The Next Step 5h216a

The Next Step

CARMEN BECK

Also by Carmen Beck: In the Valley

Copyright © 2017 Carmen Beck.

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Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright ©1996, 2004, 2007, 2013, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

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ISBN: 978-1-5127-7437-5 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-5127-7439-9 (hc) ISBN: 978-1-5127-7438-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017901762

WestBow Press rev. date: 02/10/2017

Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Chapter 1 Rise and Go Forth

Chapter 2 What’s Ahead?

Chapter 3 Breaking Fallow Ground

Chapter 4 Rushing through Dust

Chapter 5 You Never Imagined

Chapter 6 Now by This I Overcome

Endnotes

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

—Lao-tzu¹

Acknowledgments

To the long process, but also to those whom God has placed in my life to bring this book together from start to finish—thank you.

To those who ed by buying the first book and have patiently waited for this one—I appreciate the 2:00 a.m. Facebook hits and all the prayers.

To the iron that sharpens, even when you don’t know you are sharpening, and to the hand that holds us both—thank you.

To the eye and all that it catches, sounding board, listening ear, and pictures worth a thousand words—I appreciate you, Cynthia.

And most of all, I thank You, Lord, for this season. It is to You I give glory and special acknowledgment, for You are indeed the author and finisher of my faith, and it is from You whence all good things flow. Thank You for allowing me to express You in words, words, words!

Introduction

Good words were written by an anonymous person: “Don’t ever expect everyone to understand your journey, especially if they’ve never had to walk your path.” This is my journey. To help you better understand my plight to get home, I ask you to come walk and take the next steps up this path with me. I pray for encouragement and inspiration for you to live, do His will, and press on with me to see what the end will be. Please put on your shoes, grab your hat, and let’s go.

Chapter 1 Rise and Go Forth

Courage is an inner resolution to go forward despite obstacles. Cowardice is submissive surrender to circumstances. —Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. ²

How does one get out of the valley? Climb. When you go through what you go through and come out, and all that you were before is gone, do you know that the hand of God has moved in your life? It’s another day’s journey, and I have arrived at this place today through pain and sorrow. I’ve come through tests and trials. I’ve come through dark of night and —yes, thank God—into the light of day. I’ve arrived at this place today, and I know not the way of this day. A simple prayer comes to mind: “Lord, I place my hands in Your hands, my heart in Your trust, and my soul in the promises of Your Word. Help me walk forward and be maintained in Your way—for today has purpose!”

The Next Step

A new day, new hope, new mercies, higher heights, deeper depths, greater joy, pushing forward in You.

Isaiah 48:10–11 (NLT) says, “I have refined you, but not as silver is refined. Rather I have refined you in the furnace of suffering. I will rescue you for my sake—yes, for my own sake.”³ Looking back, going forward—through turmoil and trouble, I have been given a task to go forth. Through turbulence and pain, I only look back to gather strength to go forth.

Should I die without knowing who I am or

where I’m going? Should I die without seeing who in me I am to be? Should I die with no awakening in my soul, no sense of being whole? Should I die questioning, “Why?”

If it ended all tomorrow, could I live? Could I live with what I was, what I did, who I am? Could I live? Could I hold my head up high?

Could I nod; could I answer positively “Yes” if asked about my best; could I be? Could I be proud of me? Could I be?

Fashioned after You, did I walk, did I talk, did I live and walk worthy of my calling? Did I live?

In Psalm 118:17 (MSG), King David declares with rejoicing, “I didn’t die. I lived And now I’m telling the world what God did.”⁴ These are my sentiments exactly! When I came out of the valley, there was evidence that I had been there. Some patches of the dirt, plight, hurt, and things that I had been through were still there. I saw myself with battle scars worn like a new pair of glasses on my face, obvious if only to me. It was obvious that His touching my life had changed me. I saw me through the mirror of my own eyes, picked apart. Piece by piece, the old was plucked off here and there—and new skin, new life showed through. I saw light peeking through the old, dark, and dingy. I saw myself changed.

ionate rivers celebrating life— My time has come to shout. Wrong are places dead and gone, empty feelings, yesterday’s burden. Sharing, caring: those are things worth waiting for. Open up the door and speak, “I’m in here. I’m in here.” Individual ideas blend with others, making me who I am to be. See, I’m in here. I’m in here. Disappearing dark and gloomy days, bound and chained no more. Freedom rises inside, high esteem and

hopeful days, Your face beaming on my face. Life is life, meaning something pure, real, still in me. I’m in here. I’m in here. Your voice shattered darkness; brought about the moving of my knowing, seeking, willing, being in a way something else, something more. Today I say, “I’m in here. I’m in here.” Altogether different picks apart the dark. Light is beaming, streaming. Your blood is running in my veins,

and in my heart the start, the beginning, not the end begins. And I’m in here. I’m in here.

In Be Reverent, Warren Wiersbe quoted a Latin proverb: “Where there is life, there is hope.” But then he reversed it, saying, “Where there is hope, we find a reason to live.”⁵ I was left here to live—a remnant. I always heard about that word, remnant. I stood, looking at myself, knowing I was here because He had a reason for me to live. I was what was left of me—the evidence and a condition now of the afterward. My eyes saw what was reserved for Him. All that was there had been spared, had been liberated, and had survived the valley. All that was there had been called forth from the past. All that was there was profitable residue, useful and of worth according to His purpose—for Him.

Pick myself up, dust myself off; I did. Wounded, burned,

and bruised, I was. Saddened spirit, battered soul, I found myself left behind. Left behind from what was and what happened, wondering now what is to be of me. Searching among the ashes for anything that could remain intact, anything that could remain inside, anything that could remain in me, in me, in me, of me. What will I find in me? Calling out my own name; I did. Listening for the answer;

I was. Looking up to heaven for a reason why all of this of me was left behind, left behind, left behind, searching among the ashes for me, for me, for me. To celebrate today; I am. To wonder about tomorrow; I did. Sifting through the ruins, seeing all the shattered riches, counting it all for nothing, or was it really something? I was searching among the ashes for me, for me, for me.

In my darkest moment, I see light. Everything that God does is for a reason. Did you know that? God always has a reason. Those things that are not burned up in the fire, lost in the flood, or left in the valley are brought forth for His reasoning

and purpose. Those things are to go forward to bring Him glory. From some of the ugliest situations in life, beauty is born. From some of the greatest pain, triumph is gained. From some of the hottest fires, perfection comes shining through. From some of the hardest times in life, appreciation arises to a new level. And from some of the darkest days, hope, determination, and perseverance spring forth. In the last two or three years, it seems there has been an abundance of destruction due to fires, floods, earthquakes, and tornadoes. Destruction and calamity cripple some—and yes, even kill. Destruction leaves us sometimes wondering, What good will rise from this? In May of 2013, a tornado hit Norman, Oklahoma. Devastation and destruction were everywhere. The images on television were horrifying and, to say the least, hopeless. What good was to come out of that valley? I watched the television, and from the midst of that valley, a remnant of hope sprang forth—not only for them, but also for me. In response to a question about what he would do now, a man who survived the storm said, “You just climb your way out of the rubble, and you keep believing in God.” Yes—hope springs forth eternal when, no matter what, you keep believing in God.

Dark Shadows

Darkness envelops and swallows up everything, even sound. And all around, the quiet is still. Still dark, I rummage through the night for sight. Who knows what evil lingers through the night As I search and yearn for light.

Far away, but nearer than it appears, is light. It comes and cuts its way through the dark. A path it makes and leaves behind—a remnant that it’s here. It’s clear the light has broken through the night. Dominion, power has the light— Power to stay. No more darkness, but ever day. Praises! Praises! Praises for the day!

The valley was behind me, and hope was in front of me. I made it! What was left of me was the beginning of freshness and new strength, truth, life, rebuilding, replanting, rejoicing, and rebirth. I listened to that man say, “You just climb your way out of the rubble, and you keep believing in God.” The words of another going through difficulty helped bring my life into a greater perspective! I saw even more clearly who I was, why I was where I was, and more importantly, who and what I was to be for the Lord now. Should today be better than yesterday? Yes, because He brought me out for a reason. Every breath and sunrise starts a new part of the journey. I was stripped of some things, but for a reason. I was weak in some areas, but for a reason.

Yesterday, the valley destroyed the unbelieving part and purified the believing part (that which remains) for a reason. Breath by breath, it was for a reason. Day by day, it was for a reason. Allan Rufus said, “The most incredible architecture is the architecture of self, which is ever-changing, evolving, revolving and has unlimited beauty and light inside which radiates outwards for everyone to see and feel. With every in breathe, you are adding to your life and every out breathe you are releasing what is not contributing to your life. Every breath is a rebirth.” I looked at my past and the valley, answering questions of why, what, and how, and now I know—for a reason. With insight, I looked within and knew that what He gave me helped me accomplish His will for a reason. With foresight, I looked ahead with hope, knowledge, and faith. With going forth comes so much more— for a reason.

On edge of where I used to be, I find my mind is changing, rearranging me. I find my thoughts are all of You: never, ever changing You. Changing me: hands, feet, mind,

I find are new because of You. You are what stands and remains to exist within my life. When all else fails and comes to cease and be no more, when shifts as sand beneath my feet, when disappears as vapor in the air— You, Lord, remain still there, everywhere.

I am here but headed toward the finish line. It’s such a long way from here to there! But day by day, step by step, mile by mile, this journey gets me closer to the finish line. That I know! That I feel! I now know my goal. Wyomia Tyus said in I Dream a World: Portraits of Black Women Who Changed America, “Starting all over; it’s kind of difficult saying where you want to go. You go step-by-step waiting and waiting. And, I guess, being a sprinter, it’s hard to wait. I just want to get to the finish line.”⁷ I read and liked that. I chuckled to myself. I just want to get to the finish line. That brings back many memories of track and Coach Coward. I spent days running, going to practice, and leaving my “sibling” before she put the baton in my hand. There were days and days of dropping and giving ten. For days, I heard him say, “Didn’t I tell you to wait?” I look back and can chuckle now. Coach, I’m learning how to wait, but I still just want to get to the finish line.

Going forth, will it be easy? I doubt it. Will it be necessary? Absolutely, for now I have a reason, and nothing should stop me from going forth, because where I am is not my final destination.

You may not have noticed it but you are closer to home than ever before. Each moment is the step taken. Each breath is a page turned. Each day is a mile marked, a mountain climbed. You are closer to home than you’ve ever been. ⁸ —Max Lucado

Chapter 2 What’s Ahead?

