Hallelujah

I awoke to the motionlessness and silence of 21 men asleep. I could have just readjusted my body on my uncomfortable cot to ease the aching brought about from the war and gone back to sleep, but the darkness coupled with an eerie silence allured me outside. There was something about standing on the border of safety and danger in the quiet darkness that made me comfortably nervous. After all, silence was a rare luxury in this war, and enjoying a cigarette, soaking in the misery of my situation made this silence strangely pleasing. Maybe it was the silence that made the cigarette pleasing. Maybe, it was the whole damn scene.

I quietly stepped outside with my arm still trying to find the sleeve of my jacket. Two steps out of the door of the tent, I pulled a small box of cigarettes out of my left pocket, and a lighter out of the right. I lit a smoke, inhaled deeply, and looked up to the celestial theater above. At first, the sky appeared uncharacteristically full. I felt like I had never seen the night sky so decorated and decided it was not unlike changing the strings on my guitar. After playing on dead strings for so long, new ones made the instrument and the music it produced sound more brilliant than it ever had. Songs I usually didn’t enjoy playing would then seem emotionally stirring, causing me to repeat the same chord progression over and over. Seeing the stars this way seemed to transpose my emotion into music so powerful it was dizzying. In some poetic manner, I rationalized that by looking at the stars I was actually looking at the same scene visible from my back yard. Funny how we pick out an object farthest away to make us feel closer to that which we are apart from. I wanted the stars to get a good look at me so as to give a good report to my lady when they passed over my house in a few short hours.

I stood lost in thought and realized that my cigarette was nearly gone, and I hadn’t yet thought of the important things I had wanted to think about, so I lit another.  I walked toward and climbed the berm separating our base camp from the border of Iraq. Stopping just before the concertina wire, I peered out into the blackness allowing my sense of romance with the stars to be interrupted by remembering that the light of my cigarette would give an eager sniper all the target he needed to ensure that the report the stars gave to my wife would be unfortunate. I welcomed the challenge. I lit yet another cigarette, and stood with an arrogant, conquering posture atop the berm and, without notice, returned my attention to the glimmering display upward. I finished my cigarette, and though I still had not yet thought of all the important things I had wanted to, I slowly walked back to my cot, and lay awake for another hour thinking of home, and how extraordinary heroics or unrivaled stupidity could get me there.

“well, maybe there’s a god above
but all i’ve ever learned from love
was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you
it’s not a cry that you hear at night
it’s not somebody who’s seen the light
it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah”

hallelujah…

Checking Route for Traffic…

BlackBerry’s.

BlackBerry’s with Navigation Systems.

In the highly unlikely event I use the Navigation system in my Blackberry, I occasionally hear the the voice of the nice lady from my phone, “Checking route for traffic.”

I wonder, how then, would it be if we owned a spiritual navigation system that could tell us when the path we were on was leading us into heavy traffic and, further direct us to an alternate route.

Then I quickly return to my senses and realize…

we do.

It starts with Genesis and ends with Revelation.

You will show me the path of life….

Psalm 16:11

If You’re Gonna Play in Texas, You Gotta Have a Fiddle in The Band…

unless God tells you to travel to a small Baptist church for a Youth Crusade…

and unless your with the band Modern Miracle.

This past weekend I had the privilege of traveling with my family and speaking at a youth crusade in a small rural town in East Texas.

I was honored to worship with the band Modern Miracle at the youth crusade, and I’m still stunned at how talented this special group of musicians really is. Their rhythmic, hard-rock sound with superb composure and timing was impressive. I admire their devotion to God and I can only pray that God allows us to do more of HIS work together in the future.

From the moment I stepped off of the stage Saturday night, I wondered if God allowed me to move anyone more toward a relationship with Christ. I wondered who this mission trip affected. I wondered if God would allow me to know who it was.

HE allowed me to connect with some pretty amazing people that night. I love HIM so much for allowing me to reach them. I left the service that night feeling like God did allow me to reach someone but I still felt somewhat uneasy. Enigmatic turmoil.

And then, as the next 36 hours of my life unfolded, something truly fascinating happened.

After Church the next day, the team ate lunch with friends at a small Mexican Restaurant which seemed to have a blessing from God all its own. That evening, my wife and I took turns driving through the night, and finally returned home at 6 AM the next morning.

