The Decoy The Distraction and Our Destiny: Part I, Overview

Chances are you have looked over the aftermath of a plan and wondered what happened.  You too are perplexed why it was not executed well.  The end result of your blood sweat and tears looked far different than you desired, believed you deserved and knew God destined for you.  The most hurtful part is that from the very beginning of that endeavor you knew it was purposed as everything about it fit the desires of your heart.  This move was destined, so the fact that you did not meet the goal is cause for both doubt and shame.  However, what if it was not you or them or it that failed but rather the culprit was external?  Here is what I am suggesting that there is a narrow margin between a decoy, a distraction, and your destiny.  The differences are not always detectable on the front end of a journey.  Our best way of preventing disappointment is to grow in discerning which we are engaging early enough to determine sure success.

Here are the effects of going all in on a project – only to end up with an undesired result.  We ask the questions: So, what went wrong?  How could I have not seen this coming?  What could I have done differently or better?  Will I ever recover from this mistake?  Can I trust myself or my capacity to make good decisions?  These are very good questions, but any answer to these will only cover the surface.  To dig deeper we must ask these questions:  What did I learn in this experience?  What were the early signs that this was not my destiny?  Did I miss details that could have minimized my initial investment or losses?  Am I a better person for the experience?  Can I use this lesson to help someone else?

My argument is that the decoy, the distraction and our destiny have too many similar characteristics; therefore, distinguishing between these may not always be an option.  However, at some point in our journey, hopefully before we have committed every resource available we should be able to discern whether we are on a destined course.  And when we get it wrong we must learn how to recover quickly realizing that all is not lost in the cases where we are mistaken.  For every journey has value to ourselves and others if we adopt the right perspective – the perspective we can learn from everything.

I further believe that the narrow distinction is intentional.  These initially parallel courses are both allowed by God and used by an enemy.  As a matter of fact, truth that is misapplied or misunderstood is often far more harmful than a plain lie.  A decoy holds well under scrutiny as the truth, but with enough pressure will reveal its faults.  A distraction is usually an absolute truth, just not the truth that is relevant for the course.  Only our destiny endures the arduous examination and connects us with where we are supposed to be in life.

As we explore in greater detail each path, then be present with the fact that failure is not always our fault.  Agree to realize that every step of our journey is useful, even when we have committed an error in judgment.  I will expand on each path through personal testimony with the hopes of encouraging and teaching each of us how to recognize the difference, and in the case of failure how to re-engage our purpose.  In order to learn through our mistakes and the missteps of others we must open first to forgiveness.  Let go of any resentment towards self and others, likewise put away all fear and doubt.  Move forward with the expectation that this journey will be richer as you learn to discern the marginal separation of the decoy, the distractions and your destiny.

Sunday Morning

²⁴ And let us consider one another in order to stir up love and good works, ²⁵ not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as is the manner of some, but exhorting one another, and so much the more as you see the Day approaching. Hebrews 10:24 – 25 NKJV

Sunday mornings hold reverence in many communities around the World as the time when Christians, followers of Jesus Christ gather to worship.  Over the period of my life these mornings have come to mean different things for me, and I would argue the global Christian body.  These experiences range from reverence of the Trinity to fellowship with other believers.  However, as Holy Scripture directs us our gathering should also include exhortation, a stirring up of love, and inspiration towards good works.  When the latter occurs there certainly should be a congregation that looks forward to gathering and a host of testimonies to share, rather than excuses why Sunday morning worship is no longer relevant.

My grandmother introduced me to Sunday mornings and all other Christian disciplines.  I learned respect for the sanctuary while sitting on her lap during worship services, and the sincerity of Christian disciplines while I lay in her bed as she prayed and read scripture every night.  These are some of my favorite memories.  I watched as she prepared clothes, linens, food, and accessories throughout the week and placed finishing touches on items for Saturday mornings.  I knew before the age of three that Sunday mornings were truly special, but I was too young then to understand why.

After the age of three my father assumed the role of leading my Christian experience.  He too exhibited a great reverence for the sanctuary and sincerity for Sunday morning disciplines as I sat alongside him.  Although I did not witness his day to day disciplines, the skill he holds in leading congregations in singing, devotion, and prayer is evidence enough for his daily practices.  Different than my grandmother, the favorite Sunday experience with my father was the routine of getting to church.  The final inspections of our clothing, the regular stop by the convenience store for Lifesavers candy, and making sure we arrived in time for socializing.  Father added to my Sunday morning dimensions the importance of self examination and making sure that our physical cravings would not distract from the experience.

