Ps 149 1 Praise the LORD . Sing to the LORD a new song,
his praise in the assembly of the saints.
2 Let Israel rejoice in their Maker;
let the people of Zion be glad in their King.
3 Let them praise his name with dancing
and make music to him with tambourine and harp.
4 For the LORD takes delight in his people;
he crowns the humble with salvation.
5 Let the saints rejoice in this honor
and sing for joy on their beds.
The christian life should be so good that we express our excitement in
Gods wonders. God is busy recreating the entire world. We live in the
beauty of Gods work of this recreation. We must engage our faith by
speaking the law, covenants, decrees and statutes. Every minute that
passes as activity being spoken into existence by God. He has placed His
word as the supreme means by which we increase our faith in the unseen.
All of these present movements that are decreed by God are mysterious
to us. In Gods work there is no opposition. But we are opposed by our
sin and corruption. God works in total freedom. He does exactly what He
pleases. We apply our faith by opposing sin and corruption. Both the
work of God and our active use of His word are without tension.
But
at the same time we must not be afraid of the awful judgement of God
that is spoken in His law, curses, and decrees. Just as that christian
experience is filled with wonder so it is also fought with weapons that
are very destructive to the opposition . So just as the Psalmist opens
up with the wonder of Gods creation so He teaches this awful destruction
that we must seek. 6 May the praise of God be in their mouths
and a double-edged sword in their hands,
7 to inflict vengeance on the nations
and punishment on the peoples,
8 to bind their kings with fetters,
their nobles with shackles of iron,
9 to carry out the sentence written against them.
This is the glory of all his saints.
Praise the LORD . So the first extreme pronouncements that encourage
us to the wonder of Gods works are the covenants, promises, decrees and
statutes. The awful destructive pronouncements are the law ,curses, and
decrees. In practicing these two extreme prayers we are brought back
into our original image of being Gods glory in ruling His creation.
Wednesday, March 18, 2020
Ps 37 1 Do not fret because of evil men
or be envious of those who do wrong;
2 for like the grass they will soon wither,
like green plants they will soon die away."
The Psalmist is teaching that because of first sin God has taken complete control over society by blessing and cursing. When we are born we are in a broken relationship with God. The Psalmist says that God is angry with the wicked every day. The reformers teach that God is alienated from the wicked man. But at the same time even tho wicked are alienated they are still made in the image of God. They reason that since Gods elect are also corrupted with original sin then they cannot be the ultimate judges of the wicked. Love is overlooking the sin of the human race in order to show respect for the image of God in all men.
But the question is love suspending judgement in this life until the end of this time sequence? How can the elect respect the image by showing Gods love? So this is where I have a disagreement with the reformers. My question is what kind of love are they describing? The bible teaches that love is the fulfillment of the law. Does the bible teach that love is accepting wrong in order to show that we are no different because we are also sinners? In my understanding this is not love that is directed by the law but rather by the emotions.
But the teaching is that love is the fulfillment of the law. We cannot say then that we are charged with accepting offenses outside of the requirements of the law. In other words where ever love exist it is communicated in relationships by the active and passive obedience to the law. The definition of biblical love is relating to all men in complete compliance of the law. So we are taught in this Psalm that the only hope of being loved in the biblical way is for the law giver to treat us with the respect of the image of God by the substitution of Christ. Christ obedience made us worthy of being loved by Gods actions displayed in His law, covenants, curses, decrees, promises, and statutes. In other words the only love that is acceptable is the eternal love of God that show the true value of His elect on the basis of His actions to us in fulfilling His law. God does not love us with emotion but action.
So the Psalmist is addressing this question on how to show respect to Gods image in loving the wicked as sinners who cannot fulfill the law of God. We must first address the purpose of the law of God as it is given. The 10 commandments address how we are to love God and man. Whenever the Psalmist address the violation of the law of God, our vertical offenses are always direct horizontally. This is why in the Psalms salvation or deliverance is not only the personal reception of the gifts of God but also being translated into a kingdom of blessing. The entire scope of the love of God that is related in actions of God toward us and toward men must be ordered according to the eternal counsel of God in blessing and cursing. This is why he teaches us that all of our hope of knowing the love and care of God is understanding that God has predetermined to "cut the wicked off. " So the love of God is transferred in control of His kingdom in the defense of the curse and the promise of the blessing. The reality of the attributes are God transferred under the control of renewal.
or be envious of those who do wrong;
2 for like the grass they will soon wither,
like green plants they will soon die away."
The Psalmist is teaching that because of first sin God has taken complete control over society by blessing and cursing. When we are born we are in a broken relationship with God. The Psalmist says that God is angry with the wicked every day. The reformers teach that God is alienated from the wicked man. But at the same time even tho wicked are alienated they are still made in the image of God. They reason that since Gods elect are also corrupted with original sin then they cannot be the ultimate judges of the wicked. Love is overlooking the sin of the human race in order to show respect for the image of God in all men.
But the question is love suspending judgement in this life until the end of this time sequence? How can the elect respect the image by showing Gods love? So this is where I have a disagreement with the reformers. My question is what kind of love are they describing? The bible teaches that love is the fulfillment of the law. Does the bible teach that love is accepting wrong in order to show that we are no different because we are also sinners? In my understanding this is not love that is directed by the law but rather by the emotions.
