Vol III: #8 Hero David

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King David was 30 years old when he ascended to the thrown over all Israel and Judah. While this seems like a wunderkind promotion, it was anything but. David, like Saul, went from tending to livestock, to warrior, to politician and family man. The key difference is David had a heart after the Lord and did not lean on himself to bring about God’s promises.

Consider this: David was the youngest son of Jesse, a shepherd. He won a great battle vs the Philistine champion Goliath. From there, he won the favor of King Saul. Then, he lost the favor of King Saul. Then, he ran and hid from King Saul, for years. Ultimately, he settled among the Philistines to protect himself. And after Saul fell, he became king…of Judah. And only after a civil war, the death of Abner, and reunification of all Israel and Judah, did David become King. What a trial and journey for a man with absolutely no idea on how to be king.

After reading about David, I see more of his admirable qualities. For starters, and I’ll defend this to my death, David was a man of peace. When he had to fight, he was fierce. But, he did not joyfully reach for the sword when faced with an enemy or opposition. Secondly, David refused to cross the word of the Lord. I’m sure he thought Saul was an asshole, but he was the Lord’s asshole. Thusly, David exhibited amazing patience. The last quality I admire about David is his integrity. Years after Saul’s death, David honored his children as he said he would.

None of what David did is beyond my reach. And ,what I want to emulate most is how I trust the Lord and honor the Lord’s servants- whether they deserved it or not. I spent years of my life in a state of anger toward church leaders (and almost any leader in my life.) What a waste of time and energy! I didn’t see the opportunity presented to me. It’s an honor to cover people in their trespasses and mistakes. Truly. That’s what love is. Without forgiveness, grace, honor, and patience, the body of Christ is nothing more than superstitious rule keepers. But, the true power and glory we possess is the ability to fight through all the snares and traps set before us, to love the one who belittles or bullies us, and hold onto the promises and word of the Lord.

In some ways, I consider the ability to love a far greater miracle than any healing or sign or wonder. And David, years before Jesus, loved. He loved the Lord. He loved himself. He loved his friends and family. And…he loved his enemies. What the Lord did through David was only possible because David choose the Way of the Lord, not revenge or self-righteous promotion. Never once, before he was King, did David promote himself or try to claim the thrown. He trusted the Lord and let events work themselves out.

The Lord has made some big promises to me and (here and now) I’m committed to handing those promises back to the Lord, for Him to fulfill. Whether they take five years or forty, I know He will do what He said He would do. That’s my God, the God of Abraham, David, and Nik.

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Vol III: #7 Poor Saul

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Israel wanted a king. They begged for it and were given Saul. The Benjamite met the prophet Samuel while searching for lost donkeys. And, Samuel tabbed him as the anointed-to-be king. The moment had to be surreal for the farm boy. He went from searching for lost livestock to king. That’s one helluva promotion. Can you imagine? The cashier at your local gas station appointed to governor? What if your neighbor across the street suddenly became a Senator? Exactly. Saul’s selection as king is that wild, if not more so.

The context for Saul’s rise began during the time of the Judges. (The Book of Judges is one of the most brutal in scripture which is why one verse is repeated through its chapters: In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.) Israel worshipped foreign gods, divided themselves politically, and suffered defeat after defeat to its enemies. The people wanted security, and rather than love and live before the Lord, begged for a king. The right king would protect the nation, unite the tribes, and enforce the law.

Kings and politicians don’t have a hard job. Keep the people safe, keep them feed and hopeful, and win your battles. Saul was faced with a tough set of challenges when he took the crown, but won the loyalty of the people when he defeated the Ammonites. Soon, he was loved and honored and began to love being honored and adored. He developed a habit of appeasing the people and did not have “a heart after the Lord.” Saul did what was right in his own eyes, like the Judges before him. It’s why we needed David.

