Joshua Bechtel's Blog, page 2

“How I Got Here” (part one)

I grew up, starting from ages six and a half or so and remained until about thirty-three, in the conservative Mennonite Church. I am presently part of what you might call a charismatic church that meets here in Wooster, Ohio.

How on earth did I get “here” from “there” and why?

For the answer, I guess we need to go back to life before six.

I was a foster kid in the Oregon foster system. I was supposed to have been adopted by what I will call family number three. But for various reasons, some I have been told, others I might be able to surmise, it fell apart. The story I was told at the time was that they had found out “certain things” about my background that “raised questions” about whether they could keep me and eventually adopt me.

The caseworker broke the news to me one afternoon, while on a fun outing to a local park in Portland, Oregon, where I lived at the time.

In the course of a things that “suddenly” took place, I moved. From a family in suburban Portland, to a family in a community of what was called “Mennonites”.

I had no idea what a Mennonite was.

All I knew was, I was a nothing (probably), was a mistake and although I did not know the word for it, had absolutely no identity except “mistake”, “foster kid”, “maniac”.

I remember the caseworker asking me if I wanted to be called by my given last name, or by my present foster family’s last name. I felt a probably unbelievable shame and hated my “real last name”.

What kid wants the identity of being “a foster kid”? I sure didn’t.

I just knew that I did not have any identity and whatever a Mennonite was and whatever was involved in being part of a Mennonite family was better than being “nothing” that was passed around from place to place.

There are several reasons I am saying all of this.

Sometimes life makes us grab onto things for the sake of survival.

Sometimes we have no choice at the time but to grab onto something, anything, just so we can survive.

Sometimes what we really need does not become apparent until later.

Sometimes we make huge life decisions on the spur of the moment and this creates patterns that follow us throughout life.

Sometimes we really have no idea why we make some of the decisions we do.

Sometimes, it takes years for the truth to come to light.

(to be continued)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Welcome

This post is the opening volley of a new blogging journey for me. That is not to say I have never blogged. Just the opposite. I have had numerous blogs. In fact, some of my old blogs can still be found on this WordPress site.

I have had a Xanga site… remember those things of a long time ago. For all I know, Xanga still exists. (For those who were not around at the time, it was the “Myspace” after Myspace. It actually predated Facebook by about a year or two, if I am remembering correctly.

And of course, Facebook! Ah, Facebook.

And Twitter… and whatever is coming after those two things have run their course.

So here we are. Some of you are where you always expected to be by now. Your plans and direction in life have never been in doubt and you have never wavered from the direction you set out upon, five, ten, fifteen, twenty years ago.

Some of us could learn from you.

Because some of us have found ourselves a long way away from where we expected to be by now. And some things about how we got “here” are clear. Some aren’t.

If I had a face and voice for video, I might share my thoughts, such as they are, from time to time, through that medium.

If I had a “radio voice”, I might do a podcast. For all I know, the day may come that I am comfortable enough to pursue that venue. I do have a “radio face”, just not quite what I envision a “radio voice” to sound like.

So I am going to come at you with words on a screen.

This blog is not necessarily a rough draft for a book, or anything. (I am not saying it will not evolve into one.) This is simply going to be where I can be “me” and pound out my candid thoughts as they come. I will probably argue with myself and most likely there will be some posts that are not exactly coherent.

The definition of “essay” is, as I understand it, “to try”. Essays do not necessarily make sense at the beginning, middle or end. They do not make any claims to answer all the questions, or even ask all the questions on a given subject. Sometimes they “just” clear the air. Sometimes an “essay” is profound in its depth. Other times an essay is ridiculous in its shallowness its only purpose was to make you laugh. Or cry. Or Just make you scratch your head and say. “Huh?”

So I expect to post some serious posts. There will also be lightweight posts about nothing at all. Politics will probably come up, as well as social and cultural commentary.

Starting with the next post, according to my plans, I will begin to take a look at some aspects of my spiritual journey and some of the things that have brought me “here”. My life began in foster care and I was adopted at age ten. I was raised by conservative Mennonites. I presently attend a charismatic church.

What happened between those two sentences? As respectfully as possible, I an going to do a “look back” and take stock.

Getting a clear picture of where we have been, receiving a revelation of who we are now and who we are becoming, and getting a glimpse of where we are going is a process…

It might be a wild ride, but it will be worth it…

JPB

Start At The Beginning

A chapter from Adoption: A Journey of Discovering God’s Grace

By Josh Bechtel

Interesting…how we can read one line…and be sure we grasp the paragraph. Or one paragraph and be sure we have grasped the page. Or one page and be sure we have grasped

the chapter. Or one chapter and be sure we have grasped the book. Or one book and be sure we have grasped the series.

