No Shadow of Turning

photo credit Tiffany Nuessle 2024

‘But when they came to the edge of the camp of the Syrians, behold, there was no one there. For the LORD had made the army of the Syrians hear the sound of chariots and of horses, the sound of a great army…so they fled away in the twilight and abandoned their tents, their horses and their donkeys…’ – 2 Kings 7

Had dinner with a dear friend Monday and was telling him Phil Vischer’s new philosophy (see previous blog post), about ‘If God isn’t leading the way, the runners are headed off a cliff’ as it were, and he had a challenge for that. “I don’t believe,” he said, “God has everything worked out, so we’re just supposed to sit around and do nothing.”

I don’t believe that either. One of the pervasive teachings, the Bible is shot through with it, is the principle of sowing and reaping.

I can’t do a blessed thing to make a seed grow. I can facilitate the process what with fertilization and watering and so forth but no amount of effort on my part will turn seed into plant; that’s in God’s hands.

All the same, if in the entire history of this troubled world a seed sprouted that wasn’t planted, I ain’t heard tell of it.

He has the Lion’s share of the effort but if I do nothing, nothing will happen.

So to those, and they are many, who are sitting around praying for a miracle, hoping to win the lottery or be handed a promotion or find a magic lamp to rub and are not pursuing God, not delighting themselves in the Lord, quoting “God works all things together for good” without including “for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose”… (Romans 8)

…yeah, you might be in one of those parked cars God’s not gonna move.

Please note I say ‘not gonna’, not ‘can’t’; plenty of evidence that when needed He is perfectly able to rattle a person’s cage, get their attention.

But even so God didn’t make Jonah go to Nineveh. He would have let the prophet drown if he so chose. He warned Nebuchadnezzar what was coming if he didn’t get his act together. Saul and David both had opportunities to repent when they screwed up; I submit one of the enormous differences between the two was how they responded when confronted.

Anyway—for those content to sit in the stands, you can probably stay there. Love isn’t love without a choice and He always lets us choose.

But nobody scores points that isn’t in the game. All I’m saying.

Meanwhile as thoroughly stated I’m waiting for my chance to jump back in, and even as I read ‘Me, Myself and Bob’ (last reference, I promise, maybe) about all the things Phil Vischer did to get VeggieTales off the ground, before I reached the part about how far out ahead of God he got and how bad a move that was, I remembered.

How in 2007 and 2009 and 2011 when I sent sample DVDs to every dance company in/around the greater Denver area in order to encourage them to hire my videography company. Actions which every time bore fruit; it was a good plan and my business grew.

That was doing something.

Which right now I’m…not.

Huh.

I mean—I don’t want to get out ahead of God but just the same, I mean, I’m not doing anything.

‘Could I be ruining everything?’ that little voice inside me often wonders.

One of the things God especially through regular Scripture study reminds me of is His faithfulness. ‘Great is Thy Faithfulness’ is possibly my favorite hymn and recently as I was meditating on the Fruits of the Spirit from over in Galatians, one of which is of course faithfulness, the Holy Spirit nudged me behind the ear like He does.

“Paul said you flawed vessels should expect faithfulness to result from your relationship with Me—how much more should I, who is without flaw, be expected to act faithfully?”

Couldn’t even write that sentence without tearing up. As I do every time I’m reminded how much I’m loved.

If my kid, the one in that picture up there, pushes me away, gonna put his shoes on himself and insists that he’s got them on the correct way when he totally doesn’t, yells at me if I try to show him…he’s made his choice and can experience the resulting pinched feet if he refuses to listen. I’m willing to leave him to his results.

But if that same child asks if he’s getting it right and he’s not and I don’t say anything…

I’d be a terrible father.

God is not a terrible father.

Am I missing something crucial? Possibly. It’s always on the table; I’ve never done anything perfectly, what are the odds I’d start now?

But He is faithful and I am 100% submitted to His plan and constantly in Receiving Mode, willing at any time to hear from Him and regularly checking in.

If I’m missing something crucial He’ll tell me.

Going back to that 2007/2009/2011 example: I absolutely did reach out to dance companies, promoting the video business, getting out there…

after God revealed that there was business to be had in filming dance recitals by virtue of the dance company my sister was with coming to me, asking if I’d film for them. Same goes for elementary/middle/high schools; I pitched them too, with some success, after the first elementary school fell right the heck into my lap.

All the effort I went to before those moments, pitching real-estate companies and leaving flyers on local doors and filming on spec at a motorcycle shop, spent no little time putting a 20-minute pitch together for them to play on the monitors they already had in the store which surely they would buy from me…

…I accomplished nothing. Gained a little experience, lost time and money so in the end it was a wash.

Everything I did in my own strength did nothing but frustrate me.

Then the first elementary school and the first dance company came to me.

Am I saying the writing success is gonna come to me?

No idea.

It’s not my call.

But if the people on the sidelines can’t score points in the game, neither can any of the players before the game starts. During halftime.

Don’t remember the details but had a book on Dumb Sports Moments as a kid; there was a game once, might have been NFL, where the star linebacker made a fantastic flying tackle to save the other team getting a touchdown.

Only problem being that his team’s offense was currently on the field; he jumped up from the bench, ran out on the field to do so.

Still remember the storyteller describing this guy, after he realized what he’d done, silently walking back to the bench, sitting down and putting his head in his hands.

Can spend all the time/effort/energy I want getting out there but if the game ain’t started yet (three months til football!) the points don’t count. Used a drag-race analogy last week; any street-racer will tell you if you jump before the flag drops, you lost.

This is encouraging because I learned this week that Disney is looking for folks.

Apparently they’ve done this every year for decades; put out the word for aspiring screenwriters (of which I am definitely one) who have at least two scripts (two? I gots six) to apply for…unsure of the specifics, fellowship? Internship? I didn’t read too closely.

Because, thing is, setting aside their stated goal of diversity and my being a Christian, married, middle-aged white guy probably not being high on that list…while there’s nothing stopping me from putting in an application, I just, well…

I don’t want to.

No, really. I’m not saying I’m of two minds about it, or I feel a tug in my Spirit but fear in my Soul, I really truly have zero desire to jump into that particular pool.

Much like how yet another week on I’m still not writing, because He hasn’t instructed me to and I still have zero desire for any particular project, He hasn’t spurred me toward this opportunity and I have zero desire to even go ask if He would be okay with it if I did.

Could I be missing something?

Absolutely.

Is He faithful to smack me upside the head if so?

He certainly has been in the past. No reason to think that’s changed.

I’m not saying I expect the breakout opportunity to come to me, although that’s exactly what has happened every time before—God can do this however He wants.

But regardless of how good a chance might seem, if there’s no desire in my Spirit to pursue it and He hasn’t spoken…it’s not for me.

And one way among many I’m certain of this is the peace.

I still, unexpectedly, have complete peace about not writing, a month into doing so.

I also have complete peace about this. At any point if God wants to redirect me I’m redirectable; I long for His word more than silver or gold. Truly, madly, deeply do.

But as I sit here not pursuing yet another possibility anymore than I’m pursuing all those other possibilities, in essence still doing nothing in the natural…

Complete peace. I’m still right where He wants me doing just what He wants

and in the meantime, unlike when I asked him to arrange my marriage, unlike when He told me He would give me a video business, unlike all those times where I was a big help…I’m not out there wasting time or energy or effort.

I’m right here.

Right where He wants.

Ready when called.

One last thought for those sitting on the sidelines.

Talked about seeds, how God alone makes them grow; have heard that a Pharoah’s tomb was opened and four-thousand-year-old seeds found. Out of curiosity, one imagines, somebody planted some.

                             They sprouted. They grew.

                             Four-thousand-year-old seeds.

                             It’s never too late to get in the game, Best Beloved.

Don’t forget to write

Tuned, Fueled, Pointed

‘Here’s the deal, and this is important, so listen closely: If I am a Christian—if I have given Christ lordship of my life—where I am in five years is none of my business. Where I am in twenty years is none of my business. Where I am tomorrow is none of my business.’ – Phil Vischer, ‘My, Myself and Bob’

When we last left Phil Vischer, previous post, he had received a definite Sign from God that the VeggieTales idea was a good one; that he shouldn’t give up. And anybody paying attention in the mid-90s, even if you were strictly based in the secular world, could hardly fail to note that Phil’s idea took off. I mean, The Simpsons bothered doing a VeggieTales parody. They don’t notice just anybody. (Although their David and Goliath joke in the episode where Homer’s skipping church remains one of my all-time favorites.)

Despite a great deal of turmoil and struggle, Vischer talks about being thrice hospitalized for stress-related issues VeggieTales grew by leaps and bounds, seeing 3300% growth in just a couple years. It was unprecedented, it was amazing, it certainly seemed to be God.

The creators, in addition to VeggieTales, had 3-2-1 Penguins, Larryboy cartoons, a live-action show, a feature-film in the making, Big Idea Productions bought an entire building in downtown Chicago to make into a VeggieTales-themed haven.

Then everything unraveled.

No, really. Everything.

The overreaching, overdrawn, overbuilt company had to default on the downtown Chicago building plan. The live-action show lost money despite being a sold-out ‘success’. Though Bob and Larry were selling millions in merchandise and books and videocassettes Big Idea had gotten so big that millions more were being spent than made.

“When the VeggieTales Jonah movie comes out, if it makes eight million we’ll be okay.”

The movie did far more than anybody expected, something like six million, but it wasn’t enough.

“When the videocassette drops, if we sell three million, we’ll be okay.”

They sold 2.5 million, which is a lot, but it wasn’t enough.

Then there was the lawsuit brought by an overseas distributor.

“They’re lying. They’re completely misrepresenting the situation. Surely God will step in and when He does we’ll be okay.”

The jury awarded Lyrick Studios everything. Lock, stock and Larryboy.

Me, Myself and Bob is a fantastic read, not least because Vischer is completely honest and vulnerable. Would recommend the book for any business owner; I won’t go into detail but after explaining how the house that Bob built crumbled in his hands, Phil outlines in one chapter all the corporate mistakes he made, and very clearly states that in the end the responsibility for money lost, jobs lost, damaged dreams and hopes and lives were in one person’s hands. Himself. ‘I dusted the body for fingerprints; they were all mine.’

