My Cat Worships? My Cat Worships!

I have this cat named Rocky.  Well  he's not actually my cat, although I would like him to be.  He has lived at my apartment complex for about 3 years and is taken care of by a few of us.  We think he was abandoned by a neighbor across the street who lost their house and left town.   

He was very skinny, but quite cute when he started hanging around our complex.  He wasn't very friendly at first until a couple of the ladies started feeding him. He had found his new home.  He is black and white and has a strong and distinctive chin which makes him look a lion.  When he stalks squirrels and birds and such I call him "the Lion of the Savannah".  We didn't know his name when he showed up. One of the ladies named him Rocky because he would go off on some sort of cat adventure for a day or two and come back all beat up from fights we assumed.

I love animals, but I am mildly allergic to cats, so I have never owned one.  But Rocky is so cool that I have never been able to resist picking him up and giving him some love.  In the early months of his time here, he was not very happy to be picked up.  He would try to get down, and as soon as he was at a comfortable distance he would hiss at me.  A couple times he batted at me with his claws and scratched me.  None of that stopped me, and over time he has tolerated it more and more. 

In recent months he has warmed to me and my children when they are here.  Once he slept with my son Ethan, who is a kind soul that animals seem to warm up to rather easily.  But usually he stays for a little while and then heads to door and back to his sweet freedom.

But tonight something rather amazing happened.  Rocky worshipped and it transformed him today like I have never seen! 

So how do I make sense of this?

I recently completed John Eldredge's new book Beautiful Outlaw, which focuses on the personality of Jesus, and how knowing him as he truly is, causes us to fall in love with him.  It has totally changed my perspective of Jesus and is changing my life like nothing else ever has.  By John's prompting, I have prayed and asked Jesus to invade my life each day.  I give my life to Jesus to live his life.  He has been answering that prayer every day in incredible and unexpected ways.  I will share more examples in later articles.

Back to Rocky...I was coming upstairs from the laundry room tonight and I grabbed Rocky and sat him down outside my door.  He was momentarily distracted from the sight of a bowl of cat food in the hallway.  But as soon as I opened my door, he bolted right in.

 "This is new", I thought. 

He sat on the rug by my door while I was working at my computer.  I had sort of forgotten about him, but when I got up to go get something to drink, I looked for him and called for him.  He was no where in sight.  Then I noticed that he had taken up a comfortable spot on a reclining rattan chair right next my desk chair.  He looked at me for a second and then went back to grooming himself.

"Did you find a comfortable spot there, Rocky?"

He gave me that slightly arrogant look cats can give you as if to say "My grooming is more important than interacting with you!" 

I went back to downloading the new set list for my "Infuse" worship team connection group.  When the songs were loaded, I started listening to them and quietly worshiping the Lord and enjoying the cool breeze blowing through my window.  I have gotten in the practice of telling Jesus I love him when the beautiful things he offers get my attention.  I was just about to do that in awareness of this beautiful weather, when I glanced back at Rocky, expecting him to be deep in grooming mode. 

I was startled to see him staring at my computer screen (my Itunes library was showing) with very wide eyes.  His eyes are usually half closed in a serious stare.  At that point the song "Carry Your Name" was playing and Rocky was locked on the screen with more focus than he would have been on an open can of tuna. 

After a minute or so he sat up, steadied himself, and jumped from the chair he was sitting in to my lap.  "Wow!  What's got into him?!" I thought.  He stared at the screen a little longer and then began kneading me and purring and leaning his head into me.  I chuckled in sheer amazement as I petted him.  He continued to eat it up like I had never seen, rolling around and demanding more and more.

He looked me in the eye and I began to sing to him, which by now was the song "Stronger" by Hillsong.

"You are stronger, you are stronger
Sin is broken, you have saved me
It is written, Christ is Risen.
Jesus you are Lord of All!"

He ate it up and rolled into me even more.  Wow does Jesus ever have beautiful timing, and such unique ways of answering my prayers. 

Jesus is Lord of all.  All creation.  Not just me and you, but all creation.  The apostle Paul says that all creation groans for the day of its restoration (see Romans 8:18-22).  Jesus offers glimpses of that day to come in the things he reveals to us each day.  I long for that glimpse in the midst of a busy, stressful life.

