Dear Wormwood

It has been a while since I have blogged. I remember one of my English teachers in high school said that she hated newspaper columnists because they were paid to write something every day, and so their words become forced instead of inspired. I never want that to happen when it comes to my art. Taking my photography from a hobby to a career has endangered my spontaneity behind the lens, and on more than one occasion this year I have considered closing  my business and going back to a "regular" job so that I can refocus my field of vision. (pun intended)


But that is neither here nor there. I wanted to talk about a few things that happened this year. In 2015, I have been tested in more than one way, and my own "Wormwood" has been having a field day in my heart. The Evil One has a battle plan for all of us, and our Wormwood is well-versed in pressing all the right buttons to make us feel broken beyond repair. Like C.S. Lewis in "The Screwtape Letters", I am imagining what The Enemy's strategy was. He knew the events that would occur in my life this year, and if I had to imagine his letter to my personal "Wormwood", (I don't want to know his real name.) I can imagine Screwtape writing him in this fashion:

"My Dear Wormwood, I have taken note of the things your man must endure this year, and while they could (if we lose our head) be used for his own betterment against us, if we are careful and play our game correctly, each of these events can be used for maximum pain and anguish in the heart and the mind. We can remind him of his mortality, his poor choices, his lack of reason, his unworthiness, and for good measure, we can use others around him to amplify these things. Never forget, Wormwood, that unlike so many others, your man has the terrifying advantage of knowing you exist. Most do not, but your man is very aware of you. He knows, Wormwood! Keep behind him, where he is most vulnerable, and you are best concealed.

Let's begin, Wormwood, with his health. This year he will have so many unexplained aches, pains, sicknesses, and general malaise that he will have ultimately felt like his warranty card ran out the moment he turned 41. Have him focus on those maladies, and deem them his death coming sooner than he ever imagined. In the spring, an event will occur to nail this idea homeward: He will have a mild heart attack. The next few weeks following will be a living nightmare of his own creation. He will be waiting for impending news of quadruple bypass, or even death. Have him focus on putting his affairs in order, and saying goodbye to everyone in his mind. Of course, he's not dying, but HE doesn't know that. We're not done with him by a long-shot, Wormwood. 

We're going to remind him of every opportunity in life he felt he was entitled to, and instead overlooked. We're going to bring back memories of what he could have done differently, and make him wish he could go back in time and change them so that he wouldn't have to endure them now. We're going to remind him of things he held so dear that are now out of reach, and make him feel so sick to his stomach that he wants to cry out in rage over those very things he has no control over. Naturally, the things we love the most are the things we hate to lose, so don't forget to remind him of the past--DAILY. He can't do a thing about the past, but we can make him dwell on it!

Now then, remember that little "spiritual journey" he went on in summer where he gave his life over to The One again? Well, we'll answer to that! Shortly after, we are going to unleash such a multitude of assaults that even if he does  appeal to his Creator, he will feel like his prayers are empty and futile. We must bare down hard and not lose our grip on him at this moment, lest our efforts totter and collapse. This could be the opportunity we have been waiting for since the vile creature left our camp and turned his life over to The One some twenty-three years ago. Remember your humiliation when he held hands with that half-wit and prayed that insipid prayer? You felt so helpless as you stood there, watching him give his life over to something greater than you! Remember that terrible day now. Harness that hatred and hammer it on him with both fists. Don't let him realize for one moment that this present atrocity might actually be a tool by The One who "loves him" to bring him a different kind of joy. Let him focus on the darkness, and make sure he allows just as much of that anguish to pour out on those around him...the ones he loves most.

Your man is an infant at heart. They all are, Wormwood. Envision your man as a child in his playroom, toys scattered about from corner to corner. He can't possibly play with them all at once. Now imagine his reaction when his father comes in and says that gift he loves most must be taken away because he left it lying on the stair for the third time in a row. Suddenly all the others matter very little, and the one that is being sacrificed becomes the most priceless treasure. Had he looked after it better, it might have not come to this, but a child does not see it this way. They only see the grievance. The child blames his father for the loss, of course. Make sure the man does the same. I will be in touch with your cousins who are in charge of so many "friends" around him to him to ensure they either support his anger, or make him feel like he is worthless. He may have true friends in his corner (You know who they are, Wormwood.) but have him focus on the opinions of his modern-day Eliphazes, Bildads, and Zophars. We've got a lot going for us with your man, let's not lose this golden opportunity given to us.

P.S. You mentioned in your letter his pet is dying. Make sure to maximize his mourning for it. We want his pain, Wormwood. Remember yourself. If you play your fiddle smartly, we can own his Christmas holiday as well.

Your affectionate uncle, Screwtape"

I'm not nearly as talented with the pen as C.S. Lewis, but I know my Wormwood very well. The past few weeks, he has been having a banquet at my own expense. I felt like I was fighting this battle all alone, and there was no end in sight. I prayed deeply for weeks, and only after my complete surrender, God answered. As usual, God has a way of answering in ways I never saw coming. He answered me in the voice of my wife. He answered me in the words of scripture in my daily bible study. He answered me from the pulpit last Sunday.

