Every boy has his scars. It’s a rite of passage to the masculine world of manhood. We like to display our scars like it is a prize trophy from our recent hunt in the wilds of the Serengeti. With each of our scars we will tell you a story about it. I have mine and if you ask I will show you. It’s on the shin of my right leg I got it when I was a boy, oh yes and it has a story. I know that girls have scars too, but they are not like us guys, they want to cover them up with make up and such they don’t think it adds to their appearance like us guys. I have known men that have had open-heart surgery and have displayed their massive zipper scar with pride. Showing that their chest was cracked, heart operated on and they survived to tell about it, they have a story to tell.
We all have those scars in our lives. You know what I am talking about and if you don’t you have probably sipped too much out of your cup of self-denial this morning. As we grow up, us guys, perhaps women too, like to cover up those emotional wounds in order to show the world how beautiful our life is, wound free, but the fact of the matter is the scars are still there. We know because we see ourselves without the makeup.
The interesting thing about scars is that they were not there initially. It started out as wound free flesh and skin, but then something happened. Some type of event caused the wound, perhaps an accident or a surgery or even it was self-inflicted, yes I said self-inflicted. I remember seeing this patient, in a psychiatric hospital that I once work in, that cause self inflicted scars on her arms; “cutters” is what we called them. They would superficially cut on their arms or other parts of their bodies to ease the pain in their lives. This one patient was a very attractive young women, but depressed and confused had a lot of pain in her life. As a result she would cut on her fore arms leaving massive scar tissue on them. Even if her depression would be cured or controlled, she would always have the massive scars on her arms. The wound happens exposing the flesh, and it is not always pretty, but it happens. I don’t know about you but my wounds have not been pretty, I think I would call them repulsive.
Then there is healing. That is what the scar is, the sign of a healed wound. If the scar were not there the wound would still be open. Exposed to infection, exposed to further injury, exposed for us to see the ugliness of the wound. Thankfully there is a scar to remind us of the healing.
“He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed.”(NIV) 1 Peter 2:24.
Listen closely to your heart as you read it again slowly….”by his wounds you have been healed.” He suffered and was wounded so that you and I may be healed. A wound has to be tended too in order for it to heal, it can’t sit with out cleansing or it will not heal properly. His pain, His suffering, His wounds is our cleansing. I no longer have to sit and look at the ugliness of an open wound; He provided the healing over 2000 years ago. His scars heals my wounds. My scars remind me of that healing He provided. I have a story to tell of His healing.
Several weeks ago, my oldest son was carrying some glass jars in a sack when he fell and shattered one of the jars of hot sauce. As a result he cut his hand by a piece of glass. We cleaned his wound, got the bleeding to subside, applied some medicine on it and then place the butterfly bandages strategically in order that the cut would heal properly. Once we had the situation under control he asked me that question. “Dad, do you think I will have a scar?” I replied back to him, knowing what every young boy wants to hear and said, “Yes, I’m sure you probably will have some type of scar.” He was excited, “Cool, that’s what I want!”. He now has a story to tell.
Tim Morgan (May 17, 2005)
Monday, November 2, 2009
Blood Brothers for Life
There are those special memories in your childhood that you never forget, no matter how young you were. I was three years old when Jason and I met and became best friends. Around 1967 or 68, somewhere around that time, I was on my front lawn of our house on Maxwell Street in San Antonio. I knew a family just moved into the house next-door and I thought that there was a boy my age in that family. I know you might be thinking that I making this all up, but there is someone who can vouch for it, Jason. On that day he came out of the house and we met for the first time. I asked him if he would like to be my best friend and he said, “yes”. It was that easy. At a young age we both sought after a friendship.
