Author: Chris Myers

From the Start from zero column in the St Augustine Record

By Christopher Myers

The world is in a crazy place; heck, it always has been ever since Adam and Eve had to put clothes on. Self help and psycho analysis, introspection and shame; these are the run of the mill ambient noises we hear all day long, from newscasters to celebrities. They allow politically correct views to permeate our minds and hearts. These corrupting influences numb us to our joyful existence. Likewise, the serpent in the Garden of Eden—and yes, that is a true story— poisoned the minds of Adam and Eve by speaking the truth, but with a twist. God told them: “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die.” 

What did the serpent ask? “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?” His purpose was to seduce them away from pleasure and joy and corrupt the intellect’s ability to be as smart as God.

And after Eve repeated what God actually said, the serpent rebuffed her, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

‘And with that, the fruit became good for food, pleasing to the eye and also desirable for gaining wisdom.’ The rationale. Justification of our disobedience and sinful response because we want it to be so. We know.

But what does this have to do with a Labrador? Well, the other day I called to make a reservation at a local pet day care for my pooch Honey, a yellow Lab. It was a cold morning and the gal was telling me about the dogs playing indoors because some of them weren’t used to the cold weather, beside their coats weren’t thick enough. I reminisced with her about my former yellow Lab, Mr. B who would bound up the beach walk platforms and cross the snowy sand and plunge right into the North Atlantic on Long Island with a wind chill of 20 below zero. He just loved it, I told her.

Her response triggered this column: “That’s what I love about Labs, they’re so happy they could care less.”

I laughed, seeing back in time to Mr. B with frosty salt water on his fur and a delight in his eyes. Yes, he could care less. He didn’t know good versus evil, he knew obedience and joy. I suppose that’s what I’m after too; knowing about God’s ways and his blessings and provisions rather than getting into the diabolical unimportant. Rather than arguing over politics or world events, I want to bring out my inner Lab, smiling, laughing, speaking kindly and helping others.

Christopher Myers is a designer/writer/forgiven sinner and has fellowshipped with believers around the world. Faith is his passion.

From the Start from zero column in the St Augustine Record

By Christopher Myers

As AAA helps me find the right garage for my imperiled 1978 Mercedes 240D, I’m peaceful. I’m on the shoulder of Interstate 10 outside Van Horn, Texas. I planned for this event as a possibility of driving a 38 year-old car across the country. Planning helps, but plans don’t always work out the way we dream or imagine. And it doesn’t change or supersede God’s will in our life’s daily activities and resulting circumstances.

A day later, I’m in Marfa, Texas. Sitting on the private terrace of the Rock Hudson Suite in the Hotel Paisano. After being towed back to El Paso, I learned that Felicity (my name for the light blue 240D) had thrown a rod; my classic adventure came to an end. The mechanic bought her for $100. Now, as I listen to the 6 O’clock bells here in Marfa, I celebrate Felicity’s memory and God’s plan that intervened and brought me here.

You see, as I waited for Fernando, the mechanic to give me the prognosis, a friend called to gently and lovingly tell me that our dear friend Valerie had passed away. It was a shock. She was young, vibrant, an artist and as alive as any amazing Englishwoman ever was! I loved Valerie and I still do. 

Driving eastward I saw the sign for the towns of Valentine and Marfa outside of Van Horn, Texas. Feeling incredibly unsure of what my next stops were on my remaining 1,600 miles, I heeded ‘the sign’. Valerie was the artist’s artist—eloquent, edgy, witty, engaging, devoted and above all caring about us and that our souls would get it.

When we got it she exclaimed, “YES!”

She loved furniture, paintings, wine, dogs, nature, and life. I’d heard that Marfa was an artist colony of sorts, so determined this is where we would go together. Here, we’d celebrate the memory of her life as a friend and artist, for she will no longer grace us down here.

I drove and drove through the glorious vastness that is Texas. The film Giant was filmed here; hence my staying in the room where Rock Hudson camped out while filming. And I’ve got a Martini by my side, which is verboten before writing this column, but for Valerie, I’ve made an exception. And I always will.

This journey, from Santa Paula, CA where I bought the car to Orlando where I will drop off the rental, has become a glimpse into the grandeur and delicacy of life. Souls, male and female that I’ve known and still fellowship with are the mile markers of my soul’s journey. Beats of my heart’s timeline. Angels are, in fact, made higher than man, because God has given them immunity to our predicament of loss. 

Christopher Myers is a designer/writer/forgiven sinner and has fellowshipped with believers around the world. Faith is his passion.

From the Start from zero column in the St Augustine Record

By Christopher Myers

My recent cross country trip was, in many ways, to shake off the old former ways and to pursue a new perspective. Over the past two years, writing this column has brought clarity and often a sense of delight with how God does things. 

Crossing the Jordon was a particular favorite of mine; here my heart came to understand God’s call into a land of difficulty where he would show himself as the center of where we are to trust. Trust was a massive theme throughout this column. And in discovering I could trust God he continued to lead me into more understanding of my heartscape: the territory of my heart. 

While in Big Bend National Park, Texas, God’s presence illuminated the limits of my heart.

