Month: January 2019

Stolen life and addictions

I had cast the fly just right, or so I thought. I knew there was a monster brown trout in the pool where it had landed. But I also knew that browns were wily fish not easily fooled by artificial flies. If I was going to catch this guy the fly I had tied had to be right. I thought it was, this fish would soon be coming after the bait!

Slowly drawing in my line, drawing it near the fallen tree where I assume the big fish lay. Nothing, Not even a rise. Could I be wrong? Had someone beaten me to it? It was only yesterday after noon I had seen him surface several times feeding on the May flies that dotted the surface of the smooth, clear pool. He had to be there still. Maybe my fly was not as right as I thought.

An old timer had taught me the art of fly fishing. He had imparted everything from casting techniques to the intricate art of fly tying. As a student I had been impatient and boastful, but he had just laughed at my bravado with a knowing attitude. Fly fishing was the great humbler and he knew I would either learn or be defeated.

The first time we had gone out together, he took me to the Escanaba River. It was broad and there was plenty of open bank giving me, the novice, room to learn several of my teachers casting methods and tricks. Stubborn and proud I fought against his advice and began to learn the hard way that maybe I was not as adept at this skill as I thought. Many other days were spent together as I finally saw that listening to and imitation of his techniques were the only way I was going to become proficient at the art of fly fishing. He was a patient teacher and without a step sideways at all my nonsense kept drilling me with steady, relevant information. Within three months I was ready for the next challenge, the amazing art of fly tying.

Again, my mentor ignored my bluster and youthful clumsiness. Starting with simple flies he went step by step through each. By this time, it was winter and as I became less mouthy and more proficient, we spent several hours of that cold season readying our supply of flies for the spring. By April I felt ready and as soon as the season opened begged him to take me out with him. To my surprise he just told me that I was ready and to get out there myself. Fly fishing is best when it is just you and the fish. My patient teacher had done his job and it was now my time to put all of it to use.

Now I was on the Carp River, two months later, and after many successes and failures was in a test of skills with a brown trout. All the things I had learned were going to be needed. The right cast, the right fly and something my mentor had stressed time and again, patience. The one thing he could not give me and the one thing that would be a deciding factor if I could land this or any wily fish.

My addictions stole many things from my life. Some like my relationship with my son are so much more terrible for the affect it has had on his life. These types of pains do not subside. But not all things that addiction steal are so life altering. Some of them are just simple pleasures which allow each of us to live a rounded, fulfilling life. Once upon a time fly fishing was one of those simple pleasures for me. If you have ever been on a stream, just you, nature and the fish, I cannot remember anything that compares. It is not for everyone but for me as a young man it was where I learned the idea of patience. It was working too.

But that is the problem with addictions. As they take hold of your life, they squeeze out everything else. And the first things to go are the simple and fulfilling pleasures such as fly fishing. Once things like it, hobbies, are gone then they eat away at the bigger things until there is no room for anything or anyone.

God did not mean it to be that way. He gave us curious minds and adventurous spirits. Even more than that He knew we needed time away from the hustle and bustle of this world. There is a verse in the gospel of John that describes how addictions affect our natural lives and what a life in Jesus gives us back, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life and have it to the full.” (John 10:10) That is what Satan does with addictions he steals all that is good, kills our very soul and destroys the people around us. But it does not have to be this way. Jesus also promises us this, …”I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6) I can testify that he can restore any of us.

That fish taught me more patience then anything I remember. One day two months later with a different fly I landed him. So beautiful he was that I could not keep him and set him free. That would not be the pattern of my life. My own freedom would soon be surrendered. I doubt if I will ever take up fly fishing again. But I now once again can enjoy the beauty of the nature God created and do not have wasted days trapped in addictions. Jesus is the reason and as he has promised “So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed. (John 36:8) I am that blessed today, you can be too!

Blessings John
1/30/19

Old age and moment of clarity..

