Walk in the Woods

Nik Curfman 11/27/20 Nik Curfman 11/27/20

Journal: #130 Keep Showing Up

So today, as with most days in 2020, I will sit before the Lord. I will confess my doubts and disappointments out of faith. The mountain will move and the road will be made straight. When the time comes tomorrow, I’ll do it again. I will use the power of my words to tell Jesus how I feel and then partner with Him to move beyond it.

Yesterday I posted my How He Loves story. In an effort to do my best, I must’ve read it a hundred time looking for errors, odd wording, and flow. Each time, I usually found myself in tears. I was caught in the story, of how one moment affects another, and what the Lord can do when He let Him be God.

It’s at moments like this I feel caught up in something far greater than my normal day-to-day pettiness or self-interest. My normal day is spent trying to avoid pain and unpleasant thoughts. While I think about the future, I’m obsessed with my current discomfort. At my worst, I lock up and sink into self-pity. On days like yesterday I know there is something greater than my normal routine. And…I’m starting to tap into it.

New Life

2020 is a remarkable year for me despite the pandemic and a heap of personal failures. It’s the year I decided to pursue the Kingdom as an everyday practice rather than occasional adventure. It’s a small change, but it felt like crossing the Rubicon. I don’t measure my life in the same terms I once did, and I finally found the space to be myself.

In a way, I often feel as though I’m in school. I’m eager to learn and grow. Some subjects are easier to grasp than others, and some lessons are only learned via hands-on training. I’ll use the power of words as an example.

Jesus clearly believed His words held weight. He also believed our words held weight- to give live or deliver death. The comically absurd example He used to demonstrate His point was a the movement of a mountain:

..If anyone says to this mountain, 'Go, throw yourself into the sea,' and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them.
Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.

This concept is not new, the power of the spoken word. The Old Testament bluntly says power of life and death is in the tongue. Jesus, however, added the space for us to partner with the Father. In it, He create a space for God to be God. He made the power of words into an act of faith rather than another measuring stick of our righteousness. It also creates room for potential disappointment or unmet expectations.

Physician, Heal Thyself

I believe the best prayers are the most honest prayers, a fact I often forget. I find myself holding onto self-judgment and shame. Then I try to fix “it.” The answer is more simple and easy (dare I use that word) than I make it. One area I still struggle with is feeling like I have to clean myself before I approach the Lord or other people. My healing is on the other side of confession: Lord, I feel like shit and a failure. Oh, I’m not shit or a failure? You love me and say I’m worthy of love. Ok. I trust that. Thanks.

Not always, but very often it is that simple.

Old Wisdom

For most of my life I thought success and meaning were the gifts of fate or random chance*. I also believed I was a victim of my circumstances. Today, I do not. More than ever, I see life as a series of little choices and daily decisions. We tend to overburden big moments while we devalue the ordinary. But, who I am and my calling are a matter of the little things- my daily walks with the Lord, healthy routines, and loving boundaries. It’s the wisdom of the ant, and the Ancient.

*Some people are born into “better” situations, or inherit wealth, but what are we really talking about? No one can fake running after God, and who your parents are doesn’t matter when it’s just you and Him.

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Nik Curfman 11/26/20 Nik Curfman 11/26/20

Journal: #129 How He Loves Us

It’s been 18 years and it will be a hundred more before How He Loves begins to fade. It stands as an echo of God’s love for His kids, and how He moves. He didn’t flinch the night Steven died. The Father welcomed his son home, and looked into the future, to the Josh Cranfills and Nik Curfmans. Then He spoke to a young poet, “Tell them the truth. Tell them I love them without end.”

Whenever I hear someone talk about the Lord in arrogant, dismissive tones, my heart breaks for them. However, they mask it- as intelligence, wisdom, or snark- I know what the problem is. They’ve only heard about the goodness of God. They’ve never seen it. They’ve never watched God redeem tragedy and death. Maybe it’s by choice, and maybe it’s ignorance. Either way, they’re wrong. I wish they could behold the glory and compassion of the Lord as I have.

The Back Story

In the summer of 2001, I decided to attend the MorningStar School of Ministry in Charlotte, North Carolina. I moved into an apartment with some older students that fall, and soon I discovered the McMillan family. Robin was pastor of the church and a frequent teacher at the ministry school. His wife Donna was quiet and sweet. (She remains one of the best people I know, the gem of the McMillan family.) And all of their children were roughly my age. I bonded with Chris, the middle son, over the crass dick jokes and good food.

The oldest McMillan brother was a lanky, awkward young man when I first met him. He wanted to be taken seriously as an adult while he mixed crude jokes with deep thoughts. John Mark never seemed to focus on a conversation for long and rarely faked interest in topics he considered boring. He was insecure yet embraced himself. I admired that.

Not long after I befriended the McMillan family, I met Steve Coffey. He was John Mark’s best friend and a third-year ministry school student. Steve was fun, confident, and perpetually hopeful. Naturally, most of us wanted to follow in his footsteps, and most of the single ladies wanted to have his babies.

