New Life'n

Hit men for Jesus

Part 8 of the story of how Gary's life changed.  You could call it From Beer to Eternity.  There might be 20 or so of these to make up the whole story.  Links to other parts are on the right.

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Brenda has a godly friend, Irene, who helps her understand what being a Christian is all about.  I like Irene, except for the times when I smell her agenda.  She's always ready to tell me about Jesus.

"But Gary, it says right here in the Bible," she says.

"Irene, I don't believe the Bible -- if I believed the Bible, I'd be a Christian."  (I think, Duh!)

People from church come over to get me saved.  They call it "visitation."  The World Series is on.  It feels funny with them there with me and my game and my beer.  Show a little sensitivity, will ya? -- I don't say that, of course.  I don't drink the beer with them there.  The quart sits on the floor by my chair.  I know they're not there to be my friend.  It's part of a program.  They're doing it because they're supposed to.  I'm a target.  I think they don't have time for me unless it's part of their program.

Another time hit men for Jesus come over.  They are pros and they are pushy.  "Just say this prayer," they keep saying.  To shut them up, I say the prayer, then realize, oh it's THAT prayer, the one where you admit to Jesus you're a sinner and trust him for forgiveness.

"Uh, NO, I didn't know you were leading me in THAT prayer," I tell them afterward.  I'm taking it back.  They seem confused.  I think, that's never happened to them before.  I think they go back and tell headquarters I got saved.  I wonder how many people are reported as "getting saved" who only said a prayer because they were pressured into it?

I also wonder why I have any kind of possessiveness or ownership or discernment about that prayer.  Why should I care if I mean it or not?

3 guys

No, not a new burger place.  It's maybe an idea for a history or biography project for the kids.  Or maybe history puts you to sleep (especially Civil War history!) and right now you're needing a nap bad and you're looking for just one more thing to cause your head to collapse on the keyboard -- this could be it!

People are talking about tough times now, but war might be the ultimate tough time -- effort doesn't count, only results, plus the times are SO tough they could kill you.  In some of the Civil War stuff I've been reading there are three guys I'd like to learn more about, if I get a chance:

Phil Sheridan -- The ultimate results guy.  One of those people who aren't impressive until they get into action.  I had tears in my eyes reading some accounts of how he led and inspired his men at the end of the war, and how they responded to him.  Controversial, but if you wanted to learn how to get things done, you might learn from him.  You could start HERE.

Emory Upton -- Brave young guy who wasn't afraid to try new ideas on the battlefield.  He eventually wrote books that became Army manuals for how to do war, even though he was never a major player during the war.  Died young and never knew how influential his ideas would become, or that he would be referred to as a "military genius."  You could start HERE (it's a pdf) or HERE.  

Joshua Chamberlain-- Came from a family of soldiers, but Joshua was a theologian, scholar and teacher before joining the war.  He arranged the incredible salute scene when Lee's soldiers surrendered their weapons.  Seemed to get injured in every battle he was in.  Later he was Governor of Maine.  Lived for 40 years after the war.  Start HERE and HERE.  

I know -- they're all Yankees!  Hey, I'm not done reading...

A breeze rustling the leaves

Part 7 of the story of how Gary's life changed.  You could call it From Beer to Eternity.  There might be 20 or so of these to make up the whole story.  Links to other parts are on the right.

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I've been drinking for a few years.  My wife Brenda's friend from high school calls to tell her she's believed in Jesus, got saved, or something.  Mary has an older friend and they start spending time with Brenda.  Sometime after this, Brenda believes in Jesus, too, and she starts going to church and taking the girls and pretty soon they believe in Jesus.

My drinking is progressively increasing, but around this time it seems to stop getting worse.  Not that it gets better; it just seems to plateau at a certain level.  Years later I wonder if that's related to what the Bible says about the unbelieving husband "made holy" or set apart because of his wife's relationship with Jesus.  As if somehow God's grace to her was affecting me because we were married.  Also, there's people praying for me.  I'm not aware of this at the time, though. I'm just working (usually), drinking, sleeping and listening to rock and roll, same thing, for many more years.

Sounds like it's to God

(U2 on Lettermn last week.  Stereo, too.  Words here)

5,000 days

Part 6 of the story of how my life changed.  You could call it From Beer to Eternity.  There could be 15-20 or so of these to make up the whole story.

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For about 14 years drinking is an everyday lifestyle.  For maybe 10-12 of those years I know I'm an alcoholic.  I average about three quarts of beer a day, or maybe a 12-pack of cans.  I think the most I ever drink is five quarts, sometimes 16 cans or so -- after that I just fall asleep.   I don't drink all day, only when I'm off work.  But it's every day.  At most there's two days a year when I don't drink, due to work or family stuff just making it impossible.  I hate those days.

You would think all that alcohol would pickle your innards -- it does.  I see things in the news about the effects on your health and I don't want to think about it, but I watch and read it anyway.  I figure my liver has earned it's keep, filtering about 15,000 quarts, almost 4,000 gallons.

One time at a meeting I'm standing in a doorway and I look at the clock on the wall and take my pulse by hearing my heart thumping in my chest.  I don't have to grip my wrist or anything.  I can feel it pounding.  It's 100 beats a minute.  Just standing there.

Always having alcohol in you affects your personality, too.  You don't process life, you don't mature.  It stunts your emotional and intellectual growth.  I don't realize that, though.  I think I'm pretty smart.

After a routine doctor visit I get a call that some of my blood work looks out of whack -- triglycerides and stuff.  They want to talk to me about it.  I don't go back to the doctor for a long time.

