Walk in the Woods

Nik Curfman 10/28/20 Nik Curfman 10/28/20

Abstraction: What I Deny Myself

I deny myself the touch I most long to feel, because I assume He feels the same way about me as I do.

Thankfully, He does not.

No judgement I may level or feeling I feel is as real as His love for me.

Once, twice, and a third loop I made around the dusty gravel parking lot.

Out of habit I continued to march, and search without aim for an answer.

Between the low hum of the highway beyond the road and the crunch of gravel below, I mumbled a tired prayer.

Then my thoughts turned dark, as the day began to fade behind mountains and her friends.

I felt cut off from the One I long to love, and my heart burdened by sorrow.

This seemed to be the perfect setting for my state of being.

Though surrounded by beauty, I am featureless and gray, tinged with sad regret. My highest purpose is to be used by others when they need me.

My life reduced to the tasks I complete and the promises I keep, “What am I worth?” I wonder.

He answered softly, “I am always in you. It is you who judges you and dismisses Me.”

“When you deny your worth, you punish yourself. And we suffer the disconnect you imagine now.”

“But I am still, and always, here with you.”

For the first time, I looked up.

The stars now awake, began to light their lamps for the evening show. The grief of the day replaced by the splendor of a starry night sky.

This is why I show up to dusty parking lots on the backside of nowhere.

To find my way back to Him, through the pain and self-pity, until my hand is holding His.

Whatever distance I sense is the punishment I inflict when I feel I am not worthy.

I deny myself the touch I most long to feel, because I assume He feels the same way about me as I do.

Thankfully, He does not.

No judgement I may level or feeling I feel is as real as His love for me.

As an ancient poetically once wrote:

“I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God.”

Amen.

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Nik Curfman 9/25/20 Nik Curfman 9/25/20

DJ: #69 Ask And You Shall Receive?

How many of us prayed prayers and watched them die, watched the opposite happen? I prayed all spring for a relationship only to watch it fall apart. When I step back, it was best. I needed to go on in my way with Jesus, and her in her way with Jesus. But still, couldn’t we have done it together? Perhaps. But we didn’t.

Jesus made a number of crazy claims and promises, but none more troubling than Mark 11:24. I’m wrestling with it today, and I desperately want to believe Him. And if I do, then what? What do I ask for, what’s my motivation, and does that even matter? (Oh…you need a reminder? I would too. I remember words, but rarely the book, chapter, and verse.) Let’s review, and I’ll add context by including verse 23 (New Nik Version):

“I am telling you, if any of you says to that mountain, “get your ass into the sea” without doubt, but you believe it will happen, it’s gonna happen. Keep what I say in your heart. Therefore, whatever you ask our Father in prayer, believe for it, hold it and continue on in faith, and you will receive it, and it will be yours.”
Mark 11:23-24 (NNV)

More to my point this morning, what do I do with this promise by Jesus? What I truly want is strong, confident woman to marry and adventure through life as a team. I want a woman in love with Jesus, and herself. And yet…my heart still had room for her. She is still learning and growing. More importantly, she doesn’t want me. It’s a real deal breaker. LOLOLOLOL (I’m truly laughing with joy as I type this. I want someone who wants me. It’s rule #1.)

Over the last month or so, I’ve felt a healthy and good disconnect from her. It needed to happen regardless of what the future holds. And then I read Mark 11. Do I pray for a generic woman, yet to surface on my radar? Or her? Do I sit in faith and hope? I don’t know. I don’t think there is a wrong answer.

Part of me just wants to move on. If I trust the Lord and if she comes back around in a romantic sense, do I need to pray for it? In this mindset I wouldn’t need to pray for anything. I think my issue is whatever ask for in prayer, I will put thought and emotion behind. And as I typed those words I know what to do. This is about trusting Jesus and not specific desires. The Lord has a plan and destiny for me, and that’s all I want.

Lord,

You know my desire for a strong and healthy relationship with a strong and healthy woman. I want a great family, full of love and joy, and peace. I ask you to prepare my heart and mind for the journey. Prepare her heart and mind for the journey. Surround both of us with community to watch over and guide us through the rough moments and pitfalls.

I open my heart for Your best for my life. I trust you Jesus. You know of my love and appreciation for her. And like I’ve done a thousand times this year, I give everything to you. I’m more interested in something glorious and beautiful in your sight, than my mine. Your loving will be done in my life and heart.