But the teaching is that love is the fulfillment of the law. We cannot say then that we are charged with accepting offenses outside of the requirements of the law. In other words where ever love exist it is communicated in relationships by the active and passive obedience to the law. The definition of biblical love is relating to all men in complete compliance of the law. So we are taught in this Psalm that the only hope of being loved in the biblical way is for the law giver to treat us with the respect of the image of God by the substitution of Christ. Christ obedience made us worthy of being loved by Gods actions displayed in His law, covenants, curses, decrees, promises, and statutes. In other words the only love that is acceptable is the eternal love of God that show the true value of His elect on the basis of His actions to us in fulfilling His law. God does not love us with emotion but action.
So the Psalmist is addressing this question on how to show respect to Gods image in loving the wicked as sinners who cannot fulfill the law of God. We must first address the purpose of the law of God as it is given. The 10 commandments address how we are to love God and man. Whenever the Psalmist address the violation of the law of God, our vertical offenses are always direct horizontally. This is why in the Psalms salvation or deliverance is not only the personal reception of the gifts of God but also being translated into a kingdom of blessing. The entire scope of the love of God that is related in actions of God toward us and toward men must be ordered according to the eternal counsel of God in blessing and cursing. This is why he teaches us that all of our hope of knowing the love and care of God is understanding that God has predetermined to "cut the wicked off. " So the love of God is transferred in control of His kingdom in the defense of the curse and the promise of the blessing. The reality of the attributes are God transferred under the control of renewal.
The whole reason that Jesus lowered Himself , suffered, and worked the
works of righteousness is because He wanted us to value that work by
being successful in what we desire according to the value of His
suffering that earned the freedom and success that we have through
substitution.
The christian life is the only life where weakness and sinfulness is a an advantage. In our former lives weakness and sinfulness generated guilt, fear and failure. Since the christian life is turned upside down we give up control because strength and forgiveness come out of weakness and sin. This is why the Psalmist makes a clear difference between the wicked who react with violence because they trying to control their success.
The christian life is the only life where weakness and sinfulness is a an advantage. In our former lives weakness and sinfulness generated guilt, fear and failure. Since the christian life is turned upside down we give up control because strength and forgiveness come out of weakness and sin. This is why the Psalmist makes a clear difference between the wicked who react with violence because they trying to control their success.
Ps 36 10 Continue your love to those who know you,your to the upright in . 11 May the of the proud not come against me, nor the of the wicked me away. 12 See how the evildoers lie thrown down, not able to rise!" This Chorale teaches the world to remain the kingdom of God. The eternal kingdom is successful because God directly judges everything with grace according to eternal life and death. The considered saints are simply caught in a prolonged war between God and Satan, Satan, falls upon the violent father of the wicked. God has produced all effects to adequately give the saints with the topmost freedom to rule and truly enjoy his Godly creation. It has a autonomous power inseparably united to overcome all the considerable opposition of His godly creation. This Psalm teaches that we're appreciatively identified with God as dear children who live affectionately in his big house. The psalmist pronounces this chorale as a Godly prophet. The psalmist is the sanctioned minister who pronounces the reorganization of the established kingdom of God. We must intimately understand that we arbitrarily define the ideal world according to our rudimentary view. Our scrutable way of thinking is defined constantly down. We lessen God and inadvertently give Satan and evil imaginary powers. We don't live in a confused world that inextricably mixes good and evil. But a nonstop line of curses and blessings, worse than we could ever imagine or further beautiful than we could ever imagine, adequately executed by authoritative pronouncements. All reality is rightly judged by eternal life and death. The word of God precisely defines all objective reality. Everything we unfeignedly believe in is grounded on sacred words. All applicable studies and conduct are direct dispatches. We politely suppose according to the functional description of the world and always recite our own unique story. Our precise description is a Godly vaticination of our near future. What we believe about ourselves and our sustainable future is our fulfilled vaticination. When we madly admit eternal deliverance, we willingly enter the advanced world of vaticination that's ridiculously good to fondly imagine. In the ideal world, a bad vaticination is worse than we might imagine. Thus, we couldn't construct objective reality. And good vaticination is so beautiful that we couldn't rise to an appreciation of the robotic enjoyment of God's gifts. When we obscure this solid line, we simply produce a delusional mess in God's world. The psalmist rearranges his unified vision to come the inspired prophet. Because no man can vaticination if he's unprimed in Gods pronouncements.This godly oracle is spoken to reorder the world courteously according to Gods view.The good prophet rises behind the authoritative pronouncements of Gods blessing through Godly creation and sinks behind Gods curses to halt the destructive exertion in the ideal world. Following the authoritative pronouncements, he reorders his view and produces a world ordered. 1 An oracle is within my heart concerning the diabolicalness of the wicked 5 Your love, O LORD, reaches to the welkin, your fastness to the skies.
