Walk in the Woods

Nik Curfman 10/25/22 Nik Curfman 10/25/22

Abstract: Psalm 122

My interpretation of Psalm 122.

Psalm 122

A thrill shot through my soul when you said,”Let’s go to the temple.”

Because, the presence of the Lord is there!

And more than that, the journey will take us to the City of Peace.

Jerusalem is meant to welcome all people on Earth,

a place designed for any person,

from any corner of existence,

to worship the Father in spirit and truth.

I bless her and her purpose:

Peace be with you Jerusalem, and may the Lord rest in you.

May you remind people of the Love and Goodness of God.

Nik Curfman 10/24/22 Nik Curfman 10/24/22

Abstract: Psalm 121

My interpretation of Psalm 121.

Psalm 121

When I’ve failed and shame is piled high, I reach for calm and assurance; but from what or who?

My rest comes from the Lord, the Creator and Lover of all men.

And despite what they say about Him- an absent God, or worse no God at all- He is present in every part of our lives.

My Dude doesn’t need sleep or a vacation.

Our Father is our Father, our strong sword and warm blanket, protector and comforter; all things to us and for us.

He has protected your life and will guard the fruit of your labor. And though you cannot see it, who you are and what you do is not vain.

He is our keeper.

Nik Curfman 10/24/22 Nik Curfman 10/24/22

Vol III: #26 What Is Good?

A brief discussion on what is good.

At every step in the creation process, God stopped to observe His efforts. And then, He called it good. What a hilarious thing to do. Is it not bizarre, to some extent? The almighty God of Heaven and Earth declaring His work good. And, to who is He saying this? Who heard God say, “It is Good?” Regardless, it’s a declaration worth noting and accepting.

In my mind, so of today, I don’t believe the Lord called it good because He felt good about it, or because His creation was perfect in the moment. The Lord saw the beginning and the end. His declaration was for the now and the future. And, that’s how I want to think and live life. I want to find what has been good, is good, and will be good.

Perfectionism is our enemy, and goodness is whatever creates or sustains life; like food, patience, shelter, hugs, and grace. (We will always need and our needs are not a sin. It is how we fill those needs that can be sinful and destructive.)

Nik Curfman 10/19/22 Nik Curfman 10/19/22

Vol III: #25 Baguettes and Childlike Wonder

When I was a child I assumed I would feel like an adult at some magical point in the future. Adults were wise and powerful. They had money and gum, drove cars, and went to work. More simply, to be an adult meant to have the antidote to all the frustrations of being a child. Right? Isn’t that what most of us believed?

Oh, young Nik. What a load of crap. Cue Cher’s hit: If I Could Back Time

Childlike. Childlikeness.

Jesus said “if you can’t be like one of these kids, you’re gonna have a bad time.”As ever, He’s right.

When I was a child I assumed I would feel like an adult at some magical point in the future. Adults were wise and powerful. They had money and gum, drove cars, and went to work. More simply, to be an adult meant to have the antidote to all the frustrations of being a child. Right? Isn’t that what most of us believed?

Oh, young Nik. What a load of crap. Cue Cher’s hit: If I Could Back Time

If I could turn back time, if I could find a way
I'd take back those stupid beliefs that've hurt you, you'd stay a child forever
If I could reach the stars, I'd give 'em all to you
Then you'd know the King of Patience is your friend,
If I could turn back time

Since my return from Europe I endeavored to make French baguettes. And, I’m humbled by the process. Five times I attempted to make a proper baguette. Five times I successfully produced something more like a brick than bread. And, my frustration grew with each failed attempt: I’m a damn good cook, but I can’t bake for shit. Trader Joe’s has a decent baguette for $1.99. It’s not as delicious as a proper French baguettes but it’s good enough. But then, in manner defying myself, I said decided to continue the education process. I chose to be childlike.

Children learn to walk and talk and wipe themselves, usually without self-shaming. No matter how many times they fall, a child will pull themselves up and keep going. How simple and profound an approach. And, isn’t this the attitude the Lord wants from us; to remain humble and eager? I think so. Screw being an adult. They are bitter and rigid and make excuses for their failures.

