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Name: Nathan
Location: Salem, Oregon, United States
Gender: Male
Interests: At the moment, the Lord Jesus Christ has become my greatest interest. My life is becoming a tool for His use and anything beyond that is up to Him.
My second biggest interest is Robyn, the love of my life and the greatest of God's earthly gifts to me.
Other interests involve writing, martial arts, music, and billiards (though I'm not skilled in all of them).
Expertise: My main expertise is prayer. Requests, warfare, all kinds of prayer, doesn't matter.
Beyond that, I have been called a wordsmith. While that is debatable, I do love to write.
And, if you know what's good for you, the word "theologian" will not escape your lips.
Occupation: Supervisory
Industry: Retail
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  proskuneouihos
MSN: ichabod_renewed@hotmail.com
Yahoo:  saboath_explosion
Member Since:
3/1/2004
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| Today, instead of going to work (I was scheduled to work, but a co-worker really needed some extra hours), I went with a friend to an area in Oregon called the Christian Renewal Center. I really didn't know what to expect. I didn't know it would be at the top of a flippin' mountain. I did not dress for snow, so that was fun.
The place was very tranquil and peaceful, none of the squaller and oppression of the valley. I also met some very amazing people, and was also given the privilege of praying with several of them.
One person I will not forget is Ducky. Her real name is Carrol, but she tells everyone her name is Ducky because she's "quackers." I don't know what was specifically wrong, but what I kept sensing was Alzheimer's. I may be wrong on that point, but it's neither here nor there.
I first met Ducky when my friend and I were walking down a snowy embankment to the little prayer hut where my landlady went when a minivan comes to a screeching halt, kicking up powder and nearly careening into a tree. The driver rolls down her electric window and says, "Throw snowballs at my van and say, 'Welcome!'"
My friend and I shrugged and threw a few snowballs. The woman parked and ran down the hill as fast as possible in order to give us a "proper tour guide." She quizzed us on some very random factoids of things that didn't seem to relate to anything in particular and told us all about her family history. My friend summed it all up with one word: apropos.
She insisted on taking us down to some waterfall which was a couple of miles away--all hiking on foot through deep snow, and I was wearing jeans, a polo shirt, and running shoes.
My landlady was counseling someone in the prayer hut and asked us to come back later. She insisted the woman take us on a tour, so we were essentially stuck. Off hiking we went.
An hour later, we were a mile up an abandoned road, over a single lane bridge with a gate on one end to keep out trespassers. A few hundred yards up and we decided to turn back.
The entire time, the woman was calling me Curly from the stooges (my recent hair-mishap lends me to the image of the comedic demi-god) and my friend mentioned being a chef, so she called him Ratatouille. In fact, Ducky told my friend that he was supposed to come to China in 2012 with her and be a chef.
My friend and I kept exchanging awkward looks, being unsure of this odd woman's intentions. I honestly was alert for any sudden movement on her part, like maybe she was taking us out in the woods to stab us to death or something.
The really creepy part on the way back was that she grabbed another total stranger and added them to our group--except with this person, she introduced herself with a different name!
*cough*Serial killer*cough*....
We made it back to the prayer hut where she explained Ducky is a nickname, and we felt a little better. As we begin to pray for her family and a few other issues, I felt convicted that although I was very gracious to the woman and humored her greatly, I was still impatient and a bit unfair toward her.
All she was trying to do was be neighborly and give us a free tour of the place because it meant so much to her, and all my friend and I could do was snicker at her quirks and idiosyncrasies--her ominous introduction notwithstanding.
What's more is that during our impromptu prayer time, the woman had the heart of a child in her prayers. Very simple, even narrow-minded, almost as if in fear that she would slip up and do or say the wrong thing. And, yes, she was a little... off-base and unaware. But she was so sincere.
I already felt convicted before the Lord directly spoke to me, but the clincher really set in when I recalled the verse, "What you do to the least of My brethren, you do unto Me."
The Lord pointedly asked, "Would you have been as annoyed or impatient had I been the one leading you through the snow? What if I truly had been?"
The scene from Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back came to mind. When Luke Skywalker crashes on Dagobah in search of the renowned Master Yoda, he is terrorized by this annoying, little green critter who mumbles as he tears apart his stuff and rummages through his food. The green critter promises to take Luke to Yoda in exchange for food. When he takes off through the jungle in spirit of the green guy, Luke finds the little den and no apparent Jedi in sight. Brimming with frustration, he swings his arms in the air and loathes ever coming to Dagobah.
