There are two verses in the Bible that God has had me dwelling on lately:

“Anyone who listens to the Word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like.”  — James 1:23-24

As a parachurch minister and full-time author/speaker, I’ve been stripped down to nothing. Every event we had scheduled through May has canceled, and June may be yet another series of cancellations. Our finances hang in the balance. My weekly routine of hopping on and off of planes to speak to a group of men has been replaced by staying home. My once-longed-for desire of just pulling the plug and sitting in front of the TV has been replaced by being absolutely tired of TV. And as this has happened, I have come to the harsh reality that I’ve looked into a mirror many times over the past decade, only to immediately forget what I look like.

But now it’s not just a single mirror that I can simply turn away from. With every distraction, and even my very occupation, being  temporarily removed, I feel like I’m standing in a veritable Fun House full of mirrors. And no matter where I turn, there’s another mirror in front of me. Just like that Fun House, every mirror casts a different reflection – a radically distorted reflection of who God truly wants me to be.

My “Husband Mirror” zooms into me close up, revealing that I’ve spent way too much time being “Me” centered. I always talk about my day and rarely ask about hers.

The “Spending Time with Family Mirror” casts a skinny reflection, showing me that I don’t spend enough time with them.

The “Tithing Mirror” distorts me so that I look fat, clearly reflecting that I’ve been storing up instead of sowing. The unfounded fear of lack has caused me to keep it all for myself. I’ve grown bloated from withholding what really belongs to God.

My “Fatherhood Mirror” sometimes just makes me disappear completely, as I’ve focused on work and ministry year after year after year.

My “Time with God Mirror” makes me look short. Just like the time I spend with Him.

Everywhere I turn, God is revealing something that I’ve been doing my way, and now, no matter which direction I turn, He shows me something else. I can no longer turn and walk away from one mirror and forget, because there’s always yet another mirror in front of me.

And one by one, in the midst of seemingly having nothing left, He is revealing that I already have everything. We all do.

So much good is coming out of this season:

I’m spending more quality face-to-face time with my wife, and I’m listening more than I’m speaking. Or at least I’m a work in progress with that one.

I’m now more connected with my kids than I have been in years, because I’m intentional about reaching out to them. Nothing is competing for my time.

In spite of not knowing what our financial future holds, and facing a monumental shift in our day-to-day life as a ministry, I’ve rededicated myself to being an obedient and joyful tither because God says: “Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,” says the LORD Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it.” – Malachi 3:10 NIV

With the gym closed, and no urgent email replies needed, I’ve again put my quiet time with God in first position. And not just a verse or two, but dedicated time to study His Word, meditate on it, and devoted prayer time.

I’ve made a solemn commitment to not carry my old habits back into my life after this momentary time of introspection. I’m pressing into the King of kings, and I’m leaving the results up to Him. I’m going to emerge from this season with only a single mirror, and I won’t forget what I look like ever again.

What about you? What is God showing you in this time of mandatory rest and solitude?

“Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ” – Philippians 1:6 NKJV

David Dusek is founder and director of Rough Cut Men Ministries, author of  the #1 Best Selling “Rough Cut Men: A Man’s Battle Guide to Building Real Relationships With Each Other and With Jesus” and creator of the “Who Has Your Six” Men’s Ministry Video Series. Rough Cut Men has been presented to NASCAR teams, at West Point and the U.S. Naval Academy, at military bases around the world and at hundreds of churches and men’s conferences of every denomination around the world. To find out more about the Rough Cut Men, or to book David for an upcoming men’s event, head over to our website and Contact Us.

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Finally, they found a place to live permanently. Or so they thought. Then their world again fell apart, through no fault of their own, and they found themselves looking for a new home. But this time it was different. You see, this young man is my son. And about a year ago, we reconciled all of our collective differences and he became one of my best friends. In the midst of their deteriorating housing situation, they would come over a few times each week. My wife and I encouraged my son to find a new job, and he did. All he needed was one small victory to see his own potential. They moved into our house, short term, at the beginning of December. For the first time in years, we had an excited 4-year-old in the house on Christmas morning. In truth, we had really only seen her about a dozen times over the first three years of her life, so it was a joyful time in our home. Since we both work from home, my son and I spent our days sitting across the dining room table from each other, working on our respective laptops.

They found a home in South Carolina and just recently relocated. Honestly, it’s left a bit of hole in our world because we’d grown accustomed to our granddaughter talking up a storm at 7:30 every morning over chocolate chip pancakes. I miss seeing my son across the table from me, but I know God has a plan. The entire time they lived under our roof, we did our best to show the love of Christ, in spite of all of the past battles.