Part of being a child is maintaining a certain humility toward life and remaining teachable. And it’s a good approach toward a life of repentance. Because, the hardest part of repentance isn’t the recognition of what’s wrong or broken. The hardest part of repentance is learning the “right way” to live. I think this what Jesus meant by be as a child- to stay eager and curious, to leave the scorekeeping to the adults. It’s a frustrating process but worth the effort.

Nik Curfman 10/18/22 Nik Curfman 10/18/22

Vol III: #24 Is That Word For You?

One aspect of my job as a marketing professional is trying to find the right audience(s) for my clients. The more experienced business owners understand this concept while the newbies tend to want to sell their product or service to everyone, which is completely stupid when you think about it. What they mean is they are willing to do business with anyone. And, they will learn not everyone wants to do business with them. The simple truth is the more we understand our audience, the more effective we can be with our messages. A techie in San Francisco probably isn’t the target market for a tractor manufacturer, but a farmer in Iowa is. Likewise, the farmer in Iowa has little use for Uber in his small town.

Not all sermons and teachings are applicable to every person in the audience. Some people need to be humbled while others need to be built up. But, in some cases, insecure people tend to over apply every sermon to their lives while the confident(re: arrogant) tend to brush off rebukes. These dynamics are fun to observe but can have consequences for the immature Christian.

One aspect of my job as a marketing professional is trying to find the right audience(s) for my clients. The more experienced business owners understand this concept while the newbies tend to want to sell their product or service to everyone, which is completely stupid when you think about it. What they mean is they are willing to do business with anyone. And, they will learn not everyone wants to do business with them. The simple truth is the more we understand our audience, the more effective we can be with our messages. A techie in San Francisco probably isn’t the target market for a tractor manufacturer, but a farmer in Iowa is. Likewise, the farmer in Iowa has little use for Uber in his small town.

When I think about church and all the people who walk through the doors, any given sermon will only hit home for a fraction of the audience. You know what I mean. We’ve all sat in a room and thought “what does this have to do with me?” and/or “oh man, this message is exactly what I needed to hear.” In both cases, someone likely had the opposite reaction. Preachers and teacher who never learn to serve the audience tend to attract like-minded folks, ie hardcore turn-or-burn preachers will have a congregation full of hardcore/inflexible members, and “seeker friendly” pastors tend to have flocks of spineless sheep. A more mature leader will read the room and partner with the Holy Spirit.

As an audience member, I take responsibility for what I allow in my ears. In my 20’s, I would’ve crucified myself whenever an evangelist spoke. These salespeople of the Gospel (I write that with all respect and not as a dig) are usually confident and very black or white. They preach with conviction and see only one path in the Kingdom; get saved and get others saved. And, they know the exact why every Christian should act and behave and if you don’t agree you’re wrong. But after years of searching, I’m not that cat. I’ve shared my testimony with people, but I’ll never setup shop on a street corner or pass out tracts. I’m built for relationships and growth. Accordingly, whenever I hear an evangelist rail on about fulfilling the Great Commission, I take it in. Then I sift the message for parts I can apply to who the Lord calls me to be*.

To get back to my original point, whenever you read the Bible or listen to a sermon, take a moment to consider the intended audience and the person preaching it. And do as Paul recommended, test every word, sermon, and teaching. Some of them aren’t for you and that’s ok. Some of them are. And as speakers, let us remember that “being all things to all people” does not mean preaching the exact same message to everyone we meet. (This is where being led by the Holy Spirit becomes vital.)

Note* I do not dismiss the speaker or everything they said. The church needs evangelists, every single one. And, I’d agree with the idea that all of us need to be prepared and ready to share the Gospel and our testimony. I’m just not going to make a “prophetic shopping list,” ever. (This was a suggestion by one of the evangelist I heard last year. Sorry, dude. I’m a hunter. I go to Trader Joe’s, get what I need, and leave in under ten minutes. And, I never randomly talk to strangers.)

Nik Curfman 10/14/22 Nik Curfman 10/14/22

Vol III: #23 Loving Rebukes Are Good

After reading about birds and Saint Phoebe, I sat back and prayed. Lord, what is this? The response I received told me to focus on the tasks at hand and to push away all the distractions. It was a loving and kind rebuke as only the Lord can give. I needed it because buddy, lemme tell ya, I can be distracted. And I don’t need anyone else though they help. Nope. I can sit and live in my inner world for hours. One day, I’ll ponder a new business idea and the next I’ll debate the merits of Michael Jordan and the next I’ll plan to learn a new dish. In a way, I’m somewhat addicted to new ideas and concepts. I’d rather talk about what can be than what is.