Thing of it is, this is the second time reading his book and, probably because I’m in a different spiritual place than I was last time, in transit I noticed something that I had missed before.

From the very beginning, as Phil describes his faith-based childhood, his Bible-college hijinks, the budding world of computer animation and his growing place in it, something was missing.

He started playing around with a new computer animated idea, changed the initial candy-bar character into a cucumber, the planted seed started growing and yet…

People agreed with his vision, bought into the Big Idea, VeggieTales came into being and started gaining momentum but…

Throughout the story, despite Phil’s excellent and detailed narrative style, not once did he say anything like “So God told me to…” or “God’s plan involved…” or “What God wanted…”

No question Phil’s heart was after God; every moment of the story is saturated with a love for Jesus and a desire to serve Him. To tell the world about the wonder of the gospel and fight back against capitalism-driven media. To have a better message. To be, I’m not exaggerating here, a Christian Disney.

But although last week’s example showed God’s encouragement, at no point in the story from birth to death of VeggieTales did Phil say anything about asking God’s counsel.

Until Chapter 21, ‘Dreams, Part II’ which I’m tempted just to type up verbatim because it’s so honest and humble and there’s so much good in it but—Vischer reiterates all the places where God could absolutely have stepped in to save the company…and didn’t. He tells of the loss, of everything, of the lights being turned out on the last hope of his Big Idea, to the point that he was (as of the book’s 2006 writing) a freelancer working for the very company he created.

“For a while of course, I just lay at the bottom of the stairs” metaphorically speaking “and moaned. Then I started asking questions. ‘Why, God? Why did you let that happen, because—I mean—wow—that hurt! And I was doing so much good1 Didn’t you notice? Didn’t you see it? Why?’

And then, very quietly, he started whispering to me.”

Can’t speak too highly of Phil’s willingness to humble himself, to be vulnerable; here he records that eighteen months earlier some woman he didn’t know had emailed him, kept it up on a monthly basis, words of encouragement that nonetheless always ended with “keep an eye on your pride.” Words he did not listen to.

He talks about God trying to get his attention in the save-the-company pre-trial prayer meeting.

In a tape featuring a sermon from a Bible conference his mother gave him, one he was too busy to attend personally. About God-given dreams that nonetheless die, and a Shunammite woman and Elisha and the woman’s son.

Deserves a sermon or two, that story, and if you’re not familiar with it might be worth studying 2 Kings chapter 4—to read about someone given something they had stopped hoping for, who then lost that same something, and showed where their heart was. Not with the dream. Not with the gift. With God.

Like Abraham, and his willingness to sacrifice Isaac.

Like Jairus, in Mark chapter 5. “Do not be afraid, only believe.”

The chapter is so chock-full of good, the whole book is and I’m trying to reduce it to a bite-sized version and I’m not doing it justice. Get ‘Me, Myself and Bob’ and be blessed but as Phil was telling his story, relating what God was saying when he was finally willing to listen as compared to the church he grew up in, he said something that I really noticed.

In relating his Protestant upbringing with its go-go-go work ethic, the need to be constantly serving the Lord, he said one of the phrases thrown about with abandon was “God can’t move a parked car.”

I know that one.

Roughly twelve years ago word got out in the Christian singles’ group I was part of that I had laid down my dream of marriage before God, backed off of dating. In the seventeen years I’d been trying to help Him find the right woman for me I’d accomplished a whole lot of nothing. Been hurt. Hurt others. If He really cared about me and if His plan for my life included marriage it seemed reasonable, seemed Wisdom, to back off and let Him tell me what He wanted.

A well-meaning member of that group took me aside. “God can’t move a parked car.”

When God told me back in 2001 that He was going to give me a video business, any thought I might have had to consult with Him about where to look for work, any thought of keeping my attention on Him rather than getting busy making things happen might well have been shunted aside by those six serious words. Not sure anybody needed to tell me; probably told myself at the time. “God can’t move a parked car.”

Do I even have to say that in this current season of Waiting, where I’m not pursuing agents, not pursuing film producers, doing nothing to promote myself because, best of my understanding, that’s what God has asked of me, more than one well-meaning person has reminded me of that important chestnut?

“You’ve gotta be out there. You’ve gotta be busy. God can’t move a parked car.”

After he (thoroughly) recounts his failure and talks about the Shunammite woman, and Abraham, and C.S. Lewis, “He who has God plus many things has nothing more than he who has God alone,” Phil compares incredibly ‘successful’ Christians like D.L. Moody and Bill Bright with ‘limited’ folk like Mother Teresa and Henri Nouwen, people who could have done so much more if they’d just dreamed bigger, just had better systems in place.

I put ‘successful’ and ‘limited’ in quotes for a reason and I’ll come back to them.

Anyway, after these examples and some wonderful wisdom from Henry Blackaby, Phil returns to his original point: “The problem with the saying ‘God can’t steer a parked car’ is that, while it’s cute, it isn’t biblical. When people of great faith in the Bible don’t know what God wants them to do, they don’t just run off and make stuff up. They wait on him.” I’ll add that when they don’t, every time in Scripture somebody takes it upon themselves to make God’s will happen…bad things result. Every. Time.

Phil mentions Proverbs 29:18, “Where there is no vision the people perish” which can be, has been and still is taken to mean “We need to get out there, brothers and sisters! We need to be doing a work! We need to get busy!”

Absolutely.

Assuming we’re reading that verse right.

‘lack of vision’ is indeed one translation but we need to remember our current contextual understanding of vision was not around when the King James was created. Another and for my money much more accurate understanding is the NIV: ‘Where there is no revelation, people cast off restraint; but blessed is the one who heeds wisdom’s instruction.’

There’s an enormous difference between our visions, our plans, ‘we’re going to make Big Idea Productions the most trusted media company in the world’ and waiting on God, letting potential opportunity pass by, not getting out there busily doing, not until we know what His vision happens to be. Until we have revelation.

Phil talks about the hundreds, thousands of students fresh out of Bible college or film school or art school who are anxious to get to work, with visions of, say, Noah in their minds. “Where’s my ark! I wanna save the world too!”

“…I started to get it. The Christian life wasn’t about running like a maniac; it was about walking with God. It wasn’t about impact; it was about obedience. It wasn’t about making stuff up; it was about listening.

“Noah walked with God. He waited on God. …and when God needed someone at a specific time in history to advance his will in a specific and dramatic way, he knew who to call, because he knew who was listening.”

He knew who to call because He knew who was listening.

Big Idea’s mission statement, mentioned earlier, was about being the most trusted media company in the world.

Jellyfish Labs, the company Phil created after Big Idea went to pieces, their mission statement is Doing whatever God wants. “Where do you see yourself in five years?” “In the center of God’s will.”

Said I’d come back to this; in the natural world while Mother Teresa is held up by most of us as a paragon of virtue and selflessness if, you know, she’d just had a better system in place, how many more people could have been fed? She could have overseen a feeding ministry with a much better infrastructure. Henri Nouwen was teaching at Harvard, that Harvard, with the potential to reach thousands of students for Jesus and he left to care and feed some disabled guy. Who, sure, needed him but there was such potential!

Regular readers will know that I’m dreaming all kinds of big. I’m hoping to bless millions, hundreds of millions of people with my writing.

The dream is as big as it is, far beyond anything I can accomplish and far beyond anything I would have embraced, because as of right now God has said this is what I want to make happen. I’m going to take care of 99% of the work—stand ready to move when the time comes.

All the same if before I finish writing this sentence He says Hey, new plan. Let all that go, it’s gone. He who has God and a writing career blessing and influencing untold millions has nothing more than he who has God alone.

And in no small part because of His patience and faithfulness I’ve got God, Best Beloved.

I have the exact same mission statement as Phil Vischer did in 2006 and hopefully still does today. Whatever God wants.

And that parked car? My brilliant wife came up with the perfect analogy just last night as we talked about all this.

Yes, technically, you could say that my ‘car’ is ‘parked’ right now.

But I’m not on some side street with my feet on the dashboard and my head back, nodding off while a fly circles my head. (That shot up there, toy cars on the shelf, you’ll never know how hard it was to not dust that shelf off before I took the picture…but the setting, dust and all, fits the example)

I’m at the starting line.

My engine is tuned to the point of highest performance.

My gas tank is full.

I’m wearing my firesuit, my racing gloves, my helmet, my five-point racing harness and I am ready

for that green light. For His green light.

The one God will give me in His time, at His pleasure, in accordance with His will.

“The impact God has planned for us doesn’t occur when we’re pursuing impact. It occurs when we’re pursuing God.” – Phil Vischer, ‘My, Myself and Bob’

“All eyes are on You, expectant…” – Psalm 145 MSG

Don’t forget to write

Standing, Waiting

‘When I consider how my light is spent, ere half my days, in this dark world and wide

And that one Talent which is death to hide lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present my true account, lest he returning chide;

“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need either man’s work or his own gifts; who best

Bear his mild yoke they serve him best. His state is Kingly.

Thousands at his bidding speed and post o’er land and ocean without rest;

They also serve who only stand and wait.”’ – John Milton, ‘Sonnet 19’

Minister I listen to regularly, like a few hours a week regularly, often mentions an encounter with God he experienced in 1968, how for several months he was “gone somewhere”, so caught up in understanding of God’s love for him that he hardly slept more than an hour or two at a stretch, ate only enough to sustain himself, hardly noticing he was eating.

That experience has been a cornerstone for what is right now a celebrated, 55-year ministry touching millions of lives around the world.

A student in his bible college asked this man “Do you ever doubt that experience? Doubt that it was real?”

In a very gracious response that, to double down on the graciousness AW mentioned in one of his own teachings that any who hear it might be blessed by, he responded “Every day.”

Every day.

God has been so faithful, in this season and every other in my life. He has proved Himself over and over and over and I’m not asking Him to do so again, lately if I ‘put a fleece out’ (see Judges 6) it’s for direction, not for God to prove anything to me. He needs never prove anything to me.