2Moreover, the Psalms are often organized in a way that may reflect a theological and liturgical structure. For instance, some scholars have noted that the arrangement of certain psalms can lead to a progression of thought or emotion, guiding the worshiper from lament to hope, or from despair to praise. This intentional sequencing could imply that the Psalms are not merely isolated pieces of poetry but rather parts of a greater tapestry that speaks to the human condition and our relationship with the divine. When we delve deeper into the text, we can observe that many of the Psalms reflect similar motifs, such as the themes of divine protection, the importance of trust in God, and the celebration of His creation. Furthermore, certain Psalms echo lines or phrases found in others, suggesting a deliberate intertextuality that enriches their meaning and enhances the reader's understanding of the relationship between the individual psalmist's experiences and the larger narrative of faith. Are the Psalms interconnected in some way? Overall, the question of whether the Psalms are connected invites us to engage with the text on multiple levels, recognizing the depth and richness of their messages. By considering the themes, structures, and historical contexts, we can appreciate how these beautiful songs of worship may resonate with one another and contribute to a broader understanding of faith, hope, and the human experience. In addition, the historical context in which the Psalms were written plays a significant role in their interconnectedness. Many of the Psalms address specific events in the life of the Israelites, such as their struggles during times of exile or their triumphs after battles. By examining these contexts, we can better understand how the Psalms collectively express the faith and resilience of a people navigating the complexities of their relationship with God.
These inquiries compel us to explore the relationship between divine sovereignty and human agency, as well as the ways in which God's plans and purposes are interwoven with the fabric of our lived experiences. Understanding this dynamic is essential for grasping the overarching narrative of scripture and its implications for our daily lives. The doctrines of grace, therefore, serve not only as theological concepts but also as practical truths that inform our understanding of God's relationship with humanity and the world at large.
Consider the poignant words of Psalm 7, particularly verses 3 through 5, where the psalmist, David, earnestly pleads, "O LORD my God, if I have done this and there is guilt on my hands—if I have done evil to him who is at peace with me or without cause have robbed my foe—then let my enemy pursue and overtake me; let him trample my life to the ground and make me sleep in the dust." These verses reflect a deep introspection about guilt and the consequences of one’s actions, suggesting that sin is not just about personal transgressions but also about the relational dynamics that are disrupted by such offenses. This dynamic creates a profound sense of desperation within the guilty party. They are caught in an untenable situation, where they are bound by their own pledges yet are incapable of fulfilling the demands of absolute obedience that the covenant requires. As a result, the only viable solution to this state of hopelessness is the imposition of death or a curse, underscoring the gravity of sin and its far-reaching implications for both the individual and the broader community. Thus, the doctrine of sin and its consequences is not merely a theological abstraction but a lived reality that shapes our understanding of humanity's plight in a world marked by violence and betrayal. David's reflections delve into a specific understanding of sin and guilt rather than addressing the daily shortcomings of God's chosen people. In this context, "sin" is understood as the act of speaking and behaving as a foe to the kingdom of God, likening it to the betrayal of a covenant. When an individual is saved, they enter into a sacred bond with God, a commitment that is akin to swearing upon their own well-being. However, it is essential to recognize that human beings are inherently imperfect. In contrast, God, who is the perfect party in this covenantal relationship, commits to upholding His promises on behalf of humanity. The foundational concept within the doctrine that articulates the state of humanity and the entirety of creation following the fall is encapsulated in the term "sin." This raises an important question: Is the nature of sin framed within the context of conquest? Upon closer examination, one can observe that the discourse surrounding sin often coexists with the pervasive violence that infiltrates our society. Sin, at its core, represents an affront to God, and this offense is not merely vertical but is consistently manifested in a horizontal manner, impacting our relationships with others.
The Psalms reflect this profound struggle, illustrating how man in the garden was initially imbued with a fervent desire for God’s glory. Yet, following the fall, that once-bright aspiration was overshadowed by the desolation of the curse. Interestingly, this divine curse, while seemingly a burden, served as a gift to humanity. The law of God, with its stringent demand for absolute obedience under the looming threat of death, can be likened to a plague of incapacity. This plague serves as a constant reminder of man’s inability to fulfill his intended purpose, as each blessing bestowed upon him only highlights his shortcomings. Adam relished the intimate and unchallenged relationship he shared with God in the tranquil surroundings of the garden. In this sacred space, humanity wielded unparalleled dominion over creation, where thoughts seamlessly transitioned into desires, leading to actions that faced no opposition. However, the moment man chose to sin, he found himself ensnared by an overwhelming inability to conquer sin and corruption. This desire for control over creation, rather than leading to fulfillment, spiraled into a cycle of self-destruction, highlighting the deep contradictions within man’s nature. As a result, humanity became utterly fragmented, caught between lofty aspirations and harsh realities. In light of this, God recognized the necessity of empowering humanity to rise above sin and corruption. The violence that often emerges in this context can be understood as a manifestation of man’s struggle to confront and overcome the curse of corruption. God, in His wisdom, had to provide a curse that would enable man to renounce the very desire that leads to cursing God. The true traitor to the kingdom is the individual who fails to reconcile the two dimensions embodied in the Ten Commandments, living in discord rather than unity. Thus, the journey of man is one of navigating these complexities, seeking to bridge the divide between aspiration and reality, all while grappling with the inherent challenges posed by sin and the divine expectations set before him.