Two guys in the boxing ring and I knew them both. Ray was a workmate, but I couldn’t call him a friend. Danny on the other hand was one of the 5 other Ironworkers I shared an apartment with. As I watched them go after each other it was hard to tell that they had grown up together and learned to box at the same little gym near Boise, Idaho. As Danny unleashed a straight right to Ray’s jaw, his head snapped back but he countered with a solid hook to Danny’s midsection. This seemed like a grudge match and I guess it was.

Two months ago, we were sitting around on a Saturday evening, Danny and I were swapping stories and sharing a half gallon of Black Velvet whiskey. Somewhere along the way he got very serious and quiet. Normally when this happened, he was thinking about his estranged wife and the mistakes they had made. But that day I was surprised when I heard him say, “I want to get back in the ring.” I, of course, thought he was joking and quipped casually, “Right and I am going to run for president again.” No smile from Danny, he just sat scowling. Then drew closer, “Do you think this is funny? Smart remarks from a funny guy.” I backed off and waved my hands as if in surrender. I could see he was getting angry and I had been on the receiving end of one of his short punches. I sure didn’t need any of that tonight. This guy was serious.

Danny was somewhere in his early to mid-40’s and I know he had not been in the ring for 10 years or more. What was this all about? Carefully I asked, “Hey, man, what is going on? You told me you were through with that stuff.” He leaned back and sighed, “I know, but Ray…you know Ray, right?” I nodded affirmative and he continued, “Ray is drawing matches every month or so and that dude is older than me!” I didn’t want to smirk, but Ray was maybe two months older than Danny but listening to what he had just said you’d think he had ten years on him.

We sat in silence for a little longer, then Danny surprised me again, “I have been training again for the last two months and have challenged that so-called friend of mine to a 10-round bout! What do you think of that?” Dumbfounded, I could only shrug and say half-heartedly, “That’s great, Danny! But if so shouldn’t you be laying off the sauce and maybe not smoking?” His turn to shrug, “Yeah but I can beat that punk even if I am half the fighter I used to be!” Pouring myself another drink, I knew it wasn’t true just the dream of a guy who did not want to face his older vself.

Getting old. I just turned 65 earlier this month. For some reason that is a golden number in the old age game. For the most part I do not feel any different than I did at 50, or so I have tried to tell myself. Most of the time I can believe it but now and again I, like most of us aging ‘warriors’, have a moment of clarity. Mine came yesterday during a church work bee.

On Saturday in church I had challenged the congregation with a bold statement, “There is 15 yards of sand to move from the parking lot into the new play area for the school. If none of you help, it is going to get done. I will do it myself!” This was my bluff and bluster during the announcement for the work bee. I saw most of what I said as a cry for help. But somewhere in me the old John still believed he could move all that sand alone.

Yesterday after 5 wheel barrow loads, I knew the truth. If I had to move that sand alone, I would be 66 before it got done. It was ‘truth’ moment. But like all moments in my walk up this trail since I excepted Jesus as my Savior, He knew it was another part of the old self that needed to be shed. Self-reliance has been my motto and my creed. As I have come to Him, I have held on to it tooth and nail. It was time for another attitude adjustment!

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” (Isaiah 46:4) I read these words this morning searching for His clarity and maybe solace. What was I missing? Yes, the One who made us, will sustain us. I can surrender even my old body to Him. But it was going to require something from me, then came these words from the Book of James, “Humble yourself before the Lord, and he will lift you up. (James 4:10) Humility, that is the root of it. I needed total surrender body and soul! A lesson learned.

Danny learned a lesson that day in the ring. By the third round Ray was all over him. Between the 3rd and 4th Ray had his corner man check Danny’s condition. The report was not good. In a classy act, Ray refused to come out for the 4th round. Danny declared victory but we all knew better. The fight was never discussed much after that, but Danny seemed somewhat more deflated. His pride was in the past or so he thought. I have been there and maybe still am. But today I choose to trust in Him who sustains me in all ways. I will work hard again but maybe next time with more knowledge and humility. Old age, bah!

