. As I was driving across town to have my wife sign the papers, I got a phone call. My father had died. The next forty eight hours were incredible, and I have never been the same. Depression seems to come and go, and returning to school after a twenty five year break has been indescribably stressful. I got more than a little crazy, and still have a difficult time remembering how I managed to get through school with the grades needed to make it into the nursing program at my college. Several times it seemed that someone else was in the driver's seat, and I am grateful. I have also become aware of how unlikely my success was, in the face of my lifestyle and attitude. The stakes are now much higher, both financially and emotionally. I really don't want to deal with the consequences of dropping this ball, and it has become important to come to clarity about my big picture, what I have been doing wrong, and what needs to change in order to pull this off.
     A little over nine months ago, I heard the clue phone start ringing, and when I answered it... it turned out to be for me. Whaddya know. The voice on the line basically said: "You're fucking up. Not only do I have a much better life prepared for you, but I have a job for you to do, and you're not doing it!"
     I argue with God often, (though he has yet to strike me dead, obviously.) This time, I took the divine asschewing without complaint. I knew I had it coming. I was miserable. I was wallowing in self -pity and had fallen into depression. I was drinking daily, and had returned to some old ways of thinking, which I've posted about earlier. In my anger and disappointment, my prayers became arrogant, accusatory, and infrequent. I began romantic involvement immediately, and began to take several hundred pictures a week. Anything to avoid dealing with multifaceted grief, grow the fuck up, and learn how to live. My life was a mess, and I was ripe for the divine wake up call. I had  gotten off track, to say the least. I am among other things, a mystic. Many of us pray. If the surveys are to be believed, even atheists pray, but as Andy Stanley says, a mystic is someone who believes God talks back...or talks period, I forget which. 
     C.S. Lewis tells us that God "whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, and shouts to us in our pain; It is his megaphone to rouse a dying world." My world was dying, and I heard the shout. I have, along with the every other living creature, experienced my share of pain. I have slowly, stubbornly learned to recognize the voice of my God in these instances, and further- have been growing ever more sensitive to the speaking and whispering. Still, he must shout at me from time to time, because, like D.L. Moody, the sensitivity to God's voice leaks out of me, through the many holes in my character.
     Anyway, I heard the message and made the decision to return to habits and disciplines that had brought me so far, and helped me so much in the past. I began to again seek personal growth, and the struggle to redefine and rebuild my life, this time with a commitment to surrender to God's design for the life of Chris Rauch. 
     Now, a decision is one thing, and for the most part, an indispensible prerequisite to intentional progress, but it is in the theatre of practical application that the rubber truly meets the road. In my resolve, I must answer the question: “How do I do this?" For me, the renovation of life is a process, and it begins with constructive action. I work out before I develop muscles. My inclination is to lose weight, develop muscular definition, and then start going to the gym, but things don’t work this way. I have to figure out what to do. To obtain knowledge I must go to those who profess to have it… and if I am wise, I will go to those professors who are actively engaged in ongoing practical application. The best hospitals are research hospitals, and the best universities are those that research the frontiers of knowledge. 
     Self-actualization, as defined by Maslow, is when the desire for fulfillment drives us to reach our maximum potential. When our life is lacking joy/fulfillment, this absence drives us to grow. So the question for me is "Who is busy today, taking practical action to reach self actualization? Who is doing the research?" 
     I find upon reflection that it is usually not the politicians, not the proponents of religious piety, and not the millions of couch potatoes that claim Oprah Winfry as their guru. In all of these cross sections of western society, those who actively seek personal growth are a tiny minority. Honestly, there is no demographic that that is not dominated by apathy, but there is a global community represented my members of all areas of humanity where the minority seeking to actively improve their lives reaches the point of statistical significance. This is the recovery movement. The Twelve Step Programs. It is the alcoholics, the addicts, the codependents, the gamblers, and the compulsively promiscuous, that are driven by the pain of their dysfunction, to apply spiritual principles in their lives and strive toward their maximum potential. These people with all their failings, are my teachers. 
     
