Following Christ In A Chaotic World,
Not the textbook kind.
The real kind—the kind that presents risk, fear, and doubt.
The kind that may keep you up at night.
The kind that may lead into the wilderness with no familiar surroundings.
Following Christ is an expectation that the unexpected will happen,
Out of the ordinary on an ordinary day.
Following Him is hearing with acute listening skills,
Knowing His voice, convinced of moving one step at a time,
Filtering out the needless chatter and noise,
At times being comfortable with silence, waiting for the next nudge.
This journey has the promise of His presence,
Never to be alone or abandoned.
Following Christ is a never ending conversation
Talking all things out to the One who is with me.
Self oriented praying, talking about my issues, is awkward and embarrassing,
Yet develops into a bigger view of what He is doing.
He has promised to be present and will NEVER leave me abandoned.
Even when I feel like I’m at the end of my rope.
Following Christ is practicing what helps,
Revising my rhythm to leave behind what doesn’t.
Searching for His lead, His voice, His wisdom,
Even in the silence, empowers me to become someone new.
In the transition, I learn to embrace what I do not understand,
Trusting what I’ve been shown, grasping that I’m His beloved.
I’m learning that my story is not about me,
But about His glory, His fame, His love being known.
Learning to ‘be loved’ by my Creator creates a new identity,
Different than my family or cultural roots.
Following this path is counter the norm.
Preparing for tomorrow ismore than power or possessions.
Planning, planting, stirring the soil, is watering and nurturing what I’ve been given,
Without calculating comparisons or documenting equations.
My search for Him is matched with His search for me.
He is always waiting, relaxed, a true Gentleman.
Traveling this road is a search for like minded sojourners,
Encouraging others to know His voice, trusting His words.
This well worn road involves walking alone at times,
Being a skeptic of those want to be a celebrity,
Refusing to bend to cynics and critics,
Knowing that persecution may cost what I didn’t expect,
Shunned, ignored or losing what others think is valuable.
Pursuing Him involves proclaiming Him, inviting others to join,
Training them to join a life long apprenticeship.
Choosing this road is a quiet conviction of His choosing,
A paradox of my efforts and His leading,
Apart from I can do nothing,
Without my effort and search, I cannot be a part of Him
Flashbacks to what was or might have been,
Are no longer regrets.
Marched by leaving behind the guilt, shame or condemnation in of what was,
As I take more steps, I distance myself from those who care about medals, rewards, earnings or trophies of the here and now.
Guilt and shame do not negotiate a better pathway.
They accuse and condemn, slowing and delaying the journey.
The further I travel, I still sense a wilderness with no map,
Empowering me to trust what He has taught.
Still a child, yearning for safety and Home,
My hope becomes a fire inside.
My faith is defined by an allegiance and loyalty to His presence,
Discerning what does not reflect His character of love and forgiveness.
The reality of His kingdom is filled with risk,
Challenging my old way of thinking, creating desire for what is not yet.
The here and now can be raw, embattled, with hurts, wounds,
Seemingly alone, but surrounded with Him by my side.
Progress on this path has no clipboards or ledgers,
No checklists, or formulas.
But an assurance of His love, His courage, and input.
Traveling this path is not measuring my progress or advancement,
Only a privilege of being invited to see and hear what His kingdom is all about
And maybe your war didn’t look like mine.
Maybe yours was a childhood no one protected.
A relationship that bled you dry.
An addiction that whispered lies until you believed them.
But the wound?
The wound feels the same.
It’s raw.
It’s real.
And it haunts you.
Let me tell you something that took me years to understand:
Jesus isn’t afraid of that wound.
He’s not waiting for you to clean it up.
He’s not standing on the sidelines with a clipboard, judging your scars.
He’s the kind of Savior who walks into the mess—
blood, dirt, tears and all—
and says, “I’ve been here too.”
This series won’t be neat and tidy.
It won’t offer quick fixes or religious clichés.
It’ll be real—because healing starts there.
This is Part 1: The Wound.
Next comes Part 2: The War Within.
Then we’ll close with Part 3: The Healer.
But for now, sit with this truth:
You’re not alone.
And your wound doesn’t disqualify you.
It just means you’re human…
and maybe, just maybe,
you're the kind of person Jesus came running for.
You know.
You know me.
You know my fears, my hopes, my dreams.
You know my coming in and my going out.
You know the number of hairs on my head,
cells in my body,
neural pathways tangled like ivy—
still, you know the way.
You know the prayers I forget to pray,
the words I swallow,
the weight I carry in silence.
You know the ache beneath my laughter,
the longing stitched in every breath.
You know where I’ve come from.
You know where I’m going.
You know when I run,
and you stay.
You know me—
before I knew myself,
before I was breath and bone.
You know.
You know me.