The friendship that Jason and I had as young boys was great. We were typical boys that looked at the whole world around us as “the wild west just waiting to be explored by two young warriors”. One summer day when we were probably around seven we were playing out in our yards (We were most likely climbing trees we weren’t suppose to climb, or was it the roofs too? That is a whole other story!) the two of us had a deep discussion as only seven-year-old boys can have. You might be surprised of how intelligent we were, we were impressed. On this particular day we were discussing our friendship. We knew that we had a special friendship and yet at age seven we both knew that one day our lives might be separated. What could we do in order that our friendship would last through the Vietnam War? After all we lived in south San Antonio around many military bases, the war was real to us. What if the military found out how intelligent we were and drafted us to be young officers? Like I said, in our minds we were highly intelligent. We always wanted to be best friends no matter what the distance was or the years that will pass. What was the solution?
Somewhere we read, wait we were only seven, ok we heard, something about how the Native Americans warriors became blood brothers by exchanging blood. That had to be the ultimate way of remaining best friends. Now I have never conducted any further research on this so please forgive our youthful ignorance on this topic, but at age seven it made sense to us. We decided WE would become blood brothers. I already had an older brother by birth, Jason had older sister but that was not the same in our somewhat innocent minds. How to exchange blood became a problem, but we were going to be brave though. After all, what is a little pain for a lifetime of friendship?
We were standing by the big old Ash Tree in Jason’s front yard, one of the trees we weren’t supposed to climb. We rubbed our wrists on the rough bark on that tree till blood come to the surface of our skin. At the first sight of that red liquid we placed our wrists together and made an oath that we would remain best friends forever. We were Blood Brothers.
In each of us we yearn for deep meaningful relationships. We desire to have a bond with people, friends that we can be transparent to, no masks involved. The deepest desires and dreams from our soul we want to share with someone. When we witness the beauty of a sunrise or the glory of the magical sunset, our hearts long to share those moments with someone that we have a special relationship with. It is a God given desire I believe; God saw that it was not good for man to be alone. Not only do we desire that special relationship with that special person of the opposite gender, but also we desire deep meaningful relationships with those of our own gender. David had Jonathon, Jesus had his apostles, Batman had Robin and after 37 years Jason and I are still best friends.
Our lives led us to be separated for many miles for many years and now we just live just minutes apart. My two sons love it when the four of us are together (especially when we start up Jason’s 1970 Mustang Fastback in his garage…we love it…Jason’s wife doesn’t care too much for it I don’t think, but she tolerates us boys, she’s great.) The two of us reminisce of our childhood like it was just yesterday. We will laugh as we talk about the troubles we made for our poor parents; I am being repaid though with my own kids now. We also are in wonderment of how unique of a friendship we continue to have. Something special happened on that day we became Blood Brothers, it wasn’t a magical potion or some secret oath, it was a gift realizing that God gave each of us, the gift of relationships.
We are given those gifts even as we grow older with each sunset, what we do with the gifts is our choice. Do we push those gifts aside afraid to open them because of past wounds that occurred with previous gifts? Do we put the gifts on a shelf unopened because we feel that we are unworthy of them? Or, do we open each gift with the realization that with it comes that completeness of our souls for relationships as they are designed to be.
Thank you Father for your gifts. For those relationships that we have had in our past that enriched our lives, we give you thanks. For those relationships that you have given us in the present we give you thanks. For the relationships that have lasted our lifetime we give you thanks and for those gifts that you will bless us with in the future we give you thanks.
Tim Morgan (written May 12, 2005)
The friendship that Jason and I had as young boys was great. We were typical boys that looked at the whole world around us as “the wild west just waiting to be explored by two young warriors”. One summer day when we were probably around seven we were playing out in our yards (We were most likely climbing trees we weren’t suppose to climb, or was it the roofs too? That is a whole other story!) the two of us had a deep discussion as only seven-year-old boys can have. You might be surprised of how intelligent we were, we were impressed. On this particular day we were discussing our friendship. We knew that we had a special friendship and yet at age seven we both knew that one day our lives might be separated. What could we do in order that our friendship would last through the Vietnam War? After all we lived in south San Antonio around many military bases, the war was real to us. What if the military found out how intelligent we were and drafted us to be young officers? Like I said, in our minds we were highly intelligent. We always wanted to be best friends no matter what the distance was or the years that will pass. What was the solution?
