Month: September 2018

“Give me just a taste, please!” The guy seemed to be begging but I had no mercy. “Listen, my friend, this is not a charity and I am not Mother Theresa, you pay, or you go and stop the whining, it will not help your cause!” His head was down now, and he emitted a soft moan. “Pathetic!” I thought. “This dude needs to man up.” Pulling him up by the arm I led him to the door, “When you have the cash, I have the stuff. Till then don’t be coming around here and crying on my shoulder. Get a grip.” With this I pushed him through the door, closing it I could hear him crying and I waited as he finally moved down the hall.

It was almost midnight and I hadn’t slept in a day or so. The drug business had been good over the last week and I was reaping most of the profits in product, treating myself to another ‘8 ball’ of speed. I was on a roll.

This last guy had been in and out of my circle for over a year now and he was always a pain because when he had the dough, it was party time but when he was broke he figured it was still party time, out of my pocket. And anyone who knew me also knew I was not into sharing the goods. It had always been my theory that if you were going to be in the game you needed to pay to play. It wasn’t like the man was going to give me the product to push on the streets without the cash up front. And even though I knew this wasn’t true. I tried to believe it and stick it to my customers.

The real truth was that I was always in debt to my contact. He did not care if he fronted me the stuff because he knew that I would pay one way or the other. It was the nature of the game. And the truth for me was that I could not afford to be generous with the people I dealt drugs to because I was the one who needed the money, I needed to pay the man.

As I sat on the couch chopping up another line, I didn’t like how I was feeling. Why was I now feeling guilty for not giving that poor slob a break or at the very least letting him have a free blast. Leaning my head back after snorting the line, as my eyes watered, and I felt the rush of the drugs, I thought, “Why do I need to show mercy to him, it is not like he would ever do the same for me. He would probably sell his own mother to keep his high going!” My self-righteous indignation grew but was gone again as soon as it came. I knew in my heart if I looked in the mirror I was that poor slob, begging my dealer to give me time or front me the stuff I needed. “Heck, with that! I am not that guy! I am on a roll and will pay my guy off and from now on will be making a profit. Mercy is for losers and I am no longer one of those!” I reached for the bottle of whiskey and took a long pull. “No, sir, I am not a loser, like that dude.” Lost in the delusion of drugs and alcohol, I started laughing uncontrollably.

Winners and losers. It is strange how we define these words. Most of my life BC, before Christ, I would have defined a winner as one who got ahead. In my professional life, it would have been one who got the best position or pay grade. Or maybe the one who was able to land a contract even if it meant lying and cheating to get it. In my addicted life, the winner was the one who figured out ways to stay high or got over on someone just to be sure number one was taken care of. Winners are those who take care of themselves first and losers are suckers who believe if you help the other guy, there is some cosmic payback that rewards you.

I am not saying that there were not times when I reached out to help someone. But it is my belief that in those times, even if I did not know it, the Holy Spirit was working through me. God cares for his children and will use even a broken wheel to help further his kingdom! Still all and all, it was not until I absorbed the teaching of Jesus Christ that the world of winners and losers was turned upside down.

I remember the first time I read these words:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness,
for they will be filled.

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy.Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the sons of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you. (Matthew 5: 3-12)

I thought who believes this stuff? Nobody really lives like this. But then I met two folks who did. I won’t mention their names here because it would embarrass them. When I realized that they actually lived these words and how it affected the world around them, my life was changed. Here is what they taught me.

There are no losers in God’s eyes. And as each of us grows closer to Jesus, we see what he said can be ours because he already earned it for us. His death on the cross was not as a loser, as the people around him thought. He was our winner and through him we can become those that can ‘win’ others as we accept the truth of those nine verses from the gospel of Matthew.

Unfortunately, the night I have written about led to my ending up in the emergency room for drug overdose. I tried to convince the on-duty doctor I was having a heart attack, but he knew different. Once I was back on the streets, it did nothing to change my life. But the roll I thought I was on turned into a nightmare as my drug debts piled up. I really was no different than the others I viewed as losers. Today I do not see the world as I did back then. I know we are all winners but only through Jesus. I pray for you to read those verses and know you are a winner too!

Blessings, John
9/17/18

I had been in my office facing Tropicana Boulevard, Las Vegas, Nevada, for almost two hours. It was time for a break and breakfast. The English Pub next door served bangers and eggs and also poured up a mean screwdriver, more vodka than orange juice. I sure could use an eye-opener. It was 6:50 am MST, September 11, 2001.