But it’s still mildly frustrating that I must keep continually course correcting. That the needle moves off true throughout the day. That the ‘living sacrifice’ He’s called me to offer keeps, well, crawling off the altar.

All the same when I do start to wonder, when His list of faithful promises seems faded, like maybe I’m just kidding myself about all this, and to sit here not pursuing agents, not pursuing film producers, not working on the next writing project so I’m at least doing something…

He is always always always faithful to remind me that I’m on track. Right where He wants me.

For example a writing friend and spouse, who have been missionaries in a foreign land for some decades. Who had told me, as recently as a few weeks ago, that the chances of ever coming home were slim to none. Who had, if I’m telling the story right and I’ll print a retraction if not, kind of resigned themselves to living on the other side of the world until they were called Home. Even considering aging parents, this friend said “an emergency plane ticket” fund was the most they had found faith to put together.

That same couple will be back here anytime now, if they haven’t landed in the States by the time I write this.

They were hoping just to be able to visit, for the sake of others, and in the last seven days God arranged, beyond any expectation on their part, a miracle that has brought them home. To stay.

Remembering that He does that, things out of nowhere that we hadn’t even imagined possible, was encouragement this week.

As was the following, taken from excellent book ‘Me, Myself and Bob’ by Phil Vischer, recounting the rise (and fall) of VeggieTales.

‘I couldn’t believe my ears. They still weren’t willing to put any money into my talking vegetables—even after seeing Bob and Larry talk and hearing Mike and me hum “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” What more did they need? I drove back home confused and depressed. To make matters worse, all the time I had put into producing that film was time that hadn’t gone into generating any revenue. I didn’t have any money to pay Mike, so I told him he should probably start looking for work elsewhere. Several family members advised me to do the same. Mike found a job at another production company, and I found myself working alone once again.

A week or two later, I was sitting at the kitchen table in our small loft apartment assessing our finances. Things looked really bad. Our checking account was overdrawn. We were late on rent. I had no leads on VeggieTales and no leads on new commercial jobs. In my wallet was a ten-dollar bill. That was it. All the money we had in the world.

“We’re out of dog food.”

“What?” I turned to see who had spoken. It was my wife.

“We’re out of dog food,” she said again. Oh, great. A twenty-five pound bag of Purina was about ten dollars. I looked at the ten-dollar bill in my wallet and looked at our dog, Max. He looked hungry. Reluctantly, I handed the bill to my wife, who headed for the store, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The apartment was still and dark. Our daughter, Shelby, now eighteen months old, was sleeping in the next room. I couldn’t afford to give her health insurance. I couldn’t afford to pay her rent. Now I didn’t even know how I would feed her.

“You fool,” a voice inside me said. “Look at what a mess you’ve made. No one can rely on you. You can’t even take care of your family. And for what? This stupid kids’ show dream? This thing you think God told you to do?” My eyes welled up with tears as the doubt grew louder. “What if you were wrong all along? What if all this wasn’t from God? What if all this was just your idea? Just you? Man, would that ever make you the fool of the year!”’

Not sure why exactly this passage struck me so forcefully. Not like I was possibly potentially having these exact same thoughts about my own vision, my own dreams, as I was reading.

‘For the first time, I doubted. For the first time, I wondered if perhaps I had made the whole thing up. My “call”—everything. “God,” I called out, “tell me this isn’t just me—tell me you’re in this, too!”

A friend stopped by. He noticed the desperate look on my face and asked what was wrong. I told him about our state, and he immediately pulled out his wallet and offered me everything he had. “No, thank you,” I heard myself say. Something told me this wasn’t the answer I needed. My friend left. I turned back to the stack of mail on the table in front of me, looking for something to distract me from the screaming doubt. Bill. Bill. Bill. Wait…what’s that?

There was a letter tucked among the bills, hand-addressed to us, with no return address. I opened it. Inside was a cashier’s check for $400, with a handwritten, unsigned note that simply said, “God laid it on my heart that you might need this.”

My heart stopped. Four hundred dollars wasn’t necessarily going to turn our lives around, but the message was crystal clear.’

Just for the record, my kids have health insurance. The dog has food. The family is not in crisis and this is not a plea for help. Though the burden of the finances has been on my wife’s job as I pursue a full-time dream that has, to date, earned us roughly ten dollars a year over the past six years God has blessed us tremendously. We’re okay.

‘God was there in the room, at the table, with me. He was with me in my darkest hour, when voices were screaming “Give up! This isn’t God, it’s just you, fool!” There he was. Sitting beside me at the black laminate table in our loft apartment as my daughter slept in the next room and my wife hunted for dog food with our last ten dollars—God was there, quietly whispering, “I’m with you. Don’t give up.”

That wasn’t the end of our “hard times,” of course. We had many more crises to face, and we still do. But since that day, I have never once doubted that God has called me to use my gifts for him, and that he will supply whatever resources I need in his perfect timing.

And I will never give up.’

Phil speaks for me. Not that I can claim I’ll never doubt again, the wind and the waves crop up at times and the ship needs regular course correction.

But I know that I know that I know that I’m right where He wants me and for all it looks in the natural like nothing happened again this week, in the Real we’re a week closer to whatever He’s planning

and I wouldn’t be anywhere else.

Rule of three being what it is, not unreasonable if anyone reading is wondering if I have one more example of God’s encouragement.

Of course I do.

One morning this week, might have been Wednesday, I woke up with Ephesians 6:13 in my ears.

‘Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.’ (NIV)

After having done everything.

Two weeks into I don’t have anything to write besides a weekly blog post and this is only coming out of my fingers because I wanted to; had something to say…

I’m not pursuing agents and not pursuing film producers and not trying to kick doors down and not even working on a novel or screenplay or Sarcastic Fairy Tale

because God said if I wanted His best to let Him handle such things

so it could be argued that this week at least I’ve done everything.

Except stand

And wait.

Like I say that verse bounded up the stairs and wrapped itself around my neck, I received it, reminded myself of it as I went into my day.

That minister I mentioned earlier, the one who was willing to admit his heart doubting “every day” the hand of God in his life over the course of a fifty-five year ministry?

I put on, that same morning, one of his sermons in a series about Staying Positive in a Negative World

and darned if he didn’t, in the course of that message,

mention Ephesians 6:13.

‘They also serve who only stand and wait.’

Never worked so hard in my life and I’ve also never had so much fun.

Wouldn’t be anywhere else, Best Beloved.

Not anywhere.

Don’t forget to write

Trusting – Delighted – Committed

‘Trust in the LORD and do good; dwell in the LORD and enjoy safe pasture. Delight yourself in the LORD and He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD; trust in Him and He will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun. Be still before the LORD and wait for Him…’ – Psalm 37, MSG

Thinking about something from four years ago and something else from twenty-three years ago.

This week was the first of But I Don’t Feel Like Writing Anything and I’m surprised and pleased to say that not having work to do was not a struggle.

My Spirit continues in peace and (this is the unexpected part) so did the rest of me. The ever-constant what if I’m doing something wrong/missing something important buzz hovered, but it was background noise, mostly.

This week was the first time in the five years since God gave me the words back that I wasn’t either working on a writing project or waiting out ‘mandatory vacation’ time, as it were, until I could get back to writing. As mentioned last week there’s a half-dozen potential novels I could be researching, several screenplay projects I could be thinking about…but there isn’t anything I want to do next, at least there wasn’t this week, and God didn’t spur anything.

For the record one of those half-dozen, not the one I had kinda expected to be working on right now, involves a tornado-chasing-tour family and I couldn’t turn around without somebody referencing tornadoes this week.

Which puts me in mind of the ‘four years ago’ story.

Regulars will (possibly) remember that five years ago The Feud leapt out of my fingers. Speaking of not waiting super well, the five weeks right in the middle of the first draft when I had too many Dance Recitals to deal with, wasn’t really free to write, kinda drove me crazy – and after it was given out to the world I wanted to jump into the next thing.

Another book. Please, God, let me write another book.

Didn’t know then what I know now—thought, worried about if I’m honest, that I had to choose the right project or be getting it wrong. Be outside God’s will, ruining the plan, blah blah blah.

Thing is—I’m anointed to write and if what I’m creating honors God, and it’s something I have a desire for, it’s the right project. Whether screenplay or blog post or novel or grocery list.

But I wasn’t aware of that, so I agonized. Didn’t want to get it wrong.

And while finishing up The Feud, I happened to drive up into the Colorado foothills, stop at a little place for lunch, got served by a Cassandra.

Could probably count on one hand the number of times in my life I’ve met anybody named Cassandra and this one had no idea, don’t recall mentioning it to her, that one of the potential books I was considering, one that could be next, involved twins then named Casey and Cassie.

Short for Cassandra.

Having met one half of the Baker twins I figured, in the silly way I have of doing math sometimes, that when I met the other half, when I ran across a Casey, that would be God telling me it was time to start A Pair Apart.

The Feud got finished. Got published. I might have taken a week or two off to enjoy the success but I was ready to get going.

And believe me, as soon as Andromeda’s story was anywhere near complete I started looking around. Made a point of going back up the hill to that specific little hole-in-the-wall…wasn’t served by a Casey. Started asking, every time I went out to eat, the server’s name. Guy or girl, would have been fine. No Casey.

I even, not making this up, debated which food court kiosk to go to when at a mall because what if my Casey was working at Chipotle and I went to Del Taco instead?

Got to the point where any Casey, no matter where I met them, would have done—honestly I’m not sure I’ve run into anybody by that name in ages. Like there was a really specific rapture; they seem to all be gone.

In the meantime, and don’t think I wasn’t foolishly desperate, about missing it, about what I was surely doing wrong that would result in total failure…….

Figured research on another book might be allowed, might not be disobeying God’s as-yet-unrevealed-plan and I knew by then that when I got around to Jessie’s Species there would be a falcon. Didn’t know falcons from  budgies so I bought T.H. White’s Goshawk, from the library I borrowed Helen McDonald’s Falcon and in reading that, noted that she had written another book on birds of prey, H is for Hawk.

