Thursday, July 26, 2012

I Forgot To Type the Title of the Post

Nearly everything I've written lately has not been posted here. It's partly because my blog here is stalled. I wanted a better set up, a smoother appearance, a better this, a nicer that, and in my ignorance, I let my domain expire rather than transfer it. A word of advice about custom domains: Never, ever let them expire. All the momentum I never realized I had gained here went away when that happened. I should have listened to that little voice in my head that said, "Wait!"

So. My momentum is no more. My "mo" is no mo'. Not exactly a shining achievement, but like my friends who lost nearly everything in the Waldo Canyon Fire, I have a chance to start fresh here. I have a few ideas that I'm starting to firm up. This blog will continue to publish as I go, making changes on the fly. Wherever I go, I'm going to do all I can to take you, my friends, along. I will be careful not to lose you again!

Why haven't I been publishing? Partly because my walk with God had hit a coasting spot. If you've walked with Him for any amount of time, you'll know what I mean by coasting. He's not really talking much, and I'm not in any hot water with any one. Nothing seems to be in crisis (aside from fire, flood, and famine, which we've seen before, to one extent or another). I just came to think that there wasn't really anything going on in my walk. Boy, was I wrong! Never ever (is there an echo in here?) believe the lie that God isn't working 24/7/365 on you!

Sure, there will be moments when there's peace around you and he's not visibly altering your heart by pressing it in a vice and heating it with fire, but that's where I got tripped up. I thought that since he wasn't coaching me and I kept talking to Him, that everything was fine and there were "no worries." It's the tagline from a Jaws sequel that haunts me: "Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water..."

It's always that problem that hangs just beneath the surface. Worse yet, it was contributing to my lack of writing. It seems to me that nothing is worse than a constipated writer. Sorry for comparing this to such a base idea, but when a writer is not writing, it's not that he's stopped writing. It's that he's stopped listening with his heart and writing from what he hears. All the other stuff he's written is not from that spot and the works range from little bits from his heart to what could be considered busy work.

I had been up all night, struggling over the issue, when I had finally resolved to "fix" the problem with what appeared to be the only solution. That's when my wife, wonderful Karen, asked in a middle-of-the-night croaky voice, "Did ya pray about it?"

"What?!" I responded in anger. Whoa. Wait a minute. Did I just yell at my wife? Yep, I shamefully confess that I did, and I was clearly in the wrong. Sorry. The worst part of it is that I hadn't consulted the God Who knows better than me in every circumstance. Sorry, again, Poppa. So I did, and He showed that He's got a better solution than I have. He is faithful, providentially faithful, even when we are faithless. He has never failed me to give me what I need, even if it's not always what I want.

Your brother in the Lion of Judah,
Steve

PS: If you want to read a bit of good news that has come as a result of last Thursday night in Aurora, there is a story of God's grace that, with a little help from me, has gone viral. Petra (PAY-tra) is a graduated homeschooler who already has a gift that shines even as her mom struggles to extend her days here with her. Brave young lady! I'm praying for her and all the others affected by this tragedy.