In modern terms, Saul was a populist who’s primary concern was to hold onto the power he was given. The crazy detail of Saul’s life was how often he was called out by David and the prophet Samuel. On each occasion, Saul weeps, declares his error, and goes back to being king. And though he was contrite, Saul never fully repented from his way or thinking or behavior. Sadly, Saul uses a witch to conjure Samuel and dies in battle shortly after.

The Bible has many such stories of fallen heroes and I often wonder “what if?” What if Saul had truly repented and forgiven his enemies? What if Adam and Eve repented? Ultimately, what if I repent? And, I think that’s part of my story. I truly believe in repentance, that I don’t have to fall into the same traps and pits until I die.

But, there’s a bigger takeaway.

Saul didn’t just miss being a great king, he missed the opportunity to have a great relationship with the Lord. Saul and David had some many similarities at the start, but it was how they approached the Lord that made a huge difference. It’s a difference I see over and over in my life and when I read the Bible. It’s not about talent, family history, or education. Greatness in life comes from our commitment to running after Jesus.

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Vol III: #6 Killing The Critic

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I haven’t sent my DNA to be a lab, but I assume most of my genes come from west Germany. The rest of my DNA is most likely from the British Isles with scattered contributions from France and the Netherlands. This conglomeration is why I call myself a Euro-mutt when asked “what are you?” (The most accurate answer is “I’m American,” but that’s not the point.)

Culturally, of any foreign culture I’ve encountered, I am German to the bone. It’s a country and people I understand with little effort. From my perspective, Germans are kind and generous. They appreciate order and a clean street. And, they are a hard-working bunch. To these points, the old man I stayed with, Manfred, was the German version of all my great uncles. He offered me his best food and drinks and patiently answered all my questions about Kaiserstuhl. (The wine making land around Botzingen.) Though retired, he still works three part-time jobs and is a deacon in the church. I could’ve called him Uncle Manfred.

While most of my visit was a blast, one aspect of German culture I recognized made me sick to my stomach. It’s when I heard people criticizing each other that my heart sank into my feet. “Why didn’t you do this? He should’ve (fill-in the blank) more. I would’ve done better.” Honestly, I wanted to cry. And, in weird way, I was relieved. The Curfmans can be very critical of each other (and ourselves), and this trip helped me to see it is a cultural inheritance. To be a critic is a learned behavior. I needed to observe it in another culture to understand how and why I had similar traits.

Culture, on a large scale, is hard to break. But, on a personal level, it’s easy to smash. To be a critic is boring and hard work. I can’t begin to count all the hours I’ve wasted on my opinions and pride. The thing is, it is easy to see where people are flawed and make mistakes. Hello to being human. And, I don’t want to be an asshole to others or myself.

The Bible doesn’t say “behold I sit at the right hand and I hate on all your flaws and mistakes.” On the contrary, Jesus is rooting for us. That’s who I want to be- the one who believes the best about people and calls them reach their potential. And far be it from me to judge where they are in the process. Kill the critic, I say. That bastard is hurting everyone.

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Vol III: #5 Back in the Saddle

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Ben, my flatmate, and I drove out the Redwoods Saturday morning. It was a cool, breezy day- very typical for the north coast of California. And, we spent most of our time on a black sand beach just north of Arcata. After a few moments on the beach, I kicked off my shoes and strolled up the beach along the water’s edge. Ben joined me. On this day and for the first time, I noticed the colors of the pebbles and stones scattered on the shore. Together, they made a rainbow of reds, sea greens, yellows, and speckled variations. They were beautiful which is why I’m writing about them.

On the drive home, I began to feel grounded for the first time since mid-July. My thoughts were clear and focused. It’s not the first time a visit to the beach helped calm my mind and settled my heart. Today, I woke up ready to take on the week. And, I thank God for the healing power of beaches and trees and fresh air.

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Vol III: #4 I Hate Being A Tourist

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Tourist are ignorant, unaware, and vulgar. And if you believe popular myth, we Americans are the worst kind of tourist. This is a lie. Another myth is we are all stupid, fat, and lazy. Though we struggle with these issues, the United States holds no monopoly on ignorance, pride, or gluttony. To my point, the French hotel clerk who called me “tres grossir’ was in fact a fat Frenchie.