     I'll post next on the twelve steps programs, and my take on how the steps operate, but it is late, and this post has gotten a helluva a lot longer than I intended. 


"Now, With God's Help, I Shall Become Myself" ~ Soren Kierkegaard.
   


       Good Night. :)

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Imitating My Father.


This Is What I Do In the Bathroom..., originally uploaded by use2blost.     
Bigger

Love. Big, broad topic. Posted on it a few times...I'll try not to do it again for a little bit, so here goes:

     Love.
     The kind  patient thing. More important than the really impressive stuff, like speaking in angelic languages, or foretelling the future. Superior to faith and hope.  1st Corinthians 13 is probably the definitive passage on love. Paul explains it in detail. Paul doesn't mention (in this passage) that it's the only way to imitate God. The only way you can intentionally imitate God is by loving.
     Unless you can walk on water.
     Or sling together a space-time continuum, like our mascot.
     Imitating is not to be confused with resemblance. Imitating is better.  We resemble our Father, we are an image of him. There are things about you that are inexplicably beautiful, for this reason. Looking like Daddy is cute, but it's nothing compared to putting Daddy's hat on or grabbing Daddy's briefcase, and swaggering through the doorway, a tiny little voice intoning dadspeak over the shoulder as baby wanders off. That's even cuter. I guess that's my love angle. Imitating Jesus. Cuz I can do that. Some days I can even do it well.
    Often, I'm sadly lacking patience, kindness, spiritual fruitiness. I'm experienced at keeping track of your screwups, and of the times you've hurt me. Yadda yadda. I sometimes rejoice in injustice or the bad fortune of others...and I'm hoping y'all do too, or I'm even worse than I thought.
     I hope my failure to measure up to the standard I hold is a human condition, not a personal failing.

Perhaps agape sojourned here for 33 years, visiting from another world, the only place it occurs naturally. Perhaps love left a picture. Maybe we are just trying to sketch the photograph we have been given. Perhaps some of us sketch better than others.

    My love is bad. However, I can sometimes for a few moments, on a situational basis, imitate Jesus. I have these occasional episodes of shining excellence. I pull it off and you are amazed, or impressed, or converted. Andy Stanley talks about not having to ask a question, because he knew what his father was going to say, because he knew his father that well. There perhaps is a point where we reach an intuitive understanding of God's character (Only the tip of the iceberg...), and can begin to practice the imitation of God. This is probably where I should concentrate. Not on a bar set impossibly high by myself, my denomination, or the pulpit I sit in front of.
     There are I times when I know what he wants me to do. I can look back and spot these times. Practice lets me recognize them as they occur.Sometimes courage lets me seize the moment, sometimes fear drives me to scurry past it. As always, repetition promotes competency...and that other stuff, the spiritual fruit.

More about love @ Bridget's

About the photo:
I practice my hubris. I flex my chutzpah. This is my first attempt at staging a concept. Since it is the easiest room in the house to convert into a ghetto lighting studio, I do some strange things in the hall bathroom, but this takes the cake. I am hugely surprised...Twelve layers processed in PS elements, and Dynamic Photo. Everything except yours truly is taken from the Hubble website, and nope, I'm not wearing any panties!. I plan to post in a blog carnival thing on love and I've never done it before...the angle I intend to explore is love as an imitation of God....sort of  "in His image..." speculations. Thus, a visual pun.
For the ghetto lighting group...I'm standing in my bathroom perpendicular to the mirror using onboard flash, which was evidently aimed right at my tattoo.



Monday, August 25, 2008

I emailed the dead yesterday.


Running Out of Daylight., originally uploaded by use2blost.