As I wore out my new, two-song Modern Miracle CD while I finished the final four hours of the drive, I wondered why God chose me, a small Baptist Church, and East Texas. I honestly may never know the full impact of our mission, or what our presence this past weekend from Ocala, FL, to Jefferson, TX, proved to accomplish. Solid proof that the God who created the heavens and the earth has sense-of-humor enough, that he would send me back to the state where my brother and I experienced horrific acts of violence, simply to preach.

Though I honestly fear God as I should, I still find it amusing and I smile just thinking about it.

I am truly in love with Christ, and the significance of preaching in a state that I associate with pain makes me acutely aware of God’s amazing, albeit bewildering plan for my life.

The Interstate seemed never-ending between the ninth and thirteenth hours of driving. The more I drove, the more I reflected on the past few days. While the highway’s dotted line seemed to pass in rhythm with Modern Miracle’s song, “A Medium Gleam of Variable Speed”, I began to see more and more the servant whom this mission really affected.

“Thank you for loving me God. You really do have pretty good sense of humor. I love you.”

So there I was, driving down the road arguing with God…

Seriously.

I was driving down the road having a conversation of sorts with God. Well, this just happened to be one of those times I did more listening to HIM than talking until…

I realized what HE wanted me to do.

I have been writing a book entitled “Porn-Star”.

I have struggled with the content, the language, certain specific subject matter, and pretty much the entire book as a whole.

But I know, the book will reach those who desperately need it.

I still question myself which, somewhat feels like questioning God’s command.

I realized he wants me to write about some of the darkest, most evil, topics the world has to offer.

“Whoa” I respond.

“God, I don’t think I like that too much. First of all, there are a lot of people out there who are better at writing than I am, who are much more prepared for this. And secondly, your talking about a book of proverbial train-wreck after train-wreck. Why can’t I write a comedy? At least people won’t be depressed by the end of the first chapter.”

God said…”No, you can’t write a comedy.”

So I’ve got that going on in my head and I continue to engage in this debate with God. Sometimes when I write, I sit back, read what I just wrote, and say to myself out loud: “damn dude, you can’t publish that”.

“God, maybe I should tone it down.”

“No.”

“God, I should take out the bad words.”

“No.”

“God, can I exclude suicide.”

“No.”

This is no romantic dream sequence simply fabricated by a writer. The previous three questions are among many I have literally asked God. I have tried, time and again, to find a reason not to write and dwell in such dark places.

God knows this, and has had a great deal of patience with me concerning this. Then God allows me to remember, and take a fresh new look at a conversation HE had with Moses.

Moses is out tending sheep and sees a burning bush and God starts talking to him. Yeah, it’s a little weird. God tells Moses, a shepherd, that he’s going to free the Hebrew people from Egypt. How does Moses respond?

“But why me? What makes you think that I could…?”

God continues to try and assure Moses he can do it and Moses responds:

“They won’t trust me. They won’t listen to a word I say. They’re going to say, ‘GOD? Appear to him? Hardly!’”

God continues to assure Moses he can do it but this time, HE shows Moses. Again, Moses makes another futile attempt to persuade God that he feels inept.

“Master, please, I don’t talk well. I’ve never been good with words, neither before nor after you spoke to me. I stutter and stammer.”

I don’t know what exactly God has in store for this work. But I do know one thing about it. There are millions of people suffering from this life and there is a cure, and HIS name is Jesus Christ. Millions of people are as slaves, shackled by pain. Some feel that the only escape is just one more high, one more orgasm, or one more attempt at ending their life. Someone has to reach them and let them know that Jesus Christ is the cure.

I’m not that pretentious that I believe I can free millions from the veritable bonds of slavery.

But God can.

Friends don’t let friends open their mouths when speaking…

I ran into a old friend yesterday.

As we spoke about the recent suicide of a mutual friend of ours with whom we served in the war, I remembered something I wrote recently:

Over the years, like most of my friends from the war, I inadvertently run in to one or the other amid a hurried schedule. It begins with an excited greeting, a hug, and an uncontrollable smile. We give each other a quick run-down of what’s going on in each other’s life, commit to keeping in touch by phone, and promise to get together sometime which usually never happens. We say good-bye, give another hug, and part ways. Every time that happens, I feel euphoric about the encounter.

It never fails.

That is the way it goes every time.

And yesterday, that was the way it was going.

There is one thing I want to change:

Each time we declare our promise to keep in touch, we know that it’s probably not going to happen. We know before it’s said, we’re probably not going to put forth enough effort to make a phone call.

