Howard Guidry, a Death Row inmate in Texas writes; On occasion they let me out of my cage. An hour for recreation, some minutes to shower, a walk to Disciplinary or some other institutional office. But it's rare that I fall out to visitation. The walk to the visitation room is the longest walk men experience on Death Row. That is, until the last walk. To me, walking to visitation is like smoking indonesia. It starts in moments like this, while I'm writing: “Guidry, you have a visit. Get ready,” says a picket control guard over the intercom. I put my pen down and take a deep breath; and then I'm high for the next six or seven hours. The escort guards have to take me out of the building that houses Death Row and into the open air in order to get me there. The outside walkway is lined on both sides with hurricane fence and covered by a steel roof. I always try to count the steps from my cage to the visitation cage, but I always lose count the moment I step “outside.” My senses are extraordinary for having been deprived. The subtle breeze against my skin, the scent of grassroot and freshly turned compost, the hypnotic vapor-blue sky, the earth's vibrations – nothing escapes me. The rhythm of my own feet against the concrete is the soundtrack to whatever fantasy I conjure up in a moment. The guards don't understand my silence. Silence is often a prelude to violence amongst a certain breed of men in prison. But my silence in these pseudo-serene walks is the silence of a child in awe.
When I moved here the front porch swing was of the standard variety. Made from a moderately light-weight wood, which was constructed with the intent of supporting two average-size peoples. Thus the problem, for as even though Dale is a relatively small woman it doesn't offset my very large and well-earned weight problem. So when our body mass index was combined by sitting close together we exceeded the swing's capacity to do it's job without cracking, and crying like a two hundred year old set of stairs. I quickly grew tired of the constant fear of hitting the concrete every time we sat in it, so I knew I needed to do something to improve the situation, and NO losing weight never crossed my mind....
If you know me very well then you might also know these two things about me – I'm a cheapo when it comes to spending money on “stuff” and secondly I have very few skills with hand tools. Yet, because the prior outranks the latter I decided to set out on the idea of “making” a new, heavy-duty, oversize porch swing. The picture you see is the finished product and thanks to the great job Dale did painting and adding cushions it turned out to be a pretty good swing. I'm happy cause the whole thing cost us less than twenty bucks, and she loves it - and that's really all that matters.
Almost everyday of her recovery period (from donating a kidney) we started our mornings by heading out to our front porch swing with a cup of coffee and an arm full of devotional books. We spent hour upon hour reading, talking, dreaming, philosophizing, and praying. We routinely waved at the many passer-byers and took a daily inventory of the growth of our flowers, bushes and trees. We often mused at the hurried life so many others seem to be caught up in and thanked God for the opportunity He gave us to share during this time. More often than not we began our days swaying endlessly while holding tight to each other's hand – all from the comfort of our very special front porch swing. We, like Howard Guidry stopped to smell the roses during that time, yet Dale and I both know that we haven't spent nearly enough time in the swing yet.
“Gnothi seauton” is Greek for “know thyself” but you probably already knew that.
It's a phrase that's been around since 6 BC or longer and it's become the one true calling of all serious-minded philosophers down through the ages. To "know thyself" is such a tough, and painfully exhausting process, isn't it! For some of us, it's the proverbial carrot tied to the stick hanging in front of us. We know deep down that we'll never catch it, yet we won't stop chasing either. I don't know about you guys, but for me I often try and somehow deny what I find out about “thyself” when it's embarrassing, or seemingly just too darn hard to fix. Yet, I all too often blare out the song of self-praise as if it were the sound of a trumpet when what I find to be true about “thyself” can be put into the so-called "Good" column. Oh, we're such a complex mixture of protons and neutrons and other gooey stuff, aren't we?
I found a picture of myself in Brennan Manning's writing of his book The Ragamuffin Gospel where he shares this insight; Our approach to the Christian life is as absurd as the enthusiastic young man who had just received his plumber's license and was taken to Niagara Falls. He studied it for a minute and then said, ”I think I can fix that.” Yeah, that's me!
It took a good number of years to reach the conclusion that for me to “know thyself” then any understanding of who, or what I am has to be derived first from knowing who God really is in my life. You see, I know that I'm a sinner. I know that I'm a beggar. I know that I am flawed beyond repair, and that my needs greatly exceed my ability to produce. Thus, God is my Savior. I know I need to feel loved, and I need to be taught a better way, that I have a need to belong to a family, and most certainly I know also that I need discipline in my life. Thus, God is my Father.
I finally came to the realization that for me to “know thyself” I had to find the answers to the same questions the lead character in Eugene O'Neill's play The Great God Brown asks of himself; ”Why am I afraid to dance, I who love music, and rhythm and grace and song and laughter? Why am I afraid to live, I who love life and the beauty of flesh and the living colors of the earth and sky and sea? Why am I afraid to love, I who love love?”
