Hold the Line

How often do I feel sad, wishing that I had clear direction from God; that I knew my purpose.  What I really need is God to give me victory over sin.  I don't have a problem with enormous, obvious sins; more the pernicous, less noticeable type.  I am lazy.  I waste so much time playing around on the computer.  I of all people should be aware of my own mortality; in fact, I've been cognizant of my mortality since I was a child.  When I was a child, I expected that I would be dead before the age of 25 at the oldest.  Unfortunately, this expectation did not give me a sense of urgency; quite the opposite, my certainty regarding my future made me reluctant to try too hard.  Why should I bother trying to do well in school or look for a job or do anything that wasn't enjoyable when I would be dead soon?  What a mistake that was!  I became so depressed that I didn't even want to live anymore.  When there is nothing to strive for, nothing to achieve, no goals to look ahead to, what is the point of living at all?  Like Job, I prayed that I could simply die, and move straight to eternity.  Praise God for not granting the unknowingly stupid prayers of His children!

Once I realized that God wasn't going to strike me down and I found myself not quite depressed enough to actually go through with suicide, I knew my life would have to change.  I developed a sense of urgency; I simply didn't have time to waste!  This urgency drove me to return to school and to excel this time.  More than one person commented on my strong work ethic and the unheard of change in my academic performance.  I went from an academically disqualified 1.0 GPA to an honors earning 3.6 before my graduation.  In addition to classroom work, I participated in academic competition, excelling there as well.  In addition, I sought out student employment.  Within a few months, I had impressed my supervisor so much that I was entrusted with remote access to my work computer, making me the only student worker with this access.  In nearly every way, I was a model student.

I do not say any of this intending to build myself up; I freely acknowledge that God was the source of any wisdom I may have exhibited.  Furthermore, it is only through the God's power of healing that I survived a serious illness in 2006.  My point is this; when I felt a clear direction from God, I flourished.

But then; like a fool, I graduated.  I found myself a highly qualified individual with a college degree, a loving wife and a young son.  I had everything I could have asked for; everything but a job.  Now, two years later, I am still unemployed, with my job prospects looking more and more dim as I get further from graduation.

I find myself slipping back to my old habits of being angry, unmotivated and depressed.  I don't know what God wants from me!  I find myself longing that God will give me clear direction and purpose.  Praise God, I no longer have any suicidal bent whatsoever but I have difficulty imagining being very happy or fulfilled in this life.  I suppose rather than encouraging others with this post, I am asking for you to partner with me as I pray for diection.  With God's inspiration I'm intending to ramp up my writing output, so expect more entries soon.

Right Here Waiting

In my previous post, “Take It to the Limit”, I may be guilty of suggesting that finding God is dependent on our effort.  Please do not misunderstand me, our effort is indeed quite important.

As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead.
James 2:26

If Christianity were based purely on our effort, it would be much the same as most other religions in the world.  The primary difference between Christianity and most other religions is the concept of God reaching out to man rather than the other way around.  Though our effort is a necessary and important component of a walk with God, His effort is infinitely more so.  As creator of the universe, God by definition must exist outside of the universe.  Is there any way that we as residents of the universe could interact with anything outside of the universe through our own initiative?  Of course not, that would be absurd.

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
Romans 5:8

By necessity, God made the first move.  Since we were unable to bridge the gap between ourselves and Him, He did so for us.  Beyond simply making the first move, God goes further.

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send?  And who will go for us?”
And I said, “Here am I. Send me!”
Isaiah 6:8

God asks us to be a partner in reaching others with His message.  In much the same way that Jesus was, we are tasked with going into the world to help those who are lost.  One question remains, why?  Why would the God of the universe desire to have a relationship with us?

Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks.
John 4:23

Consider this for a moment; have you ever done something cool and wish that there had been someone around to see it?  God did too; God made the entire heartbreakingly beautiful, often savage, precise-as-clockwork and incomprehensibly large universe.  How cool is that?  Is it any surprise that He would long to have someone to share it with?  That's where we come in.  God is seeking worshipers.  He is not on some sort of universal ego trip; our worship is simply the result of an accurate acknowledgment of our position in relation to His.  When and if we gain this understanding of our status, worship is a perfectly legitimate and reasonable response.

Weekend Fiction - Oracle the Hero

Here is chapter 5 of my science-fiction serial Oracle.  This was the most difficult chapter so far to write.  Please feel free to offer any comments, suggestions or feedback.  Thanks!