As I sat at the bar, Tommy came over and said, “Can you believe this, we are under attack!” I was totally confused and a bit annoyed because he had not mixed me up my drink as he always did, seeing me come through the door. His eyes were fixed on the TV screen above the bar. And as I focused in, it did not register. Was he watching a movie or what? On the screen there were buildings that seemed to be the World Trade Center but one of them was engulfed in smoke from it looked like the 90th floor upwards. I whispered, “What the….?”

Tommy turned back to me as if noticing me for the first time and said, “Hey sorry, John. This is just nuts. I will mix you up a double you are going to need it…, in fact I think we all are going to need it!” With that he started mixing but did not take his eyes off the screen. I finally said, “What is going on?” And as he brought me the drink he said, “Where have you been, man, we are under attack. Some crazies are crashing planes into buildings….” As he was saying this, and I was watching the screen, I heard one of the announcers say, “Oh my God, there is another one….” Then from the second tower a ball of orange flame exploded. Both of us sat dumb founded. I could not take my eyes off the screen and my mind could not compute what was happening. Without knowing it, I was crying.

For the rest of the day, we like most of the world watched the events that followed. The collapse of those two amazing towers, with all the horrific meaning that went with it. A plane hitting the Pentagon and a plane crashed into a field with rumors of brave passengers overwhelming the hijackers. And soon everywhere the name, Osama bin Laden and a group of terrorists by the name Al-Qaeda. But above all rumors and fear.

From the bar stool where I was sitting the Las Vegas airport was less than four blocks away. By the time the second WTC building collapsed, sirens were wailing from that direction on a constant basis. Rumors swirled in the bar that more planes were in the air. All major airports and buildings were targeted. Soon it was known that the airport had stopped all operations. Within hours the city that never sleeps was as frozen with paranoia as was every city and town in America. The security of living in the United States of America had been breached and nothing would ever be the same again.

On that day over 17 years ago now, I like many of us who live in the comforts of this great country lost something. At the time I wasn’t really sure what it was but when I look at our world today I believe it was simple trust and faith that we are safe from the horrors of living on a sin-filled planet. No, back then I would have not worded it that way. The reason would be that I did not believe in sin or the one who promotes it, Satan. I foolishly believed that just by being blessed to be born in this country I was save from the events leading to what I now understand, Jesus soon return. When I look back, 9/11 unhinged that belief.

God’s Word assures us that all things will lead to good if He is the one we trust in, “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28) I think our problem has been and still is that we, even as followers of Jesus Christ believe that earthly powers will protect us from evil. The only problem with this is that we are not fighting a battle with earthly forces, “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the rulers of darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.” (Ephesians 6:12) Our only hope and protection is in Jesus Christ.

Over the years since my accepting Jesus as my Savior, I have looked back to 9/11 with an ever-changing attitude. At first, I still struggled with the idea that there were many hate filled organizations that wanted nothing better than see the demise and death of people just because they lived in the United States. But as I delved deeper into God’s Word and being a student of history, I saw that it really was not about country but more about the same hatred that led Jesus to the cross in the first place. When I was able to come to grips with that I was able to see if we are to be followers of him we need to take his warning and comfort seriously, “I have told you these things, so that you will have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart, I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) Again it comes down to if this world is our home we will never be ready for the kingdom that is to come, and I want to be.

I have lifted all who were affected by 9/11 in prayer, especially those who lost loved ones to the horrific acts of violence that occurred on that day back in 2001. But even more today I want to remember that day as a reminder of how close this world is to the soon coming of Jesus. That my goal is not to look back but to do whatever I can today to help that coming happen as soon as possible. Let’s not live in fear, but in hope. We have a Savior and He died for you and for me. And He is coming back soon!

Blessings and Happy Sabbath,
John
9/14/18

What is in a name? Living in the construction world for as long as I did, I knew names were important or at least the nicknames that were part and parcel of the business. I mean my trade alone had all kinds of slang names just for it. If you were working concrete reinforcing, you were said to be out in the “rod patch”. You were called a “Rodbuster”. If you were doing structural work, some heady guys called themselves, “Sky jockeys” and some who did not respect the trade as much called them “bolt-heads” and just about every device or rig that was used had a name that would sound foreign anywhere else except on a construction job.

The real fun and amusement came when people working the trades either had a nickname hung on them or they were so bold as to name themselves with a moniker that was sometimes right but most of the time left you scratching your noggin.