I thought about our friend who committed suicide. I thought of all the ways I could have witnessed to her about Jesus. Not that I knew her that well or had many chances, but I’m sure I could have made attempts. I could have been a better example while we were deployed during the war instead of frolicking in sin like a child dancing in a candy store.

I could have started by actually being a friend.

I could have let her know, I mean really know, she could call me for anything.

Not to get preached to by a Jesus freak, but to be listened to.

Maybe this is a fundamental lesson Jesus has been trying to teach me all along. That preaching the gospel isn’t necessarily preaching, or even speaking at all.

It’s listening.

It’s setting the example.

You see, I’m not gonna go to hell for my sin.

But my actions can damn sure arm the unsaved with just enough reason to justify their continuing down a road of brokenness, eventually leading straight to hell.

Maybe I’m not responsible, but I have damn sure contributed.

I’m not sure I know that guy, but if he’s me, I’d sure like to meet him…

Dr. Modders (Dave) recently emailed the following to me. Dave recommended Christian Soldier to a friend of his, and this friend of his wrote a personal review.

I receive letters and emails from people that make my head spin, and my heart hurt. I immediately have to pray that I am becoming more like the person God created me to be.

You know, I wonder sometimes if they, or I, know who they are writing to. As my theological logician friend Andrew and I were discussing recently:
“I’m glad they didn’t hear what I said alone in my car fifteen minutes ago when someone cut me off.”

Thank you God, for people like Marty. Thank you God that I got to meet him. Thank you for allowing me to write and giving me the words to inspire. Thank You for your grace. We’re all a little messed up and one day, that part of me trying to be more like you, will perfectly match up with who I’ve become. I really love you.

From my new friend Marty:

There is only one word to accurately describe this book Dave….Real.
For a short book there is so much packed in to it. I am trying to organize my thoughts here.
1) Writing style. Ben writes like I think, short bursts and all over the place. I thought his style was engaging, challenging and kept me wondering where he was going next.
2) What was missing. I wanted to read more about his relationship with his real father, his experiences in Iraq, and how he eventually landed in police work. But I don’t know if those stories would have enhanced his broader points. After all, this wasn’t a biography, it was his testimony.
3) Language. I won’t be recommending Ben’s book to my mother-in-law’s reading group. They would would faint after the first few pages, but that’s ok because 60 year old Christian women are not the target audience. While the language is tough and the scenes are tougher, I think both are important to reach the people Ben wants to reach.
4) I can relate part I. Although my childhood was a Disney movie compared to Ben’s, I can understand his mentality prior to fully committing to Jesus. I thought I had it all figured out to, and had no real use for God in my life. But in the end my life was empty until I turned it all over to him.
5) I can relate part II. Again my worst day wouldn’t compare the anything Ben has experienced, but looking back on my life I can see how God was using everything to make me into who he needed me to be. Page 83 is is amazing.
6) Theology. This may come across wrong but to me there are three types of people. Those who profess no faith in Jesus, those who have said the sinner’s prayer at some point in their life and then people like Ben. I want to be like Ben. To me Christianity is not just saying a prayer and attending church once a week. It should be the guiding force in your life and it is hard. It’s throwing yourself on the alter everyday and saying “less of me and more of you”… taking two steps forward and one step back. It’s a journey. Ben is a wonderful example of someone putting Christ at the center of his life.

I do have one question for you. How does this book sit within the frame work of modern day Baptists? Ben’s book is closer to Blue Like Jazz than the hell fire and brimstone I was raised in. In particular the scene with his gay friend. That short scene said so much about Ben’s heart, and while I agree with him it seems to be contrary to what I know about the Baptist denomination.

Thanks for recommending this book. If you can’t tell I loved it.This must be a great resource for the young men you help. I would love to meet Ben sometime…although not in a dark alley when he was wearing the black spidey suit.

Thanks Again…
MartyC

Are You Really Blessed or Was The Line at StarBucks Much Longer?

Sometimes I wonder if I should be writing a “Christian” Book with appalling and seemingly vulgar content. Then I sometimes find myself sitting in a Starbucks enjoying a cup of coffee, and as I gaze into my blackberry, stupified by the mesmerizing power of brickbreaker and email, I read this:

UNICEF estimates that there are nearly 2 million children in the commercial sex trade worldwide.

Phenomenology.

