“For though a righteous man falls seven times, he rises again…” That’s what Proverbs 24:16 tells us. But the question that it fails to answer for me today is this: what does a man do when he has been knocked down for the eighth time? What about the eighteenth? What about the eightieth? Let me tell you the good stuff and then I will share with you my troubles for today…
I’m getting ready to launch into a new phase of my journey. I have a chance to spend some time traveling with my good friends, the Walkers, as they travel around the country and minister in music. If it works out, I’m going to be doing some keyboard and vocal work with them and I am really excited to have a chance to be in the presence of the Lord and worshipping in the house of the Lord on an almost daily basis.
I’m a bit nervous. I’m a bit excited. I’m already laughing as I try to once again sleep in a bunk on a tour bus. If you don’t know the story of the last time I did that, Email me and I will tell you! It was hilarious. Fat people don’t fit well into little bitty bunks on tour buses! Trust me!
I’m also just incredibly full of a sense of appreciation that someone is going to let me have another chance. That doesn’t happen too often any more. I can’t count the number of people lining up to help me out – because there is no line and there are no people! So I am blown away that my friend Billy has seen value in me and is offering me a chance to walk with him before our Father.
But I am also a bit sad today. I finally have a wonderful opportunity to contribute again, but the only trouble is, I can’t afford it. You see, I am literally homeless. I am nothing. I have nothing. In order for me to travel with the Walkers, they are going to have to add a trailer to their bus – and I have to pay for it. I found a trailer but it costs $800 bucks. And let’s just say I’m a little short on cash right now (only by about $799).
I keep thinking I have a way to work it out, but those ways keep falling through. It seems as though every time I think someone is going to help me out, they decide they can’t (because apparently I haven’t suffered enough yet and it is far too soon for me to move out of my pit and prison – ironically, if I were truly in a prison I wouldn’t be homeless!).
So here I am. I am really trying to pick myself up like the scripture says. But I am well past being knocked down seven times. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve allowed hope to rise again in my chest only to see another “brother” or “sister” in Christ snuff out the embers.
Someone told me recently that as Christians, we are the only army that kills our wounded. I agree. Sadly, I have to tell you that the only significant emotional and physical support that I have received during the past three to four months has come OUTSIDE of the body of Christ. Wow! What a legacy.
I’m getting ready to launch into a new phase of my journey. I have a chance to spend some time traveling with my good friends, the Walkers, as they travel around the country and minister in music. If it works out, I’m going to be doing some keyboard and vocal work with them and I am really excited to have a chance to be in the presence of the Lord and worshipping in the house of the Lord on an almost daily basis.
I’m a bit nervous. I’m a bit excited. I’m already laughing as I try to once again sleep in a bunk on a tour bus. If you don’t know the story of the last time I did that, Email me and I will tell you! It was hilarious. Fat people don’t fit well into little bitty bunks on tour buses! Trust me!
I’m also just incredibly full of a sense of appreciation that someone is going to let me have another chance. That doesn’t happen too often any more. I can’t count the number of people lining up to help me out – because there is no line and there are no people! So I am blown away that my friend Billy has seen value in me and is offering me a chance to walk with him before our Father.
But I am also a bit sad today. I finally have a wonderful opportunity to contribute again, but the only trouble is, I can’t afford it. You see, I am literally homeless. I am nothing. I have nothing. In order for me to travel with the Walkers, they are going to have to add a trailer to their bus – and I have to pay for it. I found a trailer but it costs $800 bucks. And let’s just say I’m a little short on cash right now (only by about $799).
I keep thinking I have a way to work it out, but those ways keep falling through. It seems as though every time I think someone is going to help me out, they decide they can’t (because apparently I haven’t suffered enough yet and it is far too soon for me to move out of my pit and prison – ironically, if I were truly in a prison I wouldn’t be homeless!).
So here I am. I am really trying to pick myself up like the scripture says. But I am well past being knocked down seven times. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve allowed hope to rise again in my chest only to see another “brother” or “sister” in Christ snuff out the embers.
Someone told me recently that as Christians, we are the only army that kills our wounded. I agree. Sadly, I have to tell you that the only significant emotional and physical support that I have received during the past three to four months has come OUTSIDE of the body of Christ. Wow! What a legacy.
I really am trying not to be bitter. I am trying not to be angry. There are those of you in my circle of influence that see this post today as one more indicator that there is sin in my life because I am showing some real emotion. I’m sorry that my wounds offend you. I am sorry that my scars make you squeamish. I am sorry that my experience makes you wince. I am sorry that my choices make you shake your head in disgust. At least I give you something to compare yourself to when you think of your own righteousness and value (take a look at Luke 18:9-14).
I am pleading with you as the body of Christ to let me heal and let me move on. And I’m ready to make a commitment to the body of Christ: I’ll stop asking you for help. Can you please stop knocking me down? It’s time for you to pick on somebody else – I give up.
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