Trekking Unchartered Land on a Long, Strenuous, Difficult Journey

Moving is a simple thing, or so you would think. But when it comes to moving forth in a place, land, or way you’ve never moved before, sometimes moving can stop you dead in your tracks. Moses was dead; Joshua was handed the reins. Egypt was behind them, and the Jordan was in front of them. Now what? Do you ever ask yourself that question: “Now what?”

Shadow figures on a long, dark road. I’m told no one knows. The way, unclear, The day is gone. And me? I feel sometimes I’m all alone.

“What’s next?” I asked. No answer. “What’s now?” I asked. No sound, but strangeness, silence, nothing all around, all around, all around.

What’s ahead is why I am here. Getting there is the reason I must not stop moving. Warren Wiersbe said, “We never stand still in the Christian life, we either move forward in faith or go backward in unbelief.” Going backward is not an option, but faith is. Faith says that what is before me is greater than what is behind me. Faith is of those things not seen, but believed: greater things, better things, pick up, move, hold on, keep going things—end things.

My faith is built on nothing less than hope. Brick by brick by brick

by brick of trials I’ve overcome, stacked high for me to climb out of this pit of unbelief. To think and see and know beyond the boundaries set by eyes closed, minds closed, hearts closed, is belief beyond despair— and this. My faith activated by promises given, fulfilled, and still what is to be. My faith held together by mortar of another kind, and every day, bells and whistles of this world crash against the frame of firmness set in me. Every day, the highlights of this world chip

and chip and chip and pick to no avail. My faith stands upon the hopes and shoulders of those who came before, who pushed and pried open the door of “this is all there is.” And each shoulder makes me bolder in my faith. My faith is bound by hands that draw a picture, infinite and wise before my eyes. Connecting all of life and limb to Him, a picture so unique to me. And my faith,

intertwined with love beyond degree for me, is twisted all around the if’s and why’s and what’s of something greater yet to come. My faith is built on nothing less than hope that stands until the end— and then.

What’s ahead? Something greater has yet to be. Moving ahead can be scary, especially when everything in front of you is new. Our nature is to enjoy comfort, bask in familiarity, and settle in situations that are less stressful. But do we stop here? Do we dare dream and believe that this is all there is and will ever be? We can’t stop here. Paul says in 1 Corinthians 9:24 (KJV), “Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run, that ye may obtain.” I like that word: obtain. I have within my reach and hopes a put-my-hands-on, behold-with-my-eyes promise. If I keep going, I have something to expect— obtain. I don’t know about you, but I think I will run on to see what the end will be. “And if I can’t run, then I will walk, if I can’t walk, then crawl, but whatever I do, I have to keep moving forward.”¹

Driving me toward the finish line is a reminder of where I came from.

Each and every step forward is a step away from back when. That is where I been, step by step by step, away from sin— and then my life and living now begin. Pulling off the weights has freed me up. Look how far I’ve come. I can’t give up.

During track’s off-season (Coach Coward, I did not consider cross-country track), we sprinters were somehow talked into the cruel and monstrous act of running cross-country. We were actually talked into participating in a meet. As I look back, I thank God for my sister, because being paired with and pitted against her kept me going. The hills, rough terrain, and distance—Lord, the distance alone made me want to just sit down, give up halfway through the course, and face the consequences, come what may. But when I wanted to quit, my sister wouldn’t. And when she wanted to quit, I wouldn’t. We had to finish; after all, Coach was waiting at the finish line. We made it to the finish line, and just as we expected, Coach was there—proud, smiling, and patting us on the back. I learned perseverance and stamina that day. I learned that I was stronger in body and willpower than I thought. I learned that there is nothing I cannot do if I put my heart to it and try. I learned that my

sisters were the greatest heroes in my life when it came to running track. And I learned that if I give up halfway during the race, I’ll never get to experience the joy or applause waiting at the finish line.

My hands on the wheel of life, I steer toward clouds not seen before. Higher and higher I climb. I seek peaks of wonder and awe. I seek things beyond what this ground holds or shows. I seek height and depth and greater. I seek what’s real and know that reality is yet to be seen and known and heard. And looking past the layers

of what this world has shown, I look deeper in myself. I merge with the oneness that calls my name and bids me forth to see unseen things of men on earth. I called and was beckoned to behold my fate. I must go forth.

A lot on Facebook makes absolutely no sense. To be frank, little is of any use. But the other day, I saw a quote by an unknown person that read, “I don’t know how my story will end, but nowhere in my text will it ever read … I gave up.” As long as we are here, there’s always a reason to go on. We call this place home, but if we look at this thing spiritually, this is not our home. Nor is this our end. We are spiritual beings in this physical place. You might say we are lodgers, sojourners, temporary visitors in this place. We are but overnight inhabitants merely stopping on the side of the road on our journey through life to the other side. We are travelers through time, and time does not end here.

Casting all aside but joy, I dig past despair. A little deeper,

a trickle, a glimmer of what is next awaits beyond today, tomorrow, and this. This is just what it seems: fragments of what is real, tidbits in the big plan of life, of living, of yesterday is cast away. And now joy; all succumbs to joy. It seems not real, a dream. Something happens to the mind through time, to the heart past hate, and all it seems a dream but joy. For over there is where I need to be, supposed to be, attending to a precious piece of me. My joy

fluttering in the wind, escaping to a place that’s safe; it waits.

No turning back, no turning back—can you imagine where we would be if Christ had turned back; if He had focused on the case, crowd, and cross; if He had decided halfway there that He couldn’t do it? What if He, in all His divinity, had stopped, turned around, and left? Where would we be? There is always a reason to go forth! “By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place … obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went. By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange land … For he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God” (Hebrews 11:8–10 KJV). When God tells you to go forth, “Yes” can be loud in your head but stuck in your throat. You may not always have a clear understanding of where to go or know what to expect. Yes—but what about people who are not family, and family who are not friends, and friends who are not familiar with the true meaning of friendship? Yes—in a strange land? Can I go back? Who was that saying, “Don’t look back; you’re not going that way”?

A mirror sits before me, and I hear a voice: “Who will go; who can I send? Who will stand for right; strong? Who will not bend?

Who can I send?”

A mirror sits before you. Look, look, look and see. Across deserts you’ve come, across dry seas, through the wilderness you’ve walked, looking for me.

At the end of the day, forsake wrong for the right. It’s time to lead out; the promised land is in sight. Who will not break? Who will not bend? Who will stand up?

Who can I send?¹¹

My bags are packed. My mind is made up. Where do I go from here? What is next? This land is filled with those on adventures in pursuit of happiness. And at times, God permits men and women to have their own way, seek their own adventures, follow their own dreams, live (as we say) their own lives. But we must in our pursuit that this is not our home. What’s next is not always what should be next. And what’s right according to us could be terribly wrong. What am I saying? Proverbs 14:12 (ISV) says, “There is a pathway that seems right to a man, but in the end it’s a road to death.”¹²

Can man decide to be, to go, to do, to see beyond this world and what it holds? Can man become all that he can be without Thee? Can man imagine far above the sky, beyond the stars? Can he dream what seems impossible for some to dare

dream? Does he have or hold the means to be anything without Thee? Can he go the perfect way and know it is the way unless You show? How can he go without falling off the end— and then, and when, where would he have been but at the end? Without Thee, oh Lord, alas, it is the end. It is the end.

A path has been marked out by God. Are you on it? When you realize you’re going the wrong way and are on the wrong path, what will you do? When does one know that he or she has gone too far in the wrong direction? How is it gauged on the meter of life? How is it measured in the depths of your mind? When I was a kid, we played follow the leader. Sometimes the path we took led us across fields, down railroad tracks, jumping over ponds, climbing up trees, crawling through tunnels, and frolicking with danger. Sometimes the path we took led us toward what my mom would have said was too far away from home. We focused on the journey, fun, and adventure with no idea what sometimes lay ahead. In Paradise Lost, John Milton said, “The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”¹³ This place is a place of trouble, noise, confusion, and foolishness. It is a place of turmoil that, when focused on too closely, when engaged in too fully, when settled into too comfortably, when lived too carelessly, can pervert the mind into mixing truth with untruth and right with wrong. What can be ahead? Danger, for this is not our home.

The Act of Deception

Everything from the outside, everything looks normal. An ordinary day in an ordinary way it goes, or supposed, as the story should be told

when I look an ordinary book. An ordinary day in an ordinary way. But a chapter can change a book, and sometimes we read the same page over and over again.

We think we know. Some show some hints. From the start, a part has formulated in the mind of how it is to be.

My day, my way— but look to underestimate the author, or the end is a drastic mistake, my friend; because a chapter can change a book, and sometimes we read the same page over and over again.

Disconnected from truth and with eyes seemingly closed, we often go through life unaware of who we really are, whose we really are, and most definitely where we really are. We live our lives swallowed up by the thought of getting rich quickly, chasing the American dream, doing it our way, and having our say. We live our lives to please people, win their hearts, and outshine them. Some days, we are subtle and cunning, bold and brazen, performing for the masses acts of rebellion great and small against the Father, outright and outlandish. And so we live our lives. Our paths, chosen out of our own wisdom, righteousness, desires, and motives can only eventually end in death or destruction. This is not our home. There is a way and a road in this place that leads far from God. A boundary has been drawn. There is a danger of going too far off the beaten path, doing too much, crossing the line too many times. And He is the only one who knows exactly

where the boundaries are and how far too far really is. The right path that goes through this land is lit by He who is the true light. To wander off that path leads you moving about aimlessly in a place that is not your home. I think we forget sometimes that we have not ed this way before. Each minute of the day and step of the way is new, unknown. Psalm 119:1–5 (MSG) reads in part, “You’re blessed when you stay on course, walking steadily on the road revealed by GOD. You’re blessed when you follow his directions, doing your best to find him. That’s right—you don’t go off on your own; you walk along the road he set … Oh, that my steps might be steady, keeping to the course. You set.”¹⁴

Turbulence, trials, tribulations, time after time may be before me, but I face them; in the Master’s hand, I stand. Swaying and shifting, shifting, shifting sand shuffles me, rocks me back and forth. “Hold ground. Be sound and still

beneath my child.” I hear the Master’s voice; I stand. He speaks, and the ground obeys His commands, enables me to stand. I stand, knowing I am in the Master’s hand.