Somewhere we read, wait we were only seven, ok we heard, something about how the Native Americans warriors became blood brothers by exchanging blood. That had to be the ultimate way of remaining best friends. Now I have never conducted any further research on this so please forgive our youthful ignorance on this topic, but at age seven it made sense to us. We decided WE would become blood brothers. I already had an older brother by birth, Jason had older sister but that was not the same in our somewhat innocent minds. How to exchange blood became a problem, but we were going to be brave though. After all, what is a little pain for a lifetime of friendship?
We were standing by the big old Ash Tree in Jason’s front yard, one of the trees we weren’t supposed to climb. We rubbed our wrists on the rough bark on that tree till blood come to the surface of our skin. At the first sight of that red liquid we placed our wrists together and made an oath that we would remain best friends forever. We were Blood Brothers.
In each of us we yearn for deep meaningful relationships. We desire to have a bond with people, friends that we can be transparent to, no masks involved. The deepest desires and dreams from our soul we want to share with someone. When we witness the beauty of a sunrise or the glory of the magical sunset, our hearts long to share those moments with someone that we have a special relationship with. It is a God given desire I believe; God saw that it was not good for man to be alone. Not only do we desire that special relationship with that special person of the opposite gender, but also we desire deep meaningful relationships with those of our own gender. David had Jonathon, Jesus had his apostles, Batman had Robin and after 37 years Jason and I are still best friends.
Our lives led us to be separated for many miles for many years and now we just live just minutes apart. My two sons love it when the four of us are together (especially when we start up Jason’s 1970 Mustang Fastback in his garage…we love it…Jason’s wife doesn’t care too much for it I don’t think, but she tolerates us boys, she’s great.) The two of us reminisce of our childhood like it was just yesterday. We will laugh as we talk about the troubles we made for our poor parents; I am being repaid though with my own kids now. We also are in wonderment of how unique of a friendship we continue to have. Something special happened on that day we became Blood Brothers, it wasn’t a magical potion or some secret oath, it was a gift realizing that God gave each of us, the gift of relationships.
We are given those gifts even as we grow older with each sunset, what we do with the gifts is our choice. Do we push those gifts aside afraid to open them because of past wounds that occurred with previous gifts? Do we put the gifts on a shelf unopened because we feel that we are unworthy of them? Or, do we open each gift with the realization that with it comes that completeness of our souls for relationships as they are designed to be.
Thank you Father for your gifts. For those relationships that we have had in our past that enriched our lives, we give you thanks. For those relationships that you have given us in the present we give you thanks. For the relationships that have lasted our lifetime we give you thanks and for those gifts that you will bless us with in the future we give you thanks.
Tim Morgan (written May 12, 2005)
The Parade of Life
I was raised in church, heard the church stories took them at face value and realized just how big and powerful God really is. In my spiritual quest though, I never really questioned the existence of God, but at times I questioned His existence in me. I think it is usually the times that I am going through what we seem are "bad times". That is according to us because we can't see the ultimate result of what's going to happen. It's at those times I feel that God has left me. Why should I have to suffer. It's the "Job syndrome" of why me what have I done to deserve you to leave me?" Reflecting on the past valley's I have seen that God was more with me there than ever before. It was in those dark valley's where I was forced to think. Forced to question my own existence and meaning. Forced to realize that becoming a better person requires training, this was training.
I never been in the military, but I have had friends that have been. They talk about how rough boot camp is. It strips you down then builds you back up to a better man, a better leader. I think that sometimes we go through boot camps in our own lives. We are stripped of all of securities that we hold on to. We are forced to be naked seeing who we really are, what are character is really like. We go through some rough life exercises. We are forced to see what we are really made of. A testing of our "testimony". At the end, God wants us to be a stronger person, a stronger leader for His cause. Am I alone when I'm in this "Life Boot camp"?
