New ID

Identity. Seems like an easy concept. In the military, you are issued a card with your name, birth date, Social Security Number, and picture, among other things. Sounds simple. But as I've painfully found out, it's not simple.

This last year, I've been forced to recreate my own identity. Some parts I've kept, but I've had to redefine who I am in many areas. It's not easy.

Half the process is tearing down the old Identity. Any lies I've assimilated or accepted as truth have to go. That process in and of itself is painful and difficult. It's like ripping off old wallpaper in a room to find the walls underneath.

Maybe not. That's a little too easy by comparison. It's more like peeling dead skin off a really bad sunburn on your back. Painful, disgusting, and messy. And you have to be careful not to rip off some living, healthy skin, since you can't quite see which is which. You can feel it, but you can't actually see it.

While dealing away with all the lies, I also have to find out the truth. I have to find true pieces of my Identity to put in the places the lies took. That's hard too. I have to test each one, make sure it's true, and then accepting it into my Identity. Of course, That's a lot like getting an organ replaced. In real life, you might have to take anti-rejection drugs to stay healthy and keep the organ thriving. I have to do that a lot with my new ID. Except I don't have anti-rejection drugs, which makes the process a lot more difficult.

This last week I've struggled with my ID a lot. Mostly with part of me, a very big dominating part, wanting to reject vital parts of the truth I have to live with. Parts of my Identity are painful and ugly. But I can't change them. The problem is I want to.

I have never tried to claim I lead a normal life. In fact, I have often thought of the word "normal" with a mental sneer. But after seeing what "normal" is, and how different and attractive it is as compared to my own life, I have to admit I want it. Even thought that would mean changing so many things in my past. No one is completely normal, mind you, but some people are closer to "normal" than others. They're closer to an ideal type of life, though that may be ideal only to me.

It's torturous to want to change the past to remove some of the vital parts of your ID. Changing the past is impossible. But that does nothing but make the desire to change it stronger and more painful.

Even worse is seeing the ID you want in your friends, coveting it for your own. It makes the pain less bearable because you see and know exactly what you want, but it is eternally out of reach. And if you're a Christian like me, it makes you feel guilty and worthless because you're coveting (and yes, that's EXACTLY what it is) something your friends have and breaking one of God's commandments.

That is my struggle for this week. And for Lord only knows how much longer. Hopefully, my identity will be complete one day. But until that day comes, I will be trying to love God with everything that is in me.

Holy is He and worthy of Praise.

What If?

What if?

That question  is a question I deal with all the time. I'm a writer, so I love to wonder at the implications of what if such and such a thing happened, or was real. It's where I find stories.

This question was asked by a preacher today. What if Jesus had never risen again? He then proceeded to describe verses in the Bible that talked about it, from 1 Cor. 15. The Apostle Paul said some very good logical things that applied to everyone and some which applied to himself and the other disciples.

But me, being the guy I am, asked the question to myself. What if Jesus had never risen again? What if your faith is or was meaningless?

The only answer I could find is, if His death was not answered by life in His rising again three days later, than my life is meaningless. Vain. Forfeit.

If Jesus is not my Savior, than I have no reason to exist. I have no reason to live. Writing is useless. Everything is useless.

I would still be wounded, but I would have no hope for healing. I would be stuck in Sin, and have no hope for rescue.

I would be hopeless. Completely without hope. And I would likely kill myself, because I cannot live without hope. Truly, I can't! Hope in Christ is like the air I breathe. I might forget about it most of the time (unless some fragrance makes me stop to smell), but it's still there. I breathe air in and out unconsciously. The same goes for Hope.

The same goes for Christ, too. He is my hope. He is my guiding light. He is my healer, my helper. He is the one who has always loved me, even when I was my most unlovable.

Praise be to God! He is Risen! He is Risen indeed!

He's Alive! Because of Him, I am finally free from my hurts and my sin. Hallelujah!

Now, I bet some of you were hoping to find me baring my soul open with heartache again. Sorry to disappoint. Oh well. Finals Week is coming up very quickly, so better luck next time, I guess.

Holy is the Lord and as surely as I live, I will praise his Mighty works in my life. Amen.