Not always do I know the way before me. Not always do I see the way so clear. I press and sometimes even dare to bend into the wind; I go. But there is one thing that I know: in the Master’s hand, I stand and can, in the Master’s hand, face the night, the day,

come whatever may. Turbulence, trials, tribulations, time after time may be before me, but I face them all the time; I reach and seek. I stand in the Master’s hand.

Father, thank You for where I am to go because of You.

Chapter 3 Breaking Fallow Ground

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you. ¹⁵ —Dr. Maya Angelou (1928–2014)

Silent in the darkness, I sat waiting, wanting breaking forth in me to be silent. Hung in my throat were words to be said, songs to be sung, praises to be raised from my soul— silent.

Still, in the darkness I sat still. Not moving like I could or I should, Or I,

if breaking forth in me just would.

I was wanting to be free, push up the dirt, break open the bud, open my arms, my eyes, my mouth to be free.

It’s in me, wanting to come out, wanting to dance, to shout; come out, push through anew. Dirt,

ground, things packed solid on top of me still in the darkness. I sat silent, still; bondage, held against my will still.

Midnight turns to morning; darkness turns to light. It’s you I hear, I see digging through the dirt, reaching down, pulling me out, breathing in new life, calling me forth from the clutches of this earth, this dark, this mark of death that holds me still.

Who are you? How do you know who you really are; and are you really who you say you are? These are questions that we all should ask ourselves from time to time. Lewis Carroll wrote in Alice in Wonderland, “Dear, dear! How queer everything is today! and yesterday, everything happened just as usual: I wonder if I was changed in the night? Let me think: was I the same when I got up this morning? I think I feeling rather different. But if I’m not the same, who in the world am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle!”¹ “Who in the world am I?” Yes, Alice, that is the great question for us all. Charles Stanley asked in Living the Extraordinary Life, “Do you ever wonder what a portrait of you would reveal? If an honest and capable painter depicted you, what would the world see?”¹⁷ One of my favorite people in the Bible is the apostle Paul. Paul was, from the time he was mentioned in Scriptures, real, dedicated, and focused. Before the Damascus Road, he was all of that and more; yet he was off-track. He assumed he lived for the right reasons, only to find out, upon looking more closely, that he had the wrong reasons. His reputation and resume preceded him. He overestimated life, overgratified himself, lived in the dark. But then a light went on. A lens that was cloudy was cleared. A seed that was buried burst forth, and eyes that were blind could see.

Questions aren’t answered until you’re ready for them to be answered, open up the door, revealed, no longer sealed. Faith isn’t faith until I move.

When I walk, then I prove trust in me, in You. Faith now is breaking through. Faith now is breaking through.

Darkness is our common ground. Weeds are our natural product. We start in darkness, in dry ground with stony hearts. We dwell among thorns, weeds, and thistles. It is the ground, and so it is also our hearts. We are capable of improvement but fallow, untrained for the right thing and common to the wrong thing. We are common to the ways of the world and the dark. We are common to the traditions and habits of weeds. We come forth, accustomed to the dark and in need of light, grace, and cultivating. Jeremiah 4:3 (KJV) says, “Break up your fallow ground, and sow not among thorns.” Much effort and work must be placed into the dry earth for it to yield good; in the end, it all comes down to turning the dirt. Have you ever heard of the word metanoia? It is the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self, or way of life. It is turning. It is recognition and realization of not liking what one sees. It is thinking, The way I think, the way I am, the direction I’m going is not right. There is better and more, and different to this. It means action must be applied.

The apostle Paul said, “And I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. I want to do what is right, but I can’t. I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway. But if I do what I don’t want to do, I am not really the one doing wrong; it is sin living in me that does it … Oh, what a miserable person I am!” (Romans 7:18–24)¹⁸

Can we simply call metanoia the turning of dirt? Dirt refers to us. We look at ourselves, give ourselves sober self-assessment, and examine where and who we are. Metanoia is saying, “This won’t do. I’ve got to change.” It is breaking down, cutting open, and seeing the weed. It is piercing the darkness, digging through the dirt, and plucking up poison ivy that chokes, stifles, and eventually kills that which is vital for a good life. It is rearranging and even removing some things in and around us that are not beneficial to us so that we might eventually evolve into that which is good, perfect, and beneficial to Him. It is coming to the end of self to see self.

A Stop along the Way

Soul grabbing out beyond the east, the west, the north and south it went and then back in. Floating thoughts now settling to the basin of my mind, and there they rest to rise no more. A smile, it fades; but then, within the corners of my heart,

it will be just for me. Relinquish all confusion for the day; I feel I need to get away, escape, and lose myself in me.

Rest won’t come easy to me. It must first be bred, then fed and nourished quietly. And then, just when. I think there is no hope, and fast approaching is the end of this day, my life, that rope I drop. And only then will I discover that my stop

is rest; and there, I lose myself in me.

Shoulders aren’t meant to cry on; they move. And tears aren’t meant to fall; they never reach the bottom of it all. But somewhere from within, He knew. He came and swooped me up and took me to a place where only He and I would know and see that there and only there could I completely lose myself in me.

And yet, the world may ask, “Where did you go,

the other side?” Oh yes, of me. But in oneself, you may never see. I’ve stopped and leaned against the wall within this maze called life. And there, He simply, quietly, calmly allowed me there to rest and lose myself in me.

Living is hard. Dying was worse. Can I say that? Why, yes I can, because dying to self was not and is not easy. Matthew 26:41 (KJV) says, “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” One of the greatest fights of my life was with conforming.

Obedience never goes the way I think. I say, it never goes the way I think but builds inside me, slowly growing, pushing, plowing, moving mountains built from ages past until at last, the raging rivers end, are still; I bend and succumb unto His

will.

Conforming, surrendering, and walking in obedience to another is not easy. And the first step is always the hardest step. But it is painful to learn that obedience is better than sacrifice, especially in front of hundreds of people in a track stadium. Can I go back? Three years were spent with either my sister running up on the back of my heel and shoe or me leaving too soon out of the zone before I was ed the baton. For three years, frequently she did not slap the baton in the palm of my hand or I did not grab it. For three years, warnings regarding those nasty habits were repeated over and over again by Coach. We spent three years hearing and getting by with it, because, hey—three years of winning. Oh, but alas, the end of year three and we were at the regional track meet in Lubbock, Texas. It was the relay finals and we were ahead; the third leg (sister) was supposed to to the anchor (me). The crowd went wild. She entered the lines and extended the baton. I extended my hand back. There was no slap of the baton in my hand, no closing of the hand, no holds from either person, and the baton hit the ground. Let’s just leave it right there, because that’s where it’s been all these years.

Surrendering: to live, to die, to gain— and why? Why is it not about me? It’s not the same. It’s not;

it’s not. It’s not the same.

Who and what is in control? Why can’t we do it His way? Why not surrender? There are days when this body wants to do what it wants to do. The apostle Paul said the body is an enemy with which we must contend. There is an old man who does not want to deny self or surrender rights. He does not like restraints or rules. This old man just waits and loves to break out of the line. He must come to the realization, however and by whatever means it takes, that it is useless to keep fighting against God’s will. Obedience takes a made up mind and a determined heart. It’s sad to say that for many of us, getting to obedience requires brokenness. It is said that the things that don’t kill us make us stronger. I don’t know how to take that. But Dr. Charles Stanley said in Life Principles 15: God’s Pathway of Brokenness, “Brokenness is the requirement for maximum usefulness.”¹ We have to get there. We must surrender. We must lie down in obedience to be raised up in victory, in an abundant life that is useful for the Father. It is and can be a slow process, but just a little seeping through the cracks waters the foundation.

Shall I breach the darkness without Your help? Can one break forth into the sun? Without you, Lord, I’ve come to know real victories are never won. Past this, past that, go back and look;

real victories are never won.

Hosea 10:12 (KJV) says, “Sow to yourself in righteousness, reap in mercy; break up your fallow ground: for it is time to seek the LORD.” Brokenness is painful, and conforming is hard. But I’m here. The crack in the dirt that opened up is where the seed found its way out of the dark. There, it pushed until the dirt painfully gave way and the seed of new life came bursting through. I am the remnant from the old. Out of the darkness comes the dark and breaks the fallow ground. No longer desolate, unproductive, and useless, I have been brought forth to yield righteousness unto God before all people.

Dig me out of a shallow grave, Lord; resurrect me, and bring me to life. Pour water on me that I may grow and change and come to know breaking forth, bold and strong, standing tall all in all, alive and grown and known in me

a tree for Thee.

In me, O Lord, birth in me what is to be. Spring forth new growth, fresh breath and life awaiting things that are to be, budding, coming forth for all to see a tree alive in Thee.

Let me go back to my roots. Every once in a while, the land is not in line with the almanac. The seeds do not produce harvests according to the almanac. The farmers get out of whack with what the almanac says to do. The rain appears to

not even come in the right season. Every once in a while, the dirt is just hard and dry. It will not produce but lies as waste, barren and unfruitful. It looks as though it is of no advantage to the owner. It is a land, a piece of dirt in need of restoration, attention, tilling, and turning. Perhaps sometimes, it is just in need of rest. It is dirt in need of being broken up, cultivated over and over again. It is dirt in need of the Master’s hand.

Should I have been what you wanted me to be, I would be the real me. I could see more than what I see right now. The end— I will begin to see the end begin; and then, and when I get to where I need to be, I would see You, and

I would see me.

When looking at first, the dirt, the crop, or perhaps the situation may seem hopeless. What you see may even cause you to want to turn back, throw down your work gloves, hang up your hat in despair, and lower your head in shame. But hope springs forth eternal. In the proper season, at the proper time, things will become and develop into the desired state. One must look past this situation and despair. One must look in faith and see what crop the seed can birth and what harvests the dirt can bring forth. Ezekiel 36:9, 34–35 (KJV) says, “For, behold, I am for you, and I will turn unto you, and ye shall be tilled, whereas it lay desolate in the sight of all that ed by. And they shall say, This land that was desolate is become like the garden of Eden.”

There is life pumping through my veins, greater, bigger, better. There is life not of my own. What was me is of no more, but relinquished unto Thee.

My worth was not seen on the outside, but on the inside. It’s in me. The good that He saw when He created me is in me. I was broken, conformed, turned, seeded, planted, and watered, and the light overshadowed the dirt; I now come forth. Some things I can’t go back and pick up, sister. But I must go forth.

This chapter is dedicated to Mrs. Narveline Barnett. During the darkest days of my life, she allowed the Master to use her to shine light on me and cause new life to burst forth from the dark. Thank you, Mrs. Narveline. I was never the same after that. The best is yet to be.

