Who I Am

There's a song by Switchfoot called "This Is Your Life." The lyrics are, in part, "This is your life, are you who you wanna be?" The song got me thinking. Am I who I want to be? Who am I, for that matter? I guess I'm a lot of things. I had to make a list.

I am:

• A follower of the Lord Jesus Christ
• A student of those who have something to teach me
• A teacher to those who have something to learn from me
• An uncle
• A son
• A brother
• A friend
• A writer
• A musician
• A poet
  

In short, I am what the Lord, in His grace, has made me. What more could I hope to be? As I've no doubt mentioned, it is my prayer that He will one day make me a husband and a father, but if He doesn't, I'm OK with that. As long as I am who He wants me to be, then I am who I want to be.

A High Calling

I know that I am called to something higher than merely surviving in this imperfect vessel. What purpose can there possibly be in eking out an existence in a temporary world? To what end do the masses strive and struggle to store up earthly treasures for themselves here in this fragile, perilous, momentary existence?

I echo the question uttered by every humanist philospher who has ever lived: what is the point? The difference is that I have the answer.

The humanist sees no "point" because he seeks it in a narrow, myopic, human view of our existence. But there is something greater. There is Someone greater. He created us in this world for a purpose which will come to its ultimate fruition outside of it. He created us to have a relationship with Him.

Each of us is called to discover this high purpose. There is no other purpose. If one does not seek the Creator, for what then, has one been created?

Touched by the Spirit

I had an amazing, life-altering experience the other day. I've been meaning to mention it on my blog for a few days now, but I wasn't quite sure how to share this. But now time marches ever onward, and all I know is that I need to share it, regardless of how.

I've read that one who has been called into the ministry will be touched and blessed by the Holy Spirit before being sent forth to do His work. I've often wondered what that would feel like, and how I would know. How little did I understand. "Oh ye of little faith."

I try to meet with Pastor Fred at least once a week over a cup of coffee. We talk about the church, we talk about ourselves, but most importantly to me, he mentors me. I've learned a great deal about the ministry from him in the last few weeks. I don't know if he realizes just how much those meetings mean to me, but that's a story for another day.

One day last week, we had just finished up such a meeting. We had been discussing, among other things, my calling. After we were done talking, Fred went on his way to another meeting he had scheduled, and I remained behind at the restaurant to do some work on a Bible study I've been working on for quite some time. In fact, it's a study that Fred turned me onto. It's a challenging one, in Romans, about the old nature and the new nature. I've been getting a lot out of it. The Spirit has truly been speaking to me through this study. I've gotten a lot out of it, application-wise. And I'm nowhere near done.

But I had a lot of work to do, so I busted out my study Bible and my notebook and got to work. I proceeded to have what might just be the most blessed Bible study time I've ever had. There were a few moments where the Spirit showed me so much that my eyes welled up just a bit. It was almost overwhelming. And then something amazing happened.

When I first shared with Fred that I'd been called, he told me to keep my eyes open for a verse or a passage that the Spirit would show me, one that would directly speak to my calling. He said I'd know it when I saw it. And he was right.

So there I was, studying a verse in Romans chapter six, when I went to a particular cross-reference and I read it. There it was. The Spirit was speaking to me, and to me alone. These two verses were directly answering a question that had been on my mind from the beginning. I got a little emotional, as I read this passage and thought back on the last few months of my life. I could see the beginning of God's plan for my life playing itself out as, piece by piece, everything fell into place according to His will. I could see not only what he had planned for me, but I could see how He was working to bring it all together. I could see his Will in action, and it was an incredible feeling. Up to that moment in my life, I don't think I've ever felt quite so blessed. But that was about to change.