Blessings John,
1/28/19

Words I used, I used no more

James Cracket or Jiminy, as he was better known, was a good man. Liked by everyone. He got along with everyone on the job and off. The only thing about Jiminy was that he was the swearingest guy I ever knew. I know I was no slouch in that department and could turn the air around me blue without much effort, but I could not hold a candle to Jiminy.

It made no difference if he was on the job cursing at the work needed to be done or if he was in a public place, a restaurant or on a street corner, this guy never held back. It wasn’t just ‘damn’ and ‘hell’ it was the crudest biological words known to man.

The reason I am writing about Jiminy today is not to condone this type of language, I would say it is just the opposite. You see there was an incident or maybe a confrontation that occurred once that implanted in me a different idea of how words affect others. It took a while to sink in, but I never forgot it. Here is what happened.

Jiminy was the go-to guy in my crew. In the Ironworking trade what he did is called a ‘pusher’. When you have a big crew and as foreman are spending most of your time doing layout or plan work, the pusher keeps the crew working. As such Jiminy was with me when we had our start of shift meetings with the big bosses. At the start of every shift all foremen were given their work sectors and assignments. Normally just a bunch of guys getting together and shooting the breeze but, on the day, when the incident happened, things were a little different. When we came into the office trailer there were three shiny white hard hats gathered with our boss, automatically my antenna went up, I should be on my best behavior. I could see the other foremen were doing the same. I forgot about Jiminy.

Instead of getting assignments we were introduced to two corporate big-wigs and the company’s new safety advisor, Ms. Jaspher. Back in those days women on a jobsite were still a rare thing and most of us were sure to be civil and polite, at least while we were in the same room. As the meeting started Ms. Jaspher, or Mary, as she advised us to call her, took charge. She was there to institute some new safety procedures, and this brought groans from the group gathered around her. All the guys in the room had started in the business before there were safety lines and extra equipment to wear to prevent falling and many believed it was a jinx to be wearing it. It was just low grumbling until I heard Jiminy pipe up and let Mary know in no uncertain terms what he felt about such things. I cannot repeat it here but as I watched Mary’s face, I could see the blood drain out of it. For the first time in my life I felt embarrassed by words I myself had used so often. Was I really blushing?

I have to admit, with regret, that most of my life I have used language that offended without much thought or care. Yes, most of the time I tried to be circumspect in mixed company. Toning the most offense words down to less graphically or biologically descriptive to well, just nasty. But I never gave a second thought of how those words were affecting people around me.

That day in the office trailer for maybe the first time I saw a reaction that made me stop and think, but it did not change me. I remember thinking, this is so wrong. I need to shut Jiminy up. But even with those feelings it would be 30 or more years until the words used that day left my vocabulary for good.

It did not happen all at once but within my first year of Bible listening and study I would hear co-workers say, “What’s up with you? No swearing every other word?” I would think, is that true? But soon I began to notice. My words were gentler in some way. I had no need to use language as a weapon or just crudeness which I used to believe was my right.

I soon came across verses like, “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.” (Ephesians 4:29) I found I wanted to do just that. Words that once were so natural to be became unnatural and yes, offensive. I was being transformed.

Finally, when I read the book of James, I found truth that sealed the deal, “Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one’s life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.” (James 3: 5-6) My tongue had led me in ways that were hurtful to others and to myself, I no longer was that man!

In the office trailer, too late, I was able to get Jiminy back under wraps. The damage was done, and the bosses sought to make his life miserable. I protected him the best I could, but one day he had had enough and ‘drug up’. We never worked together again. Today, I can look back at that day with regret yet like many of my experiences, the lesson learned is so much deeper knowing how I once was but by the grace of God no longer am. I pray that for James Cracket wherever he might be and for you too. Use your language to mend and not tear. In Jesus it is the true language of love.