Chapter 4 Rushing through Dust

We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. —T. S. Eliot ²

Every day, all day, a lot of things go on in this world. This world holds an evil that rips, and shreds, and pulls apart, if possible; the very fibers that holds one together. It can, and has been known to wreak havoc on a mind as to have one questioning their very being; and so perhaps, their Maker. Happenings are happenings, are happenings. But for the believer, in the midst of happenings, the very threads that hold our relationship with God together is what we must hold on to. What am I saying? Go back to the beginning. Go back. Find your way back to what first drew you to God. Whatever it was that made you turn, as did Moses; and look at the burning bush, go back to that. What pricked your heart? What piqued your curiosity? What moved your feet to run, your mouth to sing and shout, your hands to raise in praise? What stirred your soul to speak, to know it lives to beckon in the Light?

Di-a-ko-nis (rushing through dust)

Down through the old of time, the marks had all been left. The dirt, the dust with sin and filth all shamed, all stood accused and blamed.

No one, not one could blot them out. No one, not one erase and history, yes— forever changed by guilt and sin, disgraced.

The guilty ones were multitudes, and death was all they faced.

So thus below, beneath, they lay in doom, in wallow dust. A Savior needed— yet all the time, they have, they think; in sin they put their trust.

But time is owned and beckoned by the great, almighty One, and it goes up with all the holy ones

and asked them all amidst themselves, “Who shall be able, who can drink of this bitter cup?”

So quietly brushing, brushing, blowing. Blowing, rustling, quietly going through the time, the air, across the land, the dust, the dirt it goes through seeds of man, is a breeze, a breath so fresh. Through the limbs of trees

it goes, it blows through the grass, across the lakes and streams it goes. In the hearts, the minds, the lives and souls of men to cleanse the dust it came. Never, never, ever will anything or anyone hereafter ever be the same.

I read in one of Max Lucado’s books that “only in seeing His Maker does one truly become who one is to be. For in seeing one’s Creator one catches a glimpse of what he was intended to be. For he who would see God would then see the

reason for death and the purpose of time. Destiny? Tomorrow? Truth? All our questions within the reach of the man who knows his source.”²¹ This movement of life is one many of us think we have a handle on. Proverbs 16:9 (NIV) says, “In their hearts humans plan in their course, but the LORD establishes their steps.”²² We think we know. We rise every morning, all of us, never knowing from one minute to the next what’s really around the corner. But we think we know what’s best for us. I look back over my life and the many years of wasting time and spending my life doing what I thought amounted to something, and now I wonder, What was my life? Honestly, who outside of Him really knew? Who outside of Him really knows what true life is about?

There are things I have to say; who listens? There are words inside my head, my heart, my soul; who pulls them forth so gently without damaging my soul? My soul, my soul has much to say, my soul.

There is moving all about my mind— yes,

that kind. A feeling far away from here and words that none can understand. Who explains, makes sense the thoughts within my mind? My mind, my mind it goes way beyond the realms of this place. I say there’s a life within my heart that none have traveled but You and I, a path of pieces laid that leads me far away from here. Who pulls the strings, picks up the pieces of my heart? My heart, my heart, my mind, my soul belongs to You to hang up on the walls of Your house, to sing the song,

to love the heart, to soothe the mind, to save the soul.

My heart bleeds and cries, but life within Your words won’t let it die. It pumps and pushes life within my life. Your words bring meaning to my life. Your words bring calmness to my mind. Your words bring wholeness to my soul. Your words bring laughter to my heart. Your words bring peace to my mind. Your words bring power to my soul. Your words bring beating to my heart. Your words bring knowledge to my mind. Your words bring singing to my heart. Your words bring oneness to my soul. Your words bring meaning to my life, meaning to my life, such meaning to my life.

Your words bring meaning to my life.

God represents things as they really are. He is more than just an idea. He is the very essence of our lives. He is the standard of truth, no matter what happens in this world or in our lives. He is the reference point by which every thought, every claim, everything that stirs one’s soul is to be measured. Why? If people are really to know who they are, they must see themselves through God’s eyes. If people are to really live, they are to live in Him.

Can we harness the moving of God’s Spirit? To try to harness Him is to bridle His love, His comfort, His moving in our lives, our souls and spirits. It is to quench a fire outraged and moving through a forest deep. It is to speak and think the waters we command,

the skies we control, the Lord. To bridle His Spirit is bondage that I place on me. And then, and when it’s there, where is my help, my hope, my end to be?

“Come, and let us return unto the Lord … Then shall we know, if we follow on to know the Lord” (Hosea 6:1–3 (KJV). What I think I know doesn’t amount to much if I don’t know God. First Corinthians 13:12 (KJV) says in part, “For now we see through a glass darkly … now I know in part.” In our minds, with their limited knowledge, and through our eyes, with their limited vision, whatever the story or picture painted is but bits and pieces of the puzzle. One of my favorite movies is The Book of Eli.²³ This is a very deep and interesting movie—one that should not be judged by its cover. What you think you know is not really what you think you know until you know that you know you know. The plot is complicated, but when revealed, a matter of great recognition and realization. To me, the movie was a matter of life depicted, one in God and the other outside of Him. One life was of bits and pieces, of shortsightedness and grave deficiency in the truth. Another was of fullness beyond the lengths, breadths, depths, and heights of all one could imagine you, me, or we—let alone he (Eli)—could do with the help of God. One thinks he knows but never knew; the other knew because he knows God. Where am I going with all of this? I am talking about my own life. My life is now a matter of recognition and realization. I’ve found that what I thought was limited. I have been shown that where I once was wasn’t real or where I needed to be. What I saw was not the totality of the picture, and the sum of it now is undeniable. The movie reveals a lot. Living life in God compared to outside of Him reveals a lot. And as the songwriter says, “I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly lean on Jesus name.”²⁴ For in Him is knowledge of great truths that lie before, around, for, and in me.

The obvious— if I could see the obvious, would I need You?

Would I trust You? Would I call on You to lead or guide, to show the way into this barren land? And the obvious, if I were shown, would I forget about You and say, “I made it on my own all alone”?

“There are some things I may not know … but I am sure of this one thing, that God is real.”²⁵ I’ve often looked at people with Alzheimer’s disease and wondered when they forgot everyone else—when family became strangers, when they forgot what day, month, year, or time it is, when they forgot where or who they are. Do they still somehow, in some way, know God? I’ve often wondered when I look at them, and space is all that seems left of who they are. Do they still know God? How can one know? Who is to know but Him? There are days when we all feel we are walking through darkness and cannot see our way through things. There are days when the fog is thick and the way seems closed before us. But at those times, we have to keep going. We cannot see;

that’s not the key, but that then we can trust. Our minds cannot be fixed by what our eyes see or cannot see but by what our hearts believe. In this life, whether for or against a way, our beliefs determine our behaviors.

Past what people think is what people believe, how they see what is seen; how they talk, how they walk, who they are. Past what people think is mind-boggling to the imagination, is puzzling to the brain, from the view of others seems almost totally insane.

Nobody may see your view clearly; maybe nobody knows it. Maybe it’s hidden

or lost within the corners of your mind. Maybe it’s clouded by the coldness of your eyes or just for you to know. But as for me, I am moved by faith, and all that is within me moves me to say, as Paul said in 2 Timothy 1:2, “Nevertheless I am not ashamed (in other words fearful),² for I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him.” All that is within me calls me to act out, stand on, and trust in my belief. Even when the way before me gets dim, He declares my faith and the soundness of its being. He declares within me the assurance of my hope, for He calls me to believe. “Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in Him” (Psalm 62:5 NLT).²⁷ We often lose track of what we are supposed to do. We are often unfocused, and if we are focused, it’s just for a little while. Our heads often turn, look, and linger too long, looking in every direction the wind blows. We are often lost in the shuffle of the shuffle and the bustle of the hustle. We just need to stop, wait, and listen for what He wants us to do.

I hear music in the air: love singing, hope rising, joy dancing. Holy, holy, holy; all around my head, peace drowns out the thoughts and sounds of what’s behind, of what’s ahead

is pulling me, is guiding me, is leading me to Thee.

I feel victory in the air. Defeat, defeat, defeat of what was hard to do, of what was wrong to do, of pain, of suffering, of pride, of me. I feel victory in the air. Surrendered is my soul to Thee.

He’s calling, but how do we hear God’s voice above the noise? How do we reach the Master in the midst of all the pointing and pulling from every direction, comings and goings, new things, new ways, and new waves? How do we hear Him above the many people talking, selling of new religions, pulling of guns, fighting with fists, fads, fashions, and fears? How do we reach? How do we

hear? Those are important questions.

In the middle of the night, time stands still. Is that Your will? I fight against the quiet. My thoughts are loud and real. Why are there still pictures and pictures and voices inside my head? Instead of sleep, I search

deep. Thoughts have their place. Things are not clear. Noise lingers near. And so it seems almost impossible to hear. How does one hear? How does one hear?

“Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy, do you hear what I hear?”²⁸ This is a simple little song, isn’t it? But focus on the biggest word in this verse: hear. Hear, lean toward and attend closely, draw nigh. Bend and give one’s ear, turn one’s head, and apply one’s attention. Incline and listen for—hear; be quiet. Let all that is within me hear the Lord that I may know His way, Word, and purpose for me. Many may not it to it, but we often wonder as to the communication between us and the Master. How does one know when it is Him speaking? How does one know He is listening? Job, in all his agony, stated, “Oh, that one would hear me! behold my desire is, that the Almighty would answer me.”²

Quietness at the end of the day—here I lie; here I linger for a while as His child.

In Jeremiah 33:3 (NIV), God says, “Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.”³ In the past, you may have called with your voice and listened with your ears, but have you ever tried listening with your heart and reaching God through its speaking? I have come to learn that the heart speaks and hears volumes. A person’s heart reveals many things. One may ask, “How does that work?” Hearing God with your heart takes being really quiet and still—in other words, nothing; you and nothing. It takes relinquishing all in you and me so He can be. It takes you being and doing nothing for a moment so God can be your something. As it is said and so must be practiced, “I, who live by words am wordless when I try my words in prayer. All language turns to silence. Prayer will take my words and then reveal their emptiness.”³¹ For the heart to speak and listen, you must do nothing. Do nothing of importance to your flesh, to you, me, or I. I relinquish all of me to Him. You must quiet the mind, body, and soul. I empty, and I relinquish. It takes rebuking the outside, interfering with the inside. I relinquish. It takes all of what I think I am in the flesh to see and be submissive to the Maker of the dust, as dust. I humble and lower myself. I relinquish. It takes me to see and be nothing before Him. I relinquish.

