Today’s devotional explains something that, over the years, I’ve learned about my own Christian journey. It explains part of the reason why I (usually) don’t get discouraged during those “dry” times in my life. I used to get very discouraged during those times early in my Christian journey. But I’ve learned that even in those times, especially during those times, I learn new things about God, myself, and the people and world around me.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil:  for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

Yes.  Even in the driest of times, even in the most stressful, tense, painful, horrific of times, even when I’m being poured out like a drink offering, yes, even in the valley of the shadow of death, God is with me; I will fear no evil.  Have faith in God, my friends. And praise Him forever!

Please read the attached devotional.   Joni so often says things so well.

Love In Christ,
Ed

I was very encouraged by this HSLDA article and just had to quote it here:

“In any society, there are always those who want to impose their will on others. If they are government officials, they can use government to coerce others. Ultimately, the only alternative to totalitarianism in America is an informed citizenry willing to stand for life, liberty, and property.”

Quoted with permission from this issue:

“Separation of Powers and the Mississippi Case” by Mike Smith, The Home School Court Report, Vol. XXVII, No. 4.

Luke Rinehart posted this awesome post.

A new website was deployed today. Josh and David worked very hard on this project. I think it looks great.

See it here: www.bullwhipsbydavid.com

Custom Made Pro-quality Bullwhips by David

Assorted bullwhips made by David Rodatus

Created in the Image of God
Trav Newman
10/3/2010
Sovereign Grace Church of Frederick

 

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“Poverty of Spirit” – Paul Washer
(Matthew 5:1-13)

 

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People shouldn’t think that I’m always strong. I know how to rise to the occasion. By the grace of God, by the power of the Holy Spirit, I get up and do what needs to be done. Just going into the kitchen and sitting on a chair with a small blanket over my knees and my feet up on another chair-that’s hard work for me. (It’s worth doing because I can be with my family during meal time.) But that’s not being strong. Here’s why:

We are taught and reinforced to put on a good face. “Smile!” That’s what we hear before the camera flash no matter what kind of mood we’re really in. Hardly without exception we smile.

There is a difference between “being” and “doing”. We’re trained and we force ourselves to “do strong” things. Some of us wake up at 4:30 in the morning, commute several hours to work, work 10 hours, another two-hour commute to get home, and barely have time for dinner before bedtime just to start the whole process over again. Even if it’s not to that extreme most of us know how to “do” strong things.

To give a personal example, no matter how high my pain level is, I was taught to be “polite.” So if I’m miserable with pain, feeling grumpy, maybe I had an argument with a family member, and you come up to me and ask, “how are you doing?”, I might answer by saying, “fine!” I don’t think that lying like that is really polite.

But the real deal that I want to talk about is to “be strong.” That involves something more than the learned external performance which is, in comparison, easy to do. To be strong is a matter of one’s character and one’s relationship to God. It is developed over one’s lifetime. It is very personal as opposed to what we do externally.

Most of the time, I think, by the grace of God, I am pretty strong. God granted me strong faith, given me much grace, and taught me to depend on him. As a result I am able to be thankful, worship God, and encourage others in their faith. All this is an awesome privilege.

There are those times when I’m feeling particularly weak. I can say with Paul, “to be in heaven is better by far.” I won’t go as far as Job who said, “may the day of my birth perish.” But really it’s the same thing. It’s admitting that I don’t want to be around in this world any longer. And that’s completely selfish, lacking in strength. It’s a pity party.

I don’t get envious of people when they get to do good things. But I am desirous of the good things that they get to do. Maybe that’s a kind of envy.

When I hear about somebody who went on a hike in the mountains I long for that joy. When I hear somebody playing guitar as I used to I can become very melancholy missing that joy. When I realize I failed to be a good dad because of my physical constraints and pain I grieve not only for my children but for myself. I have a pity party.

Pity parties occur when I am weak. It does, eventually, caused me to turn to God for my strength. My life is redeemed from the pit. (Maybe pity parties are what you do when you are in a pit. haha) He crowns me with love and compassion. (Psalm 103:4) “I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me.” (Psalm 13:5-6)

I’m not strong. But God is awesome. “The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trust in him, and I am helped.” (Psalm 28:7)

My comfort is that when I’m feeling weak I can call upon God who is always strong. Thankfully my pity parties do not last very long. The Lord is my strength. Please pray for me. We all need to pray for one another!

Alive in Christ,
Ed

I am in constant pain–but I need to qualify that a little. I sleep to escape pain and to “reset” when I am having a high level of pain. So usually there is only pain or sleep with one minor but notable exception.

It seems odd to me every time this happens. Sometimes once or twice a week I will experience about 2 wonderful seconds without pain. It reminds me what it is like to not have pain. It is otherwise difficult to remember what it feels like to be without pain.

On occasion I will wake up, usually after having a vivid dream, and feel no pain. Zero. For the last 10 years it is the only time I feel zero pain anymore. But it only lasts a couple of seconds. I barely have time to enjoy it before the pain returns.