(In the interest of honesty, I’ll say my friendship with Steve was not an especially deep one. Most of our time together was spent in a group.) I can only recall a handful of intentional hangs.

Life After 9/11

September of 2001 was full of uncertainty, existential fear, and the unmerited optimism of youth. Our knowledge of countries like Afghanistan and Saudi Arabia skyrocketed from ignorant to less ignorant. Osama Bin Laden became a regular topic of conversation. Undeterred by any of it, we felt invincible.

While the United States and the Western world combated terrorism, I kept a beer journal and spent most evenings playing Rook with a group of young ladies. Chris continued his budding career as a sound engineer. John Mark wrote catchy worship songs, and Steve’s optimism never wavered. Between prayer meetings and classes, we played frisbee golf and smoked chocolate-flavored cigars. Whatever fears gripped other people, we talked only of the inevitable glory to come.

It’s the gift of youth to believe you will not fall into the traps of age. I know this because I thought I was special too. My life wouldn’t be like those old poor suckers perpetually frustrated and annoyed. I was gonna do big things for God and change the world. We all felt that way. None of us could’ve predicted what was to come.

2002: Second Year

My first year at ministry school was plagued by confusion and disappointment. I read the assigned books, attended lectures, and wrote pointless papers. When the school dean said I should be more involved in various ministries, I followed his instructions. As I write this post, I’m not sure what it was for. I can’t remember a single word from any of the books or lectures, and the ministry work was a collective wash.

Despite the dissatisfaction of my first year, I signed up for a second year. I was to intern under one of the leaders to “learn about real ministry.” Why? Perhaps it seemed like the thing to do. On the upside, my decision kept me in Charlotte and a relationship with all my new friends.

By October, I was lost in my internship. The lectures and books didn’t seem applicable to anything in my life. The leader I was assigned to was the walking definition of distant. Even more, I started to feel like a failure. My life did not measure up to the high standard presented to me. I masturbated, drank too much, and played Halo to kill the pain. Aware of this slide, my friends tried to buoy my heart.

One sunny afternoon I went to walk around the duck pond with friends. Steve was there and did what Steve did. He listened to my pain and heard the sorrow in my voice. After a while, he smiled at me and said, “Your awesome, and you’ll do amazing things for Jesus.” I chalked it up to ‘Steve being Steve.’

A week later, Steve and John Mark stopped by for dinner with the roommates. We drank Blue Moons and smoked cloves into the night. It was the kind of commonplace hang I crave now. Nothing special happened, but it was a special moment. We were just kids, unburdened by a disaster.

An Unmitigated Tragedy

It’s a blur of a memory, and I think it was during the week- Friday maybe? On November 1st, 2002, Steve was in a fiery car accident, and it wasn't good. I didn’t understand the gravity of the situation, but I assumed he’d be ok. Like the good ministry students we were, we prayed for him.

Later that night, my roommate woke me up to deliver the final news: Steve was dead. Stunned and without direction, we walked downstairs and sat in silence for hours as we tried to understand the moment.

Unlike most of my friends, I was not shocked. My young life was plagued by death from the time I was three years old. I learned how to distance myself from the grief, and I didn’t question death when it raided my life. Steve was just another friend I lost in an auto accident. (Just two years prior, I lost Haley Sirochman to a car crash as a freshman at Clemson.) At least that’s what I told myself. In truth, I avoided grief. They questioned everything and tried to find meaning at the moment. I went on as normal.

The next week, I quietly refused to attend Steve’s memorial service at the church. Group grief is difficult for me to handle. Afterward, my roommates told me about the swarm of broken kids who packed the church (Steve was one of the more popular youth leaders.) Someone made a video tribute. John Mark performed a new song to honor our friend. To hear them recall it, the event was a sad and powerful moment.

In the aftermath of Steve’s death, our optimism began to disappear. The drinking accelerated. I dropped out of ministry school and drifted into a dangerous level of depression. It was a hole that eventually led to my second bout with suicide. Steve’s death was not the cause, but it was a contributing factor to my condition.

Whatever God was, I wasn’t his man. Steve was. He was the rising star, and I couldn’t hack my internship.

Life Goes On

My second attempt at an internship proved to be more of the same frustration and disappointments. Somehow…in 2003, I decided to re-enroll in ministry school to finish what I started. Once again, the true treasure came in the form of what became life-long relationships. Chris continued to serve as the church sound guy, and John Mark took Steve’s spot as a youth pastor.

When I “graduated” in 2004, I didn’t have a clue what the future held. Unlike many ambitious religious men, I did not go into ministry. Instead, I went into bartending. During the day, I read Mere Christianity. By night, I slung alcohol to Charlotte’s privileged middle class.

Ministry was not in my future. In the early 2000s, it required men of impeccable reputation. I made mistakes, but my foot my mouth, and admitted to porn addiction. I was damaged goods. To find a useful education, I decided to go to classes at the local community college.