Is that morbid? If you send an undeliverable message, at least on Yahoo!, you will get a reply from the "Mailer Daemon". I half-expected that to happen, but evidently the account is still taking incoming mail. I missed my Dad so much, and needed so badly to talk to him about the emotional and logistical cataracts and white water that my life has become. It was pretty raw,  I wanted to engage and at some point, in my mind's eye the intended recipient grew blurry, and it was unclear if I was writing an FYI/lamentation to my deceased father, or a prayer of supplication to my Father In Heaven.  it did me a lot of good, get get some things out onto paper, if only the virtual kind. I cannot over-endorse the benefits of writing down thoughts for the severely attention deficit. Hopefully, Dad's widow, Rosemary doesn't check the account, or she may feel the need to send the Men in White Coats, but I figure the probability of that is low. CyberSpace has never had any attraction for her.
Tropical Depression Fay has cramped my style, though I'm not really complaining... much. I need money, and since taking on school full-time (math test tomorrow morning! :D) returning phone calls, giving bids, sleeping, etc. has been hard, and for the last two weeks, the only option I have had work-wise has been an exterior paint job. The class Saturday, from 8:30 to 2:00 leaves me two days a week to work, and they were both rained out. Now, I know I don't live in Florida, like my friend Melissa Drewry, And the bad timing couldn't have come at a better time, I was evidently (considering my E-seance) overdue for a little mental R&R. I even went to church (didja hear that, Chris Taylor?)!
Ol' Joe Has been working through a series on spiritual disciplines, and truly nailed me. This weeks message was on varieties of prayer, and the disciplines of self-denial: fasting, solitude, and such. The "podcast"  is worth checking out. Over the last few years, God has occasionally knocked indiscreetly on my forehead about this very issue. For some time he has patiently and repeatedly brought to my attention that consistent chunks of unstructured time, in silence, solitude and study are the next step for me. I tend to do enough along these lines that I can hold my own in an argument with my conscience but not enough for significantly deeper intimacy with God. Naturally enough, God hasn't been fooled, and I can no longer fool myself.
My! this post has gotten long, and the torrential downpour sounds awfully soothing.
Good night.

Monday, May 19, 2008

Inertia

thanks for the advice

I can't seem to move, really. I can wander from room to room, but purpose escapes me. I stumble across memories...How could I have expected to begin functioning today? I know I scheduled an appointment, but I cannot for the life of me find the data, location, time. I feel worse. and different, and disconnected than ever before. I'm not drinking enough water. The task of programming the coffee pot taxes my intellect. I feel my lower back degenerating as I neglect my physical therapy. Prayer seems a joke. I could sit here all day. I would read my bible, but to reach for it would require some strange effort that feels foreign to me, I cannot muster up the energy to even engage in self destructive behavior. lol. It's a long walk to the toothbrush. I can't unpack a box, clean my vehicle, run a vacuum. activate spellcheck. Log in to check my financial aid. find a pair of socks. decide how to end my post

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Denied Prayer

2008 10 05_coosa trip with scott_3842

He died. It is likely that after 16 minutes of CPR he would have not been himself if he had recovered. It is hard to sort through my feelings. There is bitter disappointment, lonliness, an inarticulate longing for closeness and love. It is strange. I am loved much, and greatly, by many people, but my inner emptiness resounds within my soul...ebbs and flows, retreating when I feel like another moment would be my undoing. I find another hour has passed. I was a failure as a son and as a man for much of our relationship, but by God's Grace, a bridge had been rebuilt and my father knew many of my regrets, and freely forgave me.
I harbor no resentment at the Ancient Of Days, He administers the universe as he sees fit, and some time ago I surrendered, and said "let Him do to me as seems good to Him". I may complain, question, even wallow in childish petulance, but I know I have no where else to turn. When things were inconvenient, and difficult to understand Peter said "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life"