As for me, I want to appear as though I belong and on occasion I succeed. My heart always smiles when people speak to me in their native tongue or ask me for directions. It’s moments like the one I had with asshole hotel clerk that make my skin boil. He didn’t know I speak French and thought to take advantage of the situation to be rude. What my French friend did wasn’t unique. In every country, culture, and tongue, we express our sinful pride and take advantage of foreigners. I hate it. One value my parents gave me was to value all people no matter where they come from. So more accurately, when I say I hate being a tourist, I’m really saying I hate being vulnerable and belittled or being a target. (And, while I like being called a smart American because I know north African geography, it’s asinine to judge my countrymen if they don’t. The fact that I know where Algeria is in relation to Tunisia or Egypt never made me a dime.)

The full picture of my travels unfortunately includes a few jackasses, but also kindness and warmth. Twice in Paris, I tripped on an uneven sidewalk. Each time a stranger reached out and asked if I was ok. A random luggage clerk in Kathmandu brought me my bag from a locked room, though his boss wasn’t thrilled by the act. And, in every city and village, children always returned my smile with a smile, and usually their parents smiled too.

Halfway through my time in Nepal, I had to let myself be a tourist. I let myself be vulnerable and decided to trust Simon. My decision helped build a better relationship with my friend. And, I relaxed. Yes, the diarrhea continued and my jet lag persisted, but I found peace in the storm. So what to the people who try to take advantage of me or talk shit? That’s life. I am choosing to let it roll off my back and keep trucking.

Here’s to all the ignorant tourist: you made the journey and crossed the waters. You’re the explorer and the adventurer, the one who said yes when most others say no.

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Vol III: #3 Back At Living

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This post took a while to write. More accurately, I had a hard time deciding what to write. My brain is stuck in a timezone over the Atlantic and God only knows when I’ll rediscover my usual sleep pattern. What I want is to organize my thoughts about the trip and what I expect moving onward. But, I decided to be gracious toward myself and relax while I can.

Of all that happened during my travels, I’m happy I was patient with my circumstances. Each stop had its flaws: Paris was sweaty and crowded. Nepal was wild, chaotic, and challenged my digestive system. And in Germany, life moved at a leisurely pace. (In fact, flying from Nepal to Germany was like going to library after spending the night at a cock fight. I needed a day to adjust to the quiet of the rolling farmland.) In addition to the adjustments needed for each culture, I faced the usual downfalls of the western traveler- bad food, lost luggage, delays, rude ticket and hotel agents, and all types of people trying to hustle the foreign guy for a dollar.

My favorite hustler was a skinny Nepalese man who’s main tactic was to stand- arms folded- in my line of sight. He tried to stare me down while looking as impoverished as he could. I had to keep from laughing every time he tried to shake me down. My local grocery store in Redding has at least 5-6 aggressive beggars in the parking lot. They use shame and guilt and sob stories to secure their next hit. My poor Nepali needed something better than folded arms and a glare.

I want to write more about my travels. But, right now, I’m having a hard time putting thoughts together. My mind feels scattered and displaced. I wanted to write something today, and I did, though it isn’t cohesive. LOL. Perhaps tomorrow. For now, I’m happy to post this ramble which I now see has little to do with my title.

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Vol III: #2 Goals For Year 3

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Last year when I hit my goal of publishing 330 blogs in 365 days, I celebrated. And, then I set goals for year two. I casually dismissed my goals a month into my BSSM stint without guilt. BSSM was a necessary pitstop on my way to bigger and better things. Regardless, I’m proud of what I wrote over the last year. My writing improved and I discovered what’s next.

For the blog, I want to hit 150 posts plus an undefined number of poems. My of my posts will of this variety which I consider to be more of documentation of my life.