For awhile during my early adolescent years there was no sanctuary, except bicycle trails, swing sets, a swimming pool, or one of my favorite places, the spot where I beat my friends in games of marbles.  Near the age of eight, a small local church sent a bus to our neighborhood and invited all of the children and their families to attend.  The children were lured with a promise of refreshments and toys, and the promise of these gifts sealed the fate of most of us.  I rode church buses alone without my parents for the next five years to meet with congregations that did not look like me or worship in the ways of my grandmother or father exposed me to.  However, I learned to expect to receive something from the investment of time in worship – I found that it was ok to expect something from our time in community.

As I matured through teenaged and early adulthood years, and began to lead my immediate family to attend Sunday worship the experiences begin to look more like my foundational years.  I gained a sense of guilt and shame from the idea that I was supposed to receive something for attending Sunday services as these expectations were rebuffed.  Not only were my expectations denounced, I was introduced to the concepts of sacrifice and selflessness.  The only gift to be expected was in the privilege of community.  It was hard for me to grasp at a young age that my rewards for discipline would only come in Heaven.  Yet, my love for the worship experiences I had known and the people that I shared with kept me involved.

Thankfully in my adult years I found churches that expounded on the Christian experience through teaching about the Trinity, which introduced me to the Holy Spirit.  Love was explained in a new way where the definition began to include grace and mercy, and justification and salvation.  In my mid 30s, I was alone again, without family; I experienced a real passion for being in worship services.  Gathering with fellow believers as an extended family took on an entire new meaning for me as I gave physically, financially, and spiritually, and came to know the gifts of the Holy Spirit.  It was the purest time for me, or so I thought.

It was not until I accepted a call to ministry and served a local congregation for more than five years that I really begin to feel alone on Sunday mornings.  I asked the question – why do we gather on Sunday mornings?  Is it a command of God to gather and show reverence for a sacred space and practices?  Is it a time of introspection and outer inspection for the purpose of revealing those things that need admonishment or celebration?  Do we learn how to temper our physical and spiritual selves through sacrifice, so that cravings will not corrupt ourselves?  Is Sunday morning the time when we come to hear a Word for renewal, refreshing, re-branding, or re-purposing in order to make it through another week in world?  Are these the moments where we come to see God or see ourselves for who we really are?  As I reflected through my development in worship experiences it seemed that the answer to each of interrogatory was a resounding yes, and more.

On this Sunday morning, I feel as close to a resolution about worship as I have ever attained.  Sunday mornings, and every other moment of our lives is about encountering God.  Therefore our gathering to be exhorted and stirred up should be founded in an expectation that we will know God in those moments, and feel that God knows us too, and that God will reveal to us who we are.

The real question is not should we gather on Sunday mornings, as we certainly should, but rather we need to address how to help those who meet and not receive exhortation, love, or inspiration towards good works?  Should we forsake the assemblies where Jesus Christ is taught, but is not felt?  No.  Even though those meetings result in feelings of emptiness as if a promise was unfulfilled we are still called to exhibit good works, and love, and exhort those places.

I am grateful for the range in my perspective on Sunday mornings.  I am indebted to my grandmother, father, and volunteers from those church buses, and so many others for exposing me to Christian love.  Yet, I am concerned that for far too many others the questions remain unanswered about why we gather on Sunday mornings.  Frankly, these unresolved feelings are the reason why golf courses and car washes, or local restaurants and coffee bars are more frequented than the local church.  Or worse, there are places where worship activity is acted out without an invitation for the Holy Spirit to visit.  Some must feel like I do on certain mornings that I can have a better chance of meeting God in my bed than some of the places that report to worship Jesus Christ.

Thankfully, I still get out of bed and attend worship services with the clearest agenda of meeting God and God’s people.  I smile when I see toddlers on grandmother’s laps, or children sitting with their parents, or groups of teens in congregation, as I know that they too are learning to value Sunday mornings as a communion with God.

Better Than I Planned

There is a common saying about making plans.  The saying goes something like if you want to make God laugh tell Him your plans.  The rationale behind the saying is that none of us should become too attached to our plans, especially if we believe that God has the final say.  Unfortunately, I did not know of God’s intervening ways when I was a senior, graduating from high school, planning the rest of my life.  I vividly remember that my primary plan was to become a husband and a father.

As high school seniors we received a book titled Memories.  The book’s assumed purpose was to record all of high school’s major events.  However, there was also a section to plan out our future.  As I reflect on the experience, the easiest part of completing the book was writing out my desire for my future.  Even as a young man I wanted, more than anything, to be a father and I believed then that I needed to be a husband in order to become one.