Blessings John,
1/25/19

It is a free gift….God’s Grace

“What time is it?” I called out to the bartender, who was leaning against the beer cooler at the other end of the bar. He struggled to take his eyes off the TV that was attached to the wall near him. Looking at his watch, he said, “It’s 12:30.” Then as he turned back to the game that was on he grumbled, “Buy a watch, why don’t ya!” I shook my head and picked up my drink and stopped in mid air thinking, “I wish I could afford to buy another watch or get my good one out of hock.” But I knew that wouldn’t be happening any time soon. Shrugging my shoulders, I brought the drink to my lips and took a long pull. Life in the fast lane was not all it was cracked up to be.

I drank for another half hour, then decided to hoof it home. My car had been repossessed so I didn’t have a lot of choice. Just as I was getting up from the bar, I spied a dealer I knew coming in. We had done business before and as he walked past me he nodded but did not stop to chat. I could see he was heading toward the bartender. I thought, “Maybe a few free lines could be had!” I ambled over and stood next to the dealer. He didn’t look at me but could see me in the mirror behind the bar and said, “What you doin’? I ain’t here to talk to you.” I nodded and said, “Just thought I would say hello. Being friendly, you know.” He looked at me then and said, “I heard about you, man, so broke you don’t even have a ride anymore. So again, what you doin’ comin’ over here?” I shrugged and said, “Thought maybe I could get a taste, you know, nothing special, just friendly.” He drew close enough so I could smell his breath and said, “You got no friends, get it? No money, no friends. Do I look like a charity to you? Like they say nothing is free, now hit the bricks or I will ask Lou over there to toss you!” As I turned to leave I heard him laughing.

Nothing is free. I have heard that all my life. In fact, I grew up in a home that was based on the adage: “There is no free ride.” Everyone of my brothers and sister contributed to the household or at least got a job to support whatever needs we had. There was little money to go around. But also, as I grew up I was taught that there was no free ride with God either. It seemed like He too required that you earn your way with Him. Kind of a tit for tat thing. If I was a good kid and kept all rules I would get a free pass to heaven. But if I was bad and broke the law, it was hell for me, literally.

It was no better when I was on my own and as addictions took over more and more of my life, I knew there was no longer anyway to play by the rules I had learned. I had become a lawbreaker and the God I knew had no use for me. So, in return, I came to believe I had no use for Him. I could no longer work my way to heaven, so why even try.

Results were a bitter and broken man. Yeah, a lot of it was that I was ingesting poisons into my body daily. But there was more to it then that. I had no moral center. Yet the crazy thing was that with all of it, I would tell myself that I was still a good guy.

If I had to do someone wrong in a drug deal, that was only because I was protecting my dealer’s product. If I had to lie and cheat at a business deal that was ok too because that was the way business was done or that is what I was hired to do. If I ran from my son because I chose drugs over him. It was all ok. Everyone is doing it. Just the way of the world. I have my own truth and so do you. So easy to get lost.

Problem is there really only one truth and His name is Jesus Christ. It took me a long time to be able to say that. I really did not want to accept or believe even as the evidence in God’s Word confirmed it. The real proof was how the more I input that Word into my life, how that life began to change. Not all at once, but slowly, I found swearing, cheating, lying and even drinking no longer could exist. And I also realized the only good and righteousness one was Him who died for my sin.

The other cool thing I found was that it wasn’t tit for tat. I could not do a thing to change any of it, not one work I did affected anything. It started to happen when I believed that: “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And not through your own doing, it is a gift from God.” (Ephesians 2:8) That is when the miracles occurred. I had found the one free thing, the grace of God. Nothing has ever been the same. Bitterness became joy. Brokenness was made whole.

Today, I find myself wanting more. Yes, this world still tugs at me. So, each day, I look to the cross and say, “I have been crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Galatians 2:20) I can’t earn something Jesus already did, but I can surrender daily and as I do he continues to do the work in me. Awesome.

Years ago, I left that bar defeated, humiliated and cursing my life. It was a low point and if some one then would have showed me the love of God, my life might have been different, but no one did. I offer it to you today. It is a free gift. Grace, forgiveness, and hope. You see Jesus already paid the bill. What you got to lose?

Blessings John,

1/23/19

Who am I?