The big goal for 2022-2023 is to write a complete rough draft of California Too. It will be my first work of fiction- in what I hope leads to a productive career. I’m aware of my shortcomings as an author i.e. I will be learning how to write a novel while I write a novel. Thankfully, the internet is full of resources and online classes when I need them.

I wanted to start writing with more urgency when BSSM ended in May. And, I did write few pages. But, I was also distracted by this trip. Now that’s I’m down the back stretch, I have this growing sense of “it’s time to go to work.” And, I see this post is the first step in the novel writing process. It’s important to state goals and make them known. To state my intent makes the endeavor of writing a novel more real, and more attainable.

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Vol III: #1 Back From Pokhara

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Somewhere along the way I forgot to start a new writing year on July 14th. Hence, I am now onto to year 3 aka Volume III.

My checked-bag finally made an appearance in Kathmandu. I am clean- after a good sink-washing. And, I am wearing fresh clothes for the first time in eight days. Overall, I feel good. This despite the fact I haven’t eaten more than toast or white rice in since last week.

Early Friday, we left to the city of Pokhara which is a bumpy bus ride west. Bumpy is a nice way saying hellacious. And, I made the executive decision to us fly back to Nepal. Pokhara is a smaller, tourist-focused city at the base of the Himalayan Mountains. The city is green and humid and full of white tourists from the west.

Our intent was to use Pokhara as a base camp to climb Poon Hill which is a 1.8 mile climb up the southern slope of Annapurna. The trek is one of Simon’s favorite and we looked forward to the journey. Unfortunately, my stomach and weak lungs did not cooperate. We settled for a few moderate day hikes. And, they were worth the effort. Whatever Nepal is, it is a beautiful country.

The one place Nepal reminds me of is West Virginia. Both are land-locked and have a proud history of defying the odds (Nepal was never conquered by the British and West Virginia formed the people choose to split from Virginia.) Both are impoverished and struggling to keep pace with wealthier neighbors. The landscapes are oddly similar and the need is great.

Last week, I asked Simons “what’s the plan?” As in, what’s in your heart to do? The 24 year-old rattle off a list of projects and a grand vision to change Nepal for the kingdom. Then he quoted Jesus “the harvest is great, but the workers are few.” And from his perspective, I can see why. Simon sees his home as ripe and in need of workers to bring in the fruit. I see Simon as the first fruit of the missionaries who raised him to walk the Lord. He is what they hoped would come, a native Nepali with a heart to transform his nation.

I’m praying behind my friend’s back, that he wouldn’t way himself down with too much expectation. If Simon is able to change the lives of a few hundred people, then he did his part. He was the next link in the chain. And, of all his plans, he needs to find 10-12 Simons. The kingdom is about growth not grand displays of accomplishment, but I know him. He dreams big and can’t sit still. For these reasons, I’ve spent time telling him to relax and schedule time for himself.

More tomorrow.

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Vol II: #99 Spicy And Simple

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One motivation I had to go to Nepal was to try the cuisine. Simon often bragged about it when we talked food. He said he missed the spices and called American food bland. He’s not wrong. Nepalis adds spices and chilis to every single dish, sauce, and piece of fruit. And, if I grew up eating this way, I’d think American food was bland too. (Let’s be fair to Simon. Most of his meals in Redding were of the dorm cafeteria variety.)

I must admit I thought the food in Nepal would be more complex than simple. Most of the dishes I ate contained a handful of ingredients- rice, a bit of protein, and smattering of herbs. More curiously, we ate several dishes topped with bits of uncooked ramen noodles, potato chips, and a spicy red sauce. This is how people eat when they focus on survival and ingredients are limited. And most people in Nepal simply trying to live.

Simon is a bit spicy. He likes to joke and make fun of the people. What I love about Simon is he doesn’t tell a sob story about his country or city. When I asked him what his favorite aspect of Kathmandu is he said,”the opportunity here.” He said it plainly as any visionary would. Most people look at Nepal and see a dirty developing county with limited resources and a corrupt government. But Simon sees what the Lord does when he looks out on his people. I love that about him. He will defend Nepal with his life, and that conviction will win people to the Lord.

