Michael Hindes

Battle Fatigue

Woke up this morning and haven’t moved far from my chair.  Just plain fatigued…

I spent the last three days in beautiful Arizona, the sun was gorgeous and the temperature was amazing.  I was there with a close friend.  He’s getting some treatments, so I decided to fly out with him.

I spent a lot of time waiting as he had tests, scans, appointments, and procedures.  I spent a lot of time praying, really interceding, because I was in the atmosphere of my friend’s battle.  I spent a lot of time with his wife.  She’s a rock star.  I mean she is steady and supportive with just enough “boot up the ass” mentality to keep him going.

He’s been in the fight of his life, actually for his life, for more than 15 months.  A fight that was originally predicted to last about 3-6 months.  But the people who make those kind of predictions don’t know my friend, his wife, our spiritual family, or our incredible Heavenly Father.  So we all fight on together.

He and I have been friends for nearly 20 years.  We’ve been through a lot together.  We’ve seen our friendship and faith create some incredible miracles.  And we’ve also tasted some hellish setbacks - cancer being one…

I read a quote the other day that got my attention - “Religion is populated by people who fear hell, but true Spirituality begins when you’ve been through hell”.  And my friend has been through some hell.  Not only this horrendous physical attack, but like all idea men, he’s been attacked for doing good and making changes.  I’ll never understand why people are so resistant to change and so opposed to change agents?

Anyway, we spent three days together waiting, talking, catching up, laughing, waiting a little more, and shedding a tear or two.

I left him and his wife in the hospital parking lot yesterday.  We sat in the car while I prayed and encouraged them to keep fighting the good fight.  Then came the time to leave…

We hugged longer than either of us would have been comfortable with two decades ago.  Many men may have been embarrassed, but neither of us cared.  I kissed him for the third time in as many days, again, I don’t care.  I whispered in his ear that “I was crazy about him”.  Then, I kissed him for the fourth time and walked away.

I drove out of the parking lot quickly, found a private place and just burst.  I noticed him in the mirror as I drove away wiping his eyes as well.  We both relish the friendship and I for one am not ready for it to end just yet.

There he was in the parking lot with his bald head, his slender frame, and his precious wife.  I knew that between her and God he was in good hands.

So I believe we’re going to keep fighting.  This morning I looked for tickets to fly out again in four weeks.

       

Please keep praying for JT and Michelle…

Sitting on the Porch

Sitting in the family room of Rusty and Ericka Jackson’s home in Alabama. I’m watching it rain, not just rain, actually pour. It looks like it will be one of those all day rains. You can smell it in the air and see it in the sky.

Last night Rusty and I sat on the deck and talked about the past 4 years of our friendship - the good, the bad, the ugly, and the ridiculous. But it doesn’t look like that’ll happen today - too bad, I love being outside on a porch.

That brings me to today’s blog. I know it’s been a few weeks since I’ve posted - we moved, I’m old, so give me a break.

Back to the the porch…

I woke up this morning thinking about all the houses I’ve lived in over my life. And without exception, my favorite spot in each of those houses has been the porches, decks, or patios just outside the backdoor. In fact the last two houses we had in Michigan had almost as much outside square footage as inside footage.

To me, there’s just something about being home, but not being inside. Sitting close enough to see all the activity, but being able to see it from an outside perspective.

If someone slides open a glass door and invites me in, my first response is normally to invite them out. See its not that I don’t enjoy being around people, I’d just rather be with them outside…

And that’s the source of most major tensions in my life - I like being involved, I like feeling at home, I like the familiar relationships, but I also really like being outside.

I have great friends and I adore my family, but for some strange reason, I think differently than they do about most things. And if I don’t naturally think differently, I’ll move on purpose to the porch to get a different perspective.

I think I’ve always been concerned about having too much of an “inside the house” perspective. You know what I mean, right? I don’t want to draw the same conclusions that everyone has just because it’s easier. I want to look at things from the outside perspective where the air is fresh and the boundaries are fewer.

This attitude and way of thinking has gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years. Friends, family, and even employers have often believed me to be a contrarian or considered me to be just obstinate.

But I swear, that’s not my heart. I’m not trying to be difficult, I’m aware that I am, but I’m not trying to be. I really just prefer the porch, that’s all.

I’m sure I’m not that unique, there have to be a bunch of us outsiders out there…

How much is too much?

This weekend’s blog is written by my oldest son, Nicholas. He’s a warrior for grace, actually at times a bit of a grace vigilanty. He’s always had a difficult time tolerating what Phil Yancey calls “ungrace”.

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When I lived in Spain, I had this heated conversation with a friend’s dad about the use and misuse of grace. In his humble opinion, there needed to be more fear of hell and eternal separation in order to turn people’s heart toward the Father. He felt grace couldn’t do that and that people would just end up abusing God’s love. We both left the debate with sweat dripping off our faces and blood vessels bulging on our foreheads. I could not believe how obstinate he was, or for that fact how obstinate I was. He ended the conversation with a statement I’ve yet to shake, “This grace thing you talk about maybe great, but there’s just too much of it.”

“There’s just too much grace?” When did this happen? Who decided how much is enough? Is there such a thing as too much grace? When is it enough to say (in a perfect “Soup Nazi” accent), No more for you?
 
I think it’s safe to assert that this sentiment of “too much grace” is due to all the grace abuse. You know what I’m talking about. We extend grace (“getting what you don’t deserve”) to people who will ultimately abuse it. I mean they’ll shit right on top of the grace offered, as if it meant nothing. The fear is legitimate. I know there’s been times when I’ve taken advantage of the grace extended to me. You’ve done it too, we all have. We’ve all at some point abused the grace He’s offered us.

I am not saying that I advocate abusing grace. Yet, I don’t think that because some abuse it we should say - “screw you grace-abuser, you’ve used up all your grace, no more for you”.

I could sit enthroned upon my position and make the proclamation that unlimited grace be extended to all. Yet, what would be the response to my extreme grace? Some would love it, some would receive it, some would abuse it, and still some would resent my carte blanche offer. It’s all kind of a cyclical argument, isn’t it?

The point I’m trying to make is this - I don’t want to live in a world that has limited portions of grace. I will probably always be at odds with any position that states there’s just too much of it. 

Maybe I’m rambling and perhaps incoherently. You may think me naïve, believing I don’t see “how the world really is.” Whatever!

But here’s a question I want us all to answer: Who empowered you to decide how much grace is too much?