A few weeks ago, a small bird called a Black Phoebe perched outside my window. It was about the size of a sparrow, all black but for its lower abdomen which was white. The contrast of black and white made for a captivating few moments. And then, he flew away. I reached for my phone and moments later I was able to identify my new friend, feeling a prod to dig deeper.

The name Phoebe is only mentioned once in scripture. Paul spoke highly of her in Romans 16 and declared her a deacon of a church. He did this to introduce her to the Romans as it is believed she carried the letter to the Romans on Paul’s behalf. These handful of kind words and some speculation is all we know of the lady. But, what more could any of us want said of us? Phoebe was devoted to the Gospel and hope the same is said of me.

After reading about birds and Saint Phoebe, I sat back and prayed. Lord, what is this? The response I received told me to focus on the tasks at hand and to push away all the distractions. It was a loving and kind rebuke as only the Lord can give. I needed it because buddy, lemme tell ya, I can be distracted.

I can sit and live in my inner world for hours. One day, I’ll ponder a new business idea and the next I’ll debate the merits of Michael Jordan and the next I’ll plan to learn a new dish. In a way, I’m somewhat addicted to new ideas and concepts. I’d rather talk about what can be than what is.

Yesterday, I had a new business idea and it was glorious. I spent hours jotting down notes, a business plan, and researched domain names. Then, I texted some potential investors and made a calendar of goals with corresponding tasks. In these moments, when the ideas are following and victory seems assured, I feel somewhat…high? But, and this is new, I had a knot in my mind. When I prayed this morning Lord, do you want me to do this? The answer was clear and loud. NO. I don’t need new business ideas or more projects in my life. This season is about the grind. It’s about writing and making a deeper connection with my purpose.

I’m thankful for the kind way the Lord steers my heart. The grind is unappealing and I am afraid to fail. I’m scared of dedicating myself to a goal and having nothing to show for it in the end. But, these are not His thoughts. Suffering in the Kingdom is a guarantee but so is purpose and destiny. Like Jesus, we each must drink from a cup we’d rather avoid. For me, in part, it is the grind. So be it.

Nik Curfman 10/12/22 Nik Curfman 10/12/22

Vol III: #22 Sometimes, It Be Like That

I love to write, but not at the moment.

I’ve hit a wall as a writer. And, I think it stems from my expectations, rather my raised expectations. When I began to blog in 2020, I enjoyed the process and refused to be bogged down by style or grammar. But now, I want to be a good writer. And I don’t think I am. So, I don’t write because I’m judging myself and this process.

In most areas of my life I feel a similar lag or defeat. One consolation is I refuse to give up. Each week is a new week, and if I must restart the process every week, so be it. So, this is what I have today- a short and simple post wherein I state my frustrations. As the kids say…Sometimes, it be like that.

Nik Curfman 10/6/22 Nik Curfman 10/6/22

Vol III: #21 The Process of Moving On

Monday morning, I awoke to series of texts, another meme and nothing worthy of my time. So in a fit of carnal rage, I left the group- which is to say I tapped the “Leave Conversation” button. I admit the timing was poor. Had I been in a better mood or more tactful, I would’ve waited for a quiet day to make a quiet exit. But I didn’t have it to give. I wanted out, so I left*.

I strongly advise the you, my reader, to bring the Lord into relational decisions. And, I will tell you why.

Earlier this week, I left a text group chat. The group is filled with men I know from my finals years in Charlotte and consisted of memes and old memories. And, it was a source of angst in my life. Why? Because, I felt like an interloper despite being invited to the group. And, I felt like an interloper because the group rarely responded to my contributions. Eventually, the lack of responses led me to question why I was invited to the chat.

I left the chat once before, in 2018, only to be invited back. When this happened, I assumed it was because I misjudged the situation. Maybe they had more value for my presence than I thought? But, no. They did not; instead, I encountered the exact same responses and attitudes. Good times.