God Moves

Do you remember where you were in November of 2005? I do. I was enrolled at CPCC and worked at Wolfman Pizza. In my time at CPCC, I found one of the best teachers ever to instruct students. Karin Guardalabene was amazing. She knew how to teach each student and managed to Machen Lernen Deutsch fub.

Chris was dating or engaged to his wife? I’m not positive, but I know the relationship was in motion.

John Mark dropped his second album- The Song Inside The Sound of Breaking Down. At the time, my favorite song from this album was Alive. It was a tribute to our friend Mark Mathis. (Mark is a genius singer/songwriter in his own right.)

The last song on the original release is How He Loves. It’s the powerful song John Mark sang at Steve’s memorial service. I’d heard it a hundred times since Steve’s death, and now it was available to the public. It never occurred to me this song could be an anthem. Who did? It was the last song, tacked onto the end of an album.

Hey Man, Did You Know?

Fast forward to 2009. I moved to the southern coalfields of West Virginia to work with a now-defunct NGO. Most of my days consisted of staff meetings, renovation projects, and volunteer coordination. I stayed up to date with my Charlotte crew via Facebook and text message. John Mark toiled away as a singer/songwriter. Chris, ever steady by my standard, continued to mix tracks.

In our social circle was a charismatic man named Aswan, and he was determined to be in the next Bono. His band Paper Tongues released their debut album and seemed destined for stardom. From the sidelines, I tracked their progress. By the summer of 2009, Paper Tongues was on tour as the opening band for Fly Leaf.

I stayed up-to-date on the band via Google and YouTube, and I stumbled upon this video. It’s Fly Leaf. Unbeknownst to me was the fact that members of Fly Leaf are Christians. In this video, they sing How He Loves as an encore to close a concert. I was stunned. To my amazement, I texted John Mark, “Dude, did you know Fly Leaf is singing ‘How He Loves?” John Mark responded, “Yeah, man. It’s cool.”

As it happens on YouTube, one video led to another. I soon discovered the Kim Walker version of How He Loves, and all the other variations of the song born of a tragedy. I was thrilled, and then amazed. My joy for John Mark’s success gave way to something completely unexpected after I began to read the comments below each video. Person after person, the world over, testified to how this song- written by an awkward man from Charlotte, North Carolina- pulled them out of despair and hopelessness. What was God doing?

How He Loves Us

Nearly seven years after Steve’s death, How He Loves started to grow in popularity among worship leaders. Kim Walker-Smith, David Crowder, and your worship leader covered it. It’s not hard to see why. The dramatic imagery and raw vulnerability were so unusual (at the time) and needed. Even atheists couldn’t ignore it. The words meant more than John Mark ever intended when he wrote them:

He is jealous for me
Love's like a hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy
When all of a sudden
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
And I realize just how beautiful You are
And how great your affections are for me
Oh, how He loves us so
Oh, how He loves us
How He loves us so
Yeah, He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves
Yeah, He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves
So we are His portion and He is our prize
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking
So heaven meets Earth like a sloppy wet kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about the way
That He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves
He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves
Oh, I thought about You the day Stephen died
And You met me between my breaking
I know that I still love You, God
Despite the agony
Listen, people, they want to tell me You're cruel
But if Stephen could sing
He'd say it's not true, 'cause
'Cause He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves
Yeah, He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us
Whoa, how He loves us.

Josh Cranfill

In 2014, I moved to Redding, California. It’s the home of Bethel Church, which gave rise to Kim Walker-Smith. It could be said that she gave How He Loves the boost it needed to be considered part of the modern Christian lexicon. Being who I am, I was unaware of this. I didn’t move to Redding for Bethel or Kim Walker-Smith.

I moved to Redding because I needed a job and a new start in life. My good friend Simeon gave me that opportunity, and I took it.

That first job in Redding was with a tech company, NComputing. It was a challenging and thorough education in sales. In truth, I wasn’t prepared for the fast-paced California startup world. Each day and every week, I was measured. My worth to the company was on display at all times. The pressure was relentless.

Similar to my ministry school experience, my most meaningful takeaway are the relationships I formed. Of which, the most enduring and profound friendship is with Josh Cranfill. He’s as much a brother to me as anyone could be. He speaks his mind on any given subject and stands strong when life turns ugly. I appreciate his stubborn honesty. He’s the type of man you want in your corner, no matter what.

We lived together for a bit before he got married. One of my favorite memories was the night we discovered Peaky Blinders. We watched the entire first season in one marathon session. Later on, we would make what I still consider to be the greatest cheeseburgers of all time.

As I got to know him, Josh began to hint at his past and the man he was before Jesus. It’s a past full of addiction and pain. On an ordinary day, he spoke more openly about his deliverance. I’ll never forget what he said. This man, on the other side of America and so disconnected from me, locked himself in a room and he played How He Loves non-stop.