Then someone comes along and says there is more. And we treat them like…a fool. Or a “rabble rouser”. Or a crazy discontent. And we are so sure we are right. So sure, in fact, that there is no need to even look at their claims, or their experiences or even wonder if we can see as well as we thought we did.

Let’s say someone gives you a book to read. And you ask, “Where should I begin reading?”

“Oh, anywhere. Its all good.”

So you flip open the book and what you read is…almost obscene. So you flip somewhere else and it is so stuffy and romantic that it is almost…sickening.

This book is…sick, and not in a good way.

Someone is in a huge and constant argument with someone over…who knows what.

Or…you flip open the book and are amazed at the wondrous mysteries of this thing called grace. You are confronted with a person who is evidently like no one else. You get this almost unnerving idea that this person actually…loves you, and crazy as it sounds might want the best for you. It does not really make a whole lot of sense…but it does seem awesome.

Or…you read what sounds like a married couple on theverge of a divorce.

Or…you read about an overbearing, angry deity who…hates any competition and loves to shed blood.

Or a different deity (so it seems) who claims to be incredibly kind.

And you hardly know what to do with a book like this.

But what if you start at the beginning? THE beginning.

I did not say, your beginning.

What if your several chapters are in the middle or even at the end of a gigantic series? What if the pages you have are actually preludes…or even forgeries? Perhaps it is too

much for you to accept that the pages you have picked up are distractions from the main plot and you have to discard your pages that up till now have somewhat guided your life and understanding of what it is all about? What if the pages you collected and have compiled about your life…are not the real explanation?

What if it is not all about your own personal pleasure?

What if it isn’t about how bruised and bloodied you are by the unfairness of life?

What if it isn’t about how God has dealt you a bad hand of cards? Or that others have “done you dirt.”

What if the line…or page…or chapter…or book…is not really about what you thought it was…

You. Poor, little, not allowed to have what would bring fulfillment (robbed of what you deserved…robbed by life and family and God…you).

What if the picture is bigger…and you aren’t the main character in it? What if the book is not just about you. What if you really are not the center of the universe? What if the

world is bigger than that pity party centered around your belly button?

What if?

So life told you…whatever it did. What if it told someone else something different? Lets say life told you you had it all coming to you on a silver platter. What about the kid who was doing good to have a mud pie baked in the sun?

What if it is not just all about your needs? Now there are many aspects to this subject of need. How much food do you need? How much cash, or land, or sex…yes, I said that…do

you need?

I know people who have decided God hated them because God refused to give them the person they needed. I know others who have the person they needed and still their lives

and eyes are hollow…and they have it all…glam…cash…kids…wine…wealth…

There are also some who have little…astonishingly little, and you would think they are kings and queens. They seem content. And they do not have masses of people surrounding

them meeting their precious, inner, people relationship cup of needs…

What have they found that…that escapes you? What do they have that I have missed? Or are they just fooling themselves? You know, the list of all the things “if they just knew…if they just knew…

What if God is really so out to “get you”…not in the way we normally think of it…that He allows everything you have tried to find fulfillment in to crumble? What if He actually allowed what was supposed to have turned to gold at your touch, to turn to powdery dust? What if He allowed the relationship that you idolized to go totally sour because you were worshiping the person instead of God?

And what if the God who took all this away really, really, really, wants something from you? And what if He wants it from you badly enough that He is willing to take away every

distraction and arrange so that you actually had to choose to turn to Him…or die?

Is this God who took it all away…at least, who took away the things you crave…good?

Is it possible that the God who took away your idol wants to give you something better? The pain that resulted when He took it away, or allowed it to disintegrate, is not a sign to try to fill it with more people. Or more cash. Or even more anger.

There is only one thing that can start to fill the hole in your heart. And you do not even have to accept it. But if you don’t…your heart will still loose relationships like a sieve

looses water.

The one thing…or Person, rather, is God. You have a God sized hole in your “cup”…probably lots of them. Ignoring these holes is like ignoring the holes in a sieve. And your

people needs will still drain out of you like rain. You will be alone in a crowd. People know when someone is trying to get from them what can not be gotten from fellow humans. And if they are turning you away it is not because they hate you. It is because they literally cannot be the power source for both them and you. Some of them may have thought they are the power source. Some are wise enough to know that they are not. And those who are wise enough to “push you away” are doing it for your good as well as for theirs?