Support

Last Sunday, I saw a video of a man who did something incredible. Something that brought me to tears. I watched Derek Redmond, runner for Great Britain in the 400-yard dash during the 1992, tear his hamstring. It was brutal. He fell to the ground clutching the back of his leg and crying in absolute pain. You could see his heart break in the video. Doctors rushed to him, trying to help. But then he did something truly amazing. He got back up and hobbled towards the finish line. He ran, limping to finish his race.

Now I was crying just seeing that, knowing that he was in agony, yet seeing his spirit rise undaunted, driving him to finish. It's a very powerful image. But, yet again there was another surprise, one that had me bawling quietly, so as not to disturb my sleeping roommates.

As Derek came hopping around the bend, his father, Jim Redmond, came out. He pushed his way onto the track, past security, and ran up to his son, putting his arm around him in support. He told Derek he didn't have to finish the race, But Derek refused to quit. Then his father told him, "We'll finish this together."

I have to admit that I have felt like this. Like I am struggling to finish a race while I'm practically incapacitated. Actually, it was how I felt last year, last February. And God gave me a friend, someone who put his arm around me and supported me. So when I saw the video, I cried. A lot.

And FYI, for those of you who don't know, that's a BIG deal. I don't cry. I could watch the saddest movie and not cry. And it's not because I don't want to. I do. But for some reason, I don't cry very easily. So this had me bawling when I saw it. Yeah, it was huge for me.

But something else I realized while I was watching the video, which also contributed to my pathetic appearance, was that God was also like Jim. He pushes past everything that stands in between us and Him and comes to help us in our greatest need, supporting us like Jim supported Derek. Maybe even carrying us past the finish line.

That picture of God blew me away. I know the old poem, "Footprints" and have heard it often enough to become immune to its message, unfortunately. But watching this, seeing this message lived out astounded me.

God is so absolutely amazing, my friends, he makes me speechless! And I'm Irish and a writer. Writers are known to be verbose and the Irish...well, we're known for being full o' hot air, as it were. For me to be rendered speechless is saying something. But it's something God's really good at doing.

So, please know whenever you're struggling with something, and it honestly makes you wonder if you can go on, remember: God loves you and is there waiting to help you.

Holy is He And most worthy of praise.

P.S. Here's a link to the video of Derek Redmond's run. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0t-NAum8kY8 The song is good too, but it's the images you need to see.

Invisible

I am invisible. Or at least I can be at will. I know how to hide from the world even to the point that my friends cannot find me if I do not want them to.

No, this is not a superpower. Much closer to espionage. It's a talent I have to be able to blend in and hide. Honestly, I wish I had never learned it. But I did. So now, I can avoid people and remain unnoticed for vast lengths of time.

I know, everyone dreams they could become invisible like this, to be able to completely disappear in a crowd. But they don't know something I do.

It's depressing to unnoticeable. Just once I would like to be seen while I'm "invisible." Just once.

Well, I take that back. What I really want is to be seen, maybe by only one person, time and time again when I think I'm invisible. I want someone to come up and say that they see me and value me.

Every time I go into "invisible mode," it's mostly because I don't want to talk to people, to make nice while I feel like I'm in pain. But I still want someone to see me and come over and talk to me. I know this seems contradictory, but it's true. Maybe a different image might explain better.

I don't want to put on a mask and pretend that everything is okay when I feel like crap. So, I hide from people. I become invisible so that I don't have to pretend.

But every time I become invisible and I remain unseen, I feel less and less valued. I feel more like I don't matter to anyone around me.

That's why I want someone to see me, no matter what I do to become invisible. I want to have someone who values me enough to see through to me.

And I know that there is one Person who always sees me. But I have never felt God put His hand on my shoulder when I'm eating alone during lunch and whisper "I see you."

So the impact of knowing God sees me all the time is slightly lessened. Plus, I've always known God sees me. I grew up in a Christian home, so God's quality of Omnipresence is something I can't forget.

I want someone physical to see me. I want to feel valued.

Steven James, a man I hope I could call a friend (maybe someday) once asked a very profound question: What do we really want? Do we want to love and be loved in return, or do we want to feel love?

Well, I think we, or at least I want to feel loved. I want to feel valued. I know that I am, but knowing something in your brain is much different that knowing it in your heart.

I imagine I've rattled on enough about this now. But this truth I will still proclaim, even though I feel like crap tonight:

Holy is the Lord and most worthy of praise.