Prior to that day, I’d only read the comments on YouTube or watched videos. It was the first time I heard a testimony from someone I knew but didn’t know Steve or the story behind the song. I think my response to Josh’s tale was probably something like “yeah man, that’s cool.” But, inside I melted into a puddle of sorrow and joy.

All Things Work For Good

It might be flawed logic, but I can’t see it any other way. Jesus took the tragedy of Steve Coffey’s f*cked up death, and turned it into a love anthem for the entire world. It’s redemption of the highest form, and an act only made possible by God. Josh Cranfill is in my life because God is good, and in part because of that song. Thousands and perhaps millions of people can make the same statement. The Lord used How He Loves to show them something they longed to see, and sing them a song they needed to hear.

I’m so glad John Mark decided to wake up in the early hours of November 2nd, 2002 to finish the song he had only started to write. It’s a demonstration of what can happen when we decide to walk away from shame and sorrow into the arms of the Holy Spirit. My friend wasn’t writing a song for the masses, he was pouring his heart out in an empty room, with nary a thought or inkling of what was to come.

Do I believe the Lord caused Steve to die 18 years ago? As a trick to get John Mark to write a song? No. More importantly, I don’t care. I’m not interested in the theological or philosophical implications. What I plainly see is the God we all want to know is real, is real. He is the God who welcomes lost sheep back into the fold, who runs to the prodigal son, who sacrifices Himself for His kids. In the face of disaster and grief, He plays the long game. He’s everything good we hoped He could be.

So, when I hear someone talk about an ugly or vengeful God, I think of Steve. I think about the atheist who can’t run from Him. I think about Josh Cranfill and his beautiful daughters. I think about all of the people across the planet who were locked in darkness, and God used a song to pierce it.

I am blessed to be a witness of this grace and kindness. And, I’m overjoyed at being able to testify to what I know and what I’ve seen. God will redeem anything and anyone. That’s how great His love is.

It’s been 18 years and it will be a hundred more before How He Loves begins to fade. It stands as an echo of God’s love for His kids, and how He moves. He didn’t flinch the night Steven died. The Father welcomed his son home, and looked into the future, to the Josh Cranfills and Nik Curfmans. Then He spoke to a young poet, “Tell them the truth. Tell them I love them without end.”

It’s an epic miracle, and the story needs to be told. The song is a good song, but the story and arc of the song are even better.

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Nik Curfman 11/26/20 Nik Curfman 11/26/20

Journal: #128 Tomorrow

Tonight the Lord told me to write about my experience with His grace and love. It’s an epic story requiring more time than I have tonight. I’ve written most of it, but I’d rather wait until tomorrow to finish it. So for now, I ask you to wait until tomorrow.

I promise I’ve got something you’ll want to read. It’s truly Biblical in nature and something only the Lord can do.

Love ya. Be blessed.

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Nik Curfman 11/25/20 Nik Curfman 11/25/20

Abstraction: Today is the Day

Whatever is known and unknown doesn’t impact today as much what you believe today is for.

Live. Fight. Believe. Exercise the faith of the ancients, and do what you can.

Cry, bleed, and curse if need be, but carpe diem damnit.

We live in constant state of critique, regretting the past and agonizing over the future.

The present is never good enough despite being all we have. What a sad state to live in.

Yesterday and all the days before it are history- maybe not particularly noteworthy, but history nonetheless.

The future is unknown regardless of what anyone says or sells you.

Even God changes His plans.

The future never was or will be a copy of the past, and it is rarely what we expect.

But for today, it is the thing!

Now is the moment to live and be in love, to escape the pain of the past and guide the coming future.

Whatever is known and unknown doesn’t impact today as much what you believe today.

Live. Fight. Believe. Exercise the faith of the ancients, and do what you can.

Cry, bleed, and curse if need be, but carpe diem damnit.

And never stop. This is our task in life. To take what we have, what we’ve been given, and daily sing the songs of our heart until they become the anthems sung over graves.

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Nik Curfman 11/24/20 Nik Curfman 11/24/20

Journal: #127 My Foggy Homeland

He called me to go into the murky unknown and trust Him. It was an easy call to answer in July, but in November I am searching for something more concrete. The fog is not a place to find mental satisfaction.

Mentally Tired

I’m kinda scattered today. It’s been an odd day.

I went for my walk, enjoyed the Lord, worked a bit, then worked some more. And, I can’t tell you what I’ve done the last three hours. And yesterday feels like a week ago. Again, I’m not sure what’s going on in my brain.

Last evening I was mired in loneliness and searching for purpose. I decided to visit the Bethel Prayer Chapel, which was the tonic I needed. I was brutally honest with the Lord and laid everything out- how I felt about my work, myself, and my future. I had to find the surface of my inner world, and for the first time in weeks I felt like I could breath.

The Fog Is Good

This morning I admitted I want a vision to run after. From the summer of 2019 till May of this year, I “had a purpose.” I confidently told people I was part owner of a BBQ catering company. It was the thing I committed to do for the next 5-10 year. Then, of course, by June, I moved on to digital marketing. I am not called to sling BBQ.