I packed up my books and, after one quick stop, I started on the drive home. I was happy, I was feeling blessed, and I thought that the Lord deserved some praise, so I fired up my iPod and went straight to the praise playlist. I drove home with praise music blaring on my speakers, and with praise on my lips as I sang to my God. A few moments later, my life changed. I felt an indescribable feeling. I wish I could put into words what I felt. I like to think of myself as something of a poet, but there were no words in my vocabulary for what I was feeling. As I've been rather fond of saying lately, trying to describe what I was feeling would be like trying to describe the color blue to a man who's been blind since birth.

I felt the touch of the Spirit. I felt His holy fire upon me. I felt righteous, blessed energy coursing through me and it was so powerful it darn near knocked the wind out of me. I had to pull over or I was going to lose control of the car. I had to pull onto the shoulder. I could barely manage to pull myself together enough to flip on my hazard lights. I was lost in the power of the Spirit. I was shouting praise at the top of my lungs. I was bursting with it and I couldn't give it to God fast enough or loud enough.

I don't know how long I sat on the shoulder before I was able to get it together enough where I could continue driving. Based on how long it took me to get home, I would have to have been sitting there a good twenty minutes. But time meant nothing to me during that life-changing moment.

I spent the rest of the day with an ear to ear smile on my face. How could I not? I had been in the Lord's presence. And I will never be the same.

The Opportunist

Luke 4:13 - "When the devil had finished every temptation, he left Him until an opportune time."

And that's really what the devil's all about, isn't it? He's nothing but an opportunist, with all the negative connotations that word entails. Like the disease-ridden mosquito that waits for the opportune moment to strike, to steal away your life blood, small, almost imperceptible amounts at a time, so is the enemy. He lurks, never putting himself at risk, watching, waiting until an opportunity presents itself, and then he strikes.

But I place my hope in the Lord God Almighty. I will not fear. I will be wise to the devil's workings, but I will not fear him.

On marriage

I've been giving a great deal of thought lately to the institution of marriage. A lot of things are to blame for this... My own fairly recent divorce and my subsequent longing for companionship chief among them. This has been long overdue, though. After a year of deftly avoiding the emotional fallout of the end of my marriage, it's time to figure out what lessons were learned, cowboy up and take the pain, and then move on.

I have shined the aforementioned light of Christ into my life, and it has thrown my various shortcomings into sharp relief. With a painful clarity, I can look back on my life and see all the stupid things I've ever done to mess it up. It's a good thing, though. Acknowledging one's shortcomings is the first step toward eliminating them (which, perhaps, is why I've quit smoking and lost 40 pounds in the last two months).

There seems to be a great deal of discussion (and frequently, controversy) over the role of a woman in a marriage. But what I've heard very little of is discussion over the man's role in a marriage. Marriage is, after all, a two way street. So many people seem to be concerned over what the Bible says about wives without giving equal weight to what it says about husbands:

Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her, so that He might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, that He might present to Himself the church in all her glory, having no spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that she would be holy and blameless. So husbands ought also to love their own wives as their own bodies. He who loves his own wife loves himself; for no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ also does the church, because we are members of His body. FOR THIS REASON A MAN SHALL LEAVE HIS FATHER AND MOTHER AND SHALL BE JOINED TO HIS WIFE, AND THE TWO SHALL BECOME ONE FLESH.
(Eph 5:25-31 NASB)

We are to love our wives as Christ loves the church. As Greg Laurie says, that's a tall order. Think of the suffering that Christ endured because of his love for us. We are to love our wives like that.

It is with a great deal of regret that I look back on my life with Sunny and I know that I didn't love her like that. Don't get me wrong, I cherished her, and loved her more than life itself, but how can I say with a straight face that I loved her as Christ loves the church? I should have taken care of her, I should have protected her, I should have made her feel like she would always be safe in my arms, but I didn't. My failings as a husband are now abundantly clear to me. But that's what the light is for, isn't it?

I need time. Time to grow as a person, and more importantly, to grow in Christ. The Lord is working in me, and I know He has a plan for me. Whether that plan includes another marriage, well, I guess I'll find out. I do long for someone to share my life with. I harbor dreams of a future filled with love, happiness, and children. In those dreams, the woman's face never quite comes into focus. Whoever she is, I hope she knows that as long as I draw breath, I will take care of her, I will protect her, I will hold her in my arms and never let her go. I will love her as Christ loves the church, and we will be one flesh.