Chapter 5; Oracle the Hero

“Good morning sir.”

“Good morning Ezra, go ahead.”

“Very good sir; your client will arrive in 1 hour; shall I start your shower and coffee?”

“Go ahead, Ezra.”

“Very good sir; your client?”

“Go ahead, Ezra.”

“Senator Jacobson, unspecified business.”

As usual with politicians, the senator's staff was tightlipped about the purpose of his visit, but public officials were typically interested in just one thing, reelection.  Mrs. Meyers had asked for a few days off, ostensibly to get away for a weekend; she was actually at an appointment with an oncologist.  Unfortunately she would pass away 13 months from now but Ezra's arranging for her to become a lottery winner six months from now will ensure that her last days are spent comfortably, in a beach house in Mexico.

After his shower, Cyrus found the note Mrs. Meyers had left directing him to the homemade frozen waffles in the freezer.  Though his meeting with Senator Jacobson was predictably short, Cyrus had more charity clients than usual.  He thought of Melanie very little that day.  After the last charity client had left, Cyrus found himself strangely tired from a long day.  As Cyrus lay down to rest in his noisy room, a strange sensation came over him.  He foresaw a man dressed in dark clothes peering through a window.  Hearing a noise in the bushes behind him, the man turned.  The burglar crouched out of sight and hid.

“This is strange.”  Cyrus thought to himself.  Usually, his visions only involved people he knew or happened to be near at the time.  Then he realized that the burglar was outside of Mrs. Thomason house.

“Ezra, open the garage door.”

“Very good sir.”

Though he was unsure what he would do when he arrived, Cyrus knew he had to get to Mrs. Thomason’s house.

On the way, Cyrus focused, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was happening but without success.  He parked down the street, not wanting to draw attention to himself.  As he stumbled through the bushes in Mrs. Thomason’s yard, Cyrus silently cursed himself for not thinking to bring a flashlight.  With a start, he fell through a gap in the hedge and found himself face-to-face with the man from his vision.

“What do you think you're doing here?”  The thief demanded.

Cyrus started to answer but then he foresaw his opponent leveling a pistol.  Without thinking, he launched himself at the would-be assailant.  Cyrus briefly had the advantage as they tumbled to the ground but the thief was not giving up easily.  Cyrus foresaw a stick being swung a split second before he was struck by the stick itself.  As the thief escaped his grasp, Cyrus foresaw then felt several punches and kicks.  Moments later, Cyrus was on the ground, looking up at the thief who was holding the pistol from his vision.

“See you around, hero.” growled the thief, leveling the pistol at Cyrus.  Before he could fire, there was another loud commotion in the bushes.

“What's going on out there?”  A burly man bellowed as he lumbered across the yard.  The thief dropped his weapon and ran, leaving Cyrus where he lay.

“Hey, I recognize you!  You're that guy that was snooping around here the other day.”  The large man spoke; “I live right next door and I saw you.”

“It's not like that” Cyrus gasped, trying to catch his breath; “I'm trying to help.”

“I suppose that's why you brought a gun, right?”  The man said, stabbing a finger at the pistol on the ground.

“It's not my gun.”  Cyrus tried to reassure the neighbor.

The burly man placed his bulk in between Cyrus and the gun.  “We'll just let the police figure that out, my wife already called them; they're on the way.”

Cyrus spent the next five minutes in awkward silence as the Good Samaritan neighbor paced back and forth, menacingly brandishing a two by four.  Cyrus felt quite relieved when a police cruiser arrived with lights flashing.  A few moments later, he was taken to the police station as a second detective took a statement from the neighbor.

At the police station, Cyrus was ushered into a small, green holding room.  A bored looking officer wearing a faded grey suit questioned him regarding the events of that evening.

“Well, part of your story checks out; your prints aren't on the gun, so we know someone else was there.”

“That's what I tried to tell you,” Cyrus protested, “the other guy was already there; I was trying to help Melanie, er, Mrs. Thomason.”

“Right there, that's the problem;” the officer stopped Cyrus, “how did you know anyone needed help?  You live on the other side of town!”

“That's going to be a little hard to explain.”  Cyrus said.

“Try me; I've got a real active imagination.”  the detective jeered.

Cyrus’ explanation was cut short by the entry of another officer.

“We're ready for the line up, get him out here.”