As I finished my walk, the Lord reminded me of the picture He gave me in July: a dark endless fog. He called me to go into the murky unknown and trust Him. It was an easy call to answer in July, but in November I am searching for something more concrete. The fog is not a place to find mental satisfaction.

The irony is I now know I am not a task/job oriented person. I want to have a plan for other people. It’s not respectable for a 40 year-old man to say he doesn’t have a long-term vision or plan. But…I don’t. I know I’ll likely go the Bethel ministry school next fall, but then what? I really don’t know.

What I really want is to love people and encourage them in their walk with Jesus. What it looks like or how the Lord brings it to me is not important.

Lord, thank you for walking with me and building me to be the type of man who doesn’t need to satisfy others. Thank you for loving me the way I need to be loved.

Amen.

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Nik Curfman 11/23/20 Nik Curfman 11/23/20

Journal: #126 No Demons For Me

I find comfort in these truths: nothing I experience is new, and I’m not destined to be stuck in this tension. There’s a path ahead, and I have no clue what it looks like. My only impulse is to keep moving.

I’m at a tension-filled crossroads. In every previous broken relationship I demonized the lady. It helped me move on. I refuse to do that with A. I want to move on (completely), to let her go, but I don’t want to criticize her to do it. Whenever I find myself listening to judgment, I back away.

She has flaws like any person. She said and did a few things that hurt, as will happen in any meaningful relationship. Despite all that, she’s a wonderful woman. I love her. She’s my friend (I think). So here I am. I want to open my heart to whatever possibilities lay ahead, and I don’t want to crucify her to do it. That’s where I’m living the last few weeks.

Onward.

Lord, help. LOL I love A. I will not curse or judge her. Bless her life with love and grace. I trust you to lead me.

Amen.

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Nik Curfman 11/23/20 Nik Curfman 11/23/20

Prayers Answered: #2 God’s Provides

I don’t not think it’s a word to play the lottery. This was a very specific message for a man getting kicked by life. The Lord was (and is) saying, “I love you Evan’s brother. And I will take care of you.”

I find a lot of humor in this one.

Today I received a text from my friend Evan in Roanoke, Virginia. He asked for prayer for his younger brother. The brother has lost multiple jobs, lost his apartment, and had to move in with his parents. He’s 35. No 35 year-old has “move back in with the parents” on the life plan. Needless to add, it’s a tough moment for Evan’s brother.

Last night Evan went to talk to his brother. It was an emotional conversation with lots of disappointment and tears. Evan’s brother is not “sensitive” man, so this outburst meant something.

As Evan left he noticed a bunny hop onto the grass at the edge of the forest. For Evan, bunnies are a prophetic sign of provision. In that moment, the Lord spoke to Evan about his brother. So he went back inside to deliver God’s promise to provide.

This morning Evan got a call from the brother. By way of a lottery ticket, he won $2,000 dollars!! HAHAHHAHAHA. That’s amazing!! And, I’m not going to judge this.

I don’t not think it’s a word to play the lottery. This was a very specific message for a man getting kicked by life. The Lord was (and is) saying, “I love you Evan’s brother. And I will take care of you.”

God is Good.

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Nik Curfman 11/22/20 Nik Curfman 11/22/20

Journal: #125 Victory Over Lies

My great fall from grace is not coming. My legs are strong, and my heart is whole. My eyes see the glory of the coming of the Lord, and His truth will march on. He is building me to be a tall tower, a light to those who toil in the night. I will shine forever more.

This week was an emotionally long week. I cried and snotted my way through each day. My blog posts reflected the progression from loneliness to brokenness to repentance. I admit it took a few days to gain the upper hand. I didn’t understand the source of my shame (rejection). Once I saw the attack for what it was I knew what to do. The key to overcoming rejection and self-pity is turning to the truth of my existence in the Lord. I am loved. I am worthy. I have a hope and future.

I can’t lick self-pity or judgement by perfecting myself- morphing into a person someone wants. That is a never ending cycle. My moment of victory rides on the back of love and patience, of faith and expectant hope. I find victory in the gracious arms of the Lord. When I confess His love over my life, I speak to my heart and my soul.

We Wrestle Not With People

My war with rejection and self-worth isn’t about other people. (The enemy likes to use the image of others- past girlfriends, old bosses, or coaches- to whip my mind into a depressed submission.) People are to be loved, encouraged, and stewarded. My battle is with belief and fear- ancient lies meant to keep me from walking in my God-given calling and His grace. I turn the tide against fear and judgment when I spot these lies.

Every single one of us faces a snake in our garden, whispering attractive lies and offering easy glory. The liar wants us to run from Love and what sustains us. He presents interesting alternatives and triggers our pride. Every lustful tactic designed to divide us from Him.

