God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and self-control. (2 Timothy 1:7)

It’s been awhile, and, truth be told, I have not been in the best of places –spiritually, mentally or physically — over the last few months. Despite all my conscious efforts and proclamations of faith, I found myself ‘coping’, rather than flourishing. I’m not entirely sure what to attribute my sinking depression to, but in a round about way it could be a product of Covid: the uncertainty of the economic situation, the self-imposed isolation from friends and family, the constant friction with those close to you, the drudgery of computer-based work, the sameness of every day life, the lack of stimulation, and the list goes on. Add to this a crippling hormonal imbalance that turns me into a bi-polar schizophrenic that swings from the chandeliers while simultaneously wailing like an elderly widow, a home intrusion and theft, … and the last straws are stacked neatly on the camel’s back.

In the midst of all this gnashing of teeth, self-loathing, angst, self-medicating, yo-yo dieting, and a hundred other less wholesome coping mechanisms, we decided to sell our house and move. No fun for a man with a debilitating fear of change. The result was that for the first time in my whole life, I found myself in a situation where I simply could not hold myself together and despite knowing, really knowing, the truth about my salvation through Jesus Christ, I reverted to fear, lovelessness, and self-abuse, while abandoning all semblances of control and discipline. I recall describing this state to my wife as feeling like a wild soulless animal surviving solely to fulfill its basest needs. No hope, no will, no desire, no passion — just a rabid wolf roaming a desolate wilderness. The worst of it is, I could not fully expose the state I was in for fear of disappointing and alienating my family.

At my lowest point, I opened the YouVersion bible app on my phone and the verse of the day was 2 Timothy 1:7. So, I stood up an proclaimed it to every corner of my being: I DO NOT HAVE A SPIRIT OF FEAR! I HAVE A SPIRIT OF LOVE AND SELF-CONTROL! I sat down, opened my faithful old copy of my Utmost for His Highest, and read a quoted extract from Matthew 11:28, “… come to me all who labour and are heavy laden …”. So, I gave up. I gave up control of my life. I gave up my fears. I gave up my sin. I gave up my coping mechanisms. And, laid all these burdens at his feet.

Today it feels like 50 tons of muck has dropped out of my soul…

Till next time, may peace be upon you and your house.

Have not I commanded you? Be strong, vigorous, and very courageous. Be not afraid, neither be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. (Joshua 1:9)

My family and I have been very ‘still’ these last 4 months. We’ve kept to ourselves, gone about our business, and above all managed to keep anxiety and fear at bay. It was God’s instruction at the beginning of the lock-down to “Be still and KNOW that I am God”. So, we did just that. We ran our lives silently and reflected on the mercy God has shown us during this time when millions of fellow countryman are facing extraordinary hardship.

It’s an unconscionable thing to say, given the destruction Covid-19 has wreaked on millions of lives, but I can’t help feeling that we are stronger now than at the beginning of this thing, with different priorities and the direction of our lives permanently course-corrected. It’s as if the lock-down has provided a period of rapid spiritual incubation; a time of unhindered reflection during which the thin film of God’s grace that covers every aspect of our lives started to shimmer and shine as it revealed its presence.

In my own spiritual life, it was as if the volume on everything turned down and this allowed God’s voice to pierce through the static in the air that kept us from hearing him. Everything I thought defined me dissipated from the palette of my existence leaving me with only hard lines that articulates the essence of my being. You are not defined by your possessions, you’re wealth, or your professional status. You’re not a hardcore biker when your Harley’s been parked for months! You’re a someone’s father, husband, son, and brother!

This time has permanently changed my outlook on everything. I simply cannot go back to chasing what I chased and fearing what I feared. I feel its time to stand up again and attack life with vigor and courage. New energy directed in a new way. A leaner, more focused life being propelled towards God’s will.

The time to be still has served its purpose. It has stripped us of the lies we tell ourselves about who we are and what we need. Now is the time rejoin the race, but as fearless sprinters with new direction and renewed purpose.