The rain had been steady since we had come on shift. Now 6 hours later I was soaked to the bone. Sure, I was wearing the company supplied rain suit, boots and rubber gloves but these had little impact on a winter downpour while working in the state of Washington. It did not help that the nuke plant I was working on was centered in the Olympic National Forest, one of the wettest places in the state and in my opinion, in the whole country.

It was what I had signed on to do when accepting a referral slip at the union hall in Tacoma. The business agent warned me as I turned over my ‘boomers’ card, “Listen, son, this ain’t like the Midwest. I know you guys draw a 3’ circle on the ground and if ten drops of rain hit it, your off to the bar. Here we work rain or shine and seeing it rains most days, we just work. You are either ok with that or don’t waste my time!” I had shrugged and gave him my best defiant look. He just shook his head in disgust and mumbled something like, “Another smart_ _ _ boomer, ok sign here and be onsite this afternoon at 4:00 PM. And make sure you are sober! You will be wet soon enough!”

Now 6 months later I had rarely seen a night when the rain did not fall. Even Mt. St. Helen’s eruption had not slowed the rain down. And as I peered up into it, trying to shade my eyes to see the load of rebar that was coming up via crane from the ground 30’ below us, I was despondent. Signaling the operator to bring the load down I could feel chilling water run down my extended arm, down my back and into my already soaked pants. There had to be a better way to make money! But as soon as I thought this, I knew no matter how much it rained I would keep working. I always had. Neither rain, sleet nor snow or drink, drug or both had kept me from being on the job. I had little in life I was proud of any longer, but I showed up and did the work!

At some point in my life, my job took center stage of who l was and how I judged myself when I looked in the mirror. When I would introduce myself, it would always be with the caveat, Ironworker. I may not even tell you my name, that wasn’t really important, but what I did for a living was all you needed to know.

I guess this stemmed from how my addictions stripped away most of the rest of my ‘self’. Once I had been a husband and a father. Those titles and the life that came with it were who I was for 8 years. Then through a messy divorce and the even messier lifestyle I assumed within two years all of that seemed to be washed away. In its place other titles, druggie, drunk, womanizer, loser, addict. I could not abide with any of these, true or not. I did not want to think they defined me. Feeling stripped of all except my profession I clung to it with desperate passion.

Sure, I tried marriage again and sought to be a father, yet these were haunted by my continuing addictions and seemed doomed to fail. But once on the job drunk or sober, high or not, I felt at home and safe. In fact, my addictions seemed to be honored more than despised it all went into the image of the hard working, hard drinking and hard brawling Ironworker. That was me. Take it or leave it was my motto. Most chose to leave it alone. I took what solace I could in it.

It wasn’t until 2009 when a moniker foreign to me was mentioned in the same sentence as my name that I began to see things could be different. Someone had called me a Christian. I scoffed at it! No way! Just because I have been listening to the Bible or because I read a few books about Jesus. I was still an Ironworker first and foremost, I would never be a Christian. Famous last words! I did not understand, “For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.” (Hebrews 4:12) Without me really knowing God’s Word was penetrating me and providing me with an attitude adjustment so deep that I would soon cherish the title, “Christian”!

In fact, it was so transforming that all of the pride and strength I once drew from my job was being drained away. I began to see that my dependency on alcohol and my profession were linked together. It would lead in 2016 to the biggest decision I would ever make, to leave my life as an Ironworker and claim my life as a Christian. To turn my life over to Christ and let Him now be my center.

I cannot say it was easy nor can I tell everyone of you it is what you need to do to be a true follower of Jesus. But for me it was the only way. A clean break. A new beginning. With the support of my loving wife RuthAnn the decision was made and today I can truly call myself by no other name except Christian.

I no longer deal with being soaked to the bone or frozen to the core. I no longer drink, drug and brawl and here is the reason, here is my new motto, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Galatians 2:20) This is my life now, you may not know me or my name but it is ok with me just refer to me as Christian. For Christ is the one who saved me!

Blessings,
John
1/21/19