The snake in my garden offers to protect me. He reminds me of the pain I suffered by the rejection of others:

All you want to do is love people Nik. They couldn’t see my worth. They don’t know how amazing I am, but maybe I’m not amazing. Perhaps I need a plan, more money, and better clothes. If I were skinny, made more money, and had a noteworthy career…I’m not cool enough. My hair is too thin. I need a muscular body. Women think I’m a pussy. I need to unavailable and cold. No one wants a sensitive man. I need more money, to work with my hands. I need to hunt and kill animals. I need…I am not…I think I need…

All of it is bullshit.

Right here, right now, with a wool blanket covering my legs, I am a badass mofo. I am enough. Snake, GTFO.

How He Loves Us

Last week, while I walked up the hill near my apartment, the Lord said to me, “You still have your promises.” He spoke specifically to my heart and my mind. My heart has grieved the end my last relationship, while my mind searched for motivation and direction. Since I need them to work together, the Lord brought them into alignment in an instant. While much in my life changed over the last 12 months, He is still God. His hand is where it was a year ago, and I am not a wretch to be pitied.

I think I expected my life to collapse at some point this fall. Sure, I made a ton of progress as a man this summer, but all good things must end, right? Wrong. What I consider progress changed, but I continue to love the Lord and find daily grace for myself.

Consider this: When I post this Journal post, it will be my 125th blog post. It’s an incredible accomplishment for me. I posted my first post on Tumblr on July 11th. It’s been 134 days since that day. I’ve also posted 30 poems and ten(ish) other writings. That’s over 160 pieces of myself for the world to read (or not read.) The point is, I don’t know if I’ve ever dedicated myself to anything as much as I have this blog, and I’m proud of me.

I have other victories to consider in my finances, physical health, and my work. All of the indicators, all of the needles, are pointing up. Despite my challenges and emotional lapses, I am kicking ass. I have the Lord to praise for it.

A New Expectation

Matthew 6:33 commands us to run after the Lord and His kingdom with all our hearts, minds, and souls. Then Jesus promised us the Father would care for us as He- our health, needs, and dreams. I devoted myself to pursuit of the kingdom- above all else- in 2020, and I have seen this promise fulfilled. My needs and health are met. I still have my promises.

The last few months I’ve lived outside my experience and comfort levels…but I’ve stayed the course. When the lying snake has slithered next to my heart, I’ve fought to win my heart back from the lies. I’ve run to the Lord in my moments of shame, instead of hide in bush. I refused to cover myself or my nakedness. He sees it all regardless of my attempt to disguise my pain. My God is good, and He proves Himself everyday.

My great fall from grace is not coming. My legs are strong, and my heart is whole. My eyes see the glory of the coming of the Lord, and His truth will march on. He is building me to be a tall tower, a light to those who toil in the night. I will shine forever more.

Onward.

Thank you Lord, for all of your goodness, and the faithfulness in your hand. I love you friend. Amen.

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Nik Curfman 11/21/20 Nik Curfman 11/21/20

Abstraction: The Trail Worth Taking

I stood at the base of mountain, in the shadow cast by the sun hidden by far the ridge.

My eyes wandered to the shining peak, then back to darkness around me.

Restlessly, my feet sank into the damp earth as I considered my options.

I stood at the base of mountain, in the shadow cast by the sun as it slid behind the ridge.

My eyes wandered to the shining peak, then back to the gloomy darkness around me.

Restlessly, my feet sank into the damp earth as I pondered my options.

The road I know is well worn, smooth from use, and crowded by those unwilling or unable to climber higher.

This avenue is forever wide and weary, but safe.

Then, I studied the mountain trail. It’s steep and rocky.

It narrow as it climbs, and the path looks harassed by the worst of weather.

Onward still, the Way seems to disappear behind sharp rocks, only to resurface miles away- to where the sun bakes those who dare travel there.

Despite all of the uncertainty and danger, I felt the call of the Mountain- to be brave.

“The journey is worth the strain,” she whispered.

“You will experience joy and see the world in glorious ways you could never imagine from the shadow.

Come to me.

Let Me love you.”

I thought about my options once more, the safe shadow or the treacherous mountain hike.

I mourned those I would leave behind.

This is not a group trek, each of us must decide for ourselves.

Humans can walk together, but we can never truly carry each other.

I want to behold the mystery of the mountain and believe in something greater than safety.

I want to live, and my best life will be climbing this mountain, not living in its shadow.

Decision made, I spot the trail head through the dawn.

It’s my time to go.

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Nik Curfman 11/21/20 Nik Curfman 11/21/20

Journal: #124 Tired of Judgment

I once heard a pastor say, “If someone doesn’t like me that’s not my problem, it’s theirs. I’m awesome.” I thought he was being a jackass when he said it, but now I get it. I tell myself I’m awesome and amazing. For a second or two, I believe it. My it’s not my reality. I do not live in a constant state of self-approval and affirmation. But, maybe I could?