To answer the question, I reflect on my past spiritual boot camps. I went through quite a bit of changes. I rebelled, I got mad, I cried, I was broken and then I was restored. As a result, I always was a stronger man. The existence of God in me during those times was very evident. He was probably more there with me during those (these) times than the times where life was just one big arboretum in the spring. I say that because when things are going just right, I tend to focus more on myself and how great I have it, thanking God at a distance. Waving at Him as if I am on the float in a parade and He is on the side. I wave at Him, giving Him a wink just to say thanks.
The lesson to possibly learn, God wants to exist in my life even more when I'm on that float. After all, He is the Grand Marshall.
Tim Morgan (written May 11, 2005)
I never been in the military, but I have had friends that have been. They talk about how rough boot camp is. It strips you down then builds you back up to a better man, a better leader. I think that sometimes we go through boot camps in our own lives. We are stripped of all of securities that we hold on to. We are forced to be naked seeing who we really are, what are character is really like. We go through some rough life exercises. We are forced to see what we are really made of. A testing of our "testimony". At the end, God wants us to be a stronger person, a stronger leader for His cause. Am I alone when I'm in this "Life Boot camp"?
To answer the question, I reflect on my past spiritual boot camps. I went through quite a bit of changes. I rebelled, I got mad, I cried, I was broken and then I was restored. As a result, I always was a stronger man. The existence of God in me during those times was very evident. He was probably more there with me during those (these) times than the times where life was just one big arboretum in the spring. I say that because when things are going just right, I tend to focus more on myself and how great I have it, thanking God at a distance. Waving at Him as if I am on the float in a parade and He is on the side. I wave at Him, giving Him a wink just to say thanks.
The lesson to possibly learn, God wants to exist in my life even more when I'm on that float. After all, He is the Grand Marshall.
Tim Morgan (written May 11, 2005)
Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
There are times that I contemplate about my own death. I know that may sound morbid or sick, but I think that we all think about that at one time or another. I don't dwell on it all the time but it does cross my mind. I don't know why, perhaps it could be because of all the deaths and murders I see on the news. I wonder what would happened if the local news didn't report the recent murders and deaths, would we get more sports coverage?
I wonder how I will die. I know it's going to happen, unless the rapture takes place before then. There is a chance though that I will die and I wonder how and what state of mind will I be in. I hope it is not some long lingering disease in which which it drains the life out of my family, friends and myself. I don't want that. I hope it is just quick and somewhat painless. I hope that I am happy when I die, and not sad and lonely.
In less than twelve hours I will be attending a funeral for a friend that I went to high school and junior college with. Unfortunately we have lost contact over the past twenty two years or so and I feel sad about that. I went through a lot with him during our high school and junior college years. I talked to a mutual friend last night that caught me up on his life. David was an honors student and had a bright future, I'm not sure his life was ended up like he had planned, but it's that way with quite a few of us. I wish I would of kept in contact with him. I really don't know how I will be when I see him laying in the casket. It will be difficult, even though I know he was a fellow believer in Christ. I wish I could of been a friend to him his last years. It
I can only imagine how Christ must of felt His last hours here on earth as a man. He knew what was ahead of him and it must of been painful and lonely. The tension He must of felt when he was praying in the Garden of Gethseneme, the agony, pain and loneliness so painful He sweated blood while He was praying to His Father. I can not even imagine the hurt in the heart of Jesus during those lingering hours when He was arrested for no reason other than claiming that which He was. The sadness of His heart must of been intense when His closest friends turned their backs on him. While He was being led to His death He had to of had an excruciating pain in His heart. I can just hear the loudness of His voice in my ears while they drive the nails in His hands and feet to the cross. I look up and see His tears stream down from His face that is covered with sweat and blood, the blood as a result of the crown of thorns placed on his brow. My eyes gaze upon Him and see how He is lonely because He is separated from His Father because of my sins. His death resulted in giving me life. He died in order that I will not be lonely. His resurrected body brings me victory over death. I believe will all of my soul that He is the Savior of the world. He is the Messiah, the Son of God.