(Also, bless her today. Shower her with joy and peace and love.)

Amen.

Nik Curfman 9/24/20 Nik Curfman 9/24/20

DJ: #68 Instant Gratification Ain’t Love

And now there’s more to my life than my buying habits. I do not look for consumption to fill my voids. I no longer burden Hulu or Amazon with the task of personal fulfillment. I do not expect my community to prop me up and define me. For the first time in my life, I love myself. I value me and my talents regardless of how valuable they are to others.

I’ve chewed on this one for while, the difference love and gratification. I’m as guilty as anyone when it comes to confusing the two concepts. I’ve treated myself to large plates of calorie laden food in the name of love, and smoked cigarettes to “calm down.” I’ve binge-watched Harry Potter(multiple times) and spent money on books I’ve never read because I “deserved it.” Like so many others, I believed what the ads and commercials told me. The keys to love and happiness are within my grasp if only I would indulge myself. Everybody else is binging Tiger King on Netflix, why not me?

The real irony is most of these activities- eating, drinking, shopping, watching TV, etc- are perfectly fine on their own. I love Harry Potter*, great food, and finding a good deal on art supplies. I’m also the man who has watched the Secret Life of Walter Mitty at least twenty times this summer, at least. I’ll watch it again. However, none of this is how I love myself. These activities are meant to be space where joy can bloom, but are not joy of themselves.

Love isn’t in what we consume, rather Love is in what we engage, create, and connect. As we love ourselves, we drop judgment and the need for purpose. We exist in a moment for the sake of being in it. We write because our heart longs to express itself in words. We exercise because our bodies love to move. We remodel furniture because we find joy in redemption. We sit in His presence not to be transformed into the next great Christian minister, but because He’s our home and shelter. We do the things we need to do regardless of value to others. And the more we practice this highest form of self-love, the easier it becomes.

I can’t accurately describe the feeling I felt in May. It was as if someone dropped a stone in my soul. This stone was a complete understanding which united heart and mind to a common purpose. In May, I tried to keep a sinking relationship a float. I began to ignore my needs, and my health deteriorated. Similar to the previous August, my stomach began to spasm and hurt. Then, on the last Friday of the month, the last Friday of my relationship, I went home from work early to rest and allow my stomach to heal.

I sat on my couch and wept for hours. I knew my relationship was going to end soon. My business partnership was in tatters too. And now, my health was on the edge again. I cried out in exhaustion, and that’s when the stone settled in my soul:

I’ve got to take care of myself no matter what. Life will always have ups and downs. I can’t let circumstance dictate how I treat myself any more. I’ve got to eat well, get sleep, exercise, create, write, and pray. Always pray. I’m the best version of me when I sit with Jesus, and that’s the best way to love me. I can’t tear myself down for anyone else. No one was asking for that anyway.
There is a part of life meant for me to love myself. There is a part of my soul only I can love and care for. It was meant for me. No one else can do for me what I can and must do for myself. No one can exercise or pray for me. No one can write for me. No one can feed my soul like this.
And yet there is a place for others as well. It’s a beautiful balance He created.

The summer of 2020 has been about me and Jesus. I’ve spent all the free-time I have in pursuit of me, what’s in my heart to do. Yes, the beginning was difficult. I had to change my priorities…by making myself a priority. I put myself and my interests at the top of the list of “things to do.” I am no longer the last in line for my time and energy, and I start each day by going for walk with Jesus, which sets the tone everyday.

No. I’m not sure where any of this is going. I don’t care. I’d rather live content with who I am and what I’m about than worry about the future. I’d rather live my life in accordance to what gives me life than be numb to it.

I’ve written this blog today for myself and for you. For me, I want to remind myself of what is good, of His goodness. But for you I want to offer you a challenge and promise. For sixty days, sit with Jesus, intentionally, everyday. Be honest in your prayers. Make time to listen to His voice. And read the Gospels. (I read one chapter from one of the Gospels everyday.) Make it the priority of your life. Allow Him to show you how good He is. It’ll change your life.

*I’ll fight any fellow Christian who wants to say Harry Potter is demonic. You have no idea what you’re talking about. In the final book/movie Harry is sacrificed and ends up in Kings Cross Station. He is then resurrected to defeat evil [and a giant snake]. It’s a damn allegory.