Today on the trail was a long time coming. As I turned the last corner to head back to my car I let it slip, “Lord, I’m tired of judgment. I’m tired of feeling judged and of judging others. Forgive me.” Those three simple sentences let loose a torrent of bound emotion, snot, and tears. My need to declare what is valuable and worthy was a stone around my heart. I doubled over in relief as the burden slide off my soul.

I don’t know when I started to feel judged or started to judge others. It’s an unimportant fact. All I know is I’ve decided who is worthy and unworthy as long as I can remember. I could blame my parents or the culture as the origin of my pain, but what use is that? I am a grown ass man, and I don’t need to protect my ego. I’m here, in the this moment. I am responsible of Nik. I get to love myself without condemning anyone else.

I Am Who I Am

Today’s glory moment began innocently enough. While on my afternoon stroll, I thought about investment strategies. Since I was a child, I’ve been interested in the stock market, options, and day trading. That whole world intrigues me. It’s an interest I’ve maintained, which is a signal to me. I need to scratch this itch.

What I love about stock trading isn’t the fantasy of instant riches, rather the intellectual disciplined required to “beat the market.” There’s something to being a successful trader that pricks my mental capacity and challenges my inner competitor. It’s a game, and I love to compete.

Halfway through my walk, I was triggered into a shame spiral. (I’ll spare you the details.) In a matter of minutes, I started to judge myself and my interest in the stock market. And, I hated myself for it. Why can’t I be good enough for myself? I don’t need the people around me to love what I love, but I do need them to love me. No matter what. Isn’t that what’s important?

I’m tired of trying to be what I think other people want me to be. How dare I let another person judge me and my interests? It’s my responsibility to guard my heart and mind, so I don’t blame anyone. I’ve been judged my whole life and it won’t stop. People are imperfect and will continue to be.

My goal is keep my heart judgment free.

It Starts With Me

Rejection is my bitter pill. It’s hard for me to swallow, and yet it’s pill I often give myself. Today in the woods was a perfect example of self-rejection. I wonder if there is a place where I can fully accept me, without judgment or shame. I think it’s possible, but I’m not certain. I assume the more self-love I discover- the more grace and patience I aim at my soul- the tougher the skin around my heart will grow.

I’ve got to try, I believe. More to the point, I’ve got to remain firm in dedication to believe what the Lord says about me. No human can judge me unworthy of love or respect, including me. I can’t judge myself or punish myself because I feel unworthy. Correspondingly, I want to extend grace, kindness, and patience to everyone I know and meet.

I can control what I can control. I will continue to take time to love and care for myself, especially when the voice of judgement comes calling.

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Nik Curfman 11/19/20 Nik Curfman 11/19/20

Journal: #123 The Introverts Dilemma

I’m still learning how to fight for myself. Out of my shame, I want to be a finished product. I do not want to admit I am still addressing unsolved rejection from a relationship that ended six months ago. The bigger longer lasting pitfall would be to repress the rejection. I’m not into that. Yesterday and today I took another step toward total freedom from rejection- by choosing to face it.

Yesterday evening, I sat in my apartment and sunk into self-pity. I felt unworthy of love due to lingering feelings of rejection. As a way of fighting through it, I wrote this poem and published it. The poem was my last healthy resort to a long-simmering problem. Fortunately, it worked. After I admitted my insecurities and saw them on screen, I was able to claim the upper hand.

Temptation Comes From Pain

This morning, I thought about last night. How did I manage to have my head down buried in shame? How did I end up being tempted again? For starters, temptations are more enticing when I am suffering. Temptation and sin are huge scarlet flags: something is wrong.

I never googled ‘porn.’ It usually started as a desire to google ‘photography,’ or some such feeder. I know photo blogs on Tumblr are often used as funnels by the porn industry, so I would lie to myself about my intent. Nothing wrong with looking as photo blogs on Tumblr, right? Yesterday, for the first time in a long time, I heard that evil voice again. I recognized it for what it is, but was nonetheless discouraged. I hate I could hear it. When I’m fully healthy, I can’t even hear it.

Today, I laugh as I think about it. Another more subtle temptation is to condemn myself for hearing the voice of temptation. How crazy is that? In truth, I responded the right way. I didn’t partner with shame or my pain. And, it’s ok to battle insecurity. Temptation comes when we are weak to destroy our peace and love, but the Lord uses it to shine a light on our condition. (It’s what the Lord did with Cain, because Cain was tempted out of his rejection. The Lord asked Cain to affirm himself, and he did not.)

I’m proud of myself, and this fight is a positive indicator of my walk with the Lord. As bad as I felt yesterday, I choose to stand my ground. I choose to turn the Lord, and believe what His word. I am loved and worthy of love.

Face the Pain

What I realized today is I avoided myself of late. For a the last few weeks, I didn’t make time to process my suffering. I was scared of me. I hate circling back to the same issues. I want to process my life and move forward. But, that’s not human. It’s not gracious.