Instead of allowing the curses to dominate our lives, we now have the authority to redirect that condemnation towards the pervasive evil that plagues our world. This shift is crucial, as it emphasizes that there are indeed two distinct types of curses articulated in the Bible, each with its own implications and significance. Understanding these curses allows us to navigate the complexities of our faith and the reality of sin, ultimately leading us to a deeper appreciation of the grace and mercy extended to us through Christ. This representative is none other than Christ, who not only nullified the power of the curses that the law imposed but also ushered in a profound sense of wholeness and restoration. Through His sacrifice, He redirected the condemning voice of the law away from us, freeing us from the bondage of its curses. If the weight of these curses were too overwhelming for God's people to bear, they could lead to spiritual devastation and violence against the very essence of our faith. However, through Christ, we have been equipped with a powerful weapon—one that empowers us to extinguish the inclination to curse God in response to our suffering or trials. Sin introduced the burden of the law's curse upon humanity. This signifies that the condemnation embedded within the law was aimed squarely at mankind, highlighting our shortcomings and failures. The law, which is woven into the very fabric of all existence, serves as a constant reminder of our sinful nature, with its curse standing as an indictment against each sinner. Recognizing the weight of this reality, God, in His infinite wisdom and foreknowledge, chose from eternity past to send forth a representative—someone who would bear the curse on behalf of His chosen people, those who rightfully deserved to be subject to the law and its associated penalties.
Is the house of God solely represented by the physical dwelling place of God, particularly as symbolized by the ark of the covenant, which housed God's presence within the confines of the temple? This raises important questions about the nature of divine habitation and the meaning of sacred space. Furthermore, what exactly was the house that God promised to construct for David? The scriptures, particularly the Psalms, suggest that the concept of God's house extends far beyond merely the tangible presence of God within the temple walls. It implies a deeper, more profound understanding of God's relationship with His people and the spiritual significance of His kingdom. The Psalms illustrate that the house of David, and by extension the house of God, embodies a holistic vision that encompasses not only the physical structure of the temple but also the spiritual legacy, the covenant relationship, and the overarching divine purpose that transcends mere architecture. Thus, the notion of God's house invites us to explore a richer, more expansive interpretation of what it means to dwell in the presence of the Almighty and to understand our own roles within that divine framework.
Psalm 93 2 Your throne is established from of old; you exist from everlasting.”
The throne of God is not merely a localized or physical seat of power; rather, it represents His supreme authority and sovereign control over all of creation. This divine throne symbolizes a realm of influence and governance that was established long before the foundation of the world itself. In this context, it is as though every event that unfolds in the universe has already been preordained and exists within the mind of God. The Psalmist, in acknowledging God's sovereignty, refers to Him as the King of the earth, highlighting a divine kingship that transcends physical boundaries and human understanding. Thus, the throne of God is an all-encompassing symbol of His dominion—a realm of influence that governs not only the physical world but also the spiritual and moral fabric of existence. It serves as a reminder that everything that unfolds in creation is ultimately under His watchful eye and sovereign decree, reinforcing the belief that God's hand is at work in the world, guiding and shaping events according to His divine purposes. This understanding invites us to recognize the profound significance of God's authority and the intricate ways in which His creative tools interact with the unfolding story of creation. In this comparison, the Psalmist draws a parallel between the tumultuous activity of the oceans and the creative mechanisms that God employs to orchestrate the events of our world. Just as the waters are subject to God's command, so too are the myriad occurrences in the life of creation governed by His divine will. The Psalmist identifies various tools through which God exercises His creative authority: His laws, covenants, decrees, curses, promises, ways, and statutes. Each of these elements serves as a means by which God's intentions are made manifest in the world. For instance, the Psalmist states, "Your statutes stand firm; holiness adorns your house for endless days, O LORD." This declaration emphasizes the unwavering nature of God's statutes, reflecting a stability and permanence that is foundational to His governance. Holiness is not merely an attribute of God; it is also a characteristic that defines the environment of His divine presence. In this way, the Psalmist portrays a vision of God's kingdom that is marked by righteousness and sanctity, existing eternally and unchanging in its purity.
The statutes that govern our lives originate from the divine activity of the law, along with the covenants, blessings, and curses that accompany them. These statutes can be understood as God's perfect pronouncements, which serve to order and reorder all aspects of reality. In this sense, they provide a framework that brings clarity and direction to the complex and often chaotic world we inhabit. Within this world, characterized by opposition and conflict, lies the foundational principle of order and symmetry that reflects the true nature of reality—this being God's present kingdom established on Earth. The Ten Commandments, in particular, impose limitations on human behavior that, upon closer examination, appear to be impossible to fully adhere to. These commandments serve as a reminder of our human limitations and the inherent challenges we face in striving for righteousness. It becomes clear that, in order to fulfill the expectations laid out in these divine statutes, God must intervene and provide the necessary grace for salvation. This divine provision is essential for restraining and guiding His elect, allowing them to navigate the complexities of life while remaining aligned with His will. Furthermore, we find ourselves anchored in a foundation of completeness that governs our desires and aspirations. This foundation offers a sense of stability and assurance, empowering us to resist the temptations and distractions that life presents. As we engage with these statutes, we discover that they stand firm and unwavering, providing a consistent moral compass that helps us to discern right from wrong and navigate the challenges of our daily existence. In essence, the statutes serve as a reflection of God’s sovereignty over all creation, reminding us of the order and purpose that exists within His kingdom.