It is boldness stepping forth and piercing the darkness. It is fingers prying open and breaking of chains. It is healing in one whisper,

speaking, calling. It is thunder roaring, summoning quietness; walls are falling. It is powerful, ever-powerful calling of His name. It is life-changing, never, ever, ever being the same!

I call him Master, Savior, and Lord. For some, seeking God is done with conditions and : “If You do this, Lord, I’ll do that.” Others call and seek out of necessity during a time or season and for a thing. Many seek because of a tradition handed down from grandmothers, nannies, and mothers. Yet for some, seeking God and calling His name are acts of humble submission, of giving up the fight against His will being done, of throwing up hands and melting the heart, of turning one’s face to the wall, lying in the dust and dirt. Seeking God is an act of finally knowing He is God.

How do I choose to see,

to say, “Let it be what is Your will”? What is Your will? “I have things,” I said, “to do, and You: what is Your will? What is Your will?” Flesh cries out in a horrible way. Things bombard me from day to day. Life, it forces one to see and say, “What is Your will? What is Your will?”

We are here for a short time, rushing through the dust. Every breath, particle, and fiber of us knows the eternal One. But in our flesh, we rebel, hardened and scabbed over. In our flesh, we turn away from His voice. We shun His love and kick against the pricks. We cover up this dust and clothe it with the wants, likes, and lustful sins of this world. We do not seek, care, hear, or choose to answer the call of the holy God.

Cold souls on a hot day, hardened hearts and stiff necks, wondering when is their time, why their time? How arrogant we are! How ignorant of who He is and why He is. How subtle is the one who controls the angry heart, rages in the mind. I choose love.

I choose to fit into the scheme of His plan, the purpose of His will. I choose to reach above my head, feeling for the finger of His love,

grasp, and not let go. I choose to settle in His arms, relax, and let His words melt away the hardness of my heart, the questions in my head, the hatred of the world and soul. I choose love.

Real is everything one feels imagined in their world. Haughty spirits bellowing out a shout of discontent, a wail of sorrow, shame, and

pride, all mixed and mingled in the heart of hate. Wait. I choose love.

To sit and stare, scratching at the surface, scratching at the surface, scratching, graved and bruised to the bone, bloody fingers writing on the wall of life. Horrid thoughts and images cloud the head and heart. Subtle is the one who plants the hurt, the hate, dismisses grace and love.

But wait; I choose love.

Oh, to be loved in this cruel, cruel world. To be plucked from among the weeds and thorns. To be pried from the concrete holding deep within the evil bounds of sin. To be freed by peace and love from Him. I choose love.

We were called into existence for a reason. We were created with substance, sound and solid. His call to each of us is sure and certain. It is absolute and firm. And if His call is to mean anything, it is to mean everything.

Life is jumbled, speckled pieces called together by one voice, giving, sharing, revealing secrets— why all of us must make one choice to see Him in His awesome glory; for our lives, it’s Him we trust. I choose love.

Acknowledged or ignored, denied or accepted, the call goes out to all. And at the end of the day, whether the life a person has lived has been one of compliance or resistance, the dust and dirt answer, and all paths and lives eventually lead back to Him.

To rise above it all; to be a part of yet not belong. From whence we’ve come have traveled far: a time within its own.

Chapter 5 You Never Imagined

September 9, 2005 is the day of Mama’s funeral. I often see myself, over and over again, standing in front of family, friends, and visitors. I often replay in my mind what she charged me to do and say on her behalf. I’m up to speak. I have my speech already prepared and written out. But somewhere along the way from my seat to the front of the church, death so boldly and rudely invades my space as though making itself known especially to me. The hurt of losing Mama begins to feel like knives stabbing in my chest. I am overwhelmed with the strength of emptiness, realizing it is heavier than anything I’ve ever experienced before. I see the coldness of that day coming in, stopping, and hovering over me like freezing fog above a lake on a winter day. I feel the grip of something else besides love and peace—God. As I look out over the faces, I wonder and hear clearly, as though someone were shouting in my ear, “What’s now? What’s next?” I want to faint. I want to scream those words: “What’s next? What’s next? What’s next?” My eyes had yet to behold what was next.

“They that are bound for heaven must be willing to swim against the stream, and must do, not as most do, but as the best do.” ³²

Why do we think we are here? I often say that this is not our home. If that is true and we really believe it, then should we not be preparing to go home? Preparation is a mindset of what one is about to embark upon. It leads to,

anticipates, and is a forerunner to something. It looks ahead of what one might have to go through—and must be willing to go through—of what one must be willing to hold out, endure, withstand, and be ready for until such time one goes home. Preparation is getting ready for all of this and then some. This mindset is not just needed before and when you embark upon your journey, but must also be maintained each day of and throughout the journey until it is completed. This is not our home. This is what one might call the make-ready shop. This is the “before it happens, whatever is going to happen” place. This is where we are to be ready for any storm, trial, or test. This is where we are to expect that anything might happen while we wait to go home.

I hear thunder rolling, roaring. I see sand twisting, twirling in the air, something coming from yonder. I feel danger and enemies approaching

closer. I know I must prepare.

God is strong, powerful, and always ready (prepared). And He wants us the same way. We, as Christians, cannot look at this life as some casual, warm, nice day or walk in the park. We cannot view this as a safe zone because we are allowed to wear our three-piece suits, hosiery and high heels, gold, diamonds, and furs. What about this life makes us think it should be easy? What about this life makes us think we can prop our feet up in a recliner, lie back, and expect to sip on tea all day? What about this life makes us think we are finally home? This is a war zone! This is enemy territory, and we are called to be on the battlefield, whether we like it or not. Sometimes I think because we Christians know how this war is going to end, we think we can get comfortable. Ephesians 6:10–18 talks about the conflict the church will go through while in this war. These Scriptures clearly let us know who we are in battle against. But they also let us know how our God has called us to be prepared and what He has given us to assist in that preparation. That means more is needed than just ease. In this war, the mischaracterization of judgment is a dangerous thing. It is a costly and deadly thing. We are soldiers enlisted in this battle because there are true enemies to fight against, a commander-in-chief to fight for, a bloodstained banner to fight under, and souls that still need to be saved. We are called as true soldiers to be both offensive and defensive. We are called to pursue the enemy and know that we are being pursued. We are called to protect ourselves and in turn protect others. Sometimes we may have to injure, but know that we too might be injured. We are to fight for and against. And we are always to that the conflict was initiated against the cause of righteousness first. We are to endure hardness as true soldiers, for some will be wounded and suffer for the sake of righteousness. Some may have to endure as much as the human frame can bear. Some may even die fighting for this cause. And yet, knowing all

this, we are to prepare, maintain, withstand, be strong, and fight on so that we might prevail. We are at war, and this is not our home.

I can’t stand until I stand in Thee, pick up what’s mine cross to bear. Temptation to stop is everywhere. I take a breath and hear, “Prepare.”

We should not panic over everything or think it is the end because we are faced with a bad situation. We should not have a doomsday frame of mind or constantly sink into sadness. Do not think that because a defeat comes into your life that God has forgotten or abandoned you. These things the Christian ought not to do. What do you do when those days come, you only have a little hope, and all else seems a dream? Refocus and regroup. Let me share a dream with you. This dream is the basis of this chapter’s message. I sat in a classroom full of people. The teacher was seated at a desk in front of everyone. His aide stood beside a table that held a stack of books. A book was ed out by the aide, who walked around to each student, including me. We were all told to read the book’s foreword. We were only to read that first

page and then close the book. I opened, read, and looked around. I thought, I’ve got this. I closed my book. As each student closed his or her book, the aide immediately took the books back. After all the books were collected, the teacher told everyone to take out a sheet of paper and write down exactly what the foreword said. My mind drew a blank; all I could was that it was one long sentence. I sat there, and the one thought going through my head was that I failed the test. Once awake, I was left thinking, What just happened?

How do I walk out from despair, out from where hope seems all but lost? How do I laugh? How do I cry? How do I focus with my mind cloudy, cloudy, cloudy, wondering, Why?

There are many tests and trials that will come into our lives. Most days, whether we know it or not, we are up against far more than we can handle on our own. None of us can afford to say, “I’ve got this.”

I am not invincible. I am weak some days and brittle. I am worn some days and tired.

I am stripped of what I used to be, and then, and this, it fits not well. And then, and this, I just might fail.

This looks different. This wears different. This feels different. This is different.

This is heavy some days. This is hard some days. This is cold some days. This is different.

This makes me ache and moan and groan

and cry. And yes, some days, has me wondering, “Why?” This is different.

Am I wrong? Am I right? This plan, should I abandon? This battle avoid, or should I fight?

Partially clothed is no way to go out. Partially equipped is no way to begin. Partially there, for sure, is no way, no way to end.

Every day is a new day, and we don’t know the way of that day. We think we know, but we don’t. So every day, one must refocus and regroup. One must, every day, look at ground gained and lost, wins and defeats. One must understand that yesterday was yesterday and each new day means pressing forward for the day at hand. Each new day means reevaluating and may sometimes mean the changing of orders. Each new day means listening for and to God for instructions for this day. Each new day means silencing the mind from yesterday, realizing tomorrow has not come, and seeking quiet to hear, meditate, understand, and apply for this day. Matthew 6:34 (MSG) says, “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.”³³ It takes a lot to give your entire attention to one thing and just focus on the task or day at hand. In this world full of so many distractions, focusing on God from one day to the next can get harder and harder, especially if you’re trying to do it on your own.

How does one hear through the noise of the crowd the quiet voice of You saying, “Be still”?

How does one know when to run, when to walk, how to stand,

even stop and be still?

Even on a quiet day with questions— yes, answers— with puzzles and pieces.

Yes, even on a quiet day, the world can feel so grand and tall, overpowering, overshadowing, swallowing, swallowing me whole, all.

The world invades my space, my head, my heart to hear Your voice and do Your will. Piece by piece unstop, unplug, uncover my ears so I can hear; command the world to stop so I can hear Your plan, Your will to see Your way. How do I hear You if it won’t be

still?