Cyrus was ushered into a line with five other men and instructed to face a one-way mirror.  A moment later, the procedure was interrupted by a police sergeant.

“This guy is your suspect;” the sergeant protested, “do you have any idea how many cases this guy has helped us solve?”

“What are you talking about Garcia?  The neighbor caught him snooping in this woman's bushes; of course he’s our suspect!” The grey suited officer defended himself.

“I've worked with this guy dozens of times!”  The sergeant continued, “If he says he was there to help, he was there to help.  Send him home right now.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”  The officer said in a derisive tone.

Cyrus exited the police station walking slowly, lost in his thoughts. He looked up when he heard Mrs. Thomason's voice.

“Yoo-hoo; young man!” She called, “That nice sergeant told us all about you trying to help us.”

He turned to see Mrs. Thomason and Melanie near a car.

“Umm, it was nothing.”  Cyrus said, somewhat nervous at seeing Melanie.

“Nonsense,” said Mrs. Thomason “you have to let us buy you a cup of coffee, that's the least we can do; I won't take no for an answer.”

Mrs. Thomason took Cyrus by the arm, and proceeded to lead him to a nearby coffee shop.

“I'll just have a cup of coffee.”  Cyrus suggested.

“Don't be silly,” Mrs. Thomason said, “you simply must try the apple pie.”

Mrs. Thomason proceeded to order three pieces of apple pie from the waitress.  A few minutes later,  the waitress returned with the pie and coffee.  As they started to eat, Sergeant Garcia entered the shop.  Seeing Cyrus, he approached the table.

“I'm really sorry about tonight,” he apologized; “Detective Henderson thought he was doing his job.”

“It's no problem,” Cyrus reassured the Sergeant; “it could have happened to anyone.”

Mrs. Thomason spoke up next.  “Excuse me, officer.  All the excitement of this evening has got me a little tired out; would you mind terribly driving me home?”  Before Sergeant Garcia could answer, she called out to the waitress.  “Miss, may I have this pie and coffee to go please?"

With no apparent alternative, Sergeant Garcia responded; “I'd be happy to ma'am, my car is right outside.”

Mrs. Thomason departed with her new-found chauffeur, leaving Cyrus and Melanie alone.

Take It to the Limit

As I was studying my list of Scriptures that I am trying to memorize, four verses jumped out at me tonight.  The common theme?  Seeking and working to find Gods purpose for me.  As I was praying and writing, these verses seemed to arrange themselves into a plan.

Step one, work!

In everything that he undertook in the service of God’s temple and in obedience to the law and the commands, he sought his God and worked wholeheartedly. And so he prospered.
2 Chronicles 31:21

Hezekiah was one of the last great kings of Judah before Jerusalem was nearly destroyed by King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon.  When it came to serving God, Hezekiah gave all he had.  Because of his willingness to work for God, Hezekiah is remembered for his accomplishments for God.  Unfortunately, even he got tripped up by pride later in his life, so he was not perfect.

Step two, pray!

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.
James 1:5

I do not know what God's plan for my life is and I'll bet that many of you are just as uncertain as me.  I freely admit that I lack wisdom; if I didn't, Max Lucado might be reading my books instead of the other way around.  If you don't know what God's plan for your life is, pray!

Step three, be wholehearted!

I seek You with all my heart; do not let me stray from Your commands.
Psalm 119:10

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
Jeremiah 29:13

God does not want you to wander through this world aimlessly, without direction.  On the other hand, the nature of the world we live in ensures that finding God will not be accomplished without effort.  One thing is certain; if you truly desire to find God, you will need to apply all of your abilities, your heart, your intellect, your imagination.  Though it will be difficult, and your search will consume your entire life in this world, the benefits far outweigh the cost.

I personally have been guilty of halfheartedly following God.  I have been willing to follow God as long as He leads me where I want to go.  I have been guilty of turning away when it has been difficult or uncomfortable to hold fast to my Savior.  While I will always bear the spiritual scars of my disobedience, I know that my Savior, my God also bears scars, far greater, far deeper, far more tragic than I will ever comprehend.  I praise the Lord for His mercy and forgiveness, and I pray that you will seek Him wholeheartedly and claim His love for your own.

Weekend Fiction - Oracle’s Confusion

This is chapter 4 of Oracle, my science fiction serial.  Today, we learn a little bit more about Ezra.  Got comments?  I'd love to hear them!


