Walk in the dark

  "Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling". Those lyrics make my heart pause.

   I think about how fast I ran away from God. I think about the times I knew what was right to do and chose another way. I think about Jesus calling to me just as the streetlights are coming on. He is calling, "Come in before the dark!"

  Oh but I waited too long. The streets grew disfigured with the stretching of the shadows. Excitement was in the air and everything seemed possible.

  I grew to love that twilight land. I could still see the porch where Jesus was calling, but I could see the excitement of the unknown slowly coming on. What things are possible at night?

  I had to explore this dark nether world. It frightened me yet gave me comfort. My life slowly became darkened and yet I liked it. The fear was replaced by excitement.

  I was becoming a zombie. I could still remember those wonderful days in the sun. I remember going on picnics and walks in the parks. Frolicking in the snow and splashing in the water. The seasons didn't matter, the light did. Those memories are fading.

  The shadows grew longer. I wondered what terrible things hid in those shadows. Weren't they just the same things that were there in the daylight?

  The sunlight hurts my skin now. Any exposure causes me to wince. My family and friends like the sun so I have to pretend it doesn't hurt when I go out now. I hope they don't notice the change.

  The darkness is enjoyable now. The shadows aren't scary anymore. The scariest thing out here is me. I worry that my family will tell me to stop visiting the darkness, I don't think I can do that.

  I find the darkness miserable yet I find no comfort in the light either. I grope around in darkness and I am blinded during the day.

  I am so lonely.

  My comfort has taken away my pleasure.

  I can't see anymore at night. The darkness is so complete I run into things and hurt myself. Other times I attack and hurt others, but I don't know who they are. Its just too dark.

  I freely hurt others, I begin to curse the light. Wounds begin appearing on people who I know. Devouring them seems reasonable.

  My family has a nightmare. Their nightmare is me. Anybody have a cure for a zombie?

 

 

Grace

John Calvin...some thoughts on grace

  God’s children are pleasing and lovable to him, since he sees in them the marks and features of his own countenance. For we have elsewhere taught that regeneration is a renewal of the divine image in us. Since, therefore, wherever God contemplates his own face, he both rightly loves it and holds it in honor, it is said with good reason that the lives of believers, framed to holiness and righteousness, are pleasing to him. (Institutes 3.17.5)

  Therefore, as we ourselves, when we have been engrafted in Christ, are righteous in God’s sight because our iniquities are covered by Christ’s sinlessness, so our works are righteous and are thus regarded because whatever fault is otherwise in them is buried in Christ’s purity, and is not charged to our account. Accordingly, we can deservedly say that by faith alone not only we ourselves but our works as well are justified. (Institutes 3.17.10)

Memorials

  When Joshua led the children of Israel into the promised land they got twelve stones out of the river and set them up for a memorial. Future generations would ask what the stones were for and then they could be told the story of rescue and deliverance done by God.

  Is there a modern day equivalent? Is there something we can set up that would demonstrate to others our history of recovery as Christians?

  For many the answer is no. If God did deliver them from anything, they are too embarrassed to set up a memorial.

  Openness and honesty are the hallmarks of getting better. Hiding our past is an indicator that we haven't gotten better, only become better at hiding.

  I carry a sobriety coin. It tells me how long I have been sober. It also invites people to ask me about it. I can share as little or as much as I like. But if I don't share anything but how great I am doing today, people can't relate.

  Humanity is broken. For those who pretend they are not broken, go do something rotten so God can forgive you. Its alot better once you have.

  And once God has forgiven you of that horrible act, set up a memorial of his deliverance. Don't set up reminders of how you rescued yourself.

Monkey on your back?

"What Gorilla?"

wife of an addict interview....Awesome!

Pirate Monk Podcast » Episode 27 - The Allie Interview

Nate Larkin

"Nate Larkin"
A testimonial you must hear.

Clean Slate

  Many times when I failed at something my father would pronounce "Now you have a clean slate!". We would have a rather lengthy conversation about all the interesting ways I had flubbed it up, then my slate would be clean.

  I didn't know what a slate was, didn't know mine was dirty, and certainly had no clue if I could then keep it clean!

  Nevertheless I got the basic concept. My sins were forgiven, my future was restored, and my dad could think proudly of me again.

  Inevitably I began to sully the cleanness of my slate. I enjoyed making my slate dirty. (I still do)

  My dad would begin the next round of correction by exploring the vast ways I had previously failed. Although I didn't know what a slate was, I knew mine was never actually wiped clean. The filth was still there and my dad never failed to remind me.

  Today I understand what a slate is and how it gets cleaned. In reality, every attempt I make to clean the slate of my life fails. Every time.

  I need a power greater than myself that can clean it. I need a redeemer who has cleanser. I need a saviour who has the ability to forget what was on the slate. I need a super duper slate cleaner!

  My father was a poor substitute for this need I had. I imagine that God wanted my dad to demonstrate this slate cleaning concept, my dad just couldn't.

  I walk through life now intimately aware of my faults. These sins don't get in the way of Gods love towards me. He sees me writing on my slate and loves me anyways. His love is free and covers anything I write.

  I have a clean slate and God has given me a pen with invisible ink.