Do you the story of Jesus walking on the water?³⁴ The disciples saw him but thought they were looking at a spirit. So Peter, being who he was, asked Jesus, if He were really Jesus, to call for Peter to come out on the water. Jesus told Peter to come. As Peter started walking on the water, he noticed the wind blowing and all the things it stirred up around him. He began to sink. Peter took his eyes off Jesus and began to focus on the conditions around him. The mindset that we should have is to focus, regroup, and then focus again. In other words, refocus. We cannot afford to be lulled into inattention, because we have a real and deadly foe. We need real faith, purpose, and focus on the real goal we are trying to reach. We have everything at stake. If the enemy can keep us off balance and unfocused, then half his job is already done. The focus on this journey home is not the journey so much as it is getting home. The main life is beyond this life. We are to see and focus on that end and live for the expectation of the true goal there. Focus, know what that is about, and then go after it. We need to get in the habit of casting off distractions, for distractions cause us to miss the mark. Distractions cause us to spend our strength for nothing and waste our energy on things that produce no fruitful results. It is time to focus. And if you are off track, refocus. Harriet Tubman said, “If you hear the dogs, keep going. If you see the torches in the woods, keep going. If there’s shouting after you, keep going. Don’t ever stop. If you want a taste of freedom, keep going.”³⁵ Why are refocusing and regrouping over and over each day so necessary? We are accustomed to doing things the way we want to do them. Our Lord, the commander-in-chief of the Christian army, requires that we refocus from us to Him. He requires redirection from our way to His. How many times have you prayed about something, asking God to fix a situation? We often want Him to take control of the matters in our lives. And He is always ready to do that. But when we ask Him to take control, He requires that we give control. That means we must relinquish it: take our hands off, let Him have it, and not focus on the thing in the manner we did when we had control. Refocus.

“Unpack,” is what He said to me. “Unpack, for your back is not strong enough to hold the burdens of this world. Uncurl and unfold your arms from around the things that have you bound; release and be free in Me. Battles aren’t won all boggled down. Battles aren’t won all bundled up. Release and be free

in Me.”

In society today, one who gives or relinquishes control over his or her life to another is labeled as weak. But I say nay to it being weak if you know the secret of your great strength. “Be strong in the Lord, and in the power of His might” (Ephesians 6:10 KJV). When I was younger, my siblings and I would watch the cartoon Popeye the Sailor Man.³ Popeye himself could defeat no one. He was little, skinny, and weak. But in the midst of any crisis, test, or battle, if he could just refocus from what was going on around him to where his strength lay, which was in eating spinach, then he would gain that great strength needed to overcome, defeat, and win. Paul says, “Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and the power of his might.” The focus is not on you, but where your strength is—in God. Paul goes on to say in Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” Paul gave control and credit and shifted focus to one greater than he. Paul was no longer confident in his own ability (and surely not overconfident) but only confident in Christ. He no longer looked at what he could or could not do but was instead focused on the source of his strength and moved in that strength. Have you ever imagined where your life would be if God were not for and with you? Do you realize that every day, everywhere, and in everything where someone is pulling for you, there is one pulling and working against you? There is someone trying to trip you up, rip you up, and tear you down. So I ask again, what do you do when those days come and you only have hope? You prepare, refocus, and regroup so that you might know how He would have you to react.

Empty on a long, cold day,

waiting to be refilled, restored, renewed, repositioned from the point of no return, I wait.

I can’t go back. I won’t go back. My mind grasps at yesterday and then lets go and wonders sadly as it fades away, “What if what could, will never be, won’t ever come? Shouldn’t I know?”

Somewhere within, there is a ticking, tocking, trying to get out, picking at my brain,

plucking at my heart: “What if what could, will never be, won’t ever come?” I wait.

Cement legs and teary eyes bring fear, and breeding deep within the fear are questions, doubt, and unbelief. And yesterday slips fast away, and yesterday slips fast away.

Opportunity knocks at the door, it’s said.

Open up; come on in. My heart stops; it seeks the glimmering rays of hope and hope beyond my strength to move beyond this point of standing on a long, dark road, waiting to be refilled, restored, renewed, repositioned from this point of no return. But here I stand; I wait.

One would probably prefer to never go through anything. But conflict in this war is certain. And the enemy in this war is a worthy adversary against the Christian. He is a malignant foe: one who will come back for the attack again and again. But he, his, and their plans and attacks are not unconquerable, for it is God who puts the enemy in check! “When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the Spirit of the LORD shall lift up a standard against him” (Isaiah 59:19 KJV). It has already been determined that things are going to happen in this life. Trouble is going to come. Problems are going to arise. Storms are going to blow and wreak havoc. Battles, one behind another, will have to be fought. Are we going to win every battle? No. But the key is not always whether we win or lose, but moreso how we respond to the trouble, the storm, the winning or losing of the battle. How are we going to behave and react?

Warren Wiersbe said, “We will have peaks of victory and valleys of discouragement.”³⁷ How are we going to react to either one? God calls us to act and speak beyond the ordinary things. He calls us to know in both instances when to react and how to react, what to say and what not to say. Furthermore, we are to know when even to speak and when to be quiet. It’s all about following His directions, in any case, and at all times. When running track, I learned that every leg of the relay team had a specific responsibility. The common cause was to run fast and win the race. But sometimes, even with the perfect start, precise form when coming out of the blocks, correct way of the ing of the batons, and fastest time run by each leg of the team—even with carrying out all the instructions and completing each responsibility—we still weren’t guaranteed to win. How were we to react? Battles are not always fought to be won, let alone races. But Napoleon Hill said, “One of the most common causes of failure is the habit of quitting when one is overtaken by temporary defeat.”³⁸ No matter what mistakes we make or defeats we encounter, the worst mistake of all is to give up. It is often said that the defeat of one thing gives way to victory of another. Some battles will be won on the first day, but others may be lost. Yet some may linger to build character, grow faith, and help us trust and stand in God.

Standing: it takes a lot to stand when you have been knocked down. Standing: getting back up, standing is just half the battle.

Face-down in the mud, the enemy topples, towers, triumphs over you. And standing: it takes a lot to stand, to get back up, to face the enemy, to say and send the message loud and clear, “See, yes! I’m still here! No fear!” And standing is just half the battle.

In every situation that arises in this Christian journey, in order to achieve, you must know also what not to do. All through the Old Testament, saints of old were told to be still and see the salvation of the Lord. In other words, don’t do a thing. Stop and wait to see that which He makes manifest.

“Give me patience, Lord.” Every example of patience is knocking at my door, standing in my path, yelling in my ear. Every example of patience wants in, wants space, wants me to see I have no patience. Every example of patience is wrapped around and twisted around and covered up by complicated situations demanding patience. I have no patience.

Every example of patience is time-consuming, mind-boggling, soul-searching. What should I do next when questions and questions and questions continue to come and I don’t have answers, I don’t know the way, the why, the how, I don’t have patience? Every example of patience is climbing over high walls, digging through dark tunnels, pushing past hordes and hordes of things I don’t need,

I don’t want, I don’t expect; I don’t have patience. Every example of patience is way out of reach, yet pressing down so hard upon me, barreling, twisting and turning within me, pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling until I’m stretched past my limits, way beyond what my mind can understand, my hands can reach, my eyes can see: I don’t have patience.

“Give me patience, Lord. Calm my soul, still my nerves,

my beating heart command to slow and wait and cease to believe I don’t have patience. Sit me down under the Tree of Life that I might wait and rest and every example of patience I might see in Thee. Give me patience, Lord.”

One of my favorite songs is by Rev. James Cleveland. He sings, “What shall I do? What steps should I take? What move shall I make? Oh Lord, what shall I do? I’m going to wait.”³ That’s faith.

Standing still and waiting or doing nothing when things around you go awry takes faith. It takes reacting in a manner that is outside of the normal. It takes believing that despite and outside of what you see concerning the circumstances surrounding you, God is all He claims to be and can do anything but fail. It takes relinquishing how you want to act and believing He is going to act. It is knowing and acting on your great strength that lies in God and standing in Him firmly, no matter what.

Sounds like thunder in the distance, getting louder, louder, louder. In my chest, it’s beating, beating, beating drums, bugles blowing, horses, hooves running faster, faster, faster. Against the pavement,

fire is sparking, armies, millions marching, approaching closer, closer, closer. Ground is shaking. Inside, I’m breaking until I say, “Before I rise, I’ll stop and listen. I’ll wait. I will be still.”

Just like the world sees relinquishing control as weakness, many see being still as weakness. The fight for righteousness never dies. It will prevail. But who knows better about fighting for righteousness than the righteous One? So why not wait for Him? Why not take your stand and hold your ground still in Him? Strength, victory, life, and overcoming are not in us as Christians unless we stand in Him. Anything can happen that we just never imagined. But God has a

solution for every problem that arises. And for every battle we might face, Christ is available to move on our behalf. The final question is, do we react by moving on our own, or do we wait? I’m going to wait.

Tit, tat, tat, tat: the problems of this world drop into our lives like rain dripping through the ceiling, hitting the floor in the middle of the night. Louder, louder, louder, awakening every fiber of your being, every thought in your mind, every doubt of your past and brings them forth, and then

what? Peace is pushed aside, and the puddle leaves you drowning in disbelief, despair, daunting feelings of Now what? Now what? Now what? Squeezed inside the overwhelming silence is the tat, tat, tat, the problems of this world. Wretched beings in the middle of the night, dancing on the ceiling, playing in the dark, stirring up the questions of Now what? Now what? Now what?

Pitch and patch the roof that covers up your life. Put your finger to your lips, and summon all to quietness in the night to fill the bucket of your soul no more with dreaded thoughts of what tomorrow may or may not bring. And sing yourself to sleep. Goodnight. Goodnight. Goodnight. Sleep tight.

Chapter 6 Now by This I Overcome

Transcend: to rise above or go beyond the limits of; to triumph over negative or restrictive aspects of: overcome. ⁴

In 1979, I spent one of the worst days of track season in Amarillo, Texas. There’s something about West Texas; when the cold rolls in, it’s never just the cold. It’s always accompanied with something else. That day, it was snow—not just a little snow, but thick, blowing, blinding snow. It was the kind of snow that seemed to cover and crowd out every inch of visibility. In a matter of minutes, we were in a blizzard! Don’t get me wrong; I loved track. But I hated cold weather, especially when I had to run in it. Well, fate had it that I had the mile relay left to run—as a matter of fact, the last leg. Coach had a rule that we did not get on the bus until all our events were over, especially if we were runners. (I’m smiling.) He wanted us to stay warmed up. I can the cold weighing me down. Although my legs were warmed up, my feet felt like bricks. I imagine my teammates for the race were just as cold, but I me. I thought, Just get this over. I saw that we were ahead, but the second place was coming in close. Coach said, “Get the stick, and just keep the lead. Put your head down, and keep the lead.” That should have been easy, right? I got the stick, turned the first curve, and felt like I hit a brick wall. The force of the blowing wind and snow seemed to stop me dead in my tracks. I couldn’t see or breathe. All that was against me appeared at that moment to outweigh all that could possibly be for me.