Nik Curfman 9/5/20 Nik Curfman 9/5/20

A: Peace In the Fog

He lingered in the mist. His face wet and cold, but not weary. “Memory is a tough chain to break,” he admitted. But soon after, his feet touched earth to the rhythm of a stride, to where he could not answer. Deeper into the mist he went.

Alone in the endless gray cloud, he began to ponder his life back in the old sloppy house. Though he hated it, the routine and ease were comfortable. Predictable. Almost bearable. And still, always a shadow, a derivative of what could be. Never the gospel of genuine substance or Love.

To be in the fog, walking toward an unknown destination was a feat of itself. He battled to leave his tiny dark room, plugged his ears to ignore the shouts of apathy and desperation as he ran down the hallway. And then at the last, he forced himself from the porch, the last visible place of safety, into the Midst.

He wanted a plan, a goal, a point on the map, anything to rest his mind while he strolled. Everything inside him told him he needed a plan, because “it’s responsible.” At nearly 40, how could he look a woman in the face, a potential companion and confess he did “not have a goal?” (He did have a goal, but who wants to hear a grown man say his life goal is to walk with Jesus everyday, into this great expanse? To allow life to dip and duck and rise without doubt? To be himself?)

Without warning or needed explanation, Wisdom rose within him. He stopped to focus on the voice within.

“You no longer need a plan or a goal. You’ve done the will of the Father. You’ve leap into faith, and go daily into the Midst, to know and to be known by the Lord. I promised to see to everything else in your life. And so I shall. You keep walking into the Midst. I’ll get you where you need to be.”

He continued to stand in the fog, no longer interested in the destination. His future will be with the others in the mist, not the miserables back in the house. In the mist, they will understand his heart and his joy. They will not find comfort or have need for elaborate blueprints of control. “Goodbye house mind,” he chuckled. In all his years he never felt the peace he felt in that moment. His mind no longer focused on the future, but on Jesus the Christ.

Nik Curfman 9/3/20 Nik Curfman 9/3/20

A: From Safe into the Mystery

From the thin window in my tiny room I never quiet knew what lay beyond, but now I stood face to face with a thick, misty fog. And though I felt it beckon me onward, panic wrapped my heart.

In silence my dream vanished. The safety and hope of my glossy future disappeared like the make-believe it was, and I possessed nothing to bring it to life. I was empty-handed as ever.

Faithfully, I opened my eyes to reality, to my pathetic room in a sloppy old mansion. “Why had I settled here?” I wondered. The only sign of hope was the light which beamed through the thin window at the far corner of the room. The brightness covered the dark, but only where it could. Still, the glow was warm and invited me onward.

For a beat, I thought about going back to my dream, a return to the shelter of my fantasies. However, on this day, the light seemed too pure to ignore. And as I gazed upon it, I became aware of a sweet aroma leaking through the walls. In combination with the light, they were too much to spurn.

My courage rising, I reviewed what I knew about the bright light, sweet scent, and all Mystery beyond this broken place. In my youth I dared touch it. I dared to believe I could move beyond my need for dreams and comfort. I dared to join my place in Creation.

I gave my dreams one more consideration, how perfect they seemed. Then the reality of the tiny room began to speak. “Those dreams are not where you live, they are where you escape. How long will you hide in this room? Dreaming dreams, but never living life?”

“But Lord, what if I fail at being me?”

“Come with Me, and I will carry you into the future.”

After years of dreaming, the decision made itself. Slowly I swung my feet to the floor, and staggered through the door. My weary legs, acting on their own accord, led me down the hallway. On either side I saw tiny room after tiny room. Like my tiny room, no doors. Like mine, each one filled with a single person.

In some were people dreaming like me, forever focused on the future. Their smiling faces disconnected from their wretched decaying bodies.

On I went until I passed a respectable looking young woman, alone in her chair, facing the door. As I shuffled past, she yelled, “The fuck do you think you’re doing? There’s nothing out there. GO BACK TO YOUR ROOM!”

I didn’t stop to contemplate her words. I couldn’t. My mind was set to give my heart the breath it needed.

Near the end of the hall I heard the cries of those terrorized by the night. They begged for relief, yet when help came they rolled over to start again. Back to the horrors. Among the voices I heard her, the voice of my sister. I raced to her room. From the doorway I screamed, “Wake up!! JOIN ME!” Tears fell from my face, as I wailed in vain. She didn’t hear me. She couldn’t.