Just so you get an idea, I will share one and I will keep it clean because some of them cannot be shared in a family audience and are not very Christ-like. This is my favorite and came from an old booming (traveling) buddy of mine. We were on the road together quite a bit in my early career and he taught me much about the ins and outs of Ironwork. His nickname was a classic, Hambone. He was a grizzled old guy. The kind you would have seen as a stereotype construction worker in a 1940’s or 50’s comedy. Hard working, hard drinking and a good brawler. When I first went to work on his crew I was frightened to death but hoped I did not show it.

I never had the nerve to ask the reasoning behind his name until one night when we were drinking in a bar in Upper Michigan. Both of us were about ‘half in the bag’ (a term for drunk as a skunk). The liquor gave me the courage I needed and when I heard the answer, I knew this guy was a good egg and we became not only friends but partners. Before I tell you the story, first imagine an old grizzled guy, missing most of all his front teeth. Long scraggly hair. Big ears and one kind of lazy eye. You got that image? Ok here is what he said in a drawl of indefinite origin, “Well, John-boy, it is like this. When I was growin’ up on a farm outside Hibbing, Minnesota, a fine neighbor of ours said to my Ma, “You know Mrs. Sorenson, that boy Elroy of yours is so ugly, you probably need to tie a hambone around his neck to get the dog to play with him.” And darn (not the word used) if that name did not catch on in that little town. Soon even the preacher forgot my God-given name. Sometimes I forget it myself. And even my dear wife has been known to use it.” To this day, I still can see the twinkle in his ‘good’ eye as he told me that story.

The truth is we have a name for everything. Traveling as much as I did in my life, I know that those names or nicknames can change from county to county. And for sure from region to region. Just to put it a little more in perspective. Being a Yankee (northerner) I always called those rolling baskets at a store a ‘cart’ but here in the south they are called a ‘buggy’ So what is in a name, a nickname, a slang term? They are all just ways of communicating a meaning, maybe with humor or with ridicule. But they are a form of communication.

Did you know that God has a bunch of what could be called nicknames? In my research I have found there is at least 956 different names referring to God, the Father; Christ, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. And what I have also found is that each name God has revealed is another way He is trying to communicate with His creation. And unlike our poor attempt to name and nickname, each of God’s is powerful and can change our relationship with Him, if we use them in prayer.

There is an awesome book available which RuthAnn and I have used to seek to know our God better, it is called “The Names of God” by Ann Spangler. It contains 52 bible studies. Each has a particular name, its root Hebraic or Greek derivative with some definition. Verses where the name can be found and an in-depth devotional to help understand the name as it is revealed. It has changed the way I understand, communicate and pray because I know Him better.

There is not enough room in this blog to express this big topic but I want to just list two verses where God revealed Himself, maybe this will peak your interest to dig deeper: “When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the LORD (the name Yahweh) appeared to him and said, “I am the God Almighty (the name El Shaddai); walk before me faithfully and be blameless” (Genesis 17:1) God revealing Himself as the great “I AM” who is the Almighty one. So much to contemplate in one verse.

What about Jesus revealing Himself as God: “Jesus answered, “I am (a direct Yahweh reference) the way, the truth and the life. No one can come to the Father (Abba, God is our Father) except through me. (John 14:6) The Jews of Jesus day knew this reference and when we realize who He says He is and accept it, this name of God in the form of His son changes me.

There is so much more. If you cannot get your hands-on Ann Spangler’s book just type in “Names of God” in any search engine and add this faith-changing devotional to your daily time with Him. You will be amazed.

I am sorry to say my old friend Hambone passed away several years ago now. He helped me through the rocky waters of my early years in the Ironworking business and later was an advisor when I transitioned from field work into the office as a project manager. I knew I could call him and ask a question and he would be there. Today I feel the same about my God and Savior. I cry out to Elohim, to El Shaddai, to Yahweh. I pray through, the Christ, the Lamb of God, the I am of the new covenant. Knowing His name has allowed us to be closer as friends, partners and me as a worshipful subject. Draw closer to Him today, get to know His names.

Blessings John,
9/12/18

The Greyhound rolled down I-5 in central California, I was in a window seat near the middle of the bus. Looking at my watch and knowing this road so well, I knew we should be in Stockton within 15 minutes. I tried once again to figure my ETA to the sleepy town of Corning miles still north. It still came out to be about 2:00 am taking in the more than an hour layover in Sacramento. Great! Nothing like a bus ride to cheer a guy up!