And, he answered me last night as I lie in bed.

It is that final answer I want to make sure I share with you. You may be suffering in a way that you feel is both unimaginable, and unmanageable. The walls may be collapsing all around you, and your heart may be in the process of being ripped to shreds. We try to take on our demons single-handed, and we fall. Oh, how we fall.

But back to that answer God gave me. Four years ago, my family began praying for a woman who lived halfway across the state. She was a friend of a friend, but in the years that followed, she became a part of our weekly life through prayer. Initially, she had gone to the hospital to have a baby, an event that should have been nothing but joy. While she was there, it was discovered that she had cancer. From a distance, and from our knees, we watched her battle this horrible affront to her body. She had good days, and bad days. She had moments that looked like it was beaten, and moments that seemed like she had been beaten. Prayers for this young woman spread far and wide as people who loved her shared her story with others in church and at home. Her young husband prayed for her. Her children prayed for her. I believe the very grass under her feet cried out to God for her healing.

But healing did not come. A few days ago, after four years of fighting, she lost her earthly battle with cancer. Those of us who kept up with her story knew how strong she had been, all the way until the end. I can't form words to emphasize who Kristi Casey was, but I do know who she IS. She is a victorious child of God, and she overcame.

She BEAT her disease.

She OVERCAME her Wormwood.

I can't even form words right now. Just...gah...I'm lost. Lost in His grace. I have so much to be thankful for in my home, in my heart, in my family...

And in this video that was taped of her just a short time ago, where she talks NOT about her cancer, but about having love and hope, I hope you will see what I saw.

Victory.

 

The Silver Cord

Jane Eyre.

Sweet, beautiful, amazing, dark, wonderful Jane Eyre.

This is my favorite novel. Of all time. Bar none. It was written over 150 years ago, and it is so beautiful to me in heart, in passion, and in scope that I cannot form words to convey it.

When I read it, my heart feels like it will pound it's way out of my chest to escape the chains around it.

Rochester loves her. He loves Jane with every fiber of his being. He knows she is too young for him. He's in his 40's, and she is barely 19. He knows she is kind, gentle, and absolutely trusting of him to protect her, and hold her fast. He looks deep into her loving, sweet, endearing eyes and it takes every bit of power and strength he has as a man not to circle her waist with one arm and pull her close to him and press her lips to his.

And it happens again and again in the book...almost. You can almost envision the moment. She is about a head shorter than him, and he reaches out a hand to her, and she take his hand like a lady should, allowing him to be a gentleman....but instead of looking away, she gazes slightly upward, deep into his eyes, and she ensnares him with one flash of hers.

She literally owns him with one demure, adorable bat of her eyelashes.

When they first meet, he asks her to come and sit in a chair next to him, but later on, she begins sitting at his feet, because she wants to. She kneels by him, not in worship, but in love. She looks upward to him with deep, powerful eyes that say "I'm kneeling at your feet, Sir. What would you have me do now?" but in his mind, when he sees her kneeling there with those searching eyes gazing up at him, he crumbles under their weight, and he worships her instead.

The relationship they share is so different from what society would call normal. So forbidden, and yet so powerful. You can tell from the moment they meet at the dinner party on the staircase that she wants to collapse in his arms and let him take her to places both mentally and physically that she has only dreamed of. Maybe thinking of him as she clutched her nightgown around her at night. The teddy bear she might have held against her breast as a child was preparing the way for his head to be lain against that same place, except this time, her heartbeat would be hammering with the same need he has for her, and the childhood desires inside her would now be grown up in one passionate moment.

He looks into her eyes every day, knowing that she is forbidden to him. She's half his age. She's his governess. His au pair. His subordinate. To even lay one finger on her is completely out of the question, and yet, when she stands in front of him, with her face cast downward out of personal insecurity, he speaks to her like a father...a teacher...a lover, and says "Jane, look at me." and when her eyes meet his, she trembles, not out of fear, but because she knows he loves her. He tells her how beautiful she is, and how wonderful her heart is, and in doing so, she loves him even more.

He wants her, with everything he is. When she stands near him, his heartbeat quickens, and he almost cannot bear her proximity. His passion is so real, and with one quick move, he could sweep her up from her place at his feet, carry her to his chamber, lie her on his bed, and love her in every way imaginable, and she would welcome it.

...and he would. Oh, God he would.

But she is off-limits to him.

She knows it.

And a part of her loves it.

She gazes upward at him, as if to say "I would give you my entire being for your own. If only you would just take it, Sir."

But she is off-limits to him.

...and her eyes tease him again, and again, and again.

Oh, how I love this book.

Love.


(...if you read this, tell me.)

Zece (Ten)

Today a very interesting thing happened in the middle of my morning commute. God dropped a bomb on me. I wasn't ready to be hit with this kind of reality, but it happened nonetheless. I was confronted by NUMBER TEN.

What is this NUMBER TEN? It's the commandment that we often think that God must have seen as the least important. After all, it was the last one. Maybe it was an afterthought. Maybe he got to nine commandments and thought "Hm, that pretty well covers it. Murder, theft, infidelity, idolatry, slander, got all those squared away. But still, who's gonna remember nine commandments? I need to make it an even number. There should be ten. Hmm. Envy. That's a good one. Ahem. THOU SHALT NOT..."