Sadly, I found the staircase leading away from this hall of pain. I stopped for a moment, a thousand miserable voices behind me. On cue the One small voice whispered, “Trust Me.”

Without delay, down the steps and onto the front porch I ran. The light was bright on my face, the scent of the outside air sweeter than ever. I shielded my eyes until they adjusted to the new. As they focused I stood in shock by what I saw.

From the thin window in my tiny room I never quite knew what lay beyond, but now I stood face to face with a thick, misty fog. And though I felt it beckon me onward, panic wrapped my heart.

“Lord, what is this? This isn’t a plan. Where do I go? What do I do?”

“Come into the mist. Grab my hand. Let Me lead.”

“Trust Me.”

“Lord, I’m afraid. I don’t know what to do.”

“Trust Me.”

And not wanting to go back, not to the tiny room, to the unfilled dreams, and hopeless hopes. I tripped forward. The sloppy fear at my back no longer dreaming, I marched into the unknown. Off the porch into the great Mystery I slipped, my hand in His.

Nik Curfman 9/3/20 Nik Curfman 9/3/20

DJ: #51 The Expressed Me, Confident or Insecure?

As I finished my prayers I saw myself as having two faces. One was the old insecure sonofabitch, and the other was younger more self assured, still growing. I don’t expect to have all my insecurity rooted out any time soon. But I do expect to continue to grow into myself. I’m in process and I’ve submitted to the One in charge of my transformation.

If you believe in such modern who-hacky, I am a two on the Enneagram. It means I can love and want to help people, but when I’m unhealthy I can turn to people pleasing. I become needy and insecure.

When I finally read books about the Enneagram, I knew I didn’t need to read past two. And fortunately, I’m not an immature two. I’ve progressed along the scale toward the healthy expression of who I am over the last ten years, with a sharp upgrade this summer.

The best version of me- the person I long to be- is truly selfless, confident, empathetic, and personally detached. I use the word detached because throughout my life I judged my self-worth by those around me. I needed to produce change and affect the people around me. I needed their praise. It’s a cup with a hole at the bottom, never full.

What I notice now is my efforts to be selfless, confident, and empathetic can and sometimes are unrecognized. (Really? If my roommate doesn’t say ‘thank you’ when I take out the trash, did I even do it? HAHAHAHAHAH. I was never that bad. I take out the trash cause it needs done, but you get the point.) When I’m healthy, I don’t even think about it. When I’m needy and insecure, I do.

Such is being an imperfect human.

This morning I was locked in a small skirmish with my insecurity. I felt a need to be seen as successful. AND I HATE THAT NEEDY FEELING. It’s so disgusting, and weak.

I expect to have many more battles with my need to be validated. It’s ok. I’ve got a winning streak going against that bastard, and I’m gonna continue to win until his needy ass stops coming around. I am enjoying the spoils of my victories as well, true gratitude, less anxiety, less control, being present. AND…I find less disappointment in the humans around me, because I am not making an unspoken contract with them- my kindness for their validation.

There exists a bit of irony here, in this blog. Everyday I show up to write and post. And my motivations, at times, have been mixed. My truest heart is to show people the loving Jesus, everyday. I want to write about how He loves me, and them, and how life-giving it is. That’s all I really want. And yet, a lingering desire to write well, to be seen as smart and intelligent exists. Weeds growing with the wheat.

Again, such is being an imperfect human.

Part of my healing and growth comes through self-love. I never expected it to be so, but there it is. My daily confessions and positive affirmations are rewiring my brain. And as I wrote in a previous blog, the compliments of others barely register in my ego. I’m thankful for them, but they are no longer fuel. They are no longer needed.

The best fruit is my ability to step out into the undeveloped parts of my heart, to been seen as a fool, or untalented, or unskilled, to show up everyday as me regardless of the outcome or feedback.

Sweet Jesus, thank you for all the seeds you planted in me. Thank you for watering my soil and remaining patient with me. Please continue to pull the weeds of self-doubt and neediness out of my chest.

I don’t need to proof anything to anyone. I do not need to be seen by anyone. I am loved and valued, because I am alive. No matter what.