I have been to my fair share of funerals. I worked at one of the largest funeral homes in the nation for a couple of recent years and attended funerals of those that I did not know. One funeral I was in charge of was this older woman who had no family or friends, the funeral home that had taken care of her body was just going to come and bury her with no service. I went to the graveside to give my respects to this women before the workers lowered her casket into the earth. I did not know her, but I knew that her life had a story to tell and yet there was no one there to tell it, she died alone and lonely. No family or friends there to say a word, just me as I stood there while they were lowering the casket wondering how I would die.
It really does not matter how or when it will happen. I know it will. I picture myself as an old bachelor in a small house in the mountains laying in my bed, looking out the window mezmerized by the beauty of the blanket of dark blue skies with the sparkling lights of the star that are making their appearances. As I lay there looking, I am happy inside because I know that my two sons are happy with their families. I am content knowing that I lived a rich and full life, blessed because my life was enriched with all the treasures of friendships I had over my years. Peaceful because I have the peace in my heart that when my old body is through, my life will continue in heaven because I believed and accepted my Christ as my Lord and Savior. I envision myself falling asleep on that night just to awaken to my eternal home in Heaven. I know that then I will never be lonely. I will be more alive than I ever been, because of the pain and lonliness that Jesus went through for me. For now though, I must live for Him.
Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.
Tim Morgan written May 10, 2005
I wonder how I will die. I know it's going to happen, unless the rapture takes place before then. There is a chance though that I will die and I wonder how and what state of mind will I be in. I hope it is not some long lingering disease in which which it drains the life out of my family, friends and myself. I don't want that. I hope it is just quick and somewhat painless. I hope that I am happy when I die, and not sad and lonely.
In less than twelve hours I will be attending a funeral for a friend that I went to high school and junior college with. Unfortunately we have lost contact over the past twenty two years or so and I feel sad about that. I went through a lot with him during our high school and junior college years. I talked to a mutual friend last night that caught me up on his life. David was an honors student and had a bright future, I'm not sure his life was ended up like he had planned, but it's that way with quite a few of us. I wish I would of kept in contact with him. I really don't know how I will be when I see him laying in the casket. It will be difficult, even though I know he was a fellow believer in Christ. I wish I could of been a friend to him his last years. It
I can only imagine how Christ must of felt His last hours here on earth as a man. He knew what was ahead of him and it must of been painful and lonely. The tension He must of felt when he was praying in the Garden of Gethseneme, the agony, pain and loneliness so painful He sweated blood while He was praying to His Father. I can not even imagine the hurt in the heart of Jesus during those lingering hours when He was arrested for no reason other than claiming that which He was. The sadness of His heart must of been intense when His closest friends turned their backs on him. While He was being led to His death He had to of had an excruciating pain in His heart. I can just hear the loudness of His voice in my ears while they drive the nails in His hands and feet to the cross. I look up and see His tears stream down from His face that is covered with sweat and blood, the blood as a result of the crown of thorns placed on his brow. My eyes gaze upon Him and see how He is lonely because He is separated from His Father because of my sins. His death resulted in giving me life. He died in order that I will not be lonely. His resurrected body brings me victory over death. I believe will all of my soul that He is the Savior of the world. He is the Messiah, the Son of God.
I have been to my fair share of funerals. I worked at one of the largest funeral homes in the nation for a couple of recent years and attended funerals of those that I did not know. One funeral I was in charge of was this older woman who had no family or friends, the funeral home that had taken care of her body was just going to come and bury her with no service. I went to the graveside to give my respects to this women before the workers lowered her casket into the earth. I did not know her, but I knew that her life had a story to tell and yet there was no one there to tell it, she died alone and lonely. No family or friends there to say a word, just me as I stood there while they were lowering the casket wondering how I would die.