When the pain returns the sensation that I have is as if pain itself is poured into my veins as it spreads down my legs and arms into my feet and hands. It is a very odd feeling being followed by the usual, constant pain that I feel.

I’m glad that it happens. Even if just for 2 seconds I delight in the pleasant feeling of having no pain. It is also a reminder to me and thus a hope for a solution. If I can be conscious yet without pain perhaps there is medical solution that hasn’t been discovered yet. It is also a reminder and thus a hope for that day when there will be no sorrow and no more pain.

“And I will rise when He calls my name; No more sorrow, no more pain…” (from the song “I Will Rise” by Chris Tomlin, one of my favorites)

Something that I’ve come to realize as a byproduct of these events is the “wall” or limitation of the pain I feel.

It is difficult to describe some things when there is no clear point of reference. So be patient with me and my words.

Can you imagine a system of hoses that are connected together with a funnel at the top? There is also a way for the air to escape so that one can pour water into the funnel and it will fill the hoses. When water is poured into the funnel it flows freely and quickly into the hoses. But when it reaches the end, when all the hoses are filled, the water no longer freely flows into the hoses.  It is restricted by the capacity of the hoses.

After my 2 seconds without pain when pain is poured back into my limbs it flows freely and quickly to all parts, in fact, to my entire body, not just my hands and feet. But as the pain finally reaches my hands and feet the flow stops, everything is filled. If it kept pouring in I fear the pain would be unbearable.

I suspect, as I am only able to do, that the medications that I take, Lyrica (like Neurotin) and Trileptal, which each are presumed to block different neural pathways, are the limiting “gatekeepers” which prevent the pain from entering any more than it does.

My explanation is poor, I think. What I feel is known to me but somehow I can’t explain it clearly. Please forgive me. My hope is that if someone else experiences something like this that they will know they aren’t the only one who feels it. They have a companion.

I take great comfort and refuge that Jesus knows exactly what I am feeling and He has compassion for me. He has given me faith and strength to endure. He is my Redeemer and Savior. I will praise Him forever.

It is difficult to communicate some things. Georgia understands. She understands at a depth like no other person. She understands this: I’m wearing out in ways other than my physical body.

As you get older your memory begins to fail. This is happening to both of us. Sometimes it is funny to us but I think most of the time it is frustrating to us. My capability to organize my thoughts and even to pull out the correct words from my brain may be related to short-term memory, or to the meds that I take (which affect neural pathways), but there are other things happening to me in addition to these afflictions.

Probably due to the constant onslaught of pain signals to my brain it seems to me that my brain’s “bandwidth” is far more narrow than is common for most people. I can almost feel what it is like to be autistic or with other social disorders. I can’t seem to process information input as fast as I once was could. I overload. I get stressed. I shut down.

It has become a fearful challenge for me to attend any large gathering especially if anything is expected of me. I do it anyway in order to be part of life–specifically to be a part of family, sharing my life with my wife hopefully to be a blessing to her and to my children. I go to church and can act normally but what is really going on is an increasing overload. I have missed large parts of every message for months now because this overload, stress, and pain. The overload causes me to really shut down, to go to sleep, right in the middle of our church service.

Even in small gatherings there is a significant “acting” that happens. You could call it “rising to the occasion”. I force myself to be a part of what is happening. It is like running to get the newspaper on a cold, wintery day in bare feet. You can force yourself to do it but only for a precise, limited time–just enough to get to the sidewalk and back. That’s it; that’s all you can handle. In the same way I do whatever is expected of me. I go to my doctor and then go home to crash. I play with my grandchild, something I love to do, but then I’m spent. Nothing left except to sleep. Sleep–that’s how I reset for the next thing.

My entire life outside my cocoon is like what I have described. Unless I’m in my 80 degree Fahrenheit room, feet elevated and wrapped in blankets, I’m stressed. Even our morning family Bible study, which I love, is difficult. I’m outside my “bubble” of comfort. We try to make it suitable outside my room, feet elevated, “shields up” (I wear a thermal hat or hoodie), a blanket wrapped around my feet and legs, and one of those parabolic heaters aimed at me. It is still stressful. I take a nap after Bible study.

My reluctance to pain affects my personal life in other ways. It is difficult for me to brush my teeth so I neglect to do it as often as I should. There are numerous other ways that I don’t take good care of myself. This, sadly, causes my wife to become stressed. She wants to take care of me but I “don’t want to put her out”. She wants me to take care of myself but I don’t want to put myself into a world of pain. So many things that should happen don’t happen.

I don’t see any solution in my future except the complete healing that I will have when I’m in Heaven. Until then I will function at the best level that I can. Every morning I will force myself to be a part of this world of pain that I must endure in order to be a part of this life of love that surrounds me. God is good.

Thanks for listening. Time for a nap.
In Christ,
Ed

Just a photo – Camp Susque photo