In all seriousness though, this is the one I struggle with more than any. I admit, I am guilty of breaking the whole law. Even if you forget that part about "Whoever breaks part of the law breaks all of it." I still am guilty. I have gone beyond that. I have broken every single commandment at some point in my life. Murder? Yep. I have mentally wished death upon people. Adultery? Done. I had roving eyes when my first marriage began to go sour. I have told lies about people, called my father a loser, partied until I got drunk on a Sunday, worshiped at the altar of internet addiction, stole a lollipop from a gas station when nobody was looking, said the G-D word, had a poster of a half-naked Claudia Schiffer on my bedroom wall when I was a teen, and oh yes...I have coveted.

The secret to a happy life is contentment with what you have. In the Parable of the Landowner and Workers, the man who owned the vineyard needed workers, and so he hired them from the marketplace. He found a few at the marlet standing around with their hands in their pockets, and said "Hey, come work for me. I will pay you $20." Later that day, he saw more people looking for work. He offered them the same deal. Toward the end of the day, he found even more workers. At the day's end, He paid the people who began work at daybreak, those who began work at late morning, and those who began work at afternoon all the same wage. The people who had worked since morning were furious about this, and wanted to be rewarded for their work with a higher wage. The landowner said  that he paid each of them what he promised. There was no "fair" to this. The person hired at daybreak was promised twenty bucks. So was the guy hired at 3pm. The both got what the landowner wanted them to have. It may seem unfair, but without the landowner, none of them would have had work that day. So it is with God. Without Him, none of us would have anything.

But I struggle with this. Daily. And in no greater area do I struggle with it than in the area of my gear for work. The other week, for example, I was shooting portraits, and had just finished and was packing up my gear. My camera is 10 years old, and my lens is 12 years old. They serve me well. But I heard an audible voice come from behind me and say "You shoot Canon!" I turned around and it was a lady who looked about 10 years my junior. She had her camera around her neck, and when I saw it, my jaw almost hit the floor. Most of you will not know what any of this means, but she was toting a Canon 5D Mark III,  and it had my DREAM lens attached...an 85mm 1.2L. She opened her bag and inside rested another gem, a 70-200mmm 2.8L IS. I made small talk, and after a bit, she said "My husband bought this stuff for me. I don't really know how to use it. I just play, and hope I get a good shot." I asked if she did a lot of shooting, and she said no, that usually it sits on a shelf. I wanted to scream at her...no lie. Instead, I muttered under my breath "If you want a camera to sit on a shelf, I'll trade you." As she walked away, however, I suddenly felt a gut-check of revolt in what I had just said. I had (in one thought) completely rejected the gift God had given me in my own camera, and was ready to toss it away. I closed my eyes, patted my camera bag, and thanked God for my daily wage. It's more than many people have. If we put this in the proper perspective, God gave her THAT camera, and God gave me MY camera. Yet, I was only focused on what SHE had.

Quite the nice little "graven image", isn't it? I could spend 15 minutes just dreaming about that camera in the photo above. And I have. Some people dream about houses, cars, women, money...it's all about the grass being greener.

You know, I am sadly aware that many men struggle with an addiction to pornography. The internet has made this an easy thing to access, and your cyber-footprints can be erased with a click of the mouse. Pornography is not my struggle however, and I would say "Thank the Lord." for that fact. In reality though, I am addicted to pornography. How? Well, I have a bevy of bookmarked websites devoted to camera gear, and most of it I will never be able to afford. The outfit the woman in the park had around her neck would cost at least $4000. While the young lady herself was pretty, (I remember that she was.) I had not the first desire to gaze upon her physical features. If I had, I would have been guilty of adultery in my heart. So why is gazing upon her camera any different? I may not have cheated on my wife, but I have told God "What you gave me is no longer pleasing. I want what SHE has."

I've done this in countless other areas too. I don't even need to talk about them all. However, it takes me back to a passage from Romans I have been clinging to for what seems like, oh months now.

^"I don’t understand what I do. I don’t do what I want to do. Instead, I do what I hate to do. I do what I don’t want to do. So I agree that the law is good. As it is, I am no longer the one who does these things. It is sin living in me that does them. I know there is nothing good in my desires. I am controlled by sin. I want to do what is good, but I can’t. I don’t do the good things I want to do. I keep on doing the evil things I don’t want to do.  I do what I don’t want to do. But I am not really the one who is doing it. It is sin living in me that does it. What a terrible failure I am! " ~ Romans 7: 15-20

If we go back to the parable of the landowner and workers, I am like one of the workers. Except, instead of complaining about the wage I have been given being the same as everyone else, I point to the vineyard across the road and say "That guy paid four times as much as you did! I saw it! You can take your money and stow it! I don't want it!"

Today, I want to reflect on what He HAS given me, not what He hasn't. To some, much has been given. To others, some has been given, and to many more, a smaller amount has been given. If we learn to see what we have been given as much, we will no longer care about the amount, only that we were trusted with it.

A thankful heart, is a HAPPY heart.