Bonaventure put it this way in The Soul's Journey into God

          Whoever, therefore, is not enlightened
           by such splendor of created things
           is blind;
           whoever is not awakened by such outcries
           is deaf...
           Therefore, open your eyes,
           alert the ears of your spirit, open your lips
           and apply your heart...
           Concerning the mirror of things
           perceived through sensation,
           we can see God...in them, as he is in them.

Also the words of Saint Patrick

           I see the blood upon the rose
           And the stars the glory of his eyes,
           His body gleams amid eternal snows,
           His tears fall from the skies

           I see his face in every flower
           The thunder and the singing of the birds
           Are but his voice - and carven by his power
           Rocks are his written words

          All pathways by his feet are worn
          His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea
          His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,
          His cross is every tree         


And so the life I ask Jesus to fill me with each day came to me today through a transformed cat.  How beautiful!  I had to put Rocky back outside for the night at which time he hissed at me and lingered at the door, as if to say "Can't I stay a little longer?"

I love you more today than I did yesterday, Jesus!  Thank you for revealing yourself to me through a cat.  I can't wait to see what you reveal to me tomorrow! 

How Lost cured my fear of death.

I was always afraid of death.  Really afraid.  So afraid that I once had a counselor pray over me against a “spirit of death”, as he called it.  I was fearful that none of my dreams would come true because I was going to die before they did.  Weird.    It was another way in which Satan tried to rob me of my joy.

Despite the success of that prayer in overcoming my belief that I would die before my dreams came true, I must confess that my fear of death in general remained as strong as ever.  I can’t tell you what I was afraid of exactly; because I believed heaven was going to be pretty cool (understatement).  I just know that every time I heard that someone had died – anyone - that feeling of terror gripped me again.

Intellectually I know that the moment of death is probably painless, even if the leading up to it is awful.  So it wasn’t the actual death that terrified me.  And I am not sure that the anticipation of imminent death was the root of my terror either.  My dad died 2 years ago of liver cancer.  He knew he was going to die for several months, but I never saw him afraid.  I wonder what went through his mind knowing he was going to die.  That must have been really scary.  How did he handle the fear?  I didn’t discuss it with my dad.  I wish I would have.

Some time ago, I am not sure when, I began to ask God to help me with my fear.  I know He doesn’t want me to live in fear.  He offers such great perspective and hope in Hebrews 2:14-15:

“Because God’s children are human beings—made of flesh and blood—the Son also became flesh and blood. For only as a human being could he die, and only by dying could he break the power of the devil, who had the power of death.  Only in this way could he set free all who have lived their lives as slaves to the fear of dying.”

Yes I was a slave to the fear of dying alright - powerless to stop this terror that gripped me.  God began to work on this fear in an unusual way, but in a way that I have come to expect from Him.  I have come to expect the unexpected the more I seek God.  He speaks to me through things that uniquely touch my heart - the heart He put in me.  He speaks to me in a way that I am prepared to hear.  He can speak to you that way too.  After all, God even spoke through a jackass.  (See the account of Balaam in Numbers 22.)

At numerous times over the last few years God used Hollywood to begin to cure me of my fear.  Do you remember this scene from The Green Mile?

ARLEN BITTERBUCK:

You think if a man sincerely

repents on what he done wrong, he

might get to go back to the time

that was happiest for him and live

there forever? Could that be what

heaven is like?

PAUL EDGECOMB:

I just about believe that very thing.

Pause. Bitterbuck smiles.

ARLEN BITTERBUCK

Had me a young wife when I was

eighteen. Spent our first summer

in the mountains. Made love every

night. She'd just lie there after,

bare-breasted in the firelight,

and we'd talk sometimes till the

sun come up.

That was my best time.

Or how about the final scene of Titanic?

The wreck of the Titanic looms like a ghost out of the dark. It is lit by a kind of moonlight, a light of the mind. We pass over the endless forecastle deck to the superstructure, moving faster than subs can move... almost like we are flying.

We go inside, and the echoing sound of distant waltz music is heard. The rust fades away from the walls of the dark corridor and it is transformed... 

We emerge onto the grand staircase, lit by glowing chandelier. The music is vibrant now, and the room is populated by men in tie and tails, women in gowns. It is exquisitely beautiful.

We sweep down the staircase. The crowd of beautiful gentlemen and ladies turn as we descend toward them. At the bottom a man stands with his back to us... he turns and it is Jack. Smiling he holds his hand out toward us.