They would trade a boy for a whore,
sell a girl for a bottle of wine when they wanted a drink.
Joel 3:3
The Message

I Just Wanna Love The Hell Out Of People

I have always struggled over why some evangelicals claim certain denominations of Christianity are not actually Christians and therefore are not saved.

Friends, pastors, and others I hardly know have gone to great lengths to explain why these “others” aren’t saved, which in itself causes me to wonder why we are spending time debunking denominations that believe at the core, that Jesus is God and he died for us.

I think I just want to love the hell out of people.

I’m convinced God has knuckles of concrete and the thump to back it up.

Sober up, you drunks!
Get in touch with reality—and weep!
Your supply of booze is cut off.
You’re on the wagon, like it or not.
My country’s being invaded
by an army invincible, past numbering,
Teeth like those of a lion,
fangs like those of a tiger.
It has ruined my vineyards,
stripped my orchards,
And clear-cut the country.
The landscape’s a moonscape.

… The whole country is burning up.

Joel 1:5-7, 20

I would love to write an essay using this scripture to parallel what is going on politically in this country. I was raised in a family where political conversation and debate usually ranked number one above all else. So, as my political upbringing naturally tries to manifest itself into my relationship with Jesus, I have to fight the urge to apply the word of God to politics.

Why?

Why not apply God’s infallible word to our political scene?

After all, I wrote a book applying HIS Word to my life.

Well, let’s try this:

I’m writing a “Christian” book about porn. I’ve done the research…if you call drowning and emotionally killing myself with pornography for fifteen years research.

I’ve defiled myself and sinned against God.

I’ve witnessed some of the most horrible acts capable by human beings.

So you know what I’m gonna do with it?

I’m gonna apply God’s story to our story which is HIS story in the first place.

There is real pain out there.

There are real people suffering right outside my front door.

And no matter what the WORLD has to say about it, there is a REAL CURE.

Jesus Christ is The Cure.

There’s nothing done or said that can’t be forgiven.

Mark 3:28

I have finally “sobered” up and I’m getting in touch with reality.

I will concern myself with spreading the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

People need to know that Jesus Christ was actually born.

Jesus Christ actually lived a perfect life.

Jesus Christ was actually unjustly tried and beaten.

Jesus Christ was crucified.

Jesus Christ died for our sins.

Jesus Christ arose.

Jesus Christ lives!

Jesus Christ loves us no matter what.

If you preach, just preach God’s Message, nothing else;

Romans 12:6

God has shown me that my story is His story, he has just allowed me to put pen to paper. As HE continues to allow me to write, I need to remember: I am HIS, and what I do is for HIM.

The focus is to spread The Word. Stop worrying about religious boundaries and political correctness. Jesus died a bloody, painful, horrific death so that we can live our lives how we wish to live them.

As for me…I’m a soldier(2 Timothy 2:3). The word of God tells us that “the whole country is burning up”, not because of the political landscape but because the face of our nation and our world is on fire with hell on earth and we are focused on a bunch of bullshit.

We are charged with orders to invade the depths of hell and we have refused.

I want to tell people about Jesus.

I will tell people about jesus.

“If you love Me, Keep my commandments”

John 14:15

“This is My commandment, that you love on another as I have loved you.”

John 15:12

“Go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature.”

Mark 16:15

“Are you listening to me? Really listening?

Matthew 11:15

To Tame A Land

My daughter and I love the bookstore.

We have, on occasion, spent between four and five hours at the store reading.

Today however, we only spent about an hour and a half.

I read portions of Through Painted Deserts by Donald Miller, and Porn University by Michael Leahy. I purchased Glenn Beck’s Common Sense, and Timothy Stoner’s The God Who Smokes. I also made a discovery which had me dancing like a giddy little school girl in the middle of the Western Fiction aisle. A title by which the fourth chapter of Christian Soldier was named:

To Tame A Land, by Louis L’Amour.

Ahhh…Nostalgia.

There is a short paragraph from To Tame A Land I wanted to use in Christian Soldier which at one point actually graced the pages of the book. It would have been poetic to use the quote: Remembering who gave gave me my first copy of the book, and who that person turned out to be, and who and what I turned out to be. Though I illustrate those parallels in the book, the quote didn’t seem to work, and I wasn’t gonna force it. So in the end, the excerpt was removed.

But hey, I still get the opportunity to share it here:

Enemies may come into our country
and times will have changed,
but then the boys will come down from the old high hills
and belt on their guns again.

To Tame A Land
-Louis L’Amour-
1965