Be blessed, till next time.

I’m a big fan of classic horror movies. Ghosts and monsters don’t scare me. The ludicrous plots, poor set design, low production value, and predictable otherworldly antagonists are campy and funny. These movies make for lighthearted entertainment and a great escape from the far more frightening realities of the the world we live in. My wife and I do watch contemporary horror movies from time to time, but recently these started making me feel uneasy and oftentimes leave me feeling upset without any real reason I can pinpoint.

I dwelt on this a bit and realized that contemporary horror movies rarely feature supernatural antagonists any more and often the cause of the ‘horror’ is normal people acting horrifically in realistic settings. I started to realize that the reason these movies upset me is because they represent a plausible, albeit harrowing, reality that could come to pass — more so now in a time where we are facing a global pandemic that until recently could only have been imagined by a Hollywood director.

Ghouls and goblins give way to teenagers in masks that violently torture and murder strangers and maniacs that capture and molest the vulnerable and indigent. Horror movies have stopped being escapist fantasies in which the light always beats the darkness in the end. The realistic portrayals of debased human nature leave me feeling hollow and cold.

I don’t now what God’s opinion is of horror movies, but I do know that from time to time he shows me equally unsettling things. Things, that like the contemporary horror movies, leave me feeling shaken and distressed. Visions of loss, pain and despair in which those close to me become a cast of victims. Not victims of a deranged axe-wielding maniac, but of a life in which God’s grace is absent. What the holy spirit is attempting to make me aware of is the presence of God’s grace in our daily lives. He says, “Can you not see God? Are you still looking for a sign of God’s work in your life? Here is what it looks like when God’s grace, his very presence, is absent!”. These visions are a hundred times more horrific than any horror movie could ever be as they are ‘real’ — they are a reality in which God has withdrawn his grace from our lives.

This personal revelation has changed everything in my spiritual life. I am no longer praying for help or guidance or signs — I now thank God for his subtle presence in our lives. He layers our reality with his blessings and grace, and thereby keeping the horror at bay.

Until next time, switch off the TV and switch on your grace-filled life!

Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. Mark 4:38-39

One of my earliest memories is of a time I felt close to drowning. I was about 5 years old standing in shallow waters. My father is with me and the excited laughter and screaming of the children around me make me anxious and afraid. I feel the under-currents of the ocean tugging on my legs ever stronger as my father leads me deeper into the water. I let go of his hand — too afraid to go any further. The currents suddenly jerk me off my feet and my head goes under the water. For a long moment I’m caught in a maelstrom of swirling water and sand. I get my feet under me. My heart races and I can hear myself crying. I try to raise my voice over the noise, screaming for my father to take my hand. He smiles at me and beckons me to him. Urging me to come deeper. I regain some balance and try to step forward. The current swirls strongly around my feet and when I try to wade forward I lose my balance again and go under. Rolling and tumbling under the water I crash into the bodies standing around me. Someone pulls me erect. I’m disorientated but make out my father’s green bathing suit in the distance. I desperately trudge in his direction but the current threatens to pull me under again. Panicking now, I turn around and try to run towards the beach where I can make out my mother, standing with my baby sister on her hip. They’re waving at me. I dislodge my feet from the deep mud sucking me down. I lift my knees high as I try to sprint. I fall. Smacking my face hard on the water’s surface. I cry hysterically. My little body fills with dread as the undercurrents toss me around like a rag-doll. I regain my stance with difficulty spewing salt water from somewhere deep inside of me.

Then a clarity and a calmness settles on me and I realize that if I stand firmly, the swirling currents around my legs will keep me upright and steady. As long as I stand still. Allowing my body to sway with the currents but not daring to step out of the maelstrom swirling around my ankles. To survive the storm I must experience the storm. There is a process at play here.

In one swift move my father plucks me from my hold and tosses me into the air. He catches me high above his head and smiles up at me. He draws me to his chest and walks out of the sea. The water sprays against my back as his legs cuts through the ebb of the tide.