Chapter 4; Oracle’s Confusion


Though his visit to Mrs. Thomason's house had proved unfruitful, Cyrus was no less determined to solve the mystery surrounding Melanie.  Though his power seemed to be useless in this situation, he had access to other resources.

“Ezra, bring your conversation and counseling modules online.”

“Very good, sir.”

Cyrus had obtained  Ezra from an abandoned government project.  Ezra was an artificial intelligence computer system designed to interact with humans using natural language.  Its original purpose was to perform basic psychoanalysis on soldiers and suffering from PTSD.  It was a miserable failure through no fault of its own.  Most people are simply uncomfortable conversing with a computer.  Ezra's hardware consisted of a dozen racks, each holding 10 server class computers.  For most purposes, only a few of the computers were running at any given time.  In response to Cyrus' command, all 120 units lit up.

“Ezra, I think I'm in love.”

“What makes you say that?” Ezra responded.

“I don't know what else to think, this woman confuses me.”

“Go on.”

“I'm not even sure what love is.”  Cyrus said.

“Love is defined as a strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties.  Do you have any personal ties with this woman?”

Cyrus sighed.  “We have something in common if that's what you mean.  She and I have the only futures I can't see.”

Advanced as it was, certain aspects of Cyrus' life continually escaped Ezra.  “The only way to know the future is to experience it.”

“I wish that was true.” Cyrus responded.

Ezra either paused meaningfully or struggled to process Cyrus’ statement.  “If you do not have personal ties with her, you must develop them if love is the intended goal.”

“So you're saying we should spend time together?”

“That seems like a wise course of action.”  Ezra sounded satisfied with itself, if that was possible.

“Thank you, as always, for your help; return to standard operations mode.”

In its climate controlled server room, Ezra's activity level returned to normal.  Cyrus was more determined than ever that he would see Melanie again.

Weekend Fiction - Oracle’s Dilemma

This is chapter 3 of my science fiction serial, Oracle.  Now, we're getting deeper into the mystery surrounding Melanie.  As always I greatly appreciate any feedback.  Thanks!

Chapter 3; Oracle’s Dilemma


At 3 am, Cyrus finally gave up on sleep.  It seemed that the unanswered questions in his mind simply would not wait for the morning.

“Ezra?”

“Good morning sir; it’s 3 AM; your schedule?”

“No, Ezra; search biographical information of Melanie Thomason; 3 mile radius.”

“Two results; Melanie R. Thomason, age 52 and Melanie Thomason, age 8.”

Neither of those women could possibly be Mrs. Thomason’s niece.  “Dismissed, Ezra.”

Cyrus was determined to unravel the mystery surrounding Melanie.  He considered calling in a favor from one of the several private investigators he had assisted, but felt wrong about having anyone spy on her.  Finally, he decided.  Cyrus had never needed to ask anyone for information about someone; he had no intention of breaking that pattern.

“Ezra; turn off the lights.”

“Very good sir.”

Cyrus sat down at his desk and turned off the radio, for the first time in years.  He had once learned some meditation techniques hoping to quiet the noise in his mind.  He pictured Melanie's face in his mind.  He began to focus on breathing, deeply and slowly.  He thought back to Melanie helping Mrs. Thomason rescue the cat.

“Concentrate, concentrate...  ”

Cyrus whispered to himself.  It was no use.  The matter how hard he tried, Cyrus could not quiet the noise in his mind.  His mind constantly jumped from scene to scene of seemingly anyone except Melanie.  After about 10 minutes of focused effort, Cyrus was exhausted.  He shoved his chair back angrily and got up from his desk.

“Ezra; turn on the lights, now!”  Cyrus said, angrily.

“Very good sir.”

As Cyrus stepped away from his desk, he tripped and fell over a pile of discarded clothes.  He struck his head on a bedside table and fell to the floor, unconscious.

Cyrus awoke in silence.  When he opened his eyes he found himself in an unfamiliar place.  He was standing in a featureless expanse of grey, facing an enormous white wall that stretched as far as he could see to his left and right.  The top of the wall was obscured by grey mist.  Set in the wall were two heavy wooden doors.

“Hello, can anyone hear me?  Hello, HELLO! ”

Cyrus' cries went unanswered.  He walked to the door on the left and opened it to see a featureless grey expanse seemingly identical to the place he now stood.  Somewhat apprehensive now, Cyrus strode to the other door from behind this door he could hear a multitude of voices, all speaking at once.  Somehow, he was certain that Melanie was behind this door.  He reached for the door, grasping the heavy iron hoop.  The door would not open.  He struggled with all his strength with the door but the door would not budge.  He pounded the door as hard as he could but to no avail.