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

thinking to much

Cleanest windshield

The mystical prescence of the holy spirit is supposed to lead me to understanding,and knowledge? love builds up but knowledge puffs up? Where do denial and delusions of grandeur fit into the picture, and how do I distinguish them from faith? It seems there is a difference between faith of the heart and faith in action, though to be sure either can stimulate the other. Papa, men who witnessed the raising of the dead and heard your audible voice abandoned your son, and even apostolic power was no cure for hypocrisy. What hope is there for me? and why is this life considered by so many to be a vital leg in the process of conformity to Christ when all observation shows us that the human resemblance to Christ's Character is fleeting and infinitesimal? Or is it? lol. we see things that we admire in others often and your word teaches us that our own righteousness is laughable to you. perhaps the perspective to have is a (as far as humanly possible) constant awareness of the need for repentance and and a grateful acceptance of the perpetually renewed clean slate? How many questions is too many? Is there no end to your paradox?
If you want us to know you, could you have not made us smarter?

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Dreams...I am really not a "the LORD showed me in a dream" kinda guy


Justus, originally uploaded by Christopher Rauch.


     Early monday morning, I dreamed that my wife and I were in a bar in (presumably) Newport, Ky. on thanksgiving evening. As is characteristic of my dreams some things are instictive and some things are vague awarenesses. There were some family members there, on my (wife's side) and I also remember that one of our waitresses had let slip some personal details in her life, about a certain situation, (Icouldn't tell you what) and we were rooting for her desirable outcome. also, this waitress was evidently on probation, after making some mistakes at work. We left the bar, having ate thanksgiving dinner there, and proceeded to virginia highlands, to an old house that I used to live in about 15 years before actually met my wife. Somehow in the dream, it was where we were spending the night. We headed north to get to this house that was actually some 400 miles to the south, and strangely, my wife an i were driving different vehicles( this is almost never the case). I missed my turn to get off the interstate, and ended up attempting to take another exit ramp which turned out to be a drawbridge across the Ohio River. suddenly I was on a bicycle and had to actually bump against a barrier that then retracted allowing me access to the drawbridge. Unlike the drawbridges of reality (as far as I know) this one was made up of several sections that came apart in consecutive order. some how I got behind in my progress and was forced to jump/leap/swim from one section to the other while dragging my bicycle. Though not in a state of panic, I was aware that this was an emergency situation, that to fail to make it across this river would not be good. I did succeed, and arrived on the other bank at a bike shop (go figure!). I went in to use the phone, since bicycling home at this point was not an option. As I explained that I had just crossed the drawbridge with a bicycle, and that I was broke and needed to use the phone, The attendant offerred to repair my bike at no charge. This was very convenient, since my bike had come through the turbulent river crossing without wheels as I was waiting for the bike to be repaired an amputee came in with some gold carvings and suddenly my bike shop was also a pawnshop. several other things happened but what was most interesting was that I drifted in and out of deeper sleep and at one point wished fervently for an Interpretation. I then felt as though God revealed that the river represented tobacco addiction, and the drawbridge represented the multiple failed attempts to become nicotine free. The the bicycle was of course the vehicle through this life, and the wheels represent my health I feel today that God gave me a conditional promise to restore my health/and or lungs (I have many other health issues) if I quit. so there. I hope this post hasn't become two wacky or mystical.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

An analogy of grace

2008 10 05_coosa trip with scott_3822

I have been reading The Grace Awakening by Chuck Swindoll, instead of studying my Bible as much as I should (thank God for grace, lol), and he paints a wonderful picture of God's grace in the story of David seeking out a random descendant of Jonathan's family who he can shower with kindness, simply for the sake of his deep, unconditional love of Jonathan. Swindoll finds "no fewer than eight" points of comparison (pg. 63)