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Vol II: #98 Greetings From Beautiful Kathmandu

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“Let’s take a taxi to the house where you will sleep,” Simon said as he walked toward a herd of waiting cab drivers. He proceeded to negotiate with a driver and then we piled into one small white car and sped away. The next twenty minutes can only be described as THE MOST CHAOTIC RIDE OF MY LIFE. Within moments, I knew what was coming and the lines and arrows painted on the road were mere decorations. Our driver began to swerve and weave his way between delivery trucks, scooters, and buses. On more than a dozen occasions, he drove over decorative center line and into oncoming traffic when it didn’t move at the pace he desired. All the while, horns beeped and lights flashed from all around us. Some were meant for us, and some for others. For our taxi was just one of swarm moving through central Kathmandu.

Finally, we turned off the main road onto a side street and walked the final 1/4 mile to a brick house. Before we reached the gate to the house, Simon laughed as he asked for my thoughts about our ride and I did my best to act cool. “It’s what I expected,” I quipped with a smile. What caught me a little more unprepared was the boy who walked up to our car to beg for money while we stopped at a light. He was perhaps eight years old and would not leave until the cab driver shoved ten rupees into his hand. Oddly, I felt compassion for the boy but refused to give him anything. Someone sends that poor boy into the street to shake people down. And, I’m not going to play the game.

If France was different, Nepal is completely different world. More to come.

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Abstract: Seeds

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You’ve been planted, not flung at random.

The soil around you, though it may feel harsh,

will be a friend.

And when the days between rains stretches longer than you like,

grow your roots deep, where no one sees,

into the well that never runs dry.

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Vol II: #97 Hope of Glory

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I have, with good intent, long existed in the gray space between black and white. But, for some time, the Lord has defined the clear differences between His kingdom and what it ain’t. He is love and gratitude and forgiveness and eternal hope. He is the good report when the land is infested with enemies. Or, to put it in modern vernacular, God sees good bones in a house no one wants. And, His vision is never wrong.

My most concrete idea of walking with the Lord came from reading Exodus and the rest of Torah. After Egypt, the children of Israel endured a purification process, to remove the Egypt from their DNA. This process is for all of us, and one we can shorten if we partner (daily and always) with the Holy Spirit. Though none of us love the desert process, we dream of the Promised Land. And, so we fix our eyes on it, which is a trap. Only by fixing our gaze on Him (Matthew 6:33) do we walk into what He promised.

The second concrete idea concerns the aforementioned Promised Land. For most of my life I thought the Promised Land would be easy street, and I believe many Christians fall into the same trap. But, go read what the Israelites had to do to claim the Promised Land. It wasn’t a victory parade. Nope. It was work and continued to be work long after they cleared the land of enemies. The work was in restoring the land to its purpose and to maintain connection to the Lord. The attacks and distractions never stop coming. Bank on it.

We in 2022, are no different than the children of Israel. We complain, belittle, hold offense, settle for less, and long for the security of our bondage(addictions and greed) when the winds of life blow. Jesus slept in the storms and rebuked the winds. He didn’t complain or lose hope or hold offense. He restored those who betrayed Him(Peter) and commissioned them for greater works. That’s who He is and who I aim to be like.

For a long time I didn’t think I could be like a Heidi Baker or a Freddie Powers. And, though I admire them now, that wasn’t always the case. For years, I criticized their processes and highlighted their mistakes. Today, I know good leaders never stop making mistakes and someone is always going to be offended. It is the discontent and fearful who find fault and lob insults, usually from the sidelines. Both of these women radiate joy and hope. Despite whatever is thrown at them or flaws they have, they carry on tending to their Promised Land.

After writing this post, I feel as though I’ve written all this before- in one capacity or another. But, today it is more real than ever. I’m effortlessly more aware of my words than ever. This isn’t my doing, but His. What a gift, to be free from anger and shame. And more than freedom, to live and believe, trust and hope.

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