Master Yoda, the little, green guy, stands up to his full height of two feet and solemnly says, "I cannot teach him."
I know how Luke Skywalker feels. I overshadowed Ducky in nearly every way--intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, even physically. Yet she had something in droves which at times I would trade all else to have: child-likeness.
Lord, thank-you for bringing Ducky across my path. Keep her close to Your side and bless her heart for the love and devotion she has toward You.
Oh, bring healing to her soul, that if she must suffer the impairments which she does, then grant her courage to stand up under them.
One day, may I be found so true.
I also discovered another facet to humility through all of this. Humility and meekness is being equanimous, slow to anger and being flexible to people; a prideful person has many crises, but for a truly humble person, not much rocks the boat, as they are very unassuming and considerate.
What I realized was an aspect of Christ's humility which is very sobering--humility to the point of discomfort.
You see, I was very uncomfortable hiking with Ducky. I did not know her and she exhibited enough warning signs to justify initial caution.
But when I realized she was very harmless and abundantly benevolent, my attitude did not change much--I was still uncomfortable with the whole thing.
I remembered Jesus forgiving the sins of prostitutes and touching the lepers and healing them. There wasn't much, if anything at all, that made Him uncomfortable, because He is humble and lowly of heart. He was able to reach out to those around Him without flinching or blinking because He was completely non-assuming when He had every right to stick His nose in the air.
Seems there is another attribute found in Ducky which makes her so special: Christ-likeness. Very few people have the meekness which this woman had. I rejoice that it did not take a mental illness for me to realize this, though I have no doubt I would be better off with Alztheimer's if it otherwise meant I could not see this important aspect of humility requiring us to be undiscomfortable [sic].
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| A few days ago, a friend of mine invited me to a prayer vigil at his church. Not knowing much about it, I decided to go without much hesitation. A long bit of prayer amongst fellow believers sounded really inviting.
When we got there, I walked in on a large room (for this particular church is the size of a city block if not bigger) filled with festive people and a huge buffet table. I was a little hungry, but I decided to pass on the pizza, muffins, slim jims, soda, and coffee and accepted only a bottle of water before seating myself on sofa, as I was a little parched.
After several minutes of fellowship, the pastor called the entire room to order and began in prayer for everyone in the room and uplifted the lost souls in the community. Several others followed suit, eventually shifting from the souls to a dramatic production the church was hosting. Someone even prayed for the costumes to look cute. Another person asked God to make one of the parking attendants do as he was told.
A couple people began telling stories while our heads were bowed. Everyone called it prayer, but one particular woman was clearly addressing the group with an anecdotal account of something which greatly touched her. She added an awkward "God" near the end, maybe to remind herself that was who she was supposed to be addressing.
Several elders lifted up their voices in prayer. Some of them were sincere, but others sounded hollow, if a little bored. I was reminded of an exasperated Girl Scout reciting her sales pitch for the umpteenth time.
At this point, there were numerous disturbances at the buffet table. People were loading up plates in the middle of prayer! My water bottle nearly burst in my hand, I squeezed it so tightly. I may have even chipped a tooth as my jaws clenched together tightly. I could not understand how someone could be so irreverent toward the Creator that they would shovel food into their mouth or disruptively whisper and cajole one another while He is being invoked by His children to move among the lost.
I opened my eyes and pointedly glared at the people, though I was a guest in their church. They never saw me, though the pastor certainly did. He and I made eye contact. I shook my head before bowing it once more.
The scene shifted. A softer voice began praying, and it was such a sweet sound that I opened my eyes and peered around bowed heads and shoulders to see who it was.
A young boy, no older than thirteen, was praying for God to move on the hearts of the community and to preserve us all from the devil. The simplicity of the prayer was so powerful as to be overwhelming. The boy was scared, yes, but the Lord responded to his prayer of faith so resoundingly that the hairs on my arm stood up.
Others raised their voices, too. Those among the fringes of the room let out genuine if shaky petitions to their God and Father. The presence of the Lord filled the room as we all joined together in one accord, and I do feel we all met with God that day, strangers though some of us were.
Toward the end, one of the elders said he could feel the Lord's presence and thanked Him for hearing us. The emptiness in his tone made me want to say, "No thanks to you, brother."
I prayed for God to soften my heart so that I would not take a judgmental air, and that certainly alleviated the agitation I felt. But the offense was more clear than ever.
Sensing the lull, the pastor then quickly closed the session and said the next one would begin in 20 minutes' time. My friend sensed I wanted to leave, so we shook hands and headed for the door.