Was planning on getting that one, too, and then one day in October or so I needed a new book to read. I have a shelf of books I’ve never read, picked up at thrift stores or yard sales because they look interesting, and at the time that shelf was groaning under double-stacks. I couldn’t even see the ones in the back so I moved a whole pile to see what lurked behind and what was waiting for me, completely forgotten about, but

H is for Hawk.

And thusly did William know exactly what book he was supposed to write next.

Wrote Jessie’s Species in 2020, wrote Symphony Alexandra in 2021, still didn’t run across a Casey despite having my radar up pretty much constantly, and either I figured God could stop me if I was wrong or I just got over it but wrote A Pair Apart that same year.

And, you may have been saying this all along, what was I thinking, twins named Casey and Cassie?

Exactly the sort of thing real-life parents do (Katherine and Kathryn is one real-life example—do they just call one and figure they get both everytime?) but what a hassle for a reader! I had people refuse to even start reading the book when the two names were that close, I realized in the editing process that even I the writer had gotten confused a few times…

…and so for various reasons I decided to change Casey (had already met Cassandra) to Abigail.

And immediately ran into an Abigail. In fact I started tripping over them, nearly. Church worship leader’s daughter. Old friend’s oldest daughter. My kid’s kindergarten teacher. Somebody took all the Caseys and switched them out for Abigails, apparently and occasionally I wonder if God teases me a little. When He knows I’ll get the joke.

Anyway.

Point of the long-winded story is that (a) I don’t agonize over the right project anymore and (b) to illustrate the difference between then and now.

Where there isn’t anything I want to work on and I can’t prove that I’ll ever write again.

Be astonished if I didn’t; this is what God put me here to do and I have zero reason to think we’re done.

But as I sit here I don’t have direction from Him or passion for anything specific.

All those tornado references – could be God is telling me something and being real subtle about it; also could be He’s teasing me again—if so I definitely get the joke.

And given how I’ve been and not all that long ago, I’m extremely very thankful that this was a good week. My wife has expressed surprise and pleasure that it wasn’t hard for me—if she was braced to deal with Mr. Cranky Writingpants I don’t blame her for a second; I was braced to deal with Mr. Cranky Writingpants.

But it was a good week. I didn’t have to fight to believe, which I was willing to do. For the most part I was just…at peace. Content.

Trusting. Delighted. Committed. Being still. Waiting patiently.

My Bible in a Year version is mid-Psalms at the moment; wonderful encouragement there today.

‘Yet I am always with You; You hold me by my right hand. You guide me with Your word, and afterward You take me into glory.’ – Psalm 73 ESV

‘Blessed are those whose strength is in You, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage’ ‘Blessed is the man who trusts in You.’ – Psalm 84 ESV

‘May the favor of the LORD our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us—yes establish the work of our hands!’ – Psalm 90 ESV

I’ve been highlighting passages that speak to me; that last one was circled before I got there. Accompanied by a handwritten note from a time-traveler, speaking the faith he had available at the time.

‘4-28-2001 as I pray + believe for editing equipment + work’

The handwriting is mine; twenty-three years ago I was just hoping to afford a computer with an editing program and find somebody, anybody, who would pay me to produce anything on such.

On one hand it would be another six years before Ninja Boy Productions was really humming along

but on the other…God certainly answered that prayer.

‘Not to us, o LORD, not to us but to Your name be the glory, because of Your love and faithfulness.’ – Psalm 115

Don’t forget to write

Action Verbs

‘Abruptly the teacher, who had been perched on a desk, stood up and went to a cupboard. Omri was not surprised to see a magnifying glass in her hand when she turned around.’ – ‘The Indian in the Cupboard’, Lynne Reid Banks

‘So that’s fun;’ this week ‘Hero’s Eyes’ dropped, an episode from season three of the Blind Play Podcast. A Blind Play (buzzsprout.com)

Just wanted to mention it because the actors involved in the recording are reading my words, performing characters I created and for the first time I got to experience what it’s like to release a creation to someone else who might see/hear it differently. The actor reading for my beloved falcon had a different vision than what I’ve always had in my head but also for the first time I got to hear other people reading my words and I’ve been waiting three decades for that.

It was marvelous. Link above has the ten-minute story plus the forty-or-so minutes we all spent talking about the story; both free for the listen if you’re into that sort of thing.

Often when I’m beta reading for someone, I’ll get on their case about passive voice. “They were walking” – “the mouse was chased by the cat” – “the safe was blown up by the robbers” – there’s a time and a place for all storytelling tools but the passive voice is almost always a drag on a story, an unnecessary handicap. They walked, the cat chased the mouse, they blew up the safe and so forth, brings the action to the forefront.

More on that in a minute.

Have heard it preached—and fully buy into, hard as it is in the moment sometimes—that we get to choose how we feel. What we focus on. When Scriptures, and there’s more than a few, talk about magnifying the Lord…it’s not just praise or worship though that certainly helps the process in my case, but determining that no matter what is going on in the natural, I’m going to focus on Yahweh. Make Him the important part and weirdly enough, the bigger I make Him (and have I ever comprehended one-thousandth part of the real? One millionth?) the smaller the problem gets by comparison.

Being incredibly faithful as He is, sometimes God even helps.

This morning I read a Psalm out of my Message-based collection, as I’m wont to do, and today it was Psalm 105.

And something tugged at me while I was reading. I’m always ready for anything God wants to tap me on the shoulder—or hit me between the eyes—with; always looking to be encouraged or strengthened or even rebuked. If it’s what He wants me to see I want to see it.

What struck me about Psalm 105, for perhaps the first time despite multiple readings over the past few years, were all the action verbs. The Psalm is about God’s faithfulness, specifically with the Israelites back in the land of Egypt. And for whatever reason, instead of seeing the whole picture, it was all those things God did that pointed themselves out to me. I bothered writing them down.

He rendered – He remembered – He made – He swore – He established – He permitted – He told – He called – He broke – He sent – He confirmed – He sent – He gave – He turned – He sent – He spoke – He turned – He made – He gave – He substituted – He stabbed – He wasted – He brought – He struck down – He led – He spread – He brought – He filled – He opened – He remembered – He led – He made them a gift – He helped them – He told them…

Yahweh did quite a bit, actually – and looking at it like that…I was blessed.

Because, I’m not ashamed to admit, when I manage to swing away from I must be getting it wrong somehow and ruining everything the pendulum tends to veer over into maybe God’s forgotten me territory. Maybe He’s not going to do anything to help me.

Given that these dreams, these enormous, ridiculous dreams require God’s help, if He doesn’t move I’m utterly without hope here…the fear which is never from Him that maybe He’s got better things to do with His time, that maybe I haven’t really been keeping up well enough to warrant His attention…

These thoughts can become burdensome.

They’re not from God; thanks to what Jesus did for me all the blessings in Deuteronomy 28 are mine by right of adopted sonship; I never have to earn them which is great because I can’t. The whole point of the law was to show us how high that bar is. Nobody but Jesus ever cleared it, I’m not going to be the first so if God would bless, say, David or Moses or Abraham or Peter or Joshua or Gideon…I can have faith that He will bless me.

Remember me.

As I read Psalm 105 this morning (writing this on Monday for all you won’t see it until Saturday, Best Beloved) just looking at that laundry list of action verbs blessed me. Comforted me. He’s a God of action and He’s promisedto act on my behalf. In time.

I’m not religious about it by any means—God forbid I’m religious about anything; it’s a dirty, nasty word—but most mornings in addition to the Message-based Psalm I also take a couple minutes to read, meditate on one chapter out of my English Standard Version.

As of last fall I’ve also started, usually do this around lunchtime, adding in whatever chapters comprise the daily reading in one of those Read Through The Word In A Year Bibles.

The one-chapter-a-day ESV Bible, on January 1^st I was in Exodus or Deuteronomy, somewhere in the Great Wildnerness Excursion with the Israelites while meanwhile the Bible In A Year started (you’ll never believe this) in Genesis 1.

Still, with the BIAY giving me several chapters every day, I knew the two would line up sooner or later, have been waiting for it as in the ESV I’ve been reading Samuel and the BIAY last week had done with Joshua.

They caught up last Saturday, with 2 Samuel chapter 2 in both, and…God showed me something.

Something I’m going to keep to myself for now, in that pondered these things in her heart kind of way, but for the record—it’s very cool and I’m excited.

Anyway. Given that BIAY was humming straight through the Old Testament to where ESV was moving more slowly, as it were, I knew they’d sync up as I’ve said.

What I did not anticipate was that my BIAY would match up with my Message Psalm.

My version of the Bible In A Year is also chronological, so with most of the Psalms being David-related, they’re coming up shortly, little over a week instead of waiting until after Kings, Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, etc.

All the same, most of them, like I say are a couple weeks away.

Except for a few where they stuck them right when they happened.

For example the Psalm David sang when the ark was returned to Jerusalem, chronicled in 2 Samuel 6.

Also known (I know this now) as Psalm 105.

Which they stuck in today’s BIAY reading.

No lie and most definitely no coincidence, the Holy Spirit wanted to make sure I got it so doubled down on those action verbs today.

Remembers, commanded, made, swore, confirmed, allowed, called, destroyed, sent, proved, made, turned, sent, turned, spoke, turned, struck, shattered, spoke, struck down, brought out, spread out, brought, satisfied, opened, remembered, brought out, gave…

Worth noting, I certainly have, that remembered is in there twice.

God is not passive. He’s not out there somewhere wringing His hands.

He is at work and anybody who would choose to give up, well, everything (no less than what He gave up for us, may we never forget) can join Him in the adventure. (see also Psalm 107, 111, etc)

“And now, O Lord God, confirm forever the word that You have spoken concerning Your servant and concerning his house, and do as You have spoken. And Your name will be magnified forever…” – 2 Samuel 25, 26a – ESV

Dreaming with our eyes wide open, Best Beloved

Don’t forget to write

Fulfilled

              ‘You know with all your heart and soul that not one of all the good promises the LORD your God gave you has failed. Every promise has been fulfilled…’ – Joshua 23:14b NIV

              Talked last week (right? You can go back and check) about potential Plan B’s, how sometimes God’s first choice doesn’t want to cooperate with His plan, and something else comes together.