A Link with the Past

A few days ago I drove down to San Diego with my church. The San Diego Natural History Museum was displaying the Dead Sea Scrolls, for what appears to be the last time outside of Israel. I had to take the opportunity to see them before they were gone for good.

On top of that, it was really an outstanding opportunity for fellowship with my brothers and sisters in Christ. I developed much closer relationships with some very faithful Christians, and that can only be a good thing. I also had a couple of good talks with Pastor Fred about my walk with the Lord. Overall, it was an incredibly enlightening couple of days.

To be honest, though I was very interested in seeing the scrolls, I thought I would be approaching this in an almost academic sense. It was a chance to see how the people who wrote them lived, and what they believed. The theologist in me was excited.

But I was unprepared for the emotional impact that the exhibit would have on me.

The way the exhibit was organized, we first walked through a gallery of photos of the Holy Land. Next to each photo was information documenting the subject of each photo. I learned quite a bit about Israel this way. Then the exhibit turned to scale models of Qumran, and replicas of the jars the scrolls were found in. There was a full size replica of the tents that the people who excavated Qumran lived in as they worked in the desert. And then there were videos documenting the preservation efforts of the scrolls.

This is where I started losing it.

Just seeing them on video was overwhelming. I was almost dreading seeing the scrolls in person. I'd probably fall to my knees and start blubbering like a baby.

But I bravely soldiered on and moved to the next portion of the exhibit. This part was beyond cool. The area where the scrolls themselves were on display was down in the basement of the museum. The entrance to the area was a replica of the cave the scrolls were found in. Like I said, beyond cool.

Walking past the entrance, we entered the gallery where the scrolls themselves were on display. Only I didn't see them yet. First, more information on the lives of the people that we believe wrote the scrolls. They were a highly orthodox sect of Jews that segregated themselves from the mainstream Jewish population. I got to see how they lived. I saw some of their personal belongings. Their combs, their phylacteries, their cups and plates, and even their money. The upswell of emotion was growing within me. These were people who literally gave up everything they owned, and everything they were, to fellowship with the Lord. They devoted their lives to Him. I almost felt a certain kinship with them.

And then I saw the first scroll. It was an awesome sight. The parchment was brown, cracked, very damaged, but the writing on it was as clear as if it had been written yesterday. I think that's what really got me. These words were being written down on this paper when my Lord and Saviour was walking the earth in human form, I thought. What an amazing thought. The people that wrote these scrolls wrote them under the same skies that saw our Lord Jesus Christ die on the cross. Wow. What else can you say to that? Just, wow.

The whole experience was faith affirming. I'm reminded that, during the time in my life when I was not living as a Christian, one of my "arguments" against Christianity was that the Bible had been translated so many times that it was unlikely that it still said the same things it used to say. Kind of like when you play "telephone" at a party when you're a kid. The message is always wrong when it gets to the other end of the line.

And here are these documents, written 2000 years ago, long before the Bible was translated into anything other than its original Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic. And they say exactly the same things. The Word of God. Unchanging and eternal. Praise the Lord.

The Light of the World (thoughts on John 9)

The Lord may put us into situations in which we may display His power and His glory. We were created for His glory.

When we walk in Christ, we do not stumble. Jesus is the Light. Only through Him can we know the way. The Pharisees were blind because they walked in darkness.

The presence of light reveals the condition of one's eyes. We cannot know that we are blind if we walk in total darkness. In much the same way, the presence of the Lord reveals the condition of one's soul. We must use the glorious spiritual Light of God to continually check ourselves. In the Light, we can no longer cloak our sin. (John 3:19-21)

"Whereas I was blind, now I see." The blind man's testimony is simple, straightforward, and to the point. There is no embellishment. It gives all the glory and credit to God. His past is irrelevant. No focus is given to how much of a sinner he was. Only that before he walked in spiritual darkness, and now he walks in spiritual light. What a powerful statement. This, truly, is the message.