On the final Sunday that our extended family lived with us, they came to church. They’d been coming regularly, but we were still always a bit shocked to get a “Yes” to our weekly invitation to join us. We drove separately to church that morning, because the kids had to say a few “Goodbyes” to other family members before heading north for the foreseeable future. On the way to church, his wife began feeling sick. The closer we got to church, the worse the nausea got. We were unaware of what was happening in the car behind us, but when we arrived in the parking lot of the church, my son ran over and nearly collapsed in my arms, sobbing.

“I didn’t know what to do”, he said between sobs, “so I put my hand on her back and asked God to take the sickness away”. Then he whispered into my ear, so as not to be heard by his wife, “She just got out of the car and said, ‘I beat it’, but I know it was God.” Now running late for service, we walked quickly into the building and found a place to sit. As we stood for worship, my son and his wife both sat in their seats. My son was crying. His wife leaned into him and said, “For the first time in a long time, I feel hope.” As our pastor brought the message, which happened to be the beginning of a month-long series, the final Scripture was displayed on the screen…

“They will be able to place their hands on the sick, and they will be healed” –Mark 16:18b NLT

I casually threw an elbow into my son, and he looked up and smiled. It was that day that my son rededicated himself to Jesus. He had indeed come home. Sitting right beside him, his wife handed the Lordship of her life over to Christ. And that afternoon, instead of watching cartoons, all three of them sat on the couch and watched VeggieTales videos (on VHS tape, old school style).

My son even went to my Tuesday night small group. On the way through the door, I cautioned him that they may ask him to talk and I assured him that I would “deflect and absorb” so that he didn’t need to speak. “I’ll talk about everything”, he commented. And believe me, he did. As he recounted every detail, he concluded with a statement that I will never forget. “You know”, he said, “I’ve done a lot of people dirty. I’ve done horrible things to people and abandoned them without warning. I would get tired of rules, and just move on to the next house, starting with his.” He pointed at me as he brought his story to a close, “And the one I treated the worst is the only one who was willing to welcome me back. It didn’t matter what I had done, they just let us move in. My Dad showed me who God really is by forgiving me and opening the house up to my family.”

Know this. Prodigal children do come home, so get that robe and ring ready. Our job is to love them until they do. And when they do, no words need to be spoken. Just love them. God will handle the rest, because He wants them back more than we do. He loves them more than we can.

I guess you could say that both God and I got our son back. And all praise goes to our mighty God.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.”

— 1 Corinthians 13:4-5

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I’m a Christian man.  I’m a follower of Jesus, a husband and a dad.  I’m also the director of an international speaking ministry.  And I’m tired of getting my butt kicked by the enemy.

Every single morning for a while now, I get up praying that today will be better than yesterday. I do my best to talk myself into being positive and all it takes is one deviation from a “good day” for me to turn into Johnny Raincloud.  It’s not like I don’t know what to do.  I pray, I ask God to help me and I certainly have the faith to know that He’s there, and that He cares.

But deep down inside, I wonder how I got here.  How did I get to this place where I don’t even want to get up again.  After all, every time I get up, I just get pounded, so it’s easier to just stay down.  You know what I mean?  Just when the budget is right, the refrigerator dies.  Or just when I think I’m doing things right by my kids or my wife, it goes south.  And suddenly, apathy becomes the new normal.

And the worst part of all?  In spite of my gift of building men up, I have been unable or otherwise incapable of self-diagnosing why I’m in this hole.

That is, until I was speaking with a good friend, a young Chaplain in the Army, and I was finally able to verbalize what I’ve been feeling.

No, it isn’t apathy nor is it defeat.  I’m just plain sick and tired of getting shot at by the enemy.  I’m angry about it.  I’m righteously indignant even.  I’m on this mission, and every time I am ready to move forward, that sniper fires a shot at me from the treeline and I duck back down into my foxhole of apathy.  At first, I would fight back.  But after a while, I expected to receive harassing fire, so I stopped moving.  Even my battle buddy is down, so there’s no covering fire either.

I have this friend named Will Parish. Will was drafted into the Army in 1963 and served 2 years…and 4 days.  Those last four days, SP4 Parish was a machine gunner with Charlie Company, 1^st Battalion/7^th Cavalry Airmobile in the Central Highlands of Vietnam.  He is one of the guys from the Battle of Ia Drang made famous by the movie We Were Soldiers.

Will isn’t a fan of being called a “hero”.  He’ll tell you that he “just did my job”. But SP4 Parish did something pretty epic.  He says he doesn’t remember much about the night that his foxhole was about to be overrun by the enemy, but he does recall thinking, “I don’t even know these guys and they’re trying to kill me” and “Aren’t they ever going to run out of people?”  By the way, at the outset of this 3-day battle, our guys were outnumbered about 5 to 1.