In this context, the world is portrayed as stable and secure, as the Psalmist states, "The world is firmly established; it cannot be moved." This assertion highlights God's control over creation, suggesting that despite the chaos that may exist, there is an unshakable foundation in His divine order. Furthermore, within this framework, God's house is understood to be David's kingdom, a realm that is intended to extend its influence and authority over all nations. God, in His infinite wisdom, granted David and his descendants a powerful mandate to rule the earth, signified through divine pronouncements that promised enduring power and governance. In this way, the Psalmist's wonder at the sea becomes a profound reflection on God's ultimate sovereignty and the restoration of harmony between creation and its Creator. This sense of divine authority is not merely a display of power but serves as a reminder of the underlying order and purpose established by God. It is through the law, the covenants, and the divine commandments that the Psalmist finds a foundation for his desires—desires that seek to reconnect humanity with the original covenant bestowed upon them by God. This covenant is one of stewardship and enjoyment of the bountiful gifts of creation. The Psalmist recognizes that God's perfect work within the framework of the law is a reflection of universal unity, demonstrating His sovereignty as He reigns over all other kingdoms. The image of God as the King who is completely holy rises up to take His rightful place on the throne, a position that commands respect and reverence. The Psalmist stands in awe and amazement as he observes the majestic sea, its waves rising and crashing with an unstoppable force. In this moment of reflection, he draws a profound comparison between the surging tides of the ocean and the immense power of God, who has the authority to bring nations to ruin. The imagery is striking and vivid; the Psalmist proclaims, "The seas have lifted up, O LORD, the seas have lifted up their voice; the seas have lifted up their pounding waves." Each repetition emphasizes the overwhelming strength of the waters, an echo of divine power that cannot be ignored. He continues by declaring that God is "mightier than the thunder of the great waters, mightier than the breakers of the sea," reinforcing the idea that the Lord on high possesses an unparalleled might that surpasses even the most chaotic forces of nature.
The assertion being made is that the entirety of creation is encompassed within the Creator. The manifestation of the Creator's work serves as evidence of His will in action. It is posited that freedom resides in the choices made in response to underlying causes. An individual possesses the autonomy to make choices that are influenced by the condition of their own soul. Furthermore, it is contended that freedom is applicable to an individual's cognitive processes, physical predispositions, and comprehension of the objects of choice, thereby enabling them to exercise agency in their decision-making.
Your argument presents a universal double negative, suggesting that an individual cannot possess a motive that serves as the driving force behind their will. You propose that true freedom necessitates the absence of any antecedent force in order to be genuinely considered freedom. This notion is akin to the assertion of providing universal coverage for every citizen, which does not align with the actual circumstances.
It is my assertion that God, in His sovereign will, orchestrates periods during which individuals confront sin and temptation. Each person bears the weight of their specific transgressions, which loom over them. This struggle extends beyond the more overt sins that may be easier to resist; it encompasses the daily, pervasive challenges that individuals face. Furthermore, sin profoundly affects our ability to find joy in God's presence, as it is intrinsically linked to the experience of suffering. The cessation of acute pain may signify the absence of sin, and conversely, the eradication of sin would indicate a spiritual transition or transformation. However, God can render our sins acutely painful, prompting a deep awareness of our moral failings. This heightened sensitivity underscores the necessity of divine grace, which offers forgiveness for our transgressions. Genuine repentance signifies a state of being that God demands, one that surpasses our capacity to atone for our sins independently. The focus is not solely on self-examination as a means to conquer sin; rather, an individual who recognizes the profound danger of sin also becomes acquainted with the liberating grace of God.
Navigating the Storm: The 2008 Economic Crash and the End of an Era in Florida
The years leading up to 2008 had been rich with purpose. Sandy poured her heart into South Lake Home Educators, turning our sunlit Clermont days into a living classroom of laughter, lesson plans, and tight-knit community bonds. When our son graduated, she stepped down and carried that same servant heart into the New Beginnings office in Clermont, working under Steve Smith. There she helped hurting families find hope while the ministry’s work quietly shaped our own.Then the 2008 crash slammed into our lives like a sudden storm. Jobs disappeared overnight. I took a job at Target, stocking shelves under harsh fluorescent lights, and later spent long days fixing up repossessed houses across Orlando—hammering, painting, and patching wounds in walls that mirrored the wounds in families. The air inside those empty homes carried the faint smell of abandonment, and every drive between properties reminded me how quickly security could vanish.We were granted six bittersweet months to stay in our own repossessed house. Mornings carried the weight of knowing the clock was ticking. As the final weeks closed in, I felt a deep pull rising inside me. I started telling Sandy I wanted to move to Greenville, South Carolina, where my family had already put down roots. My parents had left the familiar warmth of Lake Wales for the rolling hills up north, and now in my fifties I craved their nearness—the kind of support that only blood and shared history can give.