The experience mildly impacted me in several ways. Not only was I shown the strengths and errors of church leadership, I was also impressed by the great potential I see in the fringe and in the youth--both humble of heart.
The funny thing is I ask the Lord all the time why He speaks to me as He does, especially when I do things often just to test Him, to see if He will go away. He showed me not only the answer to a fundamental question in my walk with Him, but also the key to power in prayer.
Humility.
The vital yet missing ingredient in church.
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| I found out an interesting symbolic meaning in my name. Nathan is the Hebrew verb "to give." Nun-tav-nun, the three Hebrew letters which make up my name, are like this: 1#] . Yes, I used 1337 scripting for it (the Hebrew lettering looks like this נתן). However, the letter nun is used as parantheses around a few verses in the book of Numbers which the Talmudists separate into a distinct book (making the Torah seven books rather than five) which refer to the era of the Messiah. The letter nun is itself symbolized by a fish.
The middle letter in my name, tav, symbolizes the cross. So, a paranthetical symbol used exclusively to announce the Messiah in Scripture is used to emphasize the cross. Nun-tav-nun. Or Fish-cross-fish. Or ---> + <--- What a name. And to think that as a noun, it means "gift." I've been told by several people that God selected my name for me. I really think there's something to that now. | | |
| Psalm 32:9 Be not like a horse or a mule, without understanding, which must be curbed with bit and bridle, or it will not stay near you. This verse has been tossed to and fro amidst my thoughts for the past few days. Usually, a bit of meditation on it would result in some sort of message God was trying to get through to me, but it seems I was looking in the wrong place. He wasn't trying to tell me something with this verse; He was trying to get me to listen to something He was already telling me. A fruitful discussion among some friends yielded a few realizations for me. I came to grips about what I sarcastically referred to as my "inner destroyer," a deep-set desire to... well, destroy. I'm not a destructive person by nature, and my friends laughed at me, telling me there's nothing intimidating about me at all. I told them there is no emotion attached to it that I know of; certainly not rage. I told them about how a few weeks (or was it months?) ago I had to repent for repressed anger I felt toward God for shackling me into the downward slope of mortality. After cumulative exploration of this, we concluded that my "inner destroyer" was not fueled by anger or rage, but by grief. I asked my friend why he said grief, and he told me the vibe he was getting was that of sorrow due to something lost; aka, grief. When I said that I have not lost anything to give me this deep, instinctual penchant for destruction, and that I have actually felt this destroyer as background noise my entire life, he said that it could be due to something he referred to as "perceived loss," something that which I would feel entitled to yet do not possess, and therefore feel the grief of not having it. It was then that I suggested my former anger toward God having something to do with it. It was then agreed that my self-pity over my mortality and the inhibitive shackles of my humanity could indeed give me a sense of perceived loss, especially if I am driven by an instinctual sense that I am meant to be more than what I see; a blind man being forcibly drawn toward oblivion (my fate outside of Christ Jesus). Time itself is subconsciously perceived as a shackle. My friend said that in my core, I am an investment of power from God, as His Spirit indwells me and gives me life. He likened this to a tree which I have fed grief all of my life due to my perceived loss, and because of this grief, this Tree of Life, so to speak, has yielded a blackened, toxic fruit which makes me feel as a destroyer, one whose self-pity invokes a challenge against futility to break his shackles. However, should I prune away this fruit--or, rather, have my Father, the Vinedresser, prune away the black fruit and dead branches, then a more healthy and positive thing can be directly fed into this core of mine which would change the nature of my fruit from destructive to creative. I don't know all the implications. I don't know the situation, really. All I know is this made a lot of sense, and I feel it may be what God has been trying to communicate to me for awhile, now; maybe even for years, having taken baby steps along the way. If it is the case, more repentance will be in order, as reflection has shown me just how self-pitying I have been for very little good reason. God, help me in this. | | |
| It was impressed upon me today how blind we are to the ways of the LORD. Even when He is in the midst of attending to our prayers which we have long petitioned Him to answer, we cry out for the pain which change always brings. No one has looked upon the face of the LORD without reaping devestation. None have walked the road to intimacy and proximity without being ruined. That broken road is the upheaval of our souls necessary to instilling fertility in an otherwise barren ground. In the midst of suffering the heavy hand of the LORD, it behooves us to remember that nothing is in vain in the LORD. He will avenge, He will repay, He will restore. The renewal of life which comes after the storm of death is worth the worst gales and winds which we will and do face. Being part of the fellowship of His suffering, it is given to us to partake of fragments of His death now, if only to obtain a foretaste of His abundant life. | | |
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