Rose goes into his arms, a girl of 17. The passengers, officers and crew of the RMS Titanic smile and applaud.

Now there’s something.  Could heaven be like that?  I was beginning to see my problem.  My problem seemed to be my perspective on heaven.  

I have never really known what heaven is going to be like.  I cannot remember any pastor teaching about it.  If they did, it was utterly uninspiring.  It was probably described as some sort of eternal church service in the sky.  As John Eldredge says, “That sounds like Hell to me.”   You got that right, John.

In April I tore my Achilles tendon in a fall on a ladder.  I could not work, or do much of anything else for a couple of months.  I was forced to lie on my back with my leg elevated every day.  Piles of movies from friends made their way to my apartment.  Action movies, romantic comedies, thrillers – I watched them all.  Then Nicki brought me the first season of Lost.  I dismissed it in my mind immediately.

I pretty much hate TV shows.  I think they are such a waste of my time.  I watch some sports and that’s about it.  But after I had gone through all my other movies, I decided to put in Lost.  I watched the pilot and I am ashamed to say that I was hooked.    Later that day Nicki called me on her lunch break from work.  

“What have you been doing today?” she said. 

 “Watching movies” I said reluctantly.  

She asks a lot of questions, so I knew what was coming next.  “What have you watched so far today?”

“Um…Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Under the Tuscan Sun (I am embarrassed about that one), and I started Lost.”  

“Yay!  What did you think?” she said.

“I’m hooked.”

And I was.  For the next several weeks I watched full seasons in 15 hour sessions.  I would stay up until 3 AM to finish a season.  Nicki only owned the first 3 seasons, so I had to get them from the public library.  Sometimes I had to wait in frustration for someone to return the next DVD.  I was addicted.  I got my children hooked too.  We laugh every time we see one of the actors in another show or movie.  “Dad!  There’s Daniel Farraday in Twister” was the most recent one.

In May I was at a festival at my boys’ school and I ran into one of their friend’s parents.  They were surprised to see that I was injured.  They asked how I was spending my time and I told them I was watching Lost.  They told me they heard the last episode was disappointing.  I was ticked to get that opinion.  There’s no way…

Then came Sunday, June 5.  With sadness and anticipation I watched the final episode before going to church that morning, trying to shake the impulse to expect disappointment.  

I was not disappointed.  I cried during most of the final episode.  God was at it again, healing something in me that needed deep healing, giving me joy.

About 10:30 AM as I was standing at the sink washing dishes, I got a text message from Nicki:

Her: “Did you finish Lost?” 

Me: “Yes.”

Her:  “What did you think?”

Me:  “Brilliant.  The Kingdom Restored.”

She called me immediately.  “Really?” she said.  

“Yes!” I exclaimed.  “I am no longer afraid of death.”

“Really?” she said.  “Why?”

I spent the next few minutes explaining how the supposed “flash sideways” was actually (in my interpretation) the time of final preparation for heaven.  The heartache and heartbreak of their lives on the island and their lives on earth was now over, with the reality of promises ready to be fulfilled.  Relationships lost through death were restored, unfulfilled dreams were fulfilled, and broken bodies were healed – for eternity.  No wonder everyone was so happy.  Watch the final episode again (or the whole series if you haven’t seen it) and see if you don’t come to the same conclusion.

Rick Warren, the author of The Purpose Driven Life , was asked by Larry King what he thought the purpose of life was.  “That’s easy - preparation for eternity.”  We literally and figuratively ache for eternity.   The writers of Lost certainly understood that.  

Switchfoot just released a new album, Vice Verses.  Let me share the lyrics to the final song entitled “Where I Belong.”  They seem particularly fitting.

Feeling like a refugee 
Like it don't belong to me 
The colors flash across the sky 

This air feels strange to me 
Feeling like a tragedy 
Take a deep breath and close my eyes 
One last time 

Storms on the wasteland 
Dark clouds on the plain again 
We were born into this fight 

But I'm not sentimental 
This skin and bones is a rental 
And no one makes it out alive 

Until I die I'll sing these songs 
On the shores of Babylon 
Still looking for a home 
In a world where I belong 

Where the weak are finally strong 
Where the righteous right the wrongs 
Still looking for a home 
In a world where I belong 

Feels like we're just waiting, waiting 
While are hearts are just breaking, breaking 
Feels like we're fighting against the tide 
 
I wanna see the earth shaking 
I wanna see a generation 
Finally waking up inside 

Until I die I'll sing these songs 

On the shores of Babylon
Still looking for a home 
In a world where I belong 

This body's not my own 
This world is not my own 
But I can hear the sound 
Of my heart beating out 
So let's go boys, play it loud! 