As I leaned back in my less than comfortable seat and did my best to fold my long legs under the seat in front of me. Maybe it was time for a nip off the whiskey I had mixed into a coke I had bought while waiting for the bus to arrive in Tracy, CA. Buying the soda, I had slipped behind the gas station where we were waiting. There I had poured out about half the 16 ounces and replaced it with the half pint of Black Velvet purchased earlier. No bus ride was endurable if I was going to have to be sober.

Taking a large swig, I was replacing the cap when the guy next to me said in a low tone, “Is that Canadian whiskey you got mixed up there?” I shrugged and nodded an affirmative without saying anything. He shook his head, “I favored that myself! For years I could never get enough.” Not knowing how to answer that I held the bottle out to him, but he waved it off. “No, not anymore. I haven’t touched a drop in 20 years. But I still know the smell of it.”
I braced myself for what I was sure was coming next, him regaling me with the evils of drink and how he overcame it.

It didn’t come. Instead he just asked me where I was headed. Relieved about the change in subject, I told him the where and whys of it, “I am heading to Corning up north, to pick up my Blazer, the transmission went out on it a few weeks ago leaving me stranded. Luckily I was able to get myself home to Tracy. Now I need to pick the car up from the dealer who repaired it as soon as they open tomorrow morning.” He seemed content with that answer and leaned back into his seat.

I felt it would be polite to ask him where he was headed and did so. He was silent for a while than leaned closer and said, “I am heading to my daughter’s place in Redding. You see, I be stayin’ there for a while.” With this he stopped and seemed to shudder a bit. Continuing with a slight tremor in his voice, “My grandson, he, well no easy way to say it. He took his own life a couple days ago. O.D. ed, as they say. My daughter’s only child and my only grandson….” His voice trailed off.

I was shook by what he said but could not think of what to say in return and mumbled, “I’m sorry.” And wanted to leave it at that. But in a moment, he brightened and said, “What’s your name, son?” I told him, and he replied with his, Samuel. He also told me he was a retired pastor. Again, I worried a sermon was about to follow but again I was surprised. He just smiled at me and reached his big hand across to me and said, “So good to meet you, brother John!” With such cheeriness and what seemed like genuine glee, I could only reply in kind, “As it is to meet you, Samuel! Or should I call you reverent or something like that?”

With this he let out a laugh and said, “No, son, no. I am just plain old Samuel. Just another child of God, same as you.” And as we pulled into Stockton, I found myself feeling safe and comfortable next to this man. And I thought, “How does he do it? I know grief must be ripping at him but still express such…” Stopping to think, only one word filled my mind, “Love. In the midst of sadness, he was showing me love. How does he do it?”

Have you ever met anyone like Samuel? Someone who can tell you their world is being ripped apart yet seem to still be held together by something very deep in them. If you have then I am sure you have just met a true Christian, someone who has allowed Christ to dwell in him or her.

When we look at the life of Christ in any one of the four Gospels this is what stands out more than anything. Jesus was able to love those around him no matter what was going on in His life. Including as he headed to the cross. Jesus’ focus was never self-centered, it was other centered!
Jesus gave this command, “And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your mind and with all your strength. Second, you shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12: 30-31) And the thing is if you can do the first, love God with everything you are, the second will become the most natural thing. It is pretty amazing and very other centered. I am not there yet but by the grace of God it is what I strive for every day.

Samuel and I rode together all the way to Corning. We talked about things I had not spoken to anyone about in years. We did talk about my addictions and I was not afraid to tell him my fears. Never once did I think of trying to relieve his pain by allowing him to express what must have been in his heart over the loss of his grandson. As I got up to leave him at 2:00 am, he smiled and said, “You have been a blessing to me, John. God sent you to sit next to me.” I was embarrassed and confused. But he saw my embarrassment and said, “You are loved, if you know it or not.” Then shook my hand and sent me on my way. I now know God sent him to sit next to me and I pray today that I may love others in such an unselfish way. Thank you, brother Samuel. May we meet in His kingdom, I know you will be there and so will I, partly thanks to you!

Blessings John,
9/10/18

I looked out at the sun setting over the Pacific Ocean and thought, “No fog tonight, I wonder why?” Standing on my balcony I shifted my gaze to the nearly two-lane road that ran along the beach between my converted motel studio and the beach. I could understand why the road was called the “Strand” there wasn’t much to it.