It’s ok if it takes time to fully overcome my reoccurring issues. The truth is I’ve made tremendous progress in the areas of rejection and self-worth. This post is proof. Last night was proof. I did not engage in self-destruction or self punishment. That’s a win.

The challenge for an introvert like me is to be unafraid of being alone. When I feel sadness tugging at the corner of my heart or rejection fogging my thoughts, I must face it directly. It’s too easy to spend alone time staring at a screen, completing mindless tasks, or writing blogs. Alone time is meant to be a place to recharge, so I can go back into the world at my best. It’s two edged sword though. Time spent alone is either nourishing or hell, depending on my disposition. When I am lost, alone time becomes a place of misery and self-loathing.

Introverts Need Guidance

“Suffering doesn’t melt away. It must be addressed.” My business coach told me that last July, and he’s right. All of the wishing and avoidance will not vanish the pain we hold. It must be rooted out. So for us introverts it means when we are alone, we use that time to face the pain. It’s a form of self-love and self-care.

(This is not a call to “figure yourself out.” I do not believe in self-perfection. We need each other. I am as guilty as anyone of trying to fix myself, but that’s not what I mean. I have a community of people and professionals to lean on when I need counseling and prayer. There’s no shame in asking for help. We all need help from our friends.)

What I want to address is the confession of pain, taking thoughts captive, and renewing our minds.

The first step is confession. Whatever condition we are in, needs to be brought into the light. If you feel like shit, admit it. If you feel abused, confused, or empty, say it. Admitting how we feel is not agreement with it. I might feel rejected, but I don’t believe I’m worthless.
The next action is to question (take captive) our thoughts. My thoughts might tell me I’m worthless or unqualified. But, what if that’s not true? What does the Lord say about me? What are the alternatives? It helps to have the conversation aloud. We engage different parts of our brain when we use our voice. Thoughts are powerful, words are more powerful. So, answer your questions aloud. Anxiety pushes us toward an extreme responses. God’s goodness is somewhere between the two. And, the Lord always says I love you and you are worthy.
Finally, affirm yourself. Tell yourself “I love myself, I am loved, I am special.” Then confirm yourself with Jesus, “Lord, I trust you. I put my faith in you. I release my fear, shame, rejection, and pain.” Include your specific struggle.
Last point: Don’t rush the process. The steps above can be a lifeless routine or life-giving processes. Gratitude is key. I like to end these moments with worship and praise. It repositions my heart and mind to anticipate the goodness of God instead of the plans of the enemy.

I Believe In Being Free

I’m still learning how to fight for myself. Out of my shame, I want to be a finished product. I do not want to admit I am still addressing unsolved rejection from a relationship that ended six months ago. The bigger longer lasting pitfall would be to repress the rejection. I’m not into that. Yesterday and today I took another step toward total freedom from rejection- by choosing to face my fears.

From this moment onward, I will now begin my alone time with asking myself “how’s your heart Nik?” I want to love myself enough expose my pain so I can heal.

Lord, thank you for grace and wisdom. I’m excited about the future.

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Nik Curfman 11/18/20 Nik Curfman 11/18/20

Abstraction: From Pity to Victory

This quiet silence was ordained from before time was set in motion, this minute the opportunity to strike back against the darkness and scream NOT TODAY SATAN.

It’s quiet in this empty apartment, the kind of quiet when the low hum of the fridge covers the silence,

And I can hear every breath I take.

It’s a lonely quiet, the kind of loneliness looking to pilfer my gratitude and peace.

My thoughts try to pull my heart out from its sunken hole, but logic is not our friend in this hour.

Feelings rule the moment, and the quiet loneliness is a sign to be read with lower head and watery eyes.

This is what you are worth. All the electronic connection doesn’t mean shit when all you want is to feel the hand of someone you love on your back. And if you were worth anything, you wouldn’t sit alone in empty apartment, typing your feelings into the internet.

Yes. I type my emotions into the internet. It helps to confess the loneliness I feel, the empty state of my condition.

Feelings aren’t facts.

This quiet silence was ordained from before time was set in motion, this minute the opportunity to strike back against the darkness and scream NOT TODAY SATAN.

Not ever you lying motherf*cker, you evil piece of shit.

I know who I am. I am Nicklaus, son of the High God of Everything.

I refuse to sit in my pity or give into depression. Every attack you launch only makes me stronger, my testimony more powerful, and my spirit soar.

You have no place in my heart or mind. The old tricks won’t work.

Oh? Thought I didn’t notice?

The porn stuff? Yeah, that’s old news bro.

You can keep your weed and alcohol too. And, you know I’m not going to eat myself into a coma.

Nah. I’ve taken the beatings and held onto the hand of my King.

He has set me on a pale horse, and I am coming back for the others.

F*ck off, now and forever. I will concede nothing to you. Not one sniffle, insult, or shudder of anxiety. Whatever small skirmish you win, know this: YOU’VE LOST THE WAR.

NOT BY MIGHT OR BY POWER, BUT BY MY SPIRIT SAYS THE LORD!

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