The Pharisees ask the man repeatedly how it was that he came to see. He tells the Pharisees, "I have told you already, and ye did not hear." They did not hear because, though the spiritual light had been shined onto them, they remained blind to the truth. The condition of their souls had been revealed.

"Dost thou believe on the Son of God?" This, ultimately, is the question. It is the question that leads us to salvation in the grace of the Lord. The man's answer points to his eagerness to seek God: "Who is he, Lord, that I might believe on him?" We must seek God with this same eagerness. "Lord, I believe."

The way is hard

Up until a few weeks ago, I was a lukewarm Christian at best. I loved the Lord, but I wasn't living like a Christian should. I wasn't reading my Bible regularly, I wasn't studying it, I prayed once every few days at best, and usually only when I needed something. But, through a combination of events, Christ has grabbed me by the lapels and told me, in no uncertain terms, that my days of passive belief are over.

Perhaps some backstory is in order.

I came to know the Lord when I was in the third grade. That was the year I started attending a private Christian school in San Juan Capistrano. I spent the next four years driving my jaded, cynical father crazy. We argued about creation, the divinity of Christ, and who knows what else. At one point, when I was in the fourth grade, he even called my school to complain about what they were teaching me. It was a Christian school. What did he expect?

The day he called, I remember coming back in from recess and seeing the principal waiting for me. Now, I was a Christian, and I was a good kid, but trouble tended to follow me, so this wasn't the first time the principal had been waiting for me to return from recess. It usually wasn't anything good.

But this time, he walked up to me, with a look of respect and admiration on his face, and he reached out and shook my hand. He told me he'd had a conversation with my father. He congratulated me for fighting the good fight, for keeping the faith, for being a soldier of the Lord.

It's a moment I'll never forget.

Sadly, by the time I entered the eighth grade, my parents could no longer afford the private school, and I started attending public schools. Surrounded by drugs, alcohol, and with no church to go to (I was the only believer in my family, after all), I started to backslide. By the time I was in high school, I was a self declared agnostic, and I was a punk. I was lost.

It was in high school that I met my future wife (now my ex). She had had a strict religious upbringing, and was rebelling against it. That was one of the things on which we bonded. We laughed at the stupid Christians, believing in their magic sky pixie.

I continued living like that until I was about twenty, when, through a close friend (thank you, Mitchell, wherever you are), I again found my faith.

Though I had rediscovered my faith, I remained lukewarm, paying lip service to the Lord. I talked the talk, but I didn't walk the walk. Things got better when I found a church in Michigan that welcomed me in whole-heartedly, with open arms and with open hearts (Delta Community Christian Church, I'll love you guys forever). But I still wasn't the Christian I should have been.

I've since moved away from that church, and some of my friends were concerned I might begin to slide again. They were right to be concerned. But it was when I moved back to California that something amazing happened. It was like a switch got flipped. I felt the Lord calling me. I felt Him at work inside me. Don't you leave me, Sergio Di Martino, he said. I felt a fire inside. I felt, and still feel, the Holy Spirit burning inside me. The Lord directed me to a new church. They have welcomed me with open arms, and with open hearts. I feel the Spirit at work there, like I did at DCCC. And He moves me. I wish to commune with Him daily. I wish to know Him more. I wish to be with Him at every moment. I wish to walk with Him always.

The way is hard. The devil works against me at every turn. He tries to keep me from getting out of bed in the morning when it's time for the morning watch. He keeps me so busy that it's hard to find time to study the Bible. He tries to fill my heart with anger and with evil, that he may push me away from the Lord.

The way is hard, but that just makes me more committed. I will walk with the Lord always, and nothing, not even the devil himself, will ever seperate me from Him again.

Until the next post,
BigD