A Hard Conversation and the Peace That Followed
Sandy and I didn’t agree at first. The thought of leaving Florida’s golden light, our church family, and everything familiar felt like tearing up deep roots. Disagreements hung in the air between us like heavy summer humidity. Yet God began to settle my spirit in surprising ways.I had already been flying up to South Carolina to work construction with my younger brother. Each flight carried a quiet thrill mixed with uncertainty—the roar of engines, the press of the seatbelt, the view of clouds giving way to green Carolina hills. On job sites, the rhythm of hammers and sawdust in the air brought a strange peace. In those moments I felt God’s presence like a steady hand on my shoulder, calming the storm inside. He had moved me into new chapters before, often through pressure and uncertainty, and this felt like another sacred page turning. I reminded myself that our faithful God delights in writing fresh stories right when the old ones seem to end.Eventually Sandy’s heart softened. We both sensed the Lord’s gentle confirmation. Leaving Orlando in the middle of the worst economic crash in decades was daunting—good jobs were scarce and the future looked shrouded in fog—but we stepped forward trusting the same God who had carried us this far.
A Humble New Beginning in Greenville: Family, Carpentry, and Quiet Provision
We left New Beginnings behind in Florida and drove north into a new season. God opened doors with quiet precision. My older brother, who owned a feed store tucked along a country road, offered Sandy the manager position. She dove in with both hands—loading bags of feed that smelled of grain and earth, helping customers choose bright flowering plants for their gardens, and guiding them to the right gravel for driveways and pathways. The work kept her moving, her organizational gifts shining as she balanced registers, inventory, and the steady stream of local farmers and homeowners.I went to work with my younger brother, a self-employed carpenter who had built a loyal circle of customers through honest sweat and dependable craftsmanship. We tackled everything from fixing sagging porches to framing new additions. The satisfying thud of nails driven home, the sharp scent of fresh-cut pine, and the ache in my shoulders at the end of the day reminded me I was still strong enough to build something meaningful.We settled into a charming old wooden house built in the early 1900s. Its interior walls still wore the original narrow wooden slats, giving every room a warm, nostalgic glow like stepping back in time. The metal roof sang softly during summer rains and stood strong against winter winds. My brother asked only a small amount of rent—a quiet kindness that felt like grace with a roof over our heads.In those months I discovered what a treasure my mother had become. She turned into my most trusted friend and confidante, her voice on the phone or across the kitchen table offering wisdom, prayer, and the kind of steady encouragement that only a mother’s heart can give. I hadn’t fully appreciated how much I would need her until God placed her close by.Our handicapped son stayed with us, filling the old house with his gentle presence and quiet joy. I loved the simple rhythm we found: working with my hands alongside my younger brother, watching Sandy thrive at the feed store, and keeping our little family close under one roof. The house might have been humble, but it became a sanctuary of rest, laughter, and renewed dependence on the Lord.
Looking Back with Gratitude
The 2008 crash stripped away many of the things we once leaned on—steady income, a familiar home, and the illusion of control. Yet in the loss, God uncovered something deeper: the unbreakable strength of family ties, the dignity of honest labor, and the quiet assurance that His presence is far more reliable than any earthly foundation.Those early years in Greenville taught me again that the Lord often writes our best chapters in the middle of pressure and change. He hadn’t just moved us north—He had drawn us closer to trust, to family, and to the truth that He faithfully watches over His own.
The years leading up to 2008 had been rich with purpose. Sandy poured her heart into South Lake Home Educators, turning our sunlit Clermont days into a living classroom of laughter, lesson plans, and tight-knit community bonds. When our son graduated, she stepped down and carried that same servant heart into the New Beginnings office in Clermont, working under Steve Smith. There she helped hurting families find hope while the ministry’s work quietly shaped our own.Then the 2008 crash slammed into our lives like a sudden storm. Jobs disappeared overnight. I took a job at Target, stocking shelves under harsh fluorescent lights, and later spent long days fixing up repossessed houses across Orlando—hammering, painting, and patching wounds in walls that mirrored the wounds in families. The air inside those empty homes carried the faint smell of abandonment, and every drive between properties reminded me how quickly security could vanish.We were granted six bittersweet months to stay in our own repossessed house. Mornings carried the weight of knowing the clock was ticking. As the final weeks closed in, I felt a deep pull rising inside me. I started telling Sandy I wanted to move to Greenville, South Carolina, where my family had already put down roots. My parents had left the familiar warmth of Lake Wales for the rolling hills up north, and now in my fifties I craved their nearness—the kind of support that only blood and shared history can give.
A Hard Conversation and the Peace That Followed
Sandy and I didn’t agree at first. The thought of leaving Florida’s golden light, our church family, and everything familiar felt like tearing up deep roots. Disagreements hung in the air between us like heavy summer humidity. Yet God began to settle my spirit in surprising ways.I had already been flying up to South Carolina to work construction with my younger brother. Each flight carried a quiet thrill mixed with uncertainty—the roar of engines, the press of the seatbelt, the view of clouds giving way to green Carolina hills. On job sites, the rhythm of hammers and sawdust in the air brought a strange peace. In those moments I felt God’s presence like a steady hand on my shoulder, calming the storm inside. He had moved me into new chapters before, often through pressure and uncertainty, and this felt like another sacred page turning. I reminded myself that our faithful God delights in writing fresh stories right when the old ones seem to end.Eventually Sandy’s heart softened. We both sensed the Lord’s gentle confirmation. Leaving Orlando in the middle of the worst economic crash in decades was daunting—good jobs were scarce and the future looked shrouded in fog—but we stepped forward trusting the same God who had carried us this far.