On the final day I die 
I want to hold my head up high 
I want to tell You that I tried 
To live it like a song 

And when I reach the other side 
I want to look You in the eye 
And know that I've arrived 
In a world where I belong 

Where I belong 

I still believe we can live forever 
You and I we begin forever now 
Forever now 
Forever 
I still believe in us together 
You and I we're here together now 
Together now 
Together now 
Forever now 
Forever now

My fear of death is gone.  God used a TV show to do it.  Now that’s unexpected and brilliant.  Just like heaven.  Just like God.  

I can’t wait.

The Pride and Rejection of Children

Last week Hall of Fame football player Lee Roy Selmon died.  I did not know him personally, I have never eaten at his restaurant, and I do not recall seeing him play football for the Oklahoma Sooners or the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.  But last week while I was waiting for a coffee in Starbucks I read an article in the paper about him which brought me to tears. 

Actually, I am a man, so I didn’t cry, but my eyeballs were sweating really good.  As I read the article and even before I got to the most impactful part for me, I felt myself beginning to get emotional.  I knew God was preparing my heart for something.

During his induction speech for the Pro Football Hall of Fame, after being introduced by his brother Dewey, Lee Roy said that his family background was more noteworthy than his accomplishments as a football player. 

“People have said, ‘Your parents must be proud of you,’ but I’m more proud of them [emphasis mine],” he said. 

At this point I was weeping deeply.  But my weeping was not out of a sense of sadness for him and his family. I was weeping because of my desire for my children to one day say the same thing about me.

As I began to process my feelings in that moment, I began to minimize them.  “You are just being codependent”, I said to myself.  “You are too worried about them liking you.”

I do want my children to like me, so much that I am embarrassed to admit I often try to “buy” their affection in some way.  Treats, money, entertaining them, letting them pick what’s for dinner, etc. are all attempts to encourage them to like me.  In the end it really doesn’t work for me or them.

Then I get angry.  “Little twerps”, I think.  “I was always proud of my parents. Don’t you know how much I love you?”

I have really struggled through a lot of pain surrounding this issue of my children’s affection in the last couple years.  I believe I am a strong and loving father who has a lot to say to my children, but I seem to rarely have an audience in them.  Two years ago their mom and I divorced, and shortly after that I saw their attitudes and affections toward me greatly diminished.  It has been so painful.  I have really asked Jesus to shepherd me through it.  He has and He is.

One night recently all four of my children were in my girls’ room singing along with a song on my daughter’s ipod.  I walked into the room expecting to be welcomed and to join in the fun.  I got ignored.  I was so hurt by their rejection of me. I walked out of the room praying “God, I feel so rejected”.  I was hoping to get some comfort from that prayer, but instead this is what God said:

“Now you know what it feels like to be rejected by your children.”

Oof.  Busted.  That’s not what I expected to hear from God in that moment.  I consistently pray that God will help me see things from his perspective, but did He have to answer that prayer right then?

So what about my desire for my children’s affection?  How do I reckon that with my apparent need for approval from them?  God is so faithful, because even in the moments of tough lessons he offers such encouragement and hope.  He first directed me to the account of creation in Genesis:

“So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.” (1:27)

I am created in the image of God.  All of me is created in His image.  My desire for my children’s affection, love, and respect is apparently a reflection of God’s image.  It is not only normal for me; it is what he desires from me (and you) also.  

One of my greatest joys is to be involved in my children’s lives.  I love the routine tasks of parenting – making meals, helping them with their homework, doing projects, taking them to school.  I take my 14 year old daughter to school a couple times a week and I love it - until we actually get in the car.  Did I mention she was 14?  Do I need to say any more?  It usually goes something like this:

Me: [with enthusiastic interest] “What classes do you have today?”

Her:  [shoulder shrug]

Me:  [frustrated] “You don’t know what classes you have today?”

Her:  [holds up her Biology book]

Me:  “Biology, huh?  So tell me about it.  Do you like your teacher?  Have you dissected anything yet?”

Her:  [in a frustrated tone] “No.”

Me:  “When are you going to dissect something?”

Her:  “I don’t know.”