Nik Curfman 9/2/20 Nik Curfman 9/2/20

DJ: #50 A New Routine

I haven’t failed, and my life isn’t tied to the moment. This simple change in perspective is powerful. I’m not angry or worried about my future. I’m not worried about the client, partially because I know everything and everyone is going to be OK. My future doesn’t hinge on a single event.

This morning I woke up to an email from a client. An ad I created for their business was rejected by Facebook for violating the “Personal Attribute Policy.” After nearly an hour of wrangling, the ad is still in review as of this post. Facebook has tightened their controls to a ridiculous degree, and it is affecting small businesses. They are literally dictating the wording I use…for a local gardening business. A garden business. People trying to help the community get the most out of their home gardens.

Stupid.

I was annoyed. I’m just a man trying to help his clients grow and create business. And, like it or not, Facebook has become an integral part of small business growth. I don’t like it. Facebook can make decisions, like a government, and the rest of us have to adjust. It is what is.

I say I was annoyed, because after wrestling with the beast, I chose a different path. I got up, walked outside, and let my frustration out into the wind. The wind can have it. I don’t need or want it. I can’t control Facebook, and I’m doing the best I can. It is what it is. No need to carry it around all day.

In the past, I was tripped and defeated by moments like this. A tiny hurdle could send me into a spiral of self-doubt. Not today Satan.

Thank you Lord for sticking with me. For teaching me to let go. Thank you for giving me vision for how to love myself when the winds howl in my face. Even to giggle at their failure.

Nik Curfman 8/28/20 Nik Curfman 8/28/20

DJ: #46, Redemption is Sweet

The question I asked myself- how do I be myself in the place?- was a product of a choice I made. I can no longer act helpless every time I come for a visit. I want to enjoy my time here. So I choose to enjoy my time here. I’m gonna get the most out it.

Yesterday I was a bit overwhelmed. Some of it was exhaustion and some of it is being back in the South. In review, I think I had a momentary anxiety attack, but I battled back. Having an anxiety attack is life. They happen. What I will not do is live in a state of anxiety. Anxiety is only the manifestation of something, and whatever that something is, I will face and fight. Every time.

This morning I woke up with a question. How do I be myself in this place? How do I thrive here? It’s an important question because being the South is usually a white-knuckle emotional hell. I try to hang on till I land back in California. The odd thing is my parents, family, and friends are great. Truly. It’s not like a have a ton of awful memories from recent visits.

My snag is my life, my past, when I was a Southerner. I associate the South with a painful past, one filled with humiliation, death, rejection, self-inflicted addictions, horrid life choices, and buckets of shame. Add to it, how much I’ve changed. I am not the same cynical sad sack I was ten years ago. I am a man, a grown ass confident man. Yet, the South in my view is largely still the South. I feel transported back to my shitty past when I step off the plane and the humidity kisses my face, “Welcome back old friend, remember when that person embarrassed you? You’re still not good enough.”

Back to this morning.

The question I asked myself- how do I be myself in the place?- was a product of a choice I made. I can no longer act helpless every time I come for a visit. I want to enjoy my time here. So I choose to enjoy my time here. I’m gonna get the most out it.

The obvious answer to the question is be me. Be the same Nik I am in California. Go for walks. Spend time with Jesus. Refuse to enter into cynical conversations and look for joy where ever it can be found. Most of all, be vulnerable, laugh, and love.

Long walks or hikes are a daily thing in my life. I consider them essential. And in order to be me, I chose to go for a hike in a South Carolina state park near my parents house. As a kid I visited this park few days a year and usually stuck to the playground and sheltered areas. I didn’t think to explore the rest of the park. Today was different.

Today I decided to hike the three and a half mile loop around the perimeter of the park (it’s a small park as most East Coast state parks tend to be.) At the start I was still battling cynicism. The trail head and first half mile were what I expected from a walk in the woods in the Sandhills, lots of loblolly pines and sand. Yes, sand. No. We are not near a beach, unless you consider 113 miles near. I’m not a fan of the sand or the pines. Pine tree forest are known as ecological desert compared to broad leaf hardwood forests. This is the South Carolina I know.

But, onward I went.

Quickly the landscape began to change. The pines thinned out. Streams and creeks began to appear on both sides of the trail. And beautiful oaks, tupelos, and hickories dominated the forest. It was beautiful, and a completely new experience in an old, familiar place. It was a new kind of redemption and I wanted more.