Over the last three days, I prayed about my exit, why I left, and I asked if I did the right thing. The Lord’s response was to ask me if I carried old wounds and, after two days, I finally answered yes. It was only after I released my anxiety did the Lord show me the truth: those men didn’t know me. And, I didn’t know them. What I missed and needed was a deeper connection to them. That’s why their jokes weren’t funny and why they didn’t understand mine. (When it comes to humor, context is everything.)

I don’t regret leaving the group chat. It had to be done. But, I do regret how I left. (How many times have I written these words since 2020? It’s getting old. I need to learn, mature, and do better.) I’m thankful the Lord showed me the truth of the situation. His words and wisdom were a soft rebuke but a good lesson. Next time, I will go to Him first rather than run off my hurt feelings.

*And can I say, what a time to be alive? I didn’t kill anyone or hit on a wife. I left a group chat and it feels overly and unnecessarily dramatic.

Nik Curfman 10/6/22 Nik Curfman 10/6/22

Abstract: Age And Opportunity

A poem, about being old and feeling lost.

A long, slow breath is pulled over my teeth,

as I stare at the blank space of my life.

All my expectations and desire,

somewhere in the yonder,

but I know not where.

Or, best said, when.

I am tired and worn,

like old blue jeans,

comfortable but frayed.

More sips of air as I ponder,

how to get from today,

through the empty page,

to chapters filled with His glory.

And, I am not an old pair of jeans.

I am a man, my fate is unsettled,

and the blank space and empty pages are my opportunities.

Nik Curfman 10/3/22 Nik Curfman 10/3/22

Short #5: Cracked Lives

Before I reached my car, a smiling and tall middle-aged black man called to me from the sidewalk. He wanted a piece of chicken and I didn’t think twice as I reached into the bag for a leg. A beat later, I felt a hand reach into the front right pocket of my shorts. I quickly jammed my free hand into the same pocket and spun around to greet my intruder. The unwelcome hand belonged to a squat, black lady with short hair and blood-shot eyes.

I strolled into Kennedy Fried Chicken off West Boulevard late on a Friday night and stared at the menu above the cash register. I tried not to notice the various people staring at me. Kennedy Fried Chicken did not have a lot of white customers and the Pakistani owner seemed confused by my presence. He took my order with a whisper and kept an eye on the door. A few moments later I strolled back out of the cramped shop with a bag of hot chicken and a few biscuits.

“What are you doing?!”

“Gimme my money!”

“What?! No!”

“Just give her the money man,” advised the man.

My heart began to race as what was happening began to dawn on me. Ok, Nik, who’ve been setup. They saw your wad of cash you idiot(from waiting tables.) They are working together. Do they have a weapon? I saw no gun, no knife, or piece of broken glass, and thus I refused to give up my earnings.

“She’s crazy man, just give her the money,” repeated the man now walking toward me.

“Fuck off,” I shot back as I began pull myself and my assailant- both of our hands still in my pocket- toward the door of the chicken shop.

“Gimme my money BOY!”

I said nothing as we inched closer to my goal. It was at this point that the man realized I was not a soft white boy- an easy target- and things might get messy. So, he changed tact.

“Let go!” He screamed at his partner.

“HE OWES ME MONEY FOR A TRICK!” she barked, the man now just a few feet away.

A trick? Did she really just imply that I entered into a pay-for-sex agreement with her?

“I’ve never seen you in my life,” I whispered to myself as I used my free hand to open the door, the intoxicated woman still clinging to my tips.

The obviously more sober man raised the stakes and now threatened his friend, “Bitch, you better let him go!” And he raised his right hand into a fist.

At this, she finally let go and ran up away. But, I didn’t see in which direction because I bolted into the shop.

Over the next hour I repeated my story for the cops and waited while they tried to gather witness statements. (In truth, close to ten people witnessed the event, but none were willing to speak up, including the Pakistani shop owner. That reality, the hood reality, hit me hard but I understood. The shop owner had a business to run and the other witnesses were probably known personalities in the neighborhood. Any statement to the cops would be interpreted as betrayal leading to consequences that far outweighed the benefits.) For my part, I clearly and accurately described my attacker. And, in seconds they were able to find her file in the CMPD database.

“This her?” They asked as they turned the laptop toward me.