              Found another example in the Psalms this week, specifically Psalm 78. ‘Suddenly the LORD was on His feet like someone roused from deep sleep, shouting like a drunken warrior. He hit his enemies hard, sent them running, yelping, not daring to look back. He disqualified Joseph as leader, told Ephraim he didn’t have what it takes, and chose the Tribe of Judah instead.’ – the Message

              Some of the writings in Psalms are poetic in nature so I’m not saying this is a history lesson—but unless I’m missing something there was a point where the salvation of all was to come through Joseph’s line, by way of Ephraim, and…that didn’t work out. So God went with Judah instead. Plan B.

             

Don’t know how many times I’ve read that Psalm especially in the last few years when I’ve made to read one every morning; never noticed that bit about Judah before. Jumped off the page and smacked me twixt the eyes.

Examples like this are comforting both in my continued waiting, remembering that everybody in Scripture who gets out ahead of God falls on their face so I might as well be content right here—but also when I think about how whatever He’s doing with the writing, other folks are likely needed.

              God hasn’t, still, weighed in on whether my situation has transitioned to Plan B (He hasn’t said it hasn’t, either) but if my Hollywood Associate’s time is up, we’ll never know what might have been. CS Lewis nailed it in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader: ‘“To know what would have happened?” said Aslan. “No. Nobody is ever told that.”’            

             

And mercy it is that we aren’t; I’ll never know. I can be here, right where God wants me, and trust His plan even if He’s busy right now getting His second choice up to speed.

              Another example of that this week, also in my scripture reading – the Gibeonites.

              People of Israel, after God set them free from slavery and they decided not to trust Him when they reached the Promised Land the first time, spent forty years wandering the desert, we know this. They get to Canaan the second time and still haven’t quite learned their lesson—Jericho miraculously falls, then a much smaller force at Ai hands Joshua and company their hats, turns out Achen didn’t want to be obedient and everybody suffered.

              They get Achen straightened out (see the book of Joshua for all this) and God helps them defeat Ai.

              Worth noting. Though it was just one man who sinned the whole people suffered and the first time against Ai they were on their own. Once the sin was atoned for, even though they got it wrong before, God was with them for the second round.

             

They weren’t done making mistakes though. Specifically the Gibeonites.

              See, (Joshua 9) everybody in the area knew what had happened at Ai and Jericho (and with the Egyptians, forty years earlier; when the spies enter Jericho Rahab is like “Where’ve you guys been? We’ve been afraid of you for a generation”, showing God had made the way clear for the Israelites to take the land the first time) and the kingdoms gather to fight back. Hittites, Amorites, Canaanites, Perizzites, Hivites, Jebusites. Band together to stand against Israel.

              The Gibeonites see this and think maybe discretion is the better part of valor, and—significant, this—decide that despite everybody else joining together to stand against Israel, that these chosen folk are probably the ones to bet on. Make a plan to trick Joshua and his army.

              I’ll let you read the details but they act very shrewdly, and—here’s the kicker—Joshua falls for it. Scripture (Joshua 9:14) makes sure to mention that the Israelites did not ask counsel from the LORD.

              They forgot that part and were duly tricked; the Gibeonites, turned out, weren’t from far away, they were from next door and were part of the “everyone in the land” that God had commanded be destroyed.

              But once the deception was revealed, it was too late; Joshua had given his word that they were under Israelite protection.

             

That in and of itself is interesting—even when the given word turned out to contradict God’s command, that does not offer excuse for Joshua to take it back. ‘“We have sworn to them by the LORD, the God of Israel, and now we may not touch them.”’ – Joshua 9:19 ESV

              Jesus said during the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5) that we ought not to make oaths, let our yes and no be enough. This is one example of how that sort of thing can bite a person in the tuchus.

              Anyway—Joshua didn’t ask God what was going on, made a rash oath, had to live with it. (The Gibeonites were made woodcutters, waterbearers instead of being utterly destroyed which they reportedly accepted happily)

              Here’s the interesting part.

              Joshua and company screwed up. They weren’t supposed to spare the Gibeonites. Then when they found out about all this the five kings of the Amorites came together to make war against Gibeon. Which meant they were making war against Israel.

              Seems not unreasonable that God could have left them to their troubles. “You made this oath, you live with it. Call me if you survive.”

             

But no. We’re in Joshua 10 by now, and when the Gibeonites learn the Amorite Kings desire to eat their lunch, as it were, and send emissaries to Joshua begging for help, begging him to remember his oath, this time Joshua does talk to God about it. (Learned his lesson, maybe)

              ‘And the LORD said to Joshua, “Do not fear them, for I have given them into your hands. Not a man of them shall stand before you.” – Joshua 10:8 ESV

              There follows yet another fantastic story where God fights the battle, pushing the enemy into a panic and, for a chaser, throwing stones down from heaven upon them. “There were more who died because of the hailstones than the sons of Israel killed with the sword.” – Joshua 10:11b ESV

              “Cool story, Will. God is amazing. What’s your point?”

              My point is that Joshua screwed up but God didn’t abandon him. In fact God came alongside Joshua once he got his head on straight and aided him supernaturally, in a battle he wasn’t even supposed to be fighting.

              Nobody ever knows what would have happened, if the Gibeonites would have sided with the other ites mentioned earlier or what, but they were never supposed to be Israel’s allies.

              Yet once they were, for all it was a foolish decision, God was still with Joshua.

              I know I’ve gotten things wrong. I’m not aware of anything God has told me to do, where writing is concerned, that I haven’t done.

              He said write and I challenge anybody to tell me I haven’t. He said write a blog and here we are at Episode 220. He said write screenplays and I have six so far.

              He said don’t go looking for an agent, not if I want His best, and I’ve obeyed.

              He said don’t try to kick doors down with movie studios, not if I want His best, and I’ve obeyed.

              He said tell your Hollywood Associate that you have screenplays and I did.

              I’m not aware of anything He’s told me to do that I haven’t been faithful in.

              But not perfectly so.

              Scripture says anything not of faith is sin. Which means unbelief is sin. And if I had a nickel for every time I’ve struggled to believe, up to and including around 2A.M. this very morning…

              I have not done this perfectly. And (isn’t it ironic, don’t you think?) one of the big struggles of unbelief for me is the fear that if I don’t do it perfect I’ll ruin what God is doing.

              Even when that isn’t riding me there’s it’s little brother, the worry that somebody else is supposed to do something and if they don’t then it’ll still never happen.

              So to read about the Gibeonites for the who-knows-how-manyth time and this time realize what I said above, “Hey, Joshua got it wrong but God didn’t turn His back on him…”

              William took great comfort from that today.

             

A minister I’m fond of says, often, “God ain’t had nobody perfect working for Him yet.”

              It’s not about never getting it wrong. That goal is unattainable.

              We seek His will, we do what He tells us, we stay on the path.

              And trust His promises.

              Speaking of Joshua, and others sometimes delaying God’s will—it wasn’t God’s best for the Israelites to hike around for forty years. God paved the way and they could have gone right in had they believed. But for all Joshua (and Caleb) had to cool their heels in the desert for forty years…God was still faithful. And they still saw the fulfillment of His every promise. Eventually.

Beyond today’s included pictures being all pretty and stuff, there’s also a hidden message.

              Yeah, a foot of snow fell yesterday. But Spring is nonetheless coming.

              Read these next verses this week too.

              “So the LORD gave Israel all the land He had sworn to give their forefathers, and they took possession of it and settled there. The LORD gave them rest on every side, just as He had sworn to their forefathers. Not one of their enemies withstood them; the LORD handed all their enemies over to them. Not one of all the LORD’s good promises to the house of Israel failed; every one was fulfilled.” – Joshua 21:43-45 NIV

              All the land. On every side. Not one of their enemies. Not one of all the LORD’s good promises.

              Every one was fulfilled.

Don’t forget to write

Button Down

              “Be glad, Zion Mountain; Dance, Judah’s daughters! He does what He said He’d do!” – Psalm 48 MSG

photo credit Tom Sweeney C2020

              Trivia time; don’t Google it unless you’re a lousy rotten cheater…which stand-up comic’s album was the very first to ever hit #1 on Billboard’s Top 100 list?

              Adam Sandler? Eddie Murphy? Steve Martin?

              It happened in 1960 if that’s a clue.

              No, not Cosby or Carlin. Not Steve or Woody Allen.

              I’ll let you think about it; we’ll come back.

              “He set us at the head of the line, prize-winning Jacob, His favorite.” – Psalm 47 MSG

              Mentioned a couple weeks back that God gave me the green light to hang out my Edit-for-Hire shingle. Have officially done so (if you know anybody) and feedback has been quite positive. Several people have lined up for my help as soon as they gather the funds or finish the manuscript or what-have-you. Several others in addition to saying I will be contacting you when I have need have also, of their own volition, spread the word to writers they know.

              Which is validation of the idea for certain.

              Thing is, and as I’ve said many, many times the way I feel about things doesn’t necessarily reflect reality in either the natural or the Real (read: God-oriented) world…

              While I am glad response has been positive and look forward to charging people money to suggest ways to make their writing better—noticed, specifically as I walked hand-in-hand with my almost-three-year-old toward library storytime on Tuesday, a certain feeling.

              Rather an overwhelming one. Had to work during said storytime to focus on singing along and paying attention and engaging rather than being swallowed by the feeling

              that this new venture, this Editing thing, is…

              my Participation trophy.

              My consolation prize.

              My copy of the Home Game.

              “Jacob-wrestling God fights for us, Yahweh of the angel armies protects us.” – Psalm 46 MSG

              Don’t know that this is a thing anymore, especially as game shows seem to appear and disappear like soap bubbles nowadays but last century those that lost on Jeopardy or Wheel of Fortune or Family Feud were consoled in their loss with a free edition of the game they were just humiliated by losing on national television.