My prayer took a turn toward Columbia, and the South in general. (How much f-cking pain can a person store? LOLOLOL) I began to release all the sorrow and wounds still haunting me. I let go of it all. After some tears and some laughs, I looked up. What I could see somehow looked completely different. The colors of the landscape were vivid. The air was lighter. Even the pines and sand were no longer drab.

That’s the redemption power of Jesus folks. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is beyond redemption and restoration. It’s sweet.

Nik Curfman 8/26/20 Nik Curfman 8/26/20

DJ: #44 Slipping into the Sacred

I did not expect for the process of writing poems to produce such a stir in my heart. Two days ago I wrote about my fears in relation to writing, specifically poetry. Unpredictably, it led to facing my arrogance and pride. Yesterday, I wrote about the death of my Uncle Todd and the impact it made on three year-old me. It ruined my day a bit. In a good way.

By the time I was ten, death was a normal part of life. I attended so many funerals they lost any personal sting. By twenty, I stopped going to death related ceremonies altogether. Why? Because of the pain on display. The dead person didn’t bother me as much as the anguish of the living people mourning the deceased. Perfect example, my aforementioned Uncle Todd. I didn’t know him, can’t ever remember meeting him. My pain was for my father*. And yesterday was the first time I addressed the subject with the Lord.

As I wrote my poem yesterday, I didn’t know where or how it would end. I examined the usual desire to go back and fix it, which is a hopeless position to take. It’s like being on the other side of soundproof glass. We can bang and pound, scream and holler. No one is listening. So I waited. Lord, help. And then, on cue, I saw the end.

In my mind was three year-old me, and I asked, “what would that little boy tell me?” Unexpectedly, the little boy looked directly into my eyes and smiled. Then he repeated back to me everything I wanted to tell him.

It was a powerful moment as I sat in my office chair, head buried in my hands, sobbing. I felt something drop off my mind, a weight I didn’t know was there. It’s very possible whatever took place is deeper than I realize.

For starters, I have no idea what it’s like to live life without thinking of others first, their well being, their happiness. I’m not trying to get away from it either. Part of a balanced life and walk with Jesus is loving my family, friends, community, neighbors, and enemies. The burden has always been the need to fix other people’s pain. I slung that yoke over my shoulder at three years of age, and never let it go. Until recently. There’s a Great force at work.

If you read this blog, you will read about my journey further into the center of God, but now I feel as though I’m being drawn into it. I suppose I could stop the momentum, jump off the tracks. But why would I? All of the weight of expectations is gone. The need for perfection? Destroyed. Having a grand plan for the future? Yeah, f-ck that.

My biggest problem now is being present, being me in the moment. I still find I drift into the future, where everything is awesome. I know the trap all too well, escape into the future to avoid the present. Thing is, I’m not trying to escape the present. Drifting into the future is an old practice. Some old practices take time to whither and die. I now have more grace for myself than ever. I no longer see a need to constantly criticize my actions or get worked up over mistakes.

Every day I wake up and choose Jesus is a day I walk away from all I was. It’s scary and exhilarating. Each day I notice a part of me die a little more. One salient example is my desire to smoke weed. I haven’t smoke in ages, yet I’ve maintained I probably would, in the future. This month I observed a shift in my attitude toward puffing the green dragon. I no longer have a desire for it or be around it. Where did that come from? Not sure. I can’t say what’s changed, I just know something changed**.

I am separating from what I was.

The internet is not in agreement on how to define the word sacred, so I came up with my own: devoted and separated into the Lord. It’s what I feel is happening to me. Day-to-day, in the moment, life is slow and unyielding. But when I step back, sit on the mountain with Him, I can see my steps took a sharp turn up the path. The only way up the path is through determined devotion, and it is not part of the main stream. Even in the Christian world.

*I’d say I’ve only truly grieved the death of three or four people, on a personal level. As deep a thinker and feeler as I am, the certainty of death is never something I put to God. Which I’d like to explore at another time.

**I have absolutely no qualms with anyone using marijuana. Zero. (It needed to be said.)

Nik Curfman 8/24/20 Nik Curfman 8/24/20

Random Smiles

It’s happening. Random smiles, untethered to anything logical or obvious. Random joy, felt deep within. I assume it’s the fruit and continuation of my choice to surrender my mind to the Lord. Joy was always allusive prior to this year, a fruit I could not sink my teeth into. But 2020 is proving to be a banner crop year. Two weeks ago I wrote about joy beyond intellect. And last week I had a slightly odd vision I’ll share with you now.