Indeed it was her. Short hair, angry scowl, and bloodshot eyes.

“Yep, that’s her,” I answered as I continued to stare at her file, the number 76 popping off the screen.

“Excuse me, officer?”

“Yea?”

“Has this lady really been arrested 76 times?”

“Yep.”

“May I?”

“Sure.”

And I began to scroll throw her rap sheet.

Possession of a controlled substance.

Possession of crack cocaine.

Assault.

Soliciting.

Robbery…

I couldn’t believe my eyes at the volume and frequency of her criminal activity. And, for the second time, the truth appeared. This lady, this attacking cracked-out mugger, was a hopeless drug addict. She’d become a one woman crime spree. And I felt myself begin to sink into despair.

“Y’all need anything else from me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Ok,” I replied, ready to be anywhere else than standing on the sidewalk in front of Kennedy Fried Chicken.

“But,” quipped one of the officers. “I wouldn’t come around here again, if I were you,” he said in firm but quiet voice- his tone communicating both the gravity of his advice while keeping it between us. I nodded my agreement.

From the safety of my car and out of sight of the shop, I let my tears flow. The whole scene was bullshit, a far cry from the vision the Lord had when He created our universe.

Nik Curfman 9/29/22 Nik Curfman 9/29/22

Vol III: #20 Head Up Not Head Down

There are choices we make when we are young and unaware of the consequences of our choices. Though the choices greet us everyday, we are pushed to one side or the other by parents and teachers and the culture surrounding us. We fidget and think simple thoughts and follow. Before we know it, we walk and talk like those around us. And, we live a life of self-defeat and frustration.

I heard an old man talk about his children, how he worried for his teenage daughters alone at home. His mind raced and created the worst outcomes. How could he be so foolish? He was their father and protector. How would they survive without his presence? When he’d finally pulled into the drive way, his fears fell away. No signs of a break-in. No blood. His girls were safe as normal.

After decades of these moments, of expecting the worst and planning for grief, the old man dared asked does it have to be this way? Through an old friend his question was answered, no. You do not need to live in fear of life. And so, the gray-haired man put his feet on the other path, the one he missed as a child.

The truth is life will try to steal, kill, and destroy every good thing. But, we need not trudge our way through life, head down and depressed. Whatever happens in our lives, what we choose is how we live. We can dance and laugh and look for the sun every morning regardless of the onslaught to come. Or we can shelter in the back room waiting for every evil thing to rip us apart.

And this is the secret, to choose life and joy, to look foolish in the storms and peace among our enemies. The grief will come, so what? God is still good. Joy is always real and peace is meant for the lowest moments.

Lord, I laugh at my mistakes and anxieties.

I am daily your delight,

You delight in me and who I am.

And, I will grab onto You every morning.

Whatever comes, I will show my face to Yours,

and receive Your love and word.

Nik Curfman 9/27/22 Nik Curfman 9/27/22

Vol III: #19 Know My Role

I was like Owen not too long ago. I’d lay in bed at night and cry over tragic events or disturbing trends. And, I spent hours consuming the never ending drone of bad news. Not any more. I no longer carry the capacity to be weighed down by things I can’t change. Shitty things happen every day in every place on the planet. And, I choose to focus on what I can do, not what I can’t.

Owen is the most liberal of all my friends and he occasionally asks me my view of world events. We keep the conversations civil and respectful. Yesterday, my friend asked me what I thought the election results in Italy. (I know. Election results in Italy?) It just so happens that I’ve read a few articles on the subject in the lead up to the election. And, I knew what his primary concerns would be. Italy elected a “far-right” party into power, to the fears of those on the left.

I exchanged texts with Owen about the history of Italian politics (as corrupt as New Orleans) and the likely outcome of the new government. He was unmoved. My friend was distraught over the new powers in Italy intentions’ to use more extreme methods to curb immigrants from Africa. I felt his anxiety coming through the phone.

The thing is, I understand his primary concern. I too believe in humane solutions to the problems created by our immigration system. But, I didn’t feel heavy or responsible about it. And while I hope the new leaders in Italy treat all people with respect and dignity, what practical ability do I have to make it happen?! I live in California and I’m just trying to love the people around me.

So, I told my friend I loved him and understood his perspective.