It was dark, and Parish and his ammo man were on the backside of the LZ (Landing Zone).  The major part of the battle was behind them, and Parish had placed trip wires attached to flares across the treeline in case the enemy approached the clearing where their foxhole was.

Suddenly, those little trip flares started lighting up, so Parish started unloading his M-60 at the treeline.  Sure, he doesn’t remember much that happened after the first expended shell ejected onto the ground.  But, by the time it was over, Will Parish had killed over 100 enemy soldiers. When I asked him how he did it, he simply said:

“I just kept firing until the enemy stopped coming.”

It’s time for me to view this battle in my life differently.  I have this enemy who wants to “steal, kill and destroy” (John 10:10).  Satan may be an expert at demoralizing me, but he’s outgunned, outmanned and destined to lose.  Period.

The Bible says “Greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world.” (1 John 4:4)

I’m turning this feeling of defeat into pure, unadulterated soldier power.  The same power that raised Jesus from the dead lives in me (Romans 8:11).  I’m not going to stay down any longer.  You can shoot at me, but you won’t kill me. You can rattle me with noise, but no weapon forged against me will prosper (Isaiah 54:17).

I’m mad, and I’m not going to take it any more. I’m going to keep firing. I am a soldier in the army of the Most High God.

Lock and load!

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David Dusek is founder and director of Rough Cut Men Ministries and author of Rough Cut Men: A Man’s Battle Guide to Building Real Relationships With Each Other and With Jesus. Rough Cut Men has been presented to NASCAR teams, at West Point and the U.S. Naval Academy, at military bases around the world and at hundreds of churches and men’s conferences of every denomination. To find out more about the Rough Cut Men, or to book David for an upcoming men’s event, please check out roughcutmen.com. 

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“You call yourself a Christian, bro?”  I lit into him, “You judge everybody.  You walk into church and avoid the people that you don’t like.  You mumble under your breath about ‘How irritating’ or ‘How annoying’ people are.  Dude, you complain about slow drivers and even slow shopping carts at the store.  Everybody is an idiot or a jerk”

He didn’t say a word as I continued my full frontal assault, “You talk a good game, but look at your life, man.  You counsel guys on how to be God-honoring husbands and you can’t make it a week without having a verbal brawl with your wife.  I’m surprised she doesn’t just pack her bags and leave sometimes.  And your own children hardly even talk to you anymore, but you think you can tell some other guy how to raise kids.”

Now I was on a roll, so I kept hammering. “You talk about faith, but every time the money runs low or things don’t work out like you want, I half expect you to jettison everything and just walk away from God.  You can hardly pay the bills half the time and you never even know where the next money is coming from!  You’re in your forties and you don’t even have a retirement plan, a weekly paycheck or a real job.  How can you live like that?  You call yourself a man?”

At the end of the character assassination, I decided to move in for the kill. “And look at you, bro.  You’re overweight, balding and gray.  You were doing great with your gym regimen, but you blew it and got out of the habit.  And not just working out, but your diet and even your Bible disciplines suck.” He looked up at me, with his face still half-covered in shaving cream, completely dejected.  “But I just got that e-mail from that guy who said that he wished that his walk was perfect like mine”, he objected.

“Really?”, I retorted, “who do you think you’re kidding?  That guy just doesn’t know you the way that I do.  If he did, he would probably just stop talking to you altogether.  You’re nothing more than a wannabe Christian with a cheap plastic Cross.”

I looked back into the mirror and wiped the excess shaving cream off of my face.  Yet another morning facing my own worst enemy— Me.  Not a day goes by where I wish I hadn’t said “that” or done “that”.  Mornings often consumed by worry and regret detract from the real miracle that occurred in my life over a decade ago. My salvation.  My rescue from the pit of Hell.  The debt was paid in full and I am free.

Sanctification is a journey.  It’s a process.  And it takes a lifetime and even then, I won’t be made perfect until I am in the presence of Jesus Himself, seated on His Throne.  I need to stop beating myself every morning and start focusing on how far I’ve come, not how short I fall.

So today, I confess that I will fail.  I will say something stupid, or think something even worse.  But less for the Grace of God go I.  It’s a new day, and His mercies are new again today.  Yesterday has been removed from the record books, and God has again push the Holy “Reset” button.

Have you ever felt like this?

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus”—Romans 8:1

Glory to God!

David Dusek is founder and director of Rough Cut Men Ministries and author of Rough Cut Men: A Man’s Battle Guide to Building Real Relationships With Each Other and With Jesus. Rough Cut Men has been presented to NASCAR teams, at West Point and the U.S. Naval Academy, at military bases around the world and at hundreds of churches and men’s conferences of every denomination. To find out more about the Rough Cut Men, or to book David for an upcoming men’s event, please check out roughcutmen.com.

Photo Credit:  NPR istock photo

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