Spirits and Attraction

I observed something recently that made my mind go to something else. Weird how that happens.

My mind went to the intereting story of Ahab, Jezebel and Elijah. And most specifically, the spirit that was operating in them. And the wild thing called the law of attraction… or something of that sort.

The interaction between Elijah and Jezebel, like it or not, is intriguing.  A line of logic presented itself as I went about my work today, which consisted of dismantling a mobile home.

What if Jezebel was wildly, irrationally and madly attracted to Elijah?

Okay, think what you will, but hold on.

Jezebel is married to  more or less weak, spineless “yes man”, Ahab. Jezebel is a princess and a kings daughter, maybe he is a warrior.

Daughter is a warrior princess like her father and God only knows what she picked up from her mother.

She is totally heathen and pagan and used to everyone saying yes to her.

The daughter of a warrior king would thrive on a fight.

She is married to a wimp.

And is attracted to the wild man called Elijah.

And the only legit way she can glut her lust is… pick a fight.

And it is all the man can do to keep from running for his life.

It seems that Jez shows up again in the new testement. She could almost be called redeemable, if she wanted to be.

If she was  to actually be redeemed (involving something called repent)… what would the redeemed spirit of Jezebel be like?

Opposite? Same?

She  WAS attracted to the Spirit that was on Elijah. Perhaps if she would have yeilded to that Spirit, the story would have been different.

What does a redeemed spirit of… anyone… look like?

 

 

Q & A Plain Old Vanilla You

Q: You have just released a poetry collection, with the strange title, Plain Old Vanilla You. What gave you the idea to come up with a title like that?

A: To give you the whole answer, I have to go back about four years to the Blue Ridge Mountains of Western North Carolina, and a tiny river and a small town called Spruce Pine.

Q: Do tell.

A: Church this particular Sunday was “flat”… or maybe I was the flat one. It had nothing to do with the fact that we met in the side room of a library.  It had nothing to do with the inspiration or lack thereof in the worship or message that morning. For sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I felt torn between this tiny group of “charismatic Mennonites” and the Assemblies of God church (AKA the Bridge Church) across the Toe River from the library.

Or maybe it did. Or not. I did not have the clarity of mind to know.

Q: What does that have to do with Plain Old Vanilla You?

A: You asked about the story behind the title, and I am telling you the story behind it.

Q: Please continue.

A: I left the meeting after church, and as was my habit at the time, I crossed the bridge across the river and hung out in the park down by the river.

Q: And wrote a poem?

A: Yes. The poem that became the title poem of this new poetry collection.

Q: What is the poem?

A: Here it the poem:

Sometimes you need people.

Sometimes you need space.

Sometimes you need noise.

Sometimes you need silence.

Sometimes you need

What no one but God has for you.

Sometimes you need

Not even be understood.

Sometimes you need to just be

By yourself.

Alone.

No props.

No performance.

No anything.

And maybe gradually

It will soak in

That someone

Might be okay with you…

Just plain ol’ Vanilla

You.

“…and have prevailed…”

He was a scoundrel and a rascal. Depending who you asked, this guy was bad to the bone. He was a born heel snatcher. Probably no one liked him, although, if they were wise about it, they did their best to not show it to his face. They did their best to stay on his good side… or, at least, the side of him that could be construed as being almost a good side.

Then one day, the heel snatcher got ambushed. He fought his assailant all night long and the result of the fight was a limping old man walking away with a blessing he had wrestled out of his assailant.

Who just happened to be God.

Okay, so you have figured out the scoundrel was Jacob and you know the story I am telling is in the Bible. Somewhere in Genesis.

Good for you.

There is something wild going on when God tells a lying, cheating, deceptive, cowardly SCOUNDREL, “you have fought with God and with men, and have prevailed.”

Wonder what God sees (pretty much always) that we don’t?

Yesterday evening, while absorbing the news of the day, from around the world, I asked Papa, “What is your word for us at this time?”

In a few minutes, the words, “If my people, who are called by my name…” That is about as far as the quotation itself went. Of course, I know there is more to the verse than that.

Okay, Papa, explain yourself. What is that supposed to mean?

“Israel”. Think about the meaning of the name Israel.

“You have fought with God and with men, and have prevailed.”

Okay…? What is that supposed to mean?

Gradually, the following began to rise up in my spirit. “What happens when we begin fighting “with” God? What happens when we begin fighting “with” men? (As opposed to “against” them)

What would happen if those who are actually EXPECTED to fight alongside God and man actually would do it?