It really does not matter how or when it will happen. I know it will. I picture myself as an old bachelor in a small house in the mountains laying in my bed, looking out the window mezmerized by the beauty of the blanket of dark blue skies with the sparkling lights of the star that are making their appearances. As I lay there looking, I am happy inside because I know that my two sons are happy with their families. I am content knowing that I lived a rich and full life, blessed because my life was enriched with all the treasures of friendships I had over my years. Peaceful because I have the peace in my heart that when my old body is through, my life will continue in heaven because I believed and accepted my Christ as my Lord and Savior. I envision myself falling asleep on that night just to awaken to my eternal home in Heaven. I know that then I will never be lonely. I will be more alive than I ever been, because of the pain and lonliness that Jesus went through for me. For now though, I must live for Him.
Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.
Tim Morgan written May 10, 2005
Being Robin
I wonder about the reason for my existence sometimes as I look back over the past 40 years. My earliest memories were those of wonderment. The biggest stress I had was if I was going to get to be Batman instead of Robin. You see my best friend/next door neighbor, Jason, was about ten months older than myself, so according to his rules he was always Batman and I was the Boy Wonder, I still am.
You see Robin never quite made it. He was always number two. He was always almost there, but Batman always saved the day. It’s the way I see myself at times. Almost there, but never quite made it, I’m still Robin.
I remember lying in my bed as a young boy wondering what I would be when I was older. I dreamed of having a wife, several kids and a big two-story house like the Cleavers on Leave it to Beaver. It seemed like a logical dream, I knew I would go to college, have a great career, somehow have a wife and kids and live a fairy tale life where if I had a problem it would get solved within an hour (about forty three minutes not counting commercials). I had a hazy view of the reality of life, or maybe just an innocent view of life.
What happens between the innocence of youthful dreams and reality of life? Where do those young boy dreams go too? I see that some people have their dreams become reality; I wonder what that is like. I almost had it, or at least I thought I did on the surface, until my life was murdered. Murdered by bad choices in life, murdered by the consequences of life. I guess in some ways it was a suicide and not quite murder. Ok, so I turned the shot gut to my own face and blew it off, yet why did I? I can sit here for hours trying to figure that part out, and believe me I have before, only to get me more suicidal about life. It’s enough to drive someone insane. Maybe insanity isn’t that bad, at least you don’t have to deal with the pain and loneliness of life.
“You have to lose your life to gain it.” For some reason that verse comes to my mind. I have lost a lot over the past several years. I lost my reputation with some, I’ve lost my house . I’ve lost material possessions that I worked for. I’ve lost friends over the years because of the breakup of my marriage. Ironically, I’ve gained my life back though. I may not have the house right now, but I have a home that when I am with my two sons I am their dad and they are my kids and this is their home with me. It’s full of love, transparency and acceptance. No one has too pretend that you have to put on your mask of pretending who you are in this home. I’ve gain the best friends that I have could ever ask for. These are true friends that genuinely care about you and are so real about their faith, life and they are authentic people. After years of unforgiveness to myself, I found myself being free of my guilt over the past, not because I was innocent, but because of redemption. I’ve gained myself.
I think Hollywood has done mankind a terrible disservice because being Robin isn’t so bad after all, and Leave It to Beaver is fake anyway. What mom wears pearls while she cooks, cleans and takes care of her family? That’s not reality. Real life happens when we experience pain, the pain of sin, the pain of loneliness, the pain of being hurt, the joy of forgiveness the joy of healing, the joy of redemption, the joy of community with God the Trinity and the joy of community with others.
I think the Bible shows us how life really is. Look at the life Christ lived. He never had a house, but wherever He was He made others feel at home. He didn’t have an SUV, yet his travels changed the face of humanity. His closest friends disappointed him, yet he bridged the relational gap between humanity and the Father.