I was safe, but that feeling of hopeless dread was deeply carved into my soul. I would feel it many times after that and all throughout my life — and particularly now when the world seems darker than ever. The panic, the desperation, the hopelessness, the blood rushing to my head, draining from everywhere else … and then I steady myself. I stand still. Remembering to shift and move with the water. I would be safe if I remained in the middle of the maelstrom. Allowing the currents to steady me. As an adult, a man of forty with the responsibilities of family and work, and facing the uncertainties of this age, I feel the maelstrom threatening my balance more than ever.

When I think about that day, my mind goes to Jesus sleeping peacefully on the boat while the storm raged around him. I can imagine his body moving with the boat as it rode the waves up and down. Un-tethered, but unafraid. A man sleeping on a boat in a storm; a man still in the midst of turmoil. The message of the story always puzzled me. When I was younger I thought that Jesus was trying to teach his disciples to ignore the storm. Lately, I’ve been thinking he was trying to teach them how to keep faith despite the storm.

Did the 5-year old me forget the storm raging around his feet when he saw his father? Or, did the storm no longer matter when my salvation came into view?

I want to believe the latter.

Remember that the only way out, is through.

Blessings, till next time…

In my heart of hearts, in the deepest recesses of my being, hidden under dark oceans of responsible and socially normative behaviour, and mountains of conditioned politically correct ideologies, resides a crusty old punk with a mohawk and neck tattoos. Every year, as I adapt to more of the social expectations for a respectable man my age, I heap more ‘niceness’ (luxury and comfort) on him and pray to God that he wouldn’t suddenly rear his dirty liberty spikes while I’m adulting at my place of employ or running errands at the local super market. However, while year-on-year I slowly build a track record as a responsible, productive, even tempered and well-mannered adult, nothing seems to completely smother the embers of anarchy that squats under a bridge deep in my soul. There I’d be, trying to smooth over a misunderstanding with a fellow patron at the grocery store regarding queuing etiquette when all of a sudden, inside my skull, a pair of Doc Martens stomps my rational and polite mind to a pulp and up comes the clenched fist and a deviant sneer. Ninety-nine percent of the time I can put the brute back in the box, but sometimes I wonder whether he’s not there for a purpose greater than just burning the world to ashes in a fit of rage. What if this anti-social, anti-establishment, anti-authority — actually anti-everything — aspect of my personality actually serves a spiritual purpose. If this is part of me, the way God made me, is it not meant to be there, or is this the “sinful nature”, the “old ways” and “the ways of the flesh” the Bible asks us to lay down [See: Ephesians 4:22; Romans 6:6; and Romans: 8:5]? I’m not so sure.

My father, a pentecostal minister and dedicated Christ-follower, can get mad — like torrent-of-molten-lava-mad. But while this scared me as a kid seeing this type of anger and aggression coming from the pulpit during the Sunday service, I realise now that there is place for this type of ‘holy-fury’ — a controlled and justified expression of outrage when faced with spiritual conflict.

One of the most famous punks of all time, Johnny Rotten, entitled his autobiography Anger is an Energy and nothing could explain the punk-thing more perfectly. It is a powerful source of energy. The dilemma is that depending on who you’ve got behind the steering wheel of your life, that energy could propel you to spiritual freedom and the life of an assertive disciple of Christ, or it could drive you into a brick wall. The trick is to control the flow of energy, but realistically no man can do this by himself. You need to put the reigns of your life in the hands of God before you even attempt to let the punk loose.

In the Bible, I see this angry punk stomping around the temple when Jesus chased out the merchants [See: Matthew 21:12], I also hear him when Jesus challenged the authority of Caesar and King David in the presence of the religious leaders. The ultimate exhibition of punk-ness, however, was when Jesus rose from the dead! The ultimate deviance against the ultimate authority!

My little revelation for this week’s post? Get your relationship (communication and communion) with God right, and then let him channel this energy through you. The punk in all of us is both a powerful ally and adversary – make sure your punk is fighting for the right side!