As I was gazing a car was driving rather quickly toward me from the north. I couldn’t make it out, but I had a sinking feeling, an unmarked cop car! There was no time I needed to get my stash into the hiding place I had created in my closet. Grabbing what was left of the “8-ball” off the table, I sealed the baggie then ran for the closet. Once there I pried off the base board which exposed the slot I had cut in the drywall. It was about 2” high and 10” long. I shoved the baggie full of speed into it and quickly replaced the molding. Unless they had a drug dog with them I was safe. I bet it was just another roust.

There had been many before this and with good reason. Out of the 18 or so apartments that were occupied at least 6 or 7 were drug dealers of one kind or another. There was Heap, who’s real name was Leon, I think. He dealt this new stuff. Cocaine cooked into smokable crystals, I heard it called ‘crack’. Dude, I didn’t know his real name, he had dealt pot. Not the street kind but wicked stuff that was laced with opioids. Not my thing so I stayed away from it, but he seemed like a good guy. Then there was that couple down in number 3, they were into pills. I was at a party there one night and they had a bowl that looked like Skittles, lots of colors and the ones I tried were killer. The other dealers I did not know but I knew they were there, just like they knew I dealt ‘crank’.

The car pulled into the court below. Two guys and one woman got out. They looked like they had just gotten out of a disco. Loud shirts, top 3 buttons undone with chains of gold and silver. Tight flared pants. No doubt undercover cops. Who else dressed like that coming to ‘Beach House’. That was the name of this dive I lived in.

One of the guys looked up at me and pointed his index finger like a gun, cocked his thumb and fired. I smiled, no sniffing dogs. It was going to be a fun time. He and the woman came up the stairs toward me and as they did he said, “I bet you are the ‘crank’ guy, right? Front apartment, if that hole you live in can be called that. Second floor.” I smiled politely and said, “I do live in that ‘hole’, but I am not a mechanic, so I know nothing about cranks.” With that he and the woman laughed. “Nice, John, very smart and nice.” That took me back, he knew my name. Now I was scared, this roust was different. Normally just a breeze through and warnings all around. What did these dudes want? As they arrive at my front door, I opened it and was handed a search warrant. I could see below two more cars had pulled in, one was a K9 unit. My heart sank. All I could think is, “Life on the edge is not all its cracked up to be.” They began to upturn my meager belongings.

For many years, I lived a life on the edge. Never really ‘legal’. Most of the time I was on the run for one reason or another. Looking back, it does not take a genius to see where almost all my problems stemmed from. If you are involved in illegal substances, your life goes from one crisis to the next. The hardest thing is you never know who you can trust. Just one person can point a finger at you and the next thing you know, someone is tossing your apartment. Addictions ruin lives, in all ways. Physically, socially, financially and spiritually. When I was living the life of an addict, I was sure there would never be a way out. But I was wrong!

Today, I woke up thinking about the hopelessness of addiction. I just wanted to tell those who are living that life. Whatever and however it is. There is hope. For some it comes in the form of Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous. A local chapter is close just type in either name in a search engine and find a meeting. There is also a SAMHSA hotline, 800-662-HELP. 24/7 and 365 days a year. These folks are confidential and will get you in touch with a local service to help. No matter how, if you are reading this reach out. I lived that life on the edge and even if you seem to be living a normal life, if drugs or alcohol control you in any way, that is not normal, and it is not healthy. It will destroy you and those you love. And one more thing.
All these services are awesome and there are so many more available. But there is one thing you can do right now, try this prayer:

“Dear Father, please meet me in my loneliness, help me to have the confidence to speak with someone about my addiction. I trust that you can lead me out of this prison, that you can heal my mind and body.
I long to be free, yet I still feel so trapped by my thoughts and fears. Cover me with your love and grace, until, with your help Lord, I can walk in freedom, break out and fully live again. Amen.

He is waiting to help you and save you from hopelessness. Over 10 years ago I prayed this prayer, and by his grace for nearly 8 years I have been free.

Back in that Oceanside, California apartment. I felt anything but free. I knew that soon the drugs I had hidden in the closet would be found. But for some reason the drug dog never appeared. The two cops tossed everything I owned onto the floor and then as they were leaving, the man came close to me and said, “Free advice. We have someone who has given you and the rest of these scumbags up. I know your dealing, but today we have bigger fish to fry. We will be back soon. Maybe you should move to, Del Mar or Escondido!” Then he patted me on the cheek. Even as afraid as I was I did not move, nor did I stop using or dealing. Only by the grace of God, am I here today. Join me, be free. Like I said before, “Life on the edge is not all it is cracked up to be. And life without hope is no life at all.”

Blessings and Happy Sabbath,
John
9/7/18