              Random thought as I struggled to sleep at 2A.M. this morning—did any runner-up ever take pleasure in playing that home version? Being reminded of their loss?

              Kind of a backhanded gift, now that I think about it. Wouldn’t surprise me if 20^th century game show producers had a Production Assistant shadow the contestants when they left, to retrieve the immediately-tossed-in-the-garbage Home Versions to hand to the next losers.

              Anyway.

              This feels, and believe me I am regularly reminding myself that the way I feel does not necessarily represent the views and opinions of Almighty God—like my, well, safety school.

              ”It’s not the job I wanted, but beats flipping burgers for a living.”

              I’d far rather edit for folks than flip burgers—pay’s better, don’t have to put pants on if I don’t want much less wear a nametag plus I would do any job to provide for my family but right this second

              it feels

              like it’s over.

              Wrote up Victory Lane the screenplay last week. Could, very well might if I don’t have an editing client to take care of next week, start typing up Hawkstone, volume two in The Chronicles of Wystfalia.

              Despite the feeling, assuming I feel Monday morning the way I do right now, that it’s kind of a pointless exercise.

              Looking back, setting aside last week when I celebrated my wife and our tenth anniversary, every blog post so far this year has mentioned this feeling.

              The road is…really stretching out right now. Appears endless.

              “I’ll make you famous for generations; you’ll be the talk of the town for a long, long time” – Psalm 45 MSG

              Cross-country trip back in 2012, astride my newly acquired used Harley to visit Mom and Dad, I took Highway 50 across Nevada. Called The Loneliest Road in America for good reason; two lanes, six-inch-wide shoulder, at one point long after I’d left I-70 behind I decided “Hey, next time I can I’m gonna pull over. Need a break from riding.”

              Was ready at any moment to stop and yet an hour, no exaggeration, a full hour at 65 MPH passed before an abandoned gas station appeared and I could get off the road.

              This winter feels like that. The road

just

keeps

going

              and I’m so tired.

              I’m so tired.

              “We didn’t fight for this land; we didn’t work for it—it was a gift! You gave it, smiling as You gave it, delighting as You gave it.” – Psalm 44 MSG

              God encouraged me on the Christmas roadtrip to meditate on the blessings in Deuteronomy 28, start speaking them over myself, that discipline has helped lately. A lot.

              Not in terms of feeling better but I believe I can say that despite acknowledging how I continue to feel I haven’t spoken any disbelief. I’m speaking His words, His truth, although I can say that sometimes saying that everything I set my hand to prospers feels as ridiculous as saying “two plus two equals Lon Chaney Jr.”

              Feels like nonsense.

              But the way I feel, much as I’m struggling to slough it off at the moment, does not reflect even the natural world to say nothing of the Real.

              And He promised.

              He promised.

              And it’s not like there are no stories of people succeeding, writers succeeding despite the odds. Despite effort on their part or indeed a lack thereof.

              The Smothers Brothers were this close to calling it, going to college, becoming teachers or something before they got a gig in Aspen they spent all the dough they had to show up for. One that put them on the map.

If Red October hadn’t happened to end up in President Reagan’s hands, through (far as I know) no effort or design on Tom Clancy’s part, nobody’d ever have heard of Jack Ryan.

Fresh Prince of Bel-Air would have been off the bel-air after a couple episodes, rather than running for six seasons, if the NBC president’s daughter hadn’t begged him not to cancel her favorite show.

Best Original Screenplay Oscar winner William Goldman couldn’t get the college paper he was one of three editors for to accept his stuff.

Joss Whedon turned (basically) failed movie Buffy the Vampire Slayer into a successful seven-series television show and then failed television show Firefly (sob) into a successful movie; two things that never happen.

Stephen King’s wife fished Carrie out of a trash can, convinced her husband to get out there one more time.

Theodore Geisel was contemplating pitching Mulberry Street into the fireplace when he just happened to get a visit from a friend who just happened to have a publishing company looking for children’s books.

              “Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul? Why are you crying the blues? Fix my eyes on God—soon I’ll be praising again. He puts a smile on my face. He’s my God.” – Psalm 43 MSG

              And, speaking of the Smothers Brothers, recently read David Bianculli’s excellent Dangerously Funny: The Uncensored Story of the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour and heard about another accidental success.

              Bob Newhart, you might remember him from The Big Bang Theory or Elf or, well, The Bob Newhart Show, in 1960 he was a thirty-year-old accountant who could make his family, his coworkers laugh their socks off, and recorded his routines “for the fun of it”. No indication, according to legend, that he had any aspirations beyond local guffaws.

              “…the tape eventually made its way to a Chicago disk jockey, who forwarded it to a record executive from Warner Bros. The label offered Newhart a contract and agreed to pay to have his next nightclub appearance recorded for the album. The only thing was, Newhart had no nightclub appearance booked.”

              He’d never officially performed anywhere. Had no plans to officially perform anywhere.

              “So they found a club with an open date, two weeks later in Houston, and Newhart stepped out as a professional stand-up comic for the first time.”

              They called the resulting album The Button-Down Mind of Bob Newhart, released it in May of 1960 and it became the first comedy album in history to hit number one.

              The second album in history to do so?

              The Button-Down Mind Strikes Back! – released in September of that same year. (Pre-dating Star Wars Episode Vby twenty years, he mentioned in passing) The two albums were Number One and Number Two for a brief, shining moment.

              An accountant makes a recording for the fun of it having, near as I can find, no expectation that he was creating a six decade career.

              Couldn’t tell you what Bob Newhart believes in. Whether that accidental success had God’s hand in it or if he was just lucky

              but I do know that I don’t need luck.

              God knows what He’s doing and maybe this road doesn’t look like what I had in mind but I’m right where He wants me regardless of how I feel just now.

              Which is the right place to be.

              “Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul? Why are you crying the blues? Fix my eyes on God—soon I’ll be praising again. He puts a smile on my face. He’s my God.” – Psalm 42 MSG

              Everything I set my hand to prospers, Best Beloved.

Don’t forget to write

New Castings

“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up on wings as of eagles…” Isaiah 40

photo credit Tom Sweeney 2021

              Have a great story about God’s faithfulness and encouragement and apparently its for next week. I didn’t struggle to get back to sleep Thursday night, writing half of this in my head, for nothing. (wink)

              I’m not great at asking for help.

              There’s two main reasons for that; one is our delightfully broken Western tradition, you know, the one that pounds into boys that the two things they must never do is (a) cry and (b) ask for help. I’m not saying I received these messages directly from caregivers, but it’s hard to escape in the overall popular culture. John Wayne never shed a tear. The Terminator gave a thumbs-up even as he (well, it) was melting into that molten ore.

              And the second thing.

              In wonderful excellent coming-of-age movie Twenty-Eight Days, please do not confuse with dreadful zombie movie Twenty-Eight Days Later, the manager of the rehab facility Sandra Bullock is trying to survive felt-tip-markers a sign that she has to wear around her neck.

              Confront me if I don’t ask for help

              And one of the wonderful excellent friends I saw that movie with, back in ’02 or so, said to me, she said, “Sometimes you need to wear that sign.”

              Darned if she wasn’t right. And being the all-or-nothing person I usually am, I didn’t just make a sign, I paid to print a t-shirt that said

              Confront me if I don’t ask for help

              and on occasions where I really screwed something up by trying to do everything myself, I made me wear that shirt the next day. Because people would ask about it and the explanation helped me remember.

              I think I still have it around somewhere; haven’t worn it in ages.

              Not that I haven’t had reason to, mind you.

              [Wazzat? Crying? Was never good at not crying; God wired me to be empathic. Fortunately, over the years I’ve learned that there’s nothing wrong with tears except denying the need to shed them]

              Anyway—God is good, might have mentioned that before, and the way He speaks to me more than any other is through His Word. It’s incredible how alive Scripture is, how a verse, a story I’ve read/taught/heard preached a thousand times suddenly has a facet I’ve never seen before, that weirdly enough speaks to exactly where I am at that moment.

              Case in point, July 25^th of last year.

              When I stop and spend time first thing in the morning with God, which I try to do every morning because it grounds the day real good, my usual method is to read a chapter in the overall Bible and a chapter in my standalone Message version of Psalms. When I’m in Psalms in the overall Bible, of course, that means a Psalm and then a Psalm.

              On July twenty-fifth, in the overall Bible, I found this in Psalm 2: “Blessed are all who take refuge in Him.” (Meaning God.)

              Then in the day’s standalone Psalm, which happened to be 40: “Blessed are you who give yourselves over to Yahweh.”

              Feeling chuffed by the double encouragement, I made sure to go to my journal and write down this revelation.

              Lest any reader perhaps think I was maybe seeing what I wanted, hang on while I mention that this particular journal happened to have a different Scripture verse printed at the bottom of every page.

              The verse that day?

              Psalm 55: “Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you.”

              Even a wonky donkey such as myself knows when he done been hit upside the head.

              That wonderful 7-25 morning in God’s Word just happened to be on my Saturday blog-writing day and so made a lovely addition to what I already had to say.

              Lo these nine months later those three stand-out Scriptures still come to mind, as they did last night. Nine months later I’m still believing in things I can’t see, trusting for a harvest of which there’s been no sign, plus sometimes I find other things to worry about. And I find myself walking along struggling under the burden and God, again, says What if you handed that to me?

              Last night as He asked, it came to mind that seemed unfair. To do that. They aren’t His burdens, after all; I was carrying fear and unbelief and worry all because of my own foolishness. Why should He have to endure that?

              One good reason, which He gently reminded me of, is because He’d hardly know the difference.

              Back in my 90s high-school days I had a brand-new 486 PC. I’d look up the stats but it would probably be depressing; suffice to say that at one point I wanted to load a game onto my sweet rig that required a full gigabyte of hard disk space, and in my frantic efforts to clear up that much room, I, uh, managed to delete the Windows Operating System.

              Still not sure how.