What if we actually woke up to who the enemy isn’t? (God, men, the government, etc) and what if we started acknowledging who the real enemy IS? And What if we started acknowledging whose the battle really is, and joined HIM in HIS agenda?

One of these days, I hope to have experienced, or witnessed, the answer.

A Guy Named Bill

Back in 2008 or something, I “happened”  to be surfing the web. I had been warned about a dangerous group in KC, MO, that had this horrible thing called a Prayer room.

i heard enough about them that the more I heard and the more I was warned about them, the more intrigued and curious I became. I was determined to find out more about these people.

In the course of web surfing, for what, I hardly knew, I stumbled across something called GodTV and footage of some charismatic crazies (yes, it IS hysterical) at a place called Lakeland. Whatever that was all about.

And there was a tattoed loudmouth named Todd something, Bentley or something.

I did not know what that was all about. All I knew is that i did not have any of it and (I was still a more or less good Mennonite boy at the time) I wanted it… whatever they had.

So I googled a name someone mentioned to me, a guy named Bill from some place in California.

I googled him and watched the first video that came up. It was an inverview or monologue of teaching of some sort.

I grew more intrigued and interested and curious. And insanely thirsty.

Fastforward a few years and a lot of stuff. This week, I get to be in the same room as that guy named Bill.

he still has a blog?

The answer is yes. I allowed myself to get distracted. Or I went on a hiatus (fancy word for dropped everything and let it sit… while i caught my breath)…

And, moved, actually, to the little town of Wooster.

It would be a bit dishonest to say I am sorry I stopped blogging for a while. Or that I know exactly the direction this is going to go. Or that it  will  be the same directionless, although enjoyable…ish thing it was before.

In short, this blog is going to appear to have been reinvented, eventually. Fittingly, because I am in the process of being reinvented.

The transition has not been, nor do I expect it to be, easy. but it will be good.

I hope. :)

Romans 8:6 says that the outlook of the flesh is death, but the outlook of the Spirit is life and peace.

In other words, flesh says: “this is going to kill me!” (whatever IT is… horrid real or imagined)

Holy Spirit says, Good. That will result in life and peace. (Can’t you just hear Him laugh?)

Did I mention the past month or so has been a war zone? But I digress.

Several verses later, Paul says (v. 26) “We do not know how we should pray.” Whatever Paul might have gotten wrong, he sure got that right.

One of the things that often feels like it is going to “kill us” is pruning. This usually happens after a season of growth, prior to  or between “harvest” seasons.

We get pruned. Shucks. Why?

Interesting question.

A pruned tree does not stop growing.

A pruned tree has begun to produce fruit.

A pruned tree has pleased the gardener with its growth and present level of fruitfulness.

Pruning provokes growth, which produces fruit.

This is the nature of life.

Happy New Year to you!!!

I am kicking this new year off with a new website… which chances are, you have already found if you found your way here. I plan to make my art available for purchase. Actually it already is available for purchase.

I am working on several projects as well.

One is an allegorical novel that may be a bigger project than I thought (HAHA). Target date of publishing is Fall of this year. We shall see, right.

Another project is compiling a poetry collection… that might be done before AO (the new novel) is done. Poetry seems to cooperate better with me… Also, this is my first shot at anything fiction…

As they say, go big or go home, right?

I am pleased to announce the existence of FMV’s new website. http://www.findingmyvoice.us/ Hop on over and look around. It is just one of the many new changes happening this year!

Here is sort of a flash back, poetically…

So He says, Come

Although you have been offended,

Although you will be offended,

Although your coming will offend others,

Yes,

He says,

Lift your hands to Me

Although you are weighed down

Although you are guilty

Although you are ashamed

He says,

Dance before Me

Although your feet are heavy

Although your ankles are chained

Although all you can feel is pain

He says

Come

For your chains will become

Bracelets of gold

And anklets of silver

And as you come

And as you dance

My joy will become

Your joy,

And Your joy,

Your joy will be your

Healing and your strength.

This began to be true in 2014 and it promises to become even more so in 2015.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Dance or Death

Dance or Death

 

There was an eerie silence in the room. It was almost as if everyone expected something to happen that was not very likely to happen. Like, Rand coming back. (For a few moments they let themselves believe he had just stepped out for a drag on a cigarette since they all knew he smoked.) But when Rand had been out longer that the usual amount of time for “just a smoke”, it became clear that he was not coming back, and if he did it might not be in peace.