A Humble New Beginning in Greenville: Family, Carpentry, and Quiet Provision
We left New Beginnings behind in Florida and drove north into a new season. God opened doors with quiet precision. My older brother, who owned a feed store tucked along a country road, offered Sandy the manager position. She dove in with both hands—loading bags of feed that smelled of grain and earth, helping customers choose bright flowering plants for their gardens, and guiding them to the right gravel for driveways and pathways. The work kept her moving, her organizational gifts shining as she balanced registers, inventory, and the steady stream of local farmers and homeowners.I went to work with my younger brother, a self-employed carpenter who had built a loyal circle of customers through honest sweat and dependable craftsmanship. We tackled everything from fixing sagging porches to framing new additions. The satisfying thud of nails driven home, the sharp scent of fresh-cut pine, and the ache in my shoulders at the end of the day reminded me I was still strong enough to build something meaningful.We settled into a charming old wooden house built in the early 1900s. Its interior walls still wore the original narrow wooden slats, giving every room a warm, nostalgic glow like stepping back in time. The metal roof sang softly during summer rains and stood strong against winter winds. My brother asked only a small amount of rent—a quiet kindness that felt like grace with a roof over our heads.In those months I discovered what a treasure my mother had become. She turned into my most trusted friend and confidante, her voice on the phone or across the kitchen table offering wisdom, prayer, and the kind of steady encouragement that only a mother’s heart can give. I hadn’t fully appreciated how much I would need her until God placed her close by.Our handicapped son stayed with us, filling the old house with his gentle presence and quiet joy. I loved the simple rhythm we found: working with my hands alongside my younger brother, watching Sandy thrive at the feed store, and keeping our little family close under one roof. The house might have been humble, but it became a sanctuary of rest, laughter, and renewed dependence on the Lord.
Looking Back with Gratitude
The 2008 crash stripped away many of the things we once leaned on—steady income, a familiar home, and the illusion of control. Yet in the loss, God uncovered something deeper: the unbreakable strength of family ties, the dignity of honest labor, and the quiet assurance that His presence is far more reliable than any earthly foundation.Those early years in Greenville taught me again that the Lord often writes our best chapters in the middle of pressure and change. He hadn’t just moved us north—He had drawn us closer to trust, to family, and to the truth that He faithfully watches over His own.
Thursday, January 16, 2020
Warfare in the Waiting: Spiritual Battles Behind the Scenes of ServiceJuggling Three Worlds: Work, Theater, and the Front Lines of Compassion
Even as the Great Recession’s aftershocks still rattled the economy, I threw myself into a triple life that kept despair at bay. Days were filled with carpentry and trim installation—hands dusty, tools humming—while evenings often meant theater rehearsals or performances. At the same time, our family had become deeply embedded in the homeless agency: my wife keeping the books with quiet precision, me swinging hammers and saws to bring the new facility to life, and both of us showing up for fundraisers, meal services, and late-night planning sessions.The busyness was a mercy. It drowned out the national headlines of foreclosures and job losses. But beneath the surface, something fiercer was unfolding—not in the headlines, but in my soul.
Psalms as Weapons: A Lifetime of Recitation Turns into Battle Cry
For years I had made the Psalms my daily companion—reading, memorizing, praying them aloud through every season of life. What began as comfort had slowly become training. The imprecatory psalms—the ones that curse evil, call down judgment on wickedness, plead for God to arise and scatter His enemies—were no longer abstract poetry. They had become vocabulary for spiritual combat.As opposition intensified—both external pressures and an almost tangible sense of resistance—I found myself speaking those ancient words with new urgency. For four intense months I waged what felt like open warfare through declaration. I would pace empty rooms at night or drive deserted back roads, voice rising, quoting Psalm after Psalm like artillery fire:“Arise, O Lord, in Your anger; lift Yourself up against the fury of my adversaries” (Psalm 7).
“Let God arise, let His enemies be scattered” (Psalm 68).
“Contend, O Lord, with those who contend with me” (Psalm 35).Each utterance carried weight. The words weren’t polite prayers anymore—they were battle cries, priestly decrees before the clash. And in those moments of raw desperation, I felt something shift. A heaviness would lift. An oppressive atmosphere would break. I sensed retreat—not metaphorically, but viscerally—as though an opposing spirit had been forced to withdraw.
The Pattern I Could No Longer Ignore: Breakthrough Always Follows the Fire
Looking back across decades, a pattern had emerged in our family story: the fiercest spiritual opposition almost always preceded the greatest movements forward. Relocations that seemed cursed at first. Ministries that nearly collapsed before they launched. Children who faced brutal opposition right before stepping into calling. The greater the breakthrough on the horizon, the fiercer the resistance beforehand.This season was no exception. I knew something big was coming—something God-sized—but I also knew the adversary would fight hardest at the threshold.