  1. Mephibosheth once enjoyed fellowship with his father, as did Adam and Eve
  2. When disaster struck, it left permanent crippling in it's wake
  3. The King, for the sake of his beloved, sought out anyone upon which he could shower unconditional grace
  4. The cripple did nothing, did not even seek the blessing.
  5. The cripple was restored from a miserable existence, to a place of blessing and honor (though, he was still lame)
  6. The undeserving was adopted into the royal family.
  7. The crippling limp was a constant reminder of grace recieved
  8. When seated at the table, the adopted son was treated indistinguishably like family.
A thought or two occurred to me
  1. The King sought the recipient of grace by commisioning his servant. This is inarguable, to me
  2. The servant, Ziba was less than enthusiatic ?(Swindoll acknowledges this though it is not included in his analogy...and I might add, it is an opinion, and I disagree. scripture seems neutral, though intuitively, culture and human nature encourages us to discount those less priveledged than ourselves, both then and now.) as I read the story, the servant of David is much too aware of his place to seem anything but neutral...unlike the servants of Jesus (many denominations and individuals come to mind) who are much to busy being blessed to tolerate the prescence of someone at the table who is morally "lame".
  3. The servant's task is simply to bring the cripple into the King's prescence, It is the king himself, Who makes it clear that there is nothing to fear, and the blessing that flows, is beyond Ziba, or Mephibosheth's ablitiy to affect. I do not get the sense that Mephibosheth must "Accept the free gift of Grace, or be cast into the outer darkness". He acknowleges it, in fear and trembling, and puzzlement. (And he boweth himself, and saith, ‘What is thy servant, that thou hast turned unto the dead dog—such as I?’ 2 Sam 9;8 ) after all, people in his position are traditionally put to death. I personally see David as blessing Mephibosheth regardless, so where does that leave us? Has the analogy broken down, as they all do, eventually? or Is the Doctrine of Minimal Entrance Requirement yet another heresy perpetuated my the modern pharisee?
Here is the passage:
2 Samuel 9

1And David saith, ‘Is there yet any left to the house of Saul, and I do with him kindness because of Jonathan?’ 2And the house of Saul hath a servant, and his name is Ziba, and they call for him unto David; and the king saith unto him, ‘Art thou Ziba?’ and he saith, ‘Thy servant.’
3And the king saith, ‘Is there not yet a man to the house of Saul, and I do with him the kindness of God?’ And Ziba saith unto the king, ‘Jonathan hath yet a son—lame.’ 4And the king saith to him, ‘Where is he?’ and Ziba saith unto the king, ‘Lo, he is in the house of Machir, son of Ammiel, in Lo-Debar.’
5And king David sendeth, and taketh him out of the house of Machir son of Ammiel, of Lo-Debar, 6and Mephibosheth son of Jonathan, son of Saul, cometh unto David, and falleth on his face, and doth obeisance, and David saith, ‘Mephibosheth;’ and he saith, ‘Lo, thy servant.’
7And David saith to him, ‘Be not afraid; for I certainly do with thee kindness because of Jonathan thy father, and have given back to thee all the field of Saul thy father, and thou dost eat bread at my table continually.’ 8And he boweth himself, and saith, ‘What is thy servant, that thou hast turned unto the dead dog—such as I?’
9And the king calleth unto Ziba servant of Saul, and saith unto him, ‘All that was to Saul and to all his house, I have given to the son of thy lord, 10and thou hast served for him the land, thou and thy sons, and thy servants, and hast brought in, and there hath been to the son of thy lord bread, and he hath eaten it; and Mephibosheth son of thy lord doth eat continually bread at my table;’ and Ziba hath fifteen sons and twenty servants.
11And Ziba saith unto the king, ‘According to all that my lord the king commandeth his servant, so doth thy servant;’ as to Mephibosheth, ‘he is eating at my table (saith the king) as one of the sons of the king.’ 12And Mephibosheth hath a young son, and his name is Micha, and every one dwelling in the house of Ziba are servants to Mephibosheth. 13And Mephibosheth is dwelling in Jerusalem, for at the table of the king he is eating continually, and he is lame of his two feet.
Young's Literal Translation
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