Inside someone's head

a man's ways are before the eyes of the Lord, and he ponders all his paths -- Proverbs 5.21

If I'm apart from God, this is the thing that really makes it hard for me. This is the thing I've got to get rid of.  Because if I can't get rid of it, I'm in a heap of trouble.  So I've got to make this say something else, I've got to discredit it and discredit anyone who says that it's saying what it says.  That's a little hard to do since it says it in the context of someone thinking they're getting away with adultery, so it's pretty plain, but if my intellectual and logical powers are high enough, and my verbal skills developed enough, it can be done.  And if necessary I can resort to an intimidating, dismissive attitude of superiority that is always so effective at putting others in their place.  It's easy to take advantage of people's fear of looking foolish.  

All of this will take a lot of work, but it will be worth it, because no matter what, there cannot be a divine, all-knowing creator who knows everything I do and every motivation of my heart and who's pondering me.

Maybe no one wants to hear those songs

I was just listening to "Hey There Delilah" (I like) and the guy's optimism and dreams for the future and how in "two more years you'll be done with school." 

How come all the famous love songs are written about love that's just starting out?  Or just ending after a passionate run of, oh, three years or so?

Why are there no popular songs about love that's been journeying the road 20-30 years, over the mountaintop of passion and joy, tumbling down thru the valley of suffering and confusion, and reappearing out the other side into the meadow of deep, abiding (and still passionate) oneness?  There are loves like that, why are there no songs, and no singers of songs like that?

"Where were you when..." and my most humiliating moment

Part 5 of the story of how my life changed.  You could call it From Beer to Eternity.  There could be 15-20 or so of these to make up the whole story.

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I'm in the car in the parking lot in front of Northside Drugs at 25th St & Central Ave in Columbus, Indiana.  I'm sitting there after work for a few minutes before I go home, pouring beer into a Coke can (as usual) so I can drink it without drawing attention to myself.  The space shuttle with the teacher has just launched and I'm listening on the radio.  There's an unusual awkwardness from the news announcer, and then the official NASA voice guy says, "obviously a major malfunction."  I drive behind the little strip mall and throw my beer trash in a dumpster and rush home to see what happened on TV.

*     *     *     *     *

One of the times when I'm out of work I apply for a job at the local drive-in theater (yes, the old days).  I have a couple of beers during the day, maybe a little too close to the interview time.  I walk in the building where a few employees and the boss are, chat for a bit, have some laughs, and then the boss takes me outside and says, "we don't need to hire someone who shows up with liquor on his breath."  (Decades later when I hear the word "liquor" I still remember he used it.)  I realize all the people inside know, too.  This is too much!  I've worked hard to convince myself that no one thinks I'm a drunk and now my carefully guarded opinion of myself is threatened with the reality of others' observations!  This could have devastating consequences!  I might have to deal with reality!  Fortunately, the reality of drinking beer overcomes the reality of reality.  But there's inexpressible inner shame.  I never tell anyone, until now.

Optimism, even when

Have you felt like there was something the Miracle on the Hudson plane was trying to say to us?  Something that explains our continued interest, amazement, tears?  Do you think it's something like -- yes, no matter how bad things look or feel, it can turn out incredibly different; optimism is not foolishness...?

In this week's memo, Roy talks about choosing to be optimistic --

A jet is low over New York City. Both engines have failed. Any idiot can see that everyone on the plane is going to die. The pilot can fly into a building and kill all the people inside, or he can line up on a street and kill unsuspecting motorists instead. These are his only options.

Well, I’m on that jet and I say this pilot is going to land on the Hudson River and the plane is going to float long enough for everyone to get out safely and then we’re all going to hop onto some big passenger ferries that will be exactly where we need them to be.

Don’t laugh.  It could happen.

By the way, you’re on this jet, too...

A history book of ancient Israel tells of a starving city surrounded by an enemy army. “Now there were four men with leprosy at the entrance of the city gate. They said to each other, "Why stay here until we die? If we say, 'We'll go into the city'-the famine is there, and we will die. And if we stay here, we will die. So let's go over to the camp of the Arameans and surrender. If they spare us, we live; if they kill us, then we die."

That story ends happily. Not just for the lepers, but for everyone in the city. Well, not quite everyone. There was one man who insisted that God himself couldn’t save the city.  Interestingly, everyone made it safely onto the ferryboats except for that guy. He was the moron screaming hysterically ‘We’re all going to die!’ while the pilot was trying to land the plane on the Hudson.

It’s really an interesting story. You ought to read it. .

got the vid from Justin

The dog on the floor

Is me.  With two-plus quarts of beer and dinner in me, I get a bit sleepy and lay on my side on my elbow on the floor, watching TV with Brenda and the kids.  It only takes a few minutes to fall asleep.  Sometimes I snore, apparently pretty loud.  Brenda and the girls throw shoes at me to get me to turn over and quiet down.  I probably sleep three hours, more or less.  I wake up and it's a silent night but not a holy night and Brenda and the girls are in bed.  I hate to go to bed.  It seems like that's giving up, like there's something important to do before I go to bed.  But I don't know what it is.

I open more beer and turn the TV back on, sitting on the floor in front of the TV, drinking.

This is a normal evening.

"Roots" is on TV in those days -- it's a big deal, everybody's talking about it, it's a big event.  The mini-series finale is still the third most-watched thing ever on TV.  I miss the whole thing.  I'm there, in front of the TV, but I'm asleep on the floor.  When people talk about it at work I don't join in; I pretend I have more important things to do.

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This is part 4 of the story of how my life changed.  You could call it From Beer to Eternity.  There could be 15-20 or so of these to make up the whole story.