              Can’t recall if I ever got the game loaded but nowadays, one gigabyte is nothing. I get one gig flash drives in my junk mail. I’d use one gig flash drives as Q-tips if my ear holes were USB shaped.

              God’s capacity to handle my burdens is like my 1997 self sitting down in my office now. “Is there any possible way to save a gigabyte worth of data?” he might say, at which point I could plug in one of several 500G hard drives that I hardly use anymore, because frankly with hi-def video 500G isn’t really all that beefy. But one gig? Throw it onto that hard drive, make 200 backup copies if you like, still won’t take up half the available space.

              Why not cast my cares on God? Besides the fact that He has repeatedly encouraged me to, it’s not as though He can’t handle the extra weight.

              Maybe the real struggle is that to cast my cares on Him means admitting that I’m out of my depth. That I need help.

              Which as we’ve already established is hard for me.

              There’s that process again. The journey I keep noticing I haven’t made as much progress on as I would wish.

              But we keep moving.

              May or may not slide neatly into the essay I’m crafting here, but couple different things could be meant by ‘castings’; certainly what I’ve been speaking of, with the casting of cares, could apply. Online dictionary also offered up choosing actors for a play or movie.

              Then there’s the one I was thinking of, and went to that online dictionary to make sure I was getting it right.

              ‘The making of an object by pouring molten metal or other material into a mold.’

              As one army sergeant I’ve heard tell of put it: “This process is gonna melt you down. The shape you are in the end is up to you.” (Either way, make sure to give a thumbs-up as you disappear, guys)

              God’s not going to force me to accept His help.

              But His help is always always always available.

              I imagine middlest child Andrew and I walking to a friend’s house. Maybe he’s invited to a neighborhood sleepover. In my imagination, and I could absolutely see the real-life version doing this, Andrew has a backpack crammed to bursting with monster trucks, books, puzzles, Lego creations, and maybe if there’s room pajamas and extra clothes he might actually need.

              He’s carrying more than half his own body weight and initially, “Dad, I can do it.”

              As we walk along I can see him struggling. “Want me to carry that, buddy?”

              “Dad, I can do it.”

              Another block or two and tears are streaming down his face.

              “Want me to carry that, buddy?”

              “Dad, I can do it.”

              Why won’t he let me help him? It’s not as though I can’t easily handle the weight.

              But God won’t make us yield. If we choose to carry the burdens till we collapse He’ll honor our choices.

              Even when I do realize I’m being a putz and submit to Him, it’s not like I get off scot free, (is it scott free? I’ll look it up.) Not that I get off scot-free; there is no such thing as something for nothing. Everything has a price and casting my cares on Him frees me only to take His yoke in return. But His yoke is easy and His burden light and it’s a much better deal. Being subject to His authority and ‘burdened’ with obedience to His plan only costs me that ‘freedom’ that had me staggering under a ridiculous load in the first place. I’m still way ahead of the game.

              One more analogy because I just can’t help myself and also to do that circular beginning-is-the-end-is-the-beginning bit I adore.

              (And because God apparently wants me to—chose the picture seen above Friday morning, having no idea I would be with the boys at a Denver park Friday afternoon and see a raptor that looked just like the one in the photo!)

              Birds, in my experience, sometimes they’ll have a twig or a mouse or a fish in their talons for awhile.

              Can’t recall ever seeing one in real life with a bunch of crap on their back.

              Hard to fly that way, you know?

              Don’t forget to write…

What’s In a Name

“To everyone who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give a white stone, and on the white stone is written a new name that no one knows but the one who receives it.” – Revelation 2:17

             

              No rant this week and my thanks for those who, after last week, checked in to see if I was okay. I’m great; that’s the whole point of ranting. Got it out of my system.

              Now—names.

              Names are important, and ideally they’re supposed to mean something.

              When I was born they named me William after my mother’s father; by the time I knew what a name was and that I could be called by one, I was Chip. The origins of why are lost to legend, but I was about a month shy of my twenty-fifth birthday before anybody but the guv’mint called me anything else.

              I was ‘Chip’ to my classmates and, later, coworkers, from the first day of kindergarten till well past my two years of college.

              I was ‘Chip’ when I sat on the floor putting wooden cars in my mouth, and while riding my 1100cc Honda Shadow.

              I was ‘Chip’ while drinking from a baby bottle, and also when perfectly legal for me to pound back whiskey shots.

              Realized as I was thinking about this that despite being in my mid-40s, I still have six years to the day where I’ve been called Will longer than I was Chip, which seems odd because it’s been so very long.

              Anyway, I’ve beaten the point into the ground about how ingrained the initial name was—one random weekend (or so it seemed) God got to talking to me and said it was time for me to take on my given name, which has meaning attached to it (Conqueror, Protector, Helmet), meaning that He wanted me to embrace on my journey.

              As is my wont, once I decided to do a thing, I jumped right in—He and I made the decision over the weekend, and first thing Monday morning I sent out an email to my colleagues at the TV station. I didn’t actually talk to them in person or anything, just sent an email. Anyway. Hour or so later we all gathered in the studio for introductions and prayer before the live broadcast, where General Manager and show host Dr. Rick Newman would introduce us one by one, as he always did. I hadn’t thought about this ritual and as he began, wondered if he had read his email.

              Without making any sort of deal about it, as though he had said such many times before, he introduced me as Will.

              And was immediately corrected by a well-meaning fellow employee who hadn’t read their email, as though somehow he would have forgotten my name after all our time together.

              He graciously corrected the correction and went on—and while nineteen years later I couldn’t tell you the slightest detail about the show that followed, I’ve never forgotten that moment.

              Despite the chance that someone might be confused, that he might look foolish, despite the shy, easily missed way I had mentioned such a big change…Dr. Newman gave me huge honor in that moment. Especially that he didn’t make a big deal about it. He accepted my new name, and me, without reserve.

              Hopefully I thanked him for it when I got the chance.

              Names. They’re very important to me, and so it definitely got my full attention when my pastor recently mentioned that there’s only one person in all of Scripture who gave God one.

              Somebody…gave God a name? That He accepted? Really?

              Was news to me, despite rather a lot of Biblical training over the past forty years.

              Who was it? I immediately wondered. David? Paul? Elijah? Had to be one of the Hebrews 11 ‘Faith’ heroes, surely.

              Not even close.

              From Adam’s creation to Abram becoming Abraham (speaking of new names), two thousand wild and wooly years passed. God made a covenant with Abraham, telling him that he would be the father of a great nation. From the promise to the fulfillment a full quarter century goes by, and Abraham continues in the belief that God will be faithful, even as his ability to create a child dwindles with the passing years. He’s definitely one of the Faith heroes Hebrews 11 mentions, praising his commitment to God’s promise.

              He’s not the one who gives God a name.

              He also, in that quarter century, at least once tried to help God make things happen.

              At this point it’s still Abram and Sarai; God hasn’t changed their names to Abraham and Sarah—but I will just to avoid confusion. They’re the same folk after all.

              So in Genesis 16 we read how Sarah (also mentioned by name in Hebrews 11) came up with a great plan. “Go in to my servant,” she says in verse 2. “It may be that I shall obtain children by her.”

              So we have Abraham, Sarah and their slave. In the culture of the time, slaves were property like anything else (unlike our modern enlightened times, of course) and so a child conceived by Sarah’s servant could apparently have been considered Sarah and Abraham’s legitimate offspring.

              Abraham does not offer any recorded resistance to Sarah’s idea. He takes the offered servant and a child is conceived. After which, the servant “looked with contempt on her mistress.” (v 4) Which may not have been the wisest choice on the servant’s part because in addition to being a slave, therefore having no rights, she’s also female. In the culture of the time females were also little better than property (unlike our modern enlightened times, of course) and so she has no rights, well, squared. Probably best to mind one’s Ps and Qs in such a situation but she was probably very young.

              Sarah, perhaps unsurprisingly, is not into this. “‘May the wrong done to me be on you!’” she says to Abraham, as though the whole thing hadn’t been her idea in the first place. (Yes, it’s easy for me to judge four thousand years later, but…still)

              Abraham’s like, “Listen, she’s your servant, do what you want.” (I’m paraphrasing.) Sarah, the woman of great faith, Scripture tells us she ‘deals harshly’ with her servant, and the poor pregnant girl flees into the desert.

              She’s a slave. She’s a female slave. Now she’s a runaway female slave. This is the poster child for Someone Who Nobody Cares About or Has Any Sympathy for Whatsoever.

              Here’s the point my pastor made, which definitely rang a bell in my heart.

              In the recorded Scripture, Sarah twice refers to the girl as ‘My servant.’

              Abraham calls her ‘Your servant.’

              God, when He comes to the pregnant runaway female slave weeping in the desert, says

              “Hagar.”

              Which means ‘Forsaken’, while I’m on the subject of names

              but isn’t my point.

              …

              He calls this complete nobody by name.

              “Hagar, servant of Sarai, where have you come from and where are you going?” God asks, as though He had no idea. He engages in conversation with this abused pregnant runaway female slave, telling her to return to her mistress and promising to take care of her. That her offspring will multiply.

              And Hagar, the abused unmarried pregnant runaway female slave gives God a name.

              El-Roi.

              The God who Sees Me.

              She’s lucky anybody cares about her name and she gives God one?

              And much, much, more to the point, God accepts this name. The well where they had this conversation was thereafter called Beer-lahai-roi, or The Well of the Living One Who Sees Me.

              Before the New Testament covenant.

              Before the Mosaic covenant, even.

              God hadn’t promised anything to anybody but Abraham and Sarah, far as we’re told and yet

              He called Hagar by name.

              She wasn’t an Israelite.

              She wasn’t of noble birth.

              She certainly wasn’t male.

              She was a scornful abused unmarried pregnant runaway female slave whom her own master and mistress referred to as ‘servant’ but God called her by name.

              Fast forward 2,400 years.

              A child is born in 4^th century England and christened Maewyn Succat. I was unable to find any historical record as to whether or not he complained about that.

