Metamorphosis

In a previous post, I mentioned that I would be digging up some stuff that was deep in my heart, at the prompting of my lovely bride, who knows all my vulnerabilities.  Yes, it's very easy for me to go on rants about the sordid State of our Union — there is, after all, so much to rant about!  But she behooved me to dig a little deeper, and be a little more transparent.

Now, my brain usually "flits about" on quite a number of subjects during any given day, so please be patient with my feeble attempts at a cohesive train of thought.  No promises.

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Sometimes, the weight of being the leader of a family of 7 overwhelms me, and like any red-blooded person, I tend to look for harmless little "steam valves" to let off some of the pressure.  As I have always been a notoriously pragmatic guy, I don't often find myself getting lost in the most popular fantasy-fiction novels or spending any time on video games — the later of which I have already squandered enough of my youth on.  Occasionally, the Mrs. & I will take in a film at the cinema, although we choose to "screen" our film choices (pun intended) through rigorous review before we even set foot in the theatre.  Without going into too much more detail, I find that my "steam valve options" are not only limited in scope (a scant subset of the world's available diversions), but they also seem few and far between.  After all, large blocks of free-time simply aren't to be had, in good conscience, at this stage of my life.

So, I try to take mini mental vacations whenever the moment affords me the opportunity.  Maybe listening to a new alt-bluegrass recording in the car on the way to work, or checking out a ton of library books on country living or affordable (read: non-conventional) building techniques.  Maybe indulging in post-collapse fiction novels like this and this.  Sometimes, blogging helps.  But there are things I can't escape, nor would I.

I am undergoing a metamorphosis.  I used to be defined by words like:

• pastor
• music theory buff
• guitarist
• obnoxious
• ice cream (OK, I'm still defined by that one)

These days, I want to identify with other words, like:

• homesteader
• hunter
• history buff
• writer
• gardener
• quiet
• tanner (not this kind, but this kind)

I'm becoming more and more convinced that "city-life" (with its ever-present cultural trappings) represents nothing more than an intrusive and undesirable buffer between me and the Lord of all creation.  I mean, doesn't it seem as though most of the parables Jesus presented, about the Kingdom of God, are told from an agrarian, rural context?  To the extent that I am immersed in the city, the culture of "Babel", I am woefully unable to experientially(?) grasp many of the meanings deep within these amazing revelations.  In other words, the Parable of the Sower (Luke 8:4-8) means very little to an X-box-loving, Harry-Potter-watching, American-Idol-chasing city-dweller.  But to a homesteader or gardener, who grows his family's food from the ground, it's loaded with deep meaning and diverse implications.  I want my life — and the lives of my immediate family members — to reflect the anchored life of a Christ-following agrarian.  Communion with the Lord can be much richer, here, and diabolical distractions be seen for what they are.  I want to see the word "harvest" and not automatically think of an arena festival featuring Greg Laurie.  I want to know exactly where the meat I'm eating comes from, and how it was processed.  I want to be prepared to survive and thrive, when — not if — our customary food distribution system is interrupted.

I want to be free from consumer debt.

Now, I can't seem to rid myself of the fundamental need to prepare for the undesirable (and inevitable) outcome of the direction of this generation.  So, if you have an aversion to anything that smells like "preparedness", you can stop reading here, and I will consider myself honored by your time in reading thus far.

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There is a prophet in our home church fellowship, whose name is Mike, he's probably in his early 60's.  I must confess that when I first got to know him, I was childishly perturbed at how much scripture he could just rattle off from memory... it was (and is) astounding and humbling, and my flesh didn't like being humbled by his example, not one little bit.  He is an otherwise meek and soft spoken individual, but every Sunday, when the Word of the Lord comes out from him like a fire shut up in his bones, people sit up and take notice.  And rightly so.  I feel the Lord is speaking to us through Mike's exhortations to stay right with the Lord, and to be prepared for a "storm" of global proportions.  Did the Lord bring us here to the Flathead Valley, to this local home fellowship (and away from mega-churches), for the specific purpose of verbally confirming the compulsion we first felt by the Holy Spirit to move to the American Redoubt?  I believe so.  After all, "we walk by faith, not by sight" (2 Cor.5:7).  Thanks, Mike, for reminding me of this.  And thanks for being a mentor to me, whether you are aware of it or not.

There are SO many signs along our path, that lead me to believe that the Lord is moving our family (sometimes kicking and screaming) into a life of voluntary simplicity, of Biblical agrarianism.  I know this will not happen overnight, but I am convinced that the Lord is working in all things to move us in that direction.

[Now, here comes the proselytising.  I can't shut up the fire, no sir.]

If you have even the slightest inkling that what I'm saying is compelling you to your own action toward this path, I exhort you to take whatever steps you can take, immediatley — however small.  And keep on taking them.  Don't ever lose sight of the seed-of-a-vision that God is planting in your heart.  Keep watering it with the Word, "watch and pray", and keep your powder dry, as they say.