I saw myself standing before God. (I’d describe the room or space, but there wasn’t one. It was the two us. That’s all.) I saw frustration on my face, but felt the warmth of His love. What came next was unexpected, for I watched myself plucked off the top half of my skull, exposing my grey matter. I set the skull fragment on the ground and presented my living brain to the Lord. Mind you, this was all very real in appearance, not cartoonish or hazy. I saw blood, and bits of hair stuck the side of my face.

After the gift giving…I comically placed the top of skull back upon my empty head. I felt free. It was the type of freedom I assume an idiot feels, to be silly, without conscience or self-judgment. So I did what idiots do, I ran around the space. And laughed. And jumped, and thought nothing of what it meant or why it was happening.

This is a very literal picture of what’s happening my my life. My intellect was a source of harmful pride, the thing I fell back on to prop me up in low moments. At least, I’m smart. But being smart was never good enough to feel whole or safe, or loved. Even more, it was a barrier to something greater.

(LOLOLOLOL. This is too good. I had to screenshot and include what I typed in the rough draft of this post. It’s hilarious. “At least, I smart.” HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. #nailedit)

Joy is sweeter than intelligence, faith is more satisfying than expertise, and uncontrollable love is far superior to rigid life-strangling routine. What a great God we serve. I’ll take all the silly smiles and unplanned laughter I can get. I’m finished being serious and clever.

(If I have to say it, I will. I absolutely love to learn and grow intellectually. I am not advocating an abandonment of logic, science, or learning. Far from it. What I am doing is two things. One, I am believing there is room in my life to leave moments and events unexplained and be unexplainable. Not everything has to make sense. And two, I took my intellect off its prideful pedestal. Once I saw my wits as a barrier, it had to come down.)

Nik Curfman 8/23/20 Nik Curfman 8/23/20

God’s Not Deep

Almost twenty years ago I heard a pastor say,“God’s not deep.” He declared it to a room full of young wannabe super Christians, most of us straining to find a secret formula, a key to unlock the demonstrative power of God in our lives. My eager brain, ever in need of complication, immediately asked,”What do does that mean?” After two decades of trying, I now know what he meant.

Our Father is simple. His desires for us are simple. We engineer the complications, build roads around mountains of pain, and hold onto our wounds. We try to think our way into His presence, and act holy. We make prayer to be something treacherous, like walking a tight rope during a hurricane, rather than enjoying it for the serene stroll it is.

Last night I laid on a patch of grass and let myself relax into the earth. I tried to connect with the Lord. I admitted how guilty I felt, how part of me felt like my motivations weren’t pure as snow (in my relationship with Jesus.) I feel too consumed with me. I should be more holy and pious. What am I giving to you Lord? (Comparison is a sonofabitch. Read how the Lord deals with it.)

After my mini self-pity party, He responded:

“The scripture says to seek Me first. It doesn’t say “have all the best intentions and motivations at all times.” Of course, you expect My fruits and gifts in your life. It’s ok.

You’re here, and I love it.

My motivations aren’t completely selfless. I’m here for selfish reasons too. You have something only you can give Me. No one can give me what you give Me. I show up hoping to receive from you as well as give to you.”

In my mind, I saw a big smile, and the folksy one-liner echoed in my head, God’s not deep. I started to laugh and cry at the same time, as a new dimension in my walk with Him appeared. Does the Lord really want to know all of my thoughts and feelings? Apparently, yes. I can tell him about my favorite foods, or share political opinions. I can share with Him my love of the arts. Even now, as I type, it feels plain to see and believe. But I didn’t.

Prior to yesterday God wasn’t my friend, not like a friend friend. He was the all powerful God of Creation and Master of Righteousness. Yes, He loves me without end. He even pursues me, but not all of me. Not “the small stuff.” How important is it anyway?

This morning I decided to push this new revelation. Lord, I really enjoy my oil pastel drawings this week. Me too. *Big smiles.* Of course you do.

What may appear to an uncomplicated conversation I assure you was not. I didn’t need to tell the Lord that. I wasn’t compelled by joy or shame, anger or sadness. I simply shared my life with Him, and He approved.