              At age sixteen, with perhaps a passing understanding of the church of England, Maewyn is kidnapped by pirates, taken to Ireland, and sold into slavery. Out of fear, so legend has it, he turns to God. For six years he lives as a slave, reportedly praying 100 times a day. One night he has a dream from God, telling him it’s time to jump ship, as it were. Maewyn becomes yet another of history’s runaway slaves (least he’s male) and travels 200 miles to the coast and finds passage on a ship bound for anywhere but being a slave.

              Eventually back in England, he grows in wisdom and stature and favor with God and man, as one does, and is eventually confirmed as a Catholic Bishop. Which involved a name change. (We’ll get to that.)

              In A.D. 433, thirty years after the pirates made a slave of him, God appears to Maewyn in a dream and tells him it’s time to return to Ireland.

              Not for revenge. Not for retribution. Not because Ireland had a snake problem.

              To tell the Irish how much God loved them.

              And he obeyed, and preached the love of Jesus for the better part of thirty years, until his death on March 17^th.

              It’s probably obvious by now but when Maewyn Succat was confirmed as a Bishop, he was renamed

              Patrick.

              At some point after his death this was upgraded to

              St. Patrick.

              As the venerable Paul O’Harvey might have put it, in an Irish accent: “And now ye know…the rest of the story.”

              No matter what your situation, no matter how much or little you bring to the table, God has set a place for you.

              Even if you’re a runaway slave.

              You’ll know it’s yours when you see the card on the plate with your name on it.

              Don’t forget to write…

A Loaf of Barley Bread

                “When the angel of the Lord appeared to Gideon, he said, ‘The Lord is with you, mighty warrior!’” – Judges 6:12b

                Holy Spirit did something lovely and unexpected to encourage me this week.

                Oh! But first, a writing update: the third-drafting of Jessie’s Species goes very well, thank you; several weeks in and halfway through the story is deeper and stronger, and Jessie’s first-act motivation more realistic. Plus more moments with the peregrine falcon which makes any book better.

                No word yet from either of the two writing contests, but I honestly don’t think on that even once a day—I’m blessed with work and since marketing/promotion/sales is God’s problem to solve and I trust that He’s on it, contest results just aren’t that big a priority to me. I have writing to do.

                I’m expecting direction from Him on what to with Jessie’s story when it’s finished (which may or not be after this latest draft)—self-publish? Set aside while I work on the next project? Without His direction, right here as I sit at my dining-room table writing a blog entry, much as I want to break out in the traditional publishing world, and believe that would be God’s best (to be fair, He hasn’t said anything either way so far), I don’t have any plans to pursue an agent.

                I’m aware that even with an agent, and a publishing house, and a big author platform on social media, there are still very few books in a given year that find millions of readers. (Which is the bold goal I laid before the throne of God two years ago, if you’re just joining us. Millions of readers.)

                I’m very aware, believe me, that not having an agent, a publishing house, or virtually any author platform to speak of makes that millions of readers goal virtually impossible, and not even going looking for an agent would seem to guarantee colossal failure.

                I absolutely agree. In the natural world.

                But I stopped writing fiction in 2008 or so, at His gentle request, and then He tricked me into writing again last year, starting the process before I made that bold millions of readers request.

                In 2013 I found my wife, after seventeen years of begging God to lead me to her, when I finally stopped looking.

                In 2001 He told me He would give me a video business, and I wasted six months trying to make a number of too-small ideas bear fruit before He dropped the first elementary-school client in my lap. Less than a year later He dropped the first dance client into my lap.

                I could go on, and in another blog post I likely will, but the point is that at least in my life, the top twenty things that have ever happened to me happened when I wasn’t looking. It would seem, based on thirty years of evidence, that the best thing I can do as far as my writing career is the task to which He’s set me, namely writing the third draft of the latest book, and trust Him for agents and publishing houses and millions of readers.

                “But that’s impossible.”

                Exactly. In fact, my dream being something I can’t possibly accomplish in my own power is a very strong indication that it lines up with what God has in mind.

                (I will say that He hasn’t promised me millions of readers. All of the wind He’s blown in the sails, no question that He wants me to be writing, but He hasn’t confirmed the destination. And His best might not look anything like what I want. I’m okay with that. His best for my marriage was better than I ever dreamed, as was His best for my video business. I’m just holding on and enjoying the ride.)

                “You want me to buy the premise? Fine. Give me an example from that Bible you love so much.”

                Happy to. There’s many, many stories to choose from (Joseph, David, Abraham, Ruth, Esther, Peter, Paul) but though I had no plans to write about this when I started this blog post, which I initially titled “Eyes (More) Wide Open,” I am in all things submitted to the leading of the Spirit, and apparently God wants me to reprise one particular story.

                Would explain why it keeps coming to mind so much lately.

                You can read the original version in Judges chapters 6-8, but in summary: the Israelites, God’s chosen people, have entered the promised land after a lot of unnecessary toil and grumbling and strife (they could have walked in days after they left Egypt if they had trusted God; instead they wandered in the desert for forty years. I’m not mocking this. There’s plenty of stupid in my own life history) and despite everything He did to prove Himself, they’ve turned to other gods. God doesn’t hold with that, and has allowed the Israelites to be overrun by their neighbors the Midianites.

                But God never stopped loving His children (to this day, and praise Him for His adoption policy!) and He has decided enough is enough and the Midianite reign is over. The man He chooses to lead the charge is Gideon.

                There’s a lot of great stuff in this story that I’m going to slide past—Gideon’s initial view of himself (which has changed greatly by Chapter 8!), the varied ways He asks God to confirm His will (and God’s patience with such), and Gideon’s dad Joash being awesome and courageous.

                Let’s look at the actual battle against the Midianites.

                In the natural, you’re going to pick a fight, best if your side is stronger than the other side. The math on this is pretty simple.

                The Midianites, Amalekites and other eastern peoples have gathered together to re-establish their dominance. Gideon, after two more “God, will you please confirm that this is really you?” moments, gathers as many of the fighting men of Israel as he can find. The bad guys, meanwhile, the Bible records that there were too many to count.

                For the sake of my point let’s call ‘too many to count’ as 300,000.

                Gideon gathers every able man to his side, and unlike the Midianites, they could be counted. Specifically, there were 32,000.

                Ten-to-one odds. That’s not great, and in the natural it looks bad. (And lest you think that I’ve overestimated the strength of the bad guys, keep reading.)

                God, however, looks at the ten-to-one odds and says “No…you have too many. You go out and come back victorious, people’ll say that Gideon won the battle. They need to say I won the battle. Send anybody home who wants to go.”

                So Gideon, I’m paraphrasing, tells his thirty-two-thousand men “Okay, I’m going to turn around and count to a hundred. Anybody who is afraid, or left the stove on, or whatever, just be gone when I turn back. No hard feelings.”

                When he turns back around, over two-thirds of his fighting force have skived off. Ten-thousand guys are left.

                Now it’s thirty-to-one odds.

                Which in the natural, of course, is three times worse. (Told you the math was easy.)

                Judges Chapter 5, verse 4: “But the Lord said to Gideon, ‘There are still too many men.’” He has Gideon take the guys down to the river for a drink, and based on the way they enjoy their Evian, cuts the fighting force down to—no, seriously—three hundred guys.

                Assuming as we are that ‘too many to count’ is at least 300,000 foes…

                That’s a thousand to one odds.

                Those are bad odds anywhere.

                In the natural.

                What Gideon was willing to hold onto, and God was so gracious He offered to give big G one more word of encouragement, this from the mouth of a Midianite himself (read Chapter 6 verses 10-15) was that regardless of the odds, he was fighting on God’s side.

                It wasn’t 300 against 300,000.

                It was 300,000 versus God plus 300.

                Had it been 300,000 versus God plus one, that still would have been a majority. That’s always a majority. Anywhere in the universe.

                The part of the story that gives me chills, every time, is the willingness of Gideon and those three hundred remaining men, who could surely count well enough to have some idea how bad the odds were, to deliberately make themselves targets. Were they not trusting God and were God not trustworthy those three-hundred-and-one men were begging to be mercilessly slaughtered.

                But God.

                But God is.

                But God is faithful, and trustworthy, and Judges chapter 6 contains just one of half-dozen or so instances in Scripture where a few people doing what God requested, insane as it was, didn’t win the battle—they didn’t have to fight a battle at all.

                The Midianites freaked out and ran around and slaughtered each other. All Gideon and his 300 had to do was gather the spoils of war. A war they didn’t even fight.

                You don’t have to believe me when I say that over and over and over in my life God has proved that if I just trust Him, it doesn’t matter how crazy a thing He has asked me to do, He is faithful and fights the battle for me.

                Just read the Bible.

                Over and over and over, when those who follow God seek Him with all their hearts, and commit to doing whatever He requests…what He asks is crazy, is impossible, in the natural—and He pulls it off anyway.

                The God I serve is over and above the natural.

                So, he said, wrapping up a blog entry he hadn’t planned on writing at all, I’m doing what God is asking, and while He unquestionably gave me the words back and made it clear that Jessie’s Species was the book He wanted me to write, post Feud…He hasn’t told me to go looking for an agent.

                And until and unless He does I’m not gonna. I wasted enough time trying to make video clients happen, and God knows I wasted too much time trying to help Him find me a wife.

                About time I learn from my mistakes.

                He’s given me work to do. So I’m gonna do it.

                And trust that however impossible my dream might be in the natural, especially if I send ninety percent of my already way-too-small army home, He is still well able to win the day.

                And I’m perfectly, thoroughly content for God to get all the glory for the victory. That’s one great reason to make this declaration public today, when I have thirty-or-so dedicated fans out of the millions I’m believing for.

                Because it’s easy to talk after the fact. After the battle is won.

                I’m declaring the victory now, before the battle.

                August eighth, in the Year of Our Lord 2020.

                He is faithful, and He will be glorified.

                Meanwhile, maybe I’ll get to write about what I wanted to write about next time.

                Either way, know that I love you and don’t forget to write…

                (For more clever and life-changing words like the above strung into run-on, hyphen-heavy sentences, search Will Nuessle on Amazon.com; print, digital and read-by-the-author audiobooks available in a variety of flavors)