As my life developed, it became apparent that my plan would not materialize.  When I finally did become a father after being married for more than half a decade – I almost immediately lost my rights to a relationship with my first born son due to choices that I made.  It was a devastating blow to achieve the goal that I set, and then lose it all in less than a year.

Fortunately God has more than a sense of humor; God offers us His grace.  Grace is what I received with the birth of my second son.  The circumstances were far different than the first pregnancy and so has been the outcome.  My first experience was completed as planned – I started my career; matured physically, mentally and spiritually; got married; purchased a home; and built a well-rounded network of friend and associates.  This foundation seemed ripe for a child to enter the union.  I have already mentioned how that worked out in the end.

Shortly after my divorce God’s plan kicked in regarding my desire for fatherhood.  I was on a steep economic decline and headed towards unemployment.  My mental, physical and spiritual conditioning had deteriorated to fragments.  I was single and alone, fighting for the affection of a woman that I began a relationship during my separation.  And I lost my home, friends and associates in the divorce.  These were far from ripe conditions in my mind, but God chose to give me a second chance in the midst of it all.

By the time my son was born I had lost it all.  The additional pressure of having responsibility for two sons was enough to send me over the edge.  Many days and nights I wished and prayed for death, and then I got up and fought for my life.  It was my two sons, born in completely different circumstances, which help me pulled through the storm.  Without my sons I surely would have succumbed to the lifeless desires and withered away.

In particular, I am grateful for a second chance in fatherhood.  My youngest son continues to inspire me in countless ways.  The one resource that we share plenty of is time.  He rewards our time together through being a real delight to be with.  And if God’s humorous actions were not enough – He allowed me to have four daughters.  Three of my girls are through my second marriage, and my oldest allowed me to adopt her as my own.

I still plan – for my life and my family.  But I have learned to let go of the reigns and accept whatever God provides.  In the end, we must realize that God executes far better than we can plan.

Son to Father

The conversation was too late.  My father called to give me his advice against divorcing my wife, who had recently bore our first child.  But, the decision had already been made in my mind and heart.  For a very brief moment I thought, you did the same thing and now you want to warn me.  The pain I felt from being a son would not allow me to receive warning of the pain I would feel as a father.

There are many things that I wished I known as a child.  I often wondered what I could have done better, or different, to maintain a relationship with my father.  There were times when I daydreamed about how my life would have been different with my father’s daily involvement.  My mind grappled with how my biological father felt about another man having daily access and influence over my development, even if the other man is a very good man.  When I learned that my father, too, was abandoned, I could not help but wonder if his absentee father had some type of affect on him.

The hours and miles of distance between our physical stations never stopped the mental and emotional connection that I shared with my father, nor did they stop the hurt or disappointment from the unspoken expectations that I placed on the relationship that never materialized.  My father could have never known how much I loved and adored him, or the countless moments of resentment that built with each holiday and birthday.

I can only imagine the things my father wished for during this period.  He may have wished that the miles and hours between us never existed.  Or, that his personal resources afforded him the opportunity to bridge the long stride more frequently.  I wonder if there were holidays, birthdays, and sporting events where he, too, wanted to be present.  All of these I can imagine vividly – because I did not heed my father’s advice.

The son is now the father that is stressed by the distance of miles and hours from his son.  I now know what it feels like to be separated physically and seemingly emotionally from your first born child and son.  Now my wonderings about how my father felt has shifted to what things my son wishes he knew.  Does he know that I still love him with every ounce of me?  Does he know that it hurts to even think of how I have let him down, especially on holidays, his birthday, and every one of his games?  And even though he has a very good man in his life on a daily basis, and I support this man fully, how I still wish that it was me that he called Dad?  I wonder if when the time comes that he too will need advice about his spouse and children – if he will turn a deaf ear to me – as I did to my father?  I fear that my prayers and fasting will not be enough to break this curse.

Knowing better means doing better.  So, I began by accepting every opportunity my father offered to be in my life.  I have been blessed to have two men that love me enough to consider me their son.  But, there is nothing like having my father in my life at this stage and knowing that he has loved me all along.  I also fight the urge to give up on a ‘right now’ relationship with my son.  He has a great home environment, and a man that loves him dearly in that home.  Unselfishly, I do not want to add to his confusion.  However, it would be selfish if I allowed his imagination to hang in an empty balance wondering where I stood in regards to him.  I am my father’s first born son, and I know that he is proud of the man I have become.  I want my son to be proud of me too – and that requires me giving him every chance to know me, especially as a father that once was the son he is now.