Their minds raced back over the events of the, admittedly, short period of time they had actually begun knowing each other. Actually, there were more unanswered questions than answers, and they ranged from who AO actually was, and who Rand was and who Shana and Alex actually were.

AO cleared his throat. “Alex, and Shana, whatever happens in the next few minutes, or even in the next little while, remember this. An enemy did this. It is not your fault, or Rand’s.”

“What do you mean, AO?”

“You are… we are… about to come under attack.” AO replied. “But do not be afraid.”

“How can we ‘not be afraid’ when we are about to be attacked?” Shana shrieked.

“Remember what I told you.”

“Remember what you told us?”

“Yes, everything.”

“The danger is getting serious, isn’t it, AO?”

“Yes, it is, Shana.” AO paused. “I know you are well equipped for this fight, since you have your own weapons. But for this fight, you are going to have a somewhat supernatural weapon.”

“What does that mean?”

“Let me explain like this. Alex, your personality is something like a sword. Shana, you are something like a sledgehammer. Very effective in certain types of fights.”

“Yes.” Both Shana and Alex replied at once.

“Our enemy has already been getting ready for their next attack. They have been planting land mines and other such. To survive this battle, you are going to have to dance.”

“We are going to have to dance?!” Alex scoffed.

“Yes, Alex. The mines are too many and too dangerous to ‘just walk’”.

“Why do we have to dance? What good will it do?”

“Do?”

“What benefit will there be in making ourselves dance?”

“Very simply, if you do not dance, you will die.”

“Die?!” Shana shrieked.

“Yes, the mines are placed so that if you step on them they will explode and ‘take you out’.”

“You mean they will kill?”

“Maybe not kill, but you might just lose a limb, or a leg…and you will be lame and not able to function for a time. At least, that is the enemy’s plan for you.”

“And dancing will help how?”

“These mines are designed to explode when triggered by having the full weight of a foot placed on them.”

“Okay, so…”

“So, when you dance, there is chance that you will miss the mines. And if you don’t , and accidently land on one, the full weight of your foot will not land on it and the mine will not explode.”

“So… dancing is sort of a defensive weapon…” Alex mused out loud.

“Exactly. Sometimes you dance because you enjoy it and are ‘feeling it’ and other times you must dance because your life depends on it.”

“My life depends on it? But I don’t know how to dance,” Shana admitted presently.

“You will. In fact,” AO strode over and took Shana’s hand and helped her to her feet, “I will teach you how to dance. Come, dance with me, Shana.”

“And you, Alex?”

“Ah, um, well , I can dance well enough, I suppose.” Alex stammered, not really knowing what AO was going to come up with next.

“Here, take Shana’s hand.”

Alex and Shana stared at AO. “Of course, I mean it. Take hands. Now dance, like this.”

They were somewhat awkward, at first. Shana had not allowed any other man to touch her before this… except for AO. And certainly, Alex did not have any particularly fond feelings or thoughts about Shana.

It would be fair to say that they did not trust each other.

“AO, why are you making us do this?” Alex blurted the question, after several start and stop moves that were stiff at best and standoffish completely.

“Yes, AO. Why do WE have to dance?” chimed in Shana.

“I need you two to learn how to be a team. And the dance is a good way to do that.” Said AO as matter of factly as if he was simply discussing the weather.

The look on both of their faces must have been incredulous.

“Oh, I know what the problem is,” AO chuckled after a few moments. “You think you have to actually have feeling for each other to actually be able to dance.”

He laughed.

“Well, you don’t. It is possible to hate each other, which it is obvious you do.”

“But I don’t hate—“ Alex and Shana spluttered the same words at almost the same time.

AO laughed.

“What is so insanely funny?” asked Alex.

“You guys go to the greatest lengths to try to save face. I suppose you have no idea if you love each other or hate each other, you have told yourselves different things so many times you have lost track of which it is.”

“And what is so funny about that?”

“The fact that you both know the truth and are trying so hard to convince yourselves it isn’t true.”

“What is the truth?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” AO seemed to be teasing, but neither could tell for sure.

“This has all the markings of a ‘lover’s spat.”

Alex was not sure if he had heard correctly. One glance at Shana confirmed it. He had.

Shana was “beet red” and looked furious.

“AO! How dare you…” Shana spluttered.

There was a bright flash in the room at that exact moment and an unearthly, though hearty laugh.

Shana and Alex ducked and lifted their arms to shield their faces from whatever was causing the flash of light, or explosion.

When they realized there was no explosion, and no destruction and that they were still alive and in one piece, they opened their eyes and looked around cautiously for AO.

He had disappeared.