But in all his wisdom, Coach knew I was going to need help. Sometime during the race, he had ordered the bus to be cleared, and everyone was positioned around the inside of the track. A few minutes after turning that first curve, I heard him scream, “Coleman, put your head down and run!” A few steps ahead, I heard a teammate scream the same thing, and so on. All the way to the finish line was the sound of familiar voices urging me to keep my head down and run. We won the mile relay that night. We not only took home the medals, but also the overall trophy for the most points. After crossing the finish line, I got cramps in both my legs. I could still barely see or breathe, and I needed help walking. But I knew my teammates had me. I knew I had Coach. (Thanks, Coach, for the memories.) I knew I was not alone. I came to learn that night that whether running an individual race or a relay, despite all obstacles, I was always to focus on running the race and getting to the finish line. Most of all, I learned that what is before me is not at all the essence of what is in me.

The Fight to Go Forward

A little tiredness in my soul today— I can’t turn back; I won’t turn back. Bundled up, pushing in, moving around but won’t come out. What’s that overwhelming feeling all about?

I can’t turn back. I won’t turn back. Giving up, floating in my head. Perseverance, standing, pulling, screaming in my face. Tiredness, tiredness, tiredness I wish I could erase.

Cloudy, strings of cobwebs blocking my way. Sit down or turn around? This fight is for another day.

I rest, but not long. The urge to go forward is much too strong.

There is a shout. There is a stirring. There is a feeling to relinquish my hold and let tiredness, tiredness, tiredness have total control.

Bag on my shoulder, cares in my bag— take it off, set it down, because travelling home, going on shouldn’t be so hard.

I can’t turn back. I won’t turn back. I’ve come too far, and travelling home, going on shouldn’t be so hard.

What are the odds that the higher I go, the harder things would get? What are the odds that the obstacles would come more frequently and the opposition would be greater? What made me think that coming out of the valley was the hard part and this part of the journey would be a breeze? Who would have guessed that I would be this tired, especially since I am on my way home? Why did it take so long for me to get it, to understand and finally realize (with frustration setting in) that climbing higher is an uphill battle, and in order to go higher, you have to go through something? I whine a lot to God. (There, I said it.) I ask a lot of questions of God. I still don’t quite understand many things I have gone through. But one thing I do know and am learning is that in order to lead someone to Christ, one must know the way to Christ. In order to go higher, one must be willing to suffer the cause of Christ. The words of the apostle Paul in 2 Corinthians 4:5–18 (MSG) says,

, our Message is not about ourselves, we’re proclaiming Jesus Christ, the Master. All we are is messengers, errand runners from Jesus for you … We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives … We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn’t left our side; we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t broken. What they did to Jesus, they do to us …

Our lives are at constant risk for Jesus’ sake, which makes Jesus’ life more evident in us. While we’re going through the worst, you’re getting in on the best! … Every detail works to your advantage and to God’s glory: more and more grace, more and more people, more and more praise! So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever.⁴¹

Bear this world a little longer: grief, displeasure, heartaches and pain, strife, envying, with nothing to gain? Bear this cross.

Bear the things that cut you down, criticize, ostracize, neglect, and disgrace, those things that stifle

and are put up as barriers to hinder your race? Bear this cross.

Everything that needs to be endured must be endured so that one might finish this race. Every part of the journey, no matter how hard, is needful. Beverly Sills said, “There are no shortcuts to any place worth going.”⁴² Why is this needful? In the midst of tragedy, trials, heartache, and pain, new birth emerges. And in the midst of defeat and death, hope is born. We hope to see what the end will be. John 19:17 (KJV) reads, “And he, bearing his cross went forth.” “The path He took” in Latin is called Via Dolorosa (“way of grief, way of suffering, pain or sorrowful way”).⁴³ Every step, weight, stripe across His back, scornful word, and encounter with a friend or enemy was needful that Scripture might be fulfilled and Christ might save a wretch like me. Could a step be omitted? If anyone could omit a step, it should have been Him, right? There was no easy way to the cross. Everything was for a reason. There are reasons experiences, trials, storms, and even afflictions benefit us. There is a reason even when the enemy may appear to prevail in great measure. There is a reason when we are pressed out of measure, above strength, and even beyond compare. There is a reason to go forward, even though you have reached the point where you don’t see a way out and in the awful anguish of the moment, you desire to go back. There is a reason, nevertheless, to finish the race. Where there is no struggle, pushing through, or enduring on, there is no strength. Where there is strength, even worn out and decreasing, one finds with every ing day vitality to move toward hope. And hope breeds faith. Where there is faith, one steps, stands, and acts in belief that this too shall . There is something else to come, something greater. Through faith, one sees Christ. He breaks chains and liberates from bondage of all circumstances. By this, we can overcome, one second at a time, one minute at a time, one hour at a time, one day at a time, and one battle at a time. One can overcome anything to finish this race, so do not give up!

Trouble Don’t Last Always

Shadows of courage, and then they take to flight. Spring is here, but no flowers bloom. Actions of others persist, infringe, push in. When? When is all of this to end?

Something blows, but where does it come from? Miles and miles away, this day never happened, eyes never opened, hearts never beat defeat. Facades of evil and darkness

fill the night. Is that what’s right? When is all of this to end?

A soul, it screams, “Show me sunshine. Show me happiness. Show me rolling plains of glory green. Do you even know what I mean?”

Picture this: oblivion, and then a point is made. A light is seen within the beating heart, and then it starts. A seed, it grows and pushes up from within the fallen earth, new birth. Hallelujah!

New birth! New life, new hope, new day. Hey, I see a smile in the clouds. I hear a song in the air. I dare hope or think or ask, “When is all of this to end?”

You and I must believe by faith in hope, and our hope must be in Him. All that we are or hope to be rests upon the faith that God does have a purpose for all this. When we catch on to that, even in the midst of the extreme—whatever is allowed, however long it takes—you and I can still trust in Him. When we catch on, we will not allow anything to keep down the inward stand or outward testimony of that faith. We can rejoice in God even when we have nothing else to rejoice in. And we can cleave to Him, even though in our present circumstances, we may not be able to find comfort in Him. My friends, it can and may get bad. But we must believe by faith in hope. Our hope must be in Him and the expectation of His help, and that expectation must be with strong confidence that cannot be cast down, regardless of anything. By this, we overcome! “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33 NIV).⁴⁴

In every direction, one is pulled, pained, plucked piece by piece; weighing heavily in one’s life is this and that, and things, things, things that trouble, torment, tear apart the mind, the heart, the soul. Dreadful, dreadful workings on one’s mental state, physical being,

spiritual sense of who one is, of what one is to do and be and see of them in He. But oh, the Spirit reminds— because He knows the direction of one’s soul— the ending of this story told, and this is not my home. No, this is not my home.

A person knows his or her given birth name, the one used every day of his or her life. Who can be convinced that his or her name is something else? That’s the mind to have when trusting God, hoping in Him, and standing on His Word. That’s a mind that is sound, solid, firm, confident, made up, and settled in what one believes. That’s a mind of determination past hope and beyond. That mind knows help and hope come from deeper within than what one believes he or she can do alone; that mind knows Him living within means one is never alone. That’s the mind that blocks out all doubt and knows, If I believe, then I can receive. It’s a mind that understands there are seasons of faith, some low and some high. Whatever season one may be in, he or she is to never let go of faith, no matter what. This mind knows that the influence of evil is great in this world, but the

power of love, faith, and He who is able to deliver are greater still. This mind knows, as did the psalmist in Psalm 27:13, “I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.”⁴⁵ It is a mind that never forgets that our call and faith are in the cause of hope and light that outlast any darkness. Though we might be unsure of some things, we have no uncertainty in our freedom, faith, or finish. We believe this faith, so we never speak or act in defeat. We know that our Redeemer lives, and by this, we overcome!

Everything I own, I work to keep: my dignity, my sanity, my humanity, my spirituality, myself from giving in, giving over to the ways of this world.

Hitting my head against the brick wall, sometimes it feels like a battle I might just lose.

I cannot lose! I will not lose! It’s worth it all to overcome. It’s said, I read, “We shall overcome some day.” Let’s pray and keep on living, trying, fighting for a cause. All of us enduring wars, scars, hurts and pains, losses and gains, fighting for a cause. All of us onward marching,

never turning back. Pushing forward, pressing harder, step by step by step. It’s worth it all to overcome. “We shall overcome some day.”

It is said that faith changes things, and it does. But I believe that grace changes more. By faith, I expect God’s help to overcome, but grace is God’s help to overcome.

He Is

To be right here, yet still so far away. To be

around, above, beside, within the boundaries of my soul, my mind, my heart, my Lord. He is a wonder in my life, my joy, my strength, my hope He is. Perhaps you did not know He is ever so, ever so, ever so my grace He is; ever so my grace He is.

Without His grace, how could one overcome? How could one rise from despair, dismay, defeat, and even death? Where in the world would one be? I can imagine a lot of things, but I dare not imagine that. I know that at my worst, it could get worse. And at my lowest, I could be allowed to go lower.

Where do I look for joy, love, faith, grace: in a jar, on a shelf, or inside myself? On a rainy day, it can be so very, very far away— not close at all, it seems. Not here at all, not real at all. And so, I look to You. You bring me all I need to get past,

outlast. You bring me all I need.

What helps me overcome whatever this world throws at me? It is this dispensation of God’s grace. It’s enough, you know. At my lowest point, weakest spot, or greatest trial, it’s enough. Paul said in 2 Corinthians 12:9 (KJV), “And he said unto me, my grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” Paul knew something, wouldn’t you say? He had strength for the time at hand and the times to come—not because he relied on himself but due to the grace of God. He overcame persecution and prison not because he was so powerful, but because he surrendered to and relied on the One who was all-powerful. He knew grace was enough to overcome persecution, prison, or anything. What ? Do we know? Have we allowed grace to move in, take over, be what we need, and do what we can’t? Have we welcomed grace to wear the hat, fill the shoes, hold the hand, guide the feet, still and calm the breaking heart, provide safety, and be everything we need to overcome the time at hand and times to come? The songwriter wrote, “Beneath the cross of Jesus I fain would take my stand, the shadow of a mighty Rock within a weary land; a home within the wilderness, a rest upon the way, from the burning of the noontide heat, and the burden of the day.”⁴ What goes through your mind when you read those words? I imagine power and hope. I imagine enough strength to stand on because of what He did on the cross. I imagine enough grace in my life to overcome.