For me it was, or rather it IS a process of overcoming the fear of who I have been in my past, in order to take grasp of who God declares that I am. He has made me whole. He has given me a new life, not simply a repaired one. He has set me apart and has given me an heir's claim to His kingdom. I, one that has lived among the dying for so long He has given me everything. The simple fact is that so many of us march step by step (even deep into our graves) never understanding the smallest amount of truth as to what it means to “know thyself.”
A young man who was severely crippled with pain and illness spent his lifetime dealing with a wretched physical existence that most of us will never face. He finally reached the conclusion as to what it means to “know thyself.” He wrote the following letter to his mother (who suffers from the same debilitating disease as he did) from beyond the exit door of the grave. I was blessed to hear his words this week and wanted to share them with you. I tried my best to copy it word for word, but I admittedly made minor adjustments to a few sentences in order to capture the fullness of the thought I believe he wanted to convey. So for that I apologize to his family.
To those I left behind. I don't look at my life as over, for it's just begun. Mother my purpose there wasn't so much as my life, but my death is where the worth is. You are all saying he's running now (an activity he longed so badly to do here on earth) well yes, I am but that's just it. My real joy is talking with the Master. Yes, I got my reward, but it's not the rewards we think of on earth, it's Him, our Lord and Savior. Please listen to me, I'm trying to tell you the reason people have afflictions and hurts is because we are the ones He has chosen to get people's attention - not pity. I was addicted to drugs and was never happy or satisfied. I was no different than you Christians, you who are addicted to life on earth. Money, cars, houses, nothing is ever enough! People want to go to heaven for selfish reasons, to live easier, no more troubles and hurt - whatever it is you yearn for. Mother you wonder why I went through what I did and why you have to go through the things you do. It's because God set us apart so He could get people's eyes on Him through us. That's what He wants you to do, let His light shine through you, so that nothing else matters. Wearing high-heel shoes (which she longs to wear, yet physically can't) and seeing me again are some of of the things you yearn to do when you get to heaven - don't let it be! You should want to get to heaven cause you want to walk and talk with our Master. He gave His life for us willingly. He took mine for you to use, so please use my mistakes and failures to tell others about His love, mercy and grace. I wanted to run so badly. I dreamed of a day without all the physical limitations I had and I've finally reached that place, but that isn't my reward. The reward is my Master, not living in a place where there's no pain. Mama, be honored God has set you apart. People look at you - you have their attention. Use it for His glory. Be honored that you are my mother, (and you still are) that God gave me to you. People looked at me, but many times like you, I struggled with life. I tried to tell Justin (his younger brother) don't walk in my path. If you love me, then love yourself. Mama, he needs to go to a God he's really never known yet. Our Lord is more that just someone for Justin to pray to, He is the answer that he's searching for. It's not the lifestyle or the cars or the money - he will never have enough of those things. Mama, please tell him he is part of God's plan, that the three of us were set apart. It didn't just happen! Mama, when I used to mow the yard, that's when I talked to God and He talked to me. I didn't always listen just like you, Justin, and everyone else. I was addicted to life on earth and all that went with it. Heartache, frustration, good, bad, all of it. That's why I'm telling you some of the answers to what you want to know. Me, you, Justin - God has and always has had a plan and purpose for us. Be honored! Give my life meaning! Justin, use my life, all of it as a guide for you. Please don't allow my death and life to be unused for His glory. I didn't know the answers then like you do now. The Lord is giving you mercy for allowing my voice to speak to you – please mama, please listen! Tell Justin to get up and take hold of the Master's hand. I am with you and him always. Live your life simple – for the Master. Thank Him, love Him! Here in heaven all we want to do is to sing praises and worship Him, but it's okay for you to cry out for, you are flesh and God understands, but remember you're also spirit. Allow the Spirit-man in you to rise up and be strong. Love, Heath
That letter was written after this twenty-one year old boy had been killed in a car accident several years ago. Don't ask me to explain how, but I think the reason why is obvious. “Live your life simple – for the Master” something both Howard Guidry and this young boy finally learned about after what they knew to be a normal life was taken from them. As for me, I'm praying that you and I learn the value of the lessons they shared with us, long before our life here on earth is changed so drastically.
I believe for many of us, (again, me especially) we need to quit asking ourselves these questions, Why am I afraid to dance? Why am I afraid to live? Why am I afraid to love ?” and merely get on with the dancing, living and loving God has designed us for. “know thyself” as I'm finding out more and more does indeed come from knowing who God really is in my life, and so far in this process I've reached one very important, yet simple conclusion, and I'll share it with you as my closing thought.
“I believe I can learn a lot more about God and myself while holding hands with my sweetheart while we sway back and forth in our front porch swing." And where is the Biblical support for such a notion one might ask? "For where two or more believers are gathered in My name, there I will be also.” Nuff said!
Be blessed, doug
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