The presence of God in our lives will naturally shower us with His love and peace and everything good. But, He also expects to receive what we alone can give Him. It’s more than our praise and worship. He wants to experience us, our actual lives as they are.

We are more than sinners to be cleaned. We are creation to be enjoyed.

Nik Curfman 8/19/20 Nik Curfman 8/19/20

He Is The Answer

A friend sent me a copy of the CS Lewis book Till We Have Faces, which I read over the last week or so. It is a retelling of the Greek myth of Psyche and Cupid from the perspective of Orual, one of Psyche’s older sisters. In the original tale, Queen Orual is jealous and evil, but Lewis set up his telling from the perspective of the Queen. She is the narrator, and the story is- in a very Greek manner- her defense.

As I read, I began to see parts of myself in the Queen, which Lewis intended for the reader. I indentified with her lack of self-worth and desire to well by people, to hide her ugliness and inner complications even from those closest to her. As the story unfurls we see the unresolved questions and unhealed wounds direct the Queen, even in her best intentions.

In vain, she accuses the gods of playing humanity for fools, of staying hidden, and speaking in riddles. In this attempt she is brought before a celestial court, before the dead and holy, to make her case. It is only then does she understand the existence of the Divine Nature and its true spirit. The pettiness of people, our held fears, and mortal gods are a distraction to the greater.

In my view the story climaxes on the last page when the Queen confesses her most true revelation:

“I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away. What other answer would suffice?”

As I read those words, my heart burst and I sobbed into my hands. I lack the vocabulary- if it exists- to describe what I experienced. It was a folding of joy, smallness, connection, pursued, and holy protection in to one sacred moment. I felt loved, by the great Love.

This morning, I blubbered my way up and down the trail on my walk. Thankfully only a few of the usual regulars where out, so I cared less about the bumbling sloppiness of my prayer. If You are the answer, then I am the question. Is it that simple Lord? Is what you want from me so easy? Am I, in my simplest form, enough for you? Yes. I love you, all of you, and all of them. My desire never changed. From the time of Adam, my desire is to walk with you, and love you, and commune with you. You are forever worthy in my eyes.

The pure and simple heart of our Father remains as it always was, in love with his kids. Not hidden, but true. Not angry or pissed off, but forever hoping, guiding, and kind. It is I who put road blocks and hurdles between us. It was I who tried to conform to a human standard of respectability.

It was I who separated myself from Him, held my fears and hurts. And yet, He did not turn away. His love for me is real and alive. It is what my heart most wants, to commune with and be know my God our Father. The irony is, I’ve know this since my youngest age, but I could not bare to live it for fear.

(I wasn’t able to believe I was worthy of something so grand and wonderful, but I wanted to believe it. It’s why the title of the top of this blog is Walking in the Garden, a reference to my favorite hymn:

I come to the garden alone while the dew is still on the roses,
And the voice I hear falling on my ear,
The Son of God discloses.
And He walks with me and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am his own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.
He speaks, and the sound of his voice is so sweet
The birds hush their singing,
And the melody that He give to me
Within my heart is to ringing.
And He walks with me and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am his own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.
I stay in the garden with Him,
Though the night around me is falling.
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling.
And He walks with me and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am his own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.)

This is the Jesus I wanted from the beginning, something beyond reason or grand expectation, or accomplishment. What I did not know then, the truth now washing over my intellect and emotional heart, is how much I mean to Him.

I feel like I am dying and being reborn. And now, instead of a bitter and shame filled identity, I see myself in Paul’s poetic admission to the Galatians:

“I tried keeping rules and working my head off to please God, and it didn’t work.
So I quit being a “law man” so that I could be God’s man. Christ’s life showed me how, and enabled me to do it. I identified myself completely with him. Indeed, I have been crucified with Christ.
My ego is no longer central.
It is no longer important that I appear righteous before you or have your good opinion, and I am no longer driven to impress God. Christ lives in me. The life you see me living is not “mine,” but it is lived by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I am not going to go back on that.”

I feel like this post is a bit rambling and disjointed. Practically all of my posts are rough drafts, but I still glance over them so they are somewhat readable. I’m going to leave it unedited. It shows the illogical nature of what’s happening in my life. And though I may want to be become a better writer, I will not edit out the goodness God is pouring out in on me.