The call to overcome is one of wisdom and seeking

and reaching and standing and opening up the door of wonders and grace and knowledge and trusting and believing by faith He’s real and, He will do what He said He will do.

The call to overcome is one of character changing and breaking and bending but mending and building me into what glorifies Him and sending me to do His will

His way today.

The call to overcome is one of love and honor and glory and power. It’s Him in me who causes me to be.

The call to overcome is one of moving and teaching and reaching and praying and praising and speaking those things, all things that say He will do what He said He will do.

I believe; I receive the call to overcome.

When I see myself beneath the cross, I overcome things that would puff me up, cause me to boast in myself and stand prideful of my own achievements, abilities, and selfish ways. Seeing myself there humbles me from things done in jest, entertaining, and mockery to His holy name. Seeing myself there shines a light on my sins and all He did for me to be in and with Him. It is there that I know I am who He called me to be. There, I can be strong, because I stand in His shadow. I am humble, because I bow at His feet. I am mighty, because I am held in His hand. Beneath the cross, I know I am nothing without Him. And without Him, I cannot overcome. In the words of Alexander Dumas, “I maintain my pride in the face of men, but I abandon it before God, who drew me out of nothingness to make me what I am.”⁴⁷ I have never been worthy of other people. But of God, I am! I am comforted by and confident in the words of the apostle Paul, who said, “And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.”⁴⁸ What was started in me was for His purpose and reasoning. Seeing it to the end has never been of me, but of He who is greater in me. I am comforted and confident that the journey I so often talk about is not one of coincidence. It has taught me love, even for those who hate me. It has taught me patience and peace, even in a world of turmoil. It has given me a greater understanding of what God would have me do and not do. It has afforded me some of the greatest experiences of brotherly love found even in uncommon places and faces. It has taught me that even though pain and hurt may come, if I look, I can see God clearer. I have learned that overcoming anything is truly accomplished when trusting in Him.

I hear the cries of a thousand souls speaking in my head, “We are not dead but live in you.” I hear strength and pain. I hear sadness and joy. I hear truth that hurts and never ended while on this earth. Bleeding souls of sadness cry from disappointment, “When is this to end? How is this to end?”

Better is the ending of a thing than the beginning thereof. Perhaps to some what joy it brings, for now we sing of gladness,

goodness, freedom flowing through our souls. Something greater makes us whole. Now we sing of bitter waters that flow no more. Gone are distant voices crying on a distant shore. Gone is turmoil. Gone is pain. Something greater now to gain. Something greater now to gain.

Is this the life I pictured I would have? Honestly, no. I did not expect some days would be as challenging as they have been. Did any of us? My life has been filled with many days of heartache, sorrow, disappointment, and defeat. And no, Mr. Hughes, “life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.”⁴ But those are not the days that characterize who I am. The days of overcoming show what’s in the core of me. The days of victories—moreso the final victory—keep me going and make me know who I really am.

Exactly what have I to gain, to lose, to be or not to be because of me? What have I to see or say or miss out on by being still, not seeking to complete His holy will? By letting it go, by saying, “I give up today” and abandoning His way? By not seizing the opportunity when it’s right in my face, by not focusing on glory, not finishing the race? Not timely, nor persistent,

not staying on the path? Not glory, no glory, but shame and disgrace and wrath.

Frederick Douglass said, “You are not judged by the height you have risen, but from the depth you have climbed.”⁵ Yes, this has been a life of struggling and straining, but I know I am so much closer to where I am going than where I came from. I know that when I look back, I gain greater strength to go forward. I choose not to stop here, because I know I can’t stay here, for this is not my home. I must and will get past this point, for home is on the other side. It is there, with God, that one has truly overcome, and peace will be my journey on the other side.

Brash and violent are the ways of this world, borrowed and spent against time after time after time. Tired, back up against the wall. Fighting,

this world is filled with fighting a battle wrong and right. And now the enemy approaches, bold, borrowed and spent against time after time after time. Tired, and when, and then the battle finally ends.

I must endure changes and changes and changes. Push through, pressing to the end. Time after time after time fighting hard,

never giving up. Just trying to win and then finish the race and leave this place.

Can’t be fashioning the heart after things of old, cold in this world, going nowhere time after time after time. Tired, this battle fought night and day

in a place none of us can stay. And when, and then this battle finally ends, I go home.

In the meantime, I work. I run. I succumb to the ways of God so I might overcome the things of this world and achieve my reward—in the end, my heavenly home. That in itself is the next step. “Dorothy says a tearful goodbye to her friends in Oz, and then follows Glinda’s instructions. Closing her eyes, tapping her heels together three times, she says to herself, ‘There’s no place like home … there’s no place like home … there’s no place like home.”⁵¹ The story is not over but is dedicated to Mama, who has overcome, and to many others who are still in the midst of their transitions.

Endnotes

¹ Chan Laozi, The Way of Lao-Tzu, Chinese Philosopher (1901). ² Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., “A Proper Sense of Priorities” (speech, Washington, DC, February 6, 1968). ³ Scripture quotations marked NLT are taken from The Holy Bible, New Living Translation (Wheaton, Illinois: Tyndale House Publishers, 2004). ⁴ Eugene Peterson, The Message (Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress Publishing Group, 2002). ⁵ Warren Wiersbe, Be Reverent (n.p.: SP Publication, 1990; Colorado Springs CO: Cook Communications Ministries, 2005). Allan Rufus, The Master’s Sacred Knowledge: A Key to Your Inner Treasure (n.p.: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2012). ⁷ Brian Lanker, I Dream a World: Portraits of Black Women Who Changed America (New York, NY: Stewart, Tabori & Chang, a division of U.S. Media Holdings, Inc., 1989), 109. ⁸ Max Lucado, The Applause of Heaven.(Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2013) Warren Wiersbe, Be Strong (Colorado Springs, CO: David C. Cook, 1993). ¹ Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., “I Have A Dream” (Public speech during March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom; August 28, 1963). ¹¹ Excerpt from poem “The Time to Lead.” ¹² The Holy Bible, International Standard Version (Bellflower, CA: ISV Foundation, 2012). ¹³ John Milton, Paradise Lost (London: Samuel Simmons, 1967).

¹⁴ Eugene Peterson, THE MESSAGE: The Bible in Contemporary Language (Colorado Springs, CO: Navpress, 2002). ¹⁵ Maya Angelou I Know Why the Caged Bird Sing (New York: Random House, 1969). ¹ Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland (London, England: MacMillian Publishing, 1865). ¹⁷ Charles Stanley, Living the Extraordinary Life: Nine Principles to Discover It (Thomas Nelson, 2008). ¹⁸ New Living Translation Bible (Carol Stream, Illinois: Tyndale Publishing, 2007). ¹ “Life Principle 15: God’s Pathway of Brokenness”: from The Charles F. Stanley Life Principles Bible (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2009). ² T. S. Eliot, The Little Gidding (from Four Quartets, n.p.: Harcourt 1945). ²¹ Max Lucado, You! God’s Brand New Idea: Made To Be Amazing (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2007). ²² Holy Bible, New International Version (Colorado Springs, CO: Biblica, 2011). ²³ The Book of Eli, directed by the Hughes Brothers (USA: Alcon Entertainment & Silver Pictures; Distributed by Warner Bro., 2010). ²⁴ Edward Mote, The Solid Rock (originally published in Hymns of Praise A New Selection of Gospel Hymns, Combining All the Excellencies of Our Spiritual Poets, with Many Originals; n.p.:1834). ²⁵ Kenneth Morris, “My God Is Real (Yes, God Is Real)” (New York: UNICHAPPELL MUSIC, 1944), audio recording. ² Words in parentheses are mine. ²⁷ Holy Bible, New Living Translation (Carol Stream, Illinois: Tyndale House, 2013).

²⁸ Harry Simeone, K.K. Davis “Do You Hear What I Hear?” (n.p.: 20th Century Fox Records, 1958), audio recording. ² Job 31:35 KJV. ³ Holy Bible, New International Version (Colorado Springs, CO: Biblica, 2011). ³¹ Madeline L. Engle, The Weather of the Heart (Wheaton, Illinois: Shaw Books, 2000). ³² Matthew Henry, Matthew Henry’s Concise Commentary on the Bible (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 1706). ³³ Eugene Peterson, The Message (Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress Publishing Group, 2002). ³⁴ Matthew 14:25–30 KJV. ³⁵ Hillary Clinton, speech, Democratic National Convention, 2008. ³ From the cartoon Popeye the Sailor Man, created by Elzie Crisler Segar, published by King Features Syndicate. ³⁷ Warren W. Wiersbe, BE STRONG (Colorado Springs, CO: David C. Cook, 1993). ³⁸ Napolean Hill, Think and Grow Rich (Cleveland, Ohio: The Ralston Society, 1937). ³ James Cleveland, “Having Church” (Newark, New Jersey: Savoy Records, 1990), audio recording. ⁴ “Transcend.”, Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary, January 2017, MerriamWebster.com. ⁴¹ Eugene H. Peterson, The Message (Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress Publishing Group, 2002). ⁴² John L. Mason, Conquering an Enemy Called Average (Tulsa, Oklahoma:

Insight International, 1996). ⁴³ “Via Dolorosa”, Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, January 2017, http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Via_Dolorosa ⁴⁴ Holy Bible, New International Version (Colorado Springs, CO: Biblica, 2011). ⁴⁵ Holy Bible, New International Version (Colorado Springs, CO: Biblica, 2011). ⁴ Rev. Andrew Cameron (W. Arnot) The Family Treasury (Edenburgh; and New York: Thomas Nelson and Sons; Paternoster Row, 1872). ⁴⁷ Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo (Paris: Library of Alexandria, 1845). ⁴⁸ Holy Bible, New Living Translation (Carol Stream, Illinois: Tyndale House, 2004). ⁴ Langston Hughes, The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes (New York: Vintage Books, 1994). ⁵ Frederick Douglass, The Frederick Douglass Papers, Series One, Volume 4 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992). ⁵¹ L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (Chicago, Illinois and New York: George M. Hill Company, 1900).

Pictures

Credit for all pictures goes to Cynthia Harrington, photographer, and Caleb Beck, model.