Me:  “So what is your favorite class so far?”

Her:  [shoulder shrug]

Me:  [messing with her now] “You don’t know which class is your favorite?  How about one of your art classes?”

Her:  [deep frustrated sigh]

We are now pulling up to the school where I drop her off.

Me:  “Goodbye sweetheart.  Have a great day!  I love you!”

Her:  [looking out of the corner of her eye as she slings her book bag over her shoulder] [Silence].  [Shuts the door and walks away].

I am not sure whether to laugh or cry.  I guess it is funny because it may be expected from a 14 year old, and yet it hurts so badly too.   I love her more than I am capable of expressing.  I want a relationship with her.  I want to talk to her, hear what she is feeling, encourage her in her hopes and dreams, walk beside her, and help her.  Why won’t she realize that and engage with me?

When she was in Kindergarten and first grade we had a different relationship.  I miss it so much.  She used to love to go to work with me.  I remember one time she was so excited that school was cancelled because she got to come with me.  She swept a floor.  We painted a wall together.  Afterward we sat down and had ice cream.  I am not sure who had more fun that day, me or her.

I took a day off from work when she was in first grade to chaperon a field trip to a colonial era farm.  As we were riding back to school on the bus I asked her what she liked the most about the day?  She told me about the animals we saw, or the crafts we did.  When I asked her what she thought I liked the most about the day, she said “Being with me?”  Exactly right.

People have dreams, and my dream has always been to be a dad; a great dad; a family man.  So in a sense the breaking up of our family and the erosion of the relationship with my children has represented the loss of my dream. 

Every time I see a child with a deep attraction or affection to their dad, it hurts.  The other day I was in an elevator with a father and his 9 year old daughter.  They had their bikes and she was wearing a book bag so they were probably riding to school together.  She was so sweet and she hovered around her dad like a planet around the Sun.  I felt the tears coming again as I exited the elevator.  I heard her say “Are you ready to go, Daddy?” as I got into my car.  I sat there for a few minutes weeping in the beauty of that moment.

And then I remember what God said to me about rejection from His children.

Hasn’t God felt like this since he created man?  The Bible is full of episode upon episode of God waiting for His people to return to Him while feeling a range of emotions from hurt to frustration to anger.  Check out these excerpts from Hosea 2 as an example:

Hurt:  “She [His people, Israel] doesn’t realize it was I who gave her everything she has—the grain, the new wine, the olive oil;   I even gave her silver and gold.   But she gave all my gifts to Baal.” (2:8)

Anger:  “I will punish her for all those times when she burned incense to her images of Baal, when she put on her earrings and jewels and went out to look for her lovers but forgot all about me,” says the Lord. (2:13)

I would hate to be Israel in that moment, especially if that’s where God stopped.  But then, by his grace, He gives her yet another chance:

Forgiveness: “But then I will win her back once again. I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her there.” (2:14)

Redemption:  “I will be faithful to you and make you mine,
      and you will finally know me as the Lord. “ (2:20)

“In that day, I will answer,” says the Lord. “I will answer the sky as it pleads for clouds.
 And the sky will answer the earth with rain. Then the earth will answer the thirsty cries of the grain, the grapevines, and the olive trees.  And they in turn will answer,
‘Jezreel’—‘God plants!’ At that time I will plant a crop of Israelites and raise them for myself. I will show love to those I called ‘Not loved.’  And to those I called ‘Not my people,’ I will say; ‘Now you are my people.’ And they will reply, ‘You are our God.’ (2:21-23)

I wonder if God knew His people would eventually mess up their lives enough doing it their own way that they would eventually come back.  I am not sure how God may limit his knowledge of the future.  As a former pastor of mine used to say, “God knows if he wants to know.” 

But I do know God takes the ultimate action of love toward us – giving us free will.  But we have to choose Him.  And my children have to choose me.  I can’t force them.  Love can’t exist where there is no free will.

So for now what do I do?  Keep pursuing Jesus and do what he does.  Never stop pursuing my children and wait.   I pray they will be proud of me some day.  When they are it will be one of the greatest moments of my life and it will have been worth the wait.

Jesus, I love you because you loved me and died for me even though you knew I would often reject you.  Fill me with a deep understanding of this truth so that I may endure the pain of waiting for my children to come back to me.  Make me a reflection of the real you so that they are drawn to you through me.  In your precious name I pray.