“Melanie!  I'm coming; I'll get you out of there. ”

Cyrus raced back to the other door but it slammed shut just as he reached it.  Going back to the door on the right, Cyrus reached to open it.  This time it opened easily to discharge a crowd of people, hundreds of them fitting every description.

“Melanie!  Where are you? ”

Cyrus is interrupted by the steady stream of chatter coming from the people in the crowd.  They surrounded him, all shouting questions at once.

“How long do I have?” said an old man with a walker.

“When am I going to die?” came from a woman in a business suit.

A sickly looking child asked, “Will it hurt when I die?”

A woman in a hospital gown screamed, “How can you stand there and watch me die?”

“Do something, save me!” cried a woman who looked like she had been beaten.

“I can't help you; it's not my fault!” Cyrus responded.

The people just continued shouting, crowding around Cyrus.  As he struggled to escape from a soldier with a battered rifle, he fell, the crowd closing in around him.  Cyrus' world went dark as he passed out.

“Good morning sir.”

Cyrus woke up screaming, drenched in sweat.

“Good morning sir.”

“Ezra… Ezra, it was just a dream.” Cyrus said, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Good morning sir.”

“Go ahead, Ezra; I’m awake now.”

“Very good sir; your client will arrive in 2 hours; shall I start your shower and coffee?”

“Go ahead, Ezra, extra hot shower today please.”

“Very good sir; your client?”

“Go ahead, Ezra.”

“General McDermott, to discuss Project Threshold.”

The idea of meeting with General McDermott wasn’t a pleasant thought.  Cyrus knew that he would spend nearly 4 hours listening to the General.  He suspected that the General was more interested in having a captive audience than in Project Threshold.  Cyrus had assured him last time that the project would be approved by Congress, but it seemed that the military never ran out of questions… or stories.

As Cyrus ate his breakfast of French toast and sausage, he found his thoughts again drifting back to Mrs. Thomason’s niece.  What it was that made her different from every other person he had ever known?  Finishing his breakfast, he resolved that he would figure this mystery out.

By the time General McDermott finished talking, it was already past lunch time.  Cyrus briefly considered skipping the usual round of charity clients, but something inside him wouldn’t let him.  He actually did enjoy some of them; they were the closest thing he had to friends.  He seemed to have a large amount of clients who had questions about their love life.  He predicted the future for other people all afternoon, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Melanie; thinking of how we wasn’t able to see anything about her.  When he was done with his last charity client of the day, he found himself driving to Mrs. Thomason’s house.

Mrs. Thomason lived on a tree-lined cul-de-sac, just off a busy street.  Cyrus stood on the porch of Mrs. Thomason’s house.  He was intending to ring the doorbell, but was having difficulty getting over his nervousness.  He simply couldn’t be certain of whether Melanie was home or not.  Looking into Mrs. Thomason’s immediate future didn’t help either.  He was able to see her answering the doorbell in about 19 seconds, but other than that; Mrs. Thomason would simply tell him that Melanie lived in her guest house, and that she didn’t know if her niece was home or not.  It occurred briefly to him that he could simply bypass speaking to Mrs. Thomason and go straight to the guest house, but he wasn’t certain of quite the affect that would have on the situation; he wasn’t even certain if he could do something other than he had seen in Mrs. Thomason’s future.  As he mentally debated the possibilities, he absentmindedly stretched out his hand and hit the doorbell button.

“Just a moment please.”  Mrs. Thomason’s voice was barely audible over the noise of the street.  Seeing Cyrus at the door, she seemed confused.  “Are you here about Mr. Fluff?  We found him right where you said he would be.”

“I… No, actually I was wondering… is Melanie here?”

“Oh, Melanie doesn’t actually live here,” Mrs. Thomason replied; “she lives in my guest house and I’m not sure if she’s home or not.”

Cyrus followed the rest of the script of his conversation with Mrs. Thomason mindlessly, shortly finding himself alone again on her doorstep.

For some reason, Cyrus couldn’t bring himself to go and knock on the door of the guesthouse.  Without being certain of the outcome, he was unsure how to proceed.  He finally left when he foresaw a neighbor dialing the police about the strange man loitering at Mrs. Thomason’s door.