Several years ago I flew to San Antonio to perform the wedding of the brother of my best friend Jason (Batman). Jason and his family were there to meet me at the airport and there Jason stood holding a sign (like those the chauffeurs use) that said “Robin” we all laughed. I’m still Robin.
You know I’m glad that I’m still Robin, because I’m still learning a lot about life. I haven’t quite made it and I’m glad because it keeps me searching for more. I have not settled for resting on what little knowledge I have. I am showed daily that God is not through working in and through me. I still lie in bed at night sometimes thinking about those innocent childhood dreams and they are still there, my life is not yet over.
Tim Morgan (May 6, 2005)
You see Robin never quite made it. He was always number two. He was always almost there, but Batman always saved the day. It’s the way I see myself at times. Almost there, but never quite made it, I’m still Robin.
I remember lying in my bed as a young boy wondering what I would be when I was older. I dreamed of having a wife, several kids and a big two-story house like the Cleavers on Leave it to Beaver. It seemed like a logical dream, I knew I would go to college, have a great career, somehow have a wife and kids and live a fairy tale life where if I had a problem it would get solved within an hour (about forty three minutes not counting commercials). I had a hazy view of the reality of life, or maybe just an innocent view of life.
What happens between the innocence of youthful dreams and reality of life? Where do those young boy dreams go too? I see that some people have their dreams become reality; I wonder what that is like. I almost had it, or at least I thought I did on the surface, until my life was murdered. Murdered by bad choices in life, murdered by the consequences of life. I guess in some ways it was a suicide and not quite murder. Ok, so I turned the shot gut to my own face and blew it off, yet why did I? I can sit here for hours trying to figure that part out, and believe me I have before, only to get me more suicidal about life. It’s enough to drive someone insane. Maybe insanity isn’t that bad, at least you don’t have to deal with the pain and loneliness of life.
“You have to lose your life to gain it.” For some reason that verse comes to my mind. I have lost a lot over the past several years. I lost my reputation with some, I’ve lost my house . I’ve lost material possessions that I worked for. I’ve lost friends over the years because of the breakup of my marriage. Ironically, I’ve gained my life back though. I may not have the house right now, but I have a home that when I am with my two sons I am their dad and they are my kids and this is their home with me. It’s full of love, transparency and acceptance. No one has too pretend that you have to put on your mask of pretending who you are in this home. I’ve gain the best friends that I have could ever ask for. These are true friends that genuinely care about you and are so real about their faith, life and they are authentic people. After years of unforgiveness to myself, I found myself being free of my guilt over the past, not because I was innocent, but because of redemption. I’ve gained myself.
I think Hollywood has done mankind a terrible disservice because being Robin isn’t so bad after all, and Leave It to Beaver is fake anyway. What mom wears pearls while she cooks, cleans and takes care of her family? That’s not reality. Real life happens when we experience pain, the pain of sin, the pain of loneliness, the pain of being hurt, the joy of forgiveness the joy of healing, the joy of redemption, the joy of community with God the Trinity and the joy of community with others.
I think the Bible shows us how life really is. Look at the life Christ lived. He never had a house, but wherever He was He made others feel at home. He didn’t have an SUV, yet his travels changed the face of humanity. His closest friends disappointed him, yet he bridged the relational gap between humanity and the Father.
Several years ago I flew to San Antonio to perform the wedding of the brother of my best friend Jason (Batman). Jason and his family were there to meet me at the airport and there Jason stood holding a sign (like those the chauffeurs use) that said “Robin” we all laughed. I’m still Robin.
You know I’m glad that I’m still Robin, because I’m still learning a lot about life. I haven’t quite made it and I’m glad because it keeps me searching for more. I have not settled for resting on what little knowledge I have. I am showed daily that God is not through working in and through me. I still lie in bed at night sometimes thinking about those innocent childhood dreams and they are still there, my life is not yet over.
Tim Morgan (May 6, 2005)
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