Victory in the Unseen While Success Bloomed in the Seen
While the spiritual battlefield raged in private, tangible progress accelerated in public. The homeless agency’s new facility took shape beautifully. I personally installed the trim package—crown molding, baseboards, window casings—turning cold spaces into places of dignity and warmth. Donors increased. Volunteers multiplied. Lives were being touched and changed every week.At the same time, my own heart was softening toward people I once would have kept at arm’s length: the chronically homeless, the grieving, the addicted, the forgotten. God was doing parallel renovations—one in abandoned buildings, one in human hearts, including mine and my family’s.
The Unseen War That Made Room for Greater Grace
Those four months of fervent, sometimes anguished declaration were exhausting. They were also defining. God was not merely allowing trial; He was using it to dislodge old strongholds, to teach me how to stand in authority, to prepare me (and us) for what lay ahead.The Psalms I had recited for comfort had become the sword I wielded in combat. And in the heat of that unseen war, I tasted something priceless: the assurance that when the smoke cleared, the victory had already been won—not by my strength, but by the God who hears the battle cry of His people and answers with power.Looking back, those months weren’t punishment. They were preparation. The spiritual opposition I faced was proof that something beautiful—and costly—was breaking through. And when it finally did, our family would be ready—not because we were strong, but because we had learned, in the furnace, how to stand and declare:“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” (Psalm 27:1).And we were no longer afraid.
Even as the Great Recession’s aftershocks still rattled the economy, I threw myself into a triple life that kept despair at bay. Days were filled with carpentry and trim installation—hands dusty, tools humming—while evenings often meant theater rehearsals or performances. At the same time, our family had become deeply embedded in the homeless agency: my wife keeping the books with quiet precision, me swinging hammers and saws to bring the new facility to life, and both of us showing up for fundraisers, meal services, and late-night planning sessions.The busyness was a mercy. It drowned out the national headlines of foreclosures and job losses. But beneath the surface, something fiercer was unfolding—not in the headlines, but in my soul.
Psalms as Weapons: A Lifetime of Recitation Turns into Battle Cry
For years I had made the Psalms my daily companion—reading, memorizing, praying them aloud through every season of life. What began as comfort had slowly become training. The imprecatory psalms—the ones that curse evil, call down judgment on wickedness, plead for God to arise and scatter His enemies—were no longer abstract poetry. They had become vocabulary for spiritual combat.As opposition intensified—both external pressures and an almost tangible sense of resistance—I found myself speaking those ancient words with new urgency. For four intense months I waged what felt like open warfare through declaration. I would pace empty rooms at night or drive deserted back roads, voice rising, quoting Psalm after Psalm like artillery fire:“Arise, O Lord, in Your anger; lift Yourself up against the fury of my adversaries” (Psalm 7).
“Let God arise, let His enemies be scattered” (Psalm 68).
“Contend, O Lord, with those who contend with me” (Psalm 35).Each utterance carried weight. The words weren’t polite prayers anymore—they were battle cries, priestly decrees before the clash. And in those moments of raw desperation, I felt something shift. A heaviness would lift. An oppressive atmosphere would break. I sensed retreat—not metaphorically, but viscerally—as though an opposing spirit had been forced to withdraw.
The Pattern I Could No Longer Ignore: Breakthrough Always Follows the Fire
Looking back across decades, a pattern had emerged in our family story: the fiercest spiritual opposition almost always preceded the greatest movements forward. Relocations that seemed cursed at first. Ministries that nearly collapsed before they launched. Children who faced brutal opposition right before stepping into calling. The greater the breakthrough on the horizon, the fiercer the resistance beforehand.This season was no exception. I knew something big was coming—something God-sized—but I also knew the adversary would fight hardest at the threshold.
Victory in the Unseen While Success Bloomed in the Seen
While the spiritual battlefield raged in private, tangible progress accelerated in public. The homeless agency’s new facility took shape beautifully. I personally installed the trim package—crown molding, baseboards, window casings—turning cold spaces into places of dignity and warmth. Donors increased. Volunteers multiplied. Lives were being touched and changed every week.At the same time, my own heart was softening toward people I once would have kept at arm’s length: the chronically homeless, the grieving, the addicted, the forgotten. God was doing parallel renovations—one in abandoned buildings, one in human hearts, including mine and my family’s.
The Unseen War That Made Room for Greater Grace
Those four months of fervent, sometimes anguished declaration were exhausting. They were also defining. God was not merely allowing trial; He was using it to dislodge old strongholds, to teach me how to stand in authority, to prepare me (and us) for what lay ahead.The Psalms I had recited for comfort had become the sword I wielded in combat. And in the heat of that unseen war, I tasted something priceless: the assurance that when the smoke cleared, the victory had already been won—not by my strength, but by the God who hears the battle cry of His people and answers with power.Looking back, those months weren’t punishment. They were preparation. The spiritual opposition I faced was proof that something beautiful—and costly—was breaking through. And when it finally did, our family would be ready—not because we were strong, but because we had learned, in the furnace, how to stand and declare:“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” (Psalm 27:1).And we were no longer afraid.
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