On the drive from Marfa through the vast Badlands landscape God started speaking about that place.

“You can’t contain my goodness, Chris. My vastness is not to be reasoned with nor understood,” he said.

As I passed Leary Ranch, I saw within my heart’s territory the ranch of my own devices where the operation of the ranch was controlled by my will. This real life landscape embodied God’s revelations about my heart’s control of things and ideas as ways that were opposed to his ways. My heartscape was vast, but I preferred to live in a contained ranch.

I looked beyond the ranches to the far off peaks of the Chisos Mountains. No single ranch will ever contain all of this. How vast is the heart he created in me and in all of us.

In fortifying our ranches, we define the limits of our very existence. 

God said, “Tear down your fences and find me everywhere.”

I could see that this is why the enemy wants the territory of our heart: to destroy and rob the pleasure of our astonishing and fantastic territory, which God has given to each of us.

I have sought to own the pleasure of these places by trying to possess them. 

God said, “I want you to delight in them, but leave the ownership and maintenance to me. Simply rejoice and trust and offer tender mercy in love; as I always have, for eternity and for every living thing, I will provide. I am Jehovah Gyra. Mark the boundaries I give to you, do not build fences to enclose and to contain. A boundary is a limit to guide and to protect. A ranch by contrast is a false refuge that consumes wealth and effort. Pride drives a ranch. Peace instructs boundaries.”

I’m working to take my fences down, God asks me to bring my creativity into the territory he created just for me—beyond my ways and trusting in his.

Inhabit the territory he’s created just for you and listen for his wonderful voice.

Christopher Myers is a designer/writer/forgiven sinner and has fellowshipped with believers around the world. Faith is his passion.

Writing is my most holy place. Within words and their organization I find expression of my imagination. I am driven by my simple desire to communicate. I’ve worked within design studios and creative agencies where communication was the ultimate goal. I found my passion while there, as a creative director, limited by the constraints of brand guidelines and account managers. These limiters offer little to no imagination, and even less ways to envision a clients true needs. But one need we all have is to find truth.

Finding truth is a wow for the soul.

Truth is a wow because it sets us free within the boundaries of reality. Like flying or swimming, sleeping or eating, being set free in truth is a simple act but it is clear and wonderful. How few of these wows do we get in a day, or a week, or a year, or a lifetime?

Most of our time is spent navigating the world’s boundaries of finance, politics and career so truth’s wows tend to be either overlooked, dismissed or unrecognized.

Living in my most holy place is in fact a wow everyday.

Within this place is the sacred connection between me and the Creator. Being in His presence is a wow. Receiving the truths from His Spirit is a wow. And, allowing myself to roam freely in His creation is a wow.

I invite you to begin looking for your most holy place—the one that resonates with who you really are. I’ve found that places I like or feel at home in draw out my true self. Beaches help me get to my core because they are beautiful and powerful but also invite rest and joy. I resonate with these attributes.

As I drove by the beach near my house, a scene synthesized my spirit. It was a rare and lovely marriage of blues, a beach umbrella, and bucket. It suggested bliss. This is also how I feel when I’m writing—my most holy place.

Ever taken a beach walk? For those who haven’t it’s nearly impossible to understand how interactive it can be. The one thing that I particularly enjoy is the unplanned nature of a walk. There are the tides to consider— my beach is best walked at low tide. And there are the weather conditions, which often affect clothing, hats, sunglasses or even beverage choices.

Once strolling, you’ll discover what the ocean has washed up. Each step in the sand is a like a mellow, surprise treasure hunt.

The sand where the waves are most active contains all sorts of dynamic materials from shells, to grasses, to seaweed, to dead or dying starfish, to any number of oddities that can float or be caught in a tide. This is an active canvas and it’s like watching nature play while art is arranged and then rearranged all around your feet.

The hunt is based on something you might fancy on that particular walk: If you find a piece of sea glass then that may become your hunted object. Likewise, there may be a particular type of shell that the southerly winds have stirred up. It might be a shell uncommon on the beach, so that becomes a hunted object. 

Yesterday, I took a beach walk with my Labrador Honey.

In the waves were thin long blades of an unfamiliar sea grass. Each wave placed the grasses in fluid curvy shapes surrounded by shells. A pause between sets of waves allowed appreciation or even a photograph of the seashore scrollwork.

The next set of waves erased the sandy chalkboard, gently reworking the grasses into new curves. The liquid hands moved them slightly in one direction or the other up the beach.

I began taking photographs of these serendipitous little tableau, including little shells or other sea detritus. I found the compositions amusing and somehow significant: as if the sea were communicating. Then, I saw a curvy, cursive letter “L”. It was grand, as if starting an important document, the way script used to be considered eloquent and authoritative.

It was in the active sand area, where a wave could easily wash around it, lifting it and reshaping it into anything curvy. I felt like the ocean was talking with me and prompted me to participate in what it wanted to say to me right then and there.

That “L” was loud, and the rest of the word revealed itself instantly. I just needed a shell or something to write it out. This was a moment of God speaking through His creation. I just had to open my eyes and heart to see.

Paul says in the book of Romans: “Since the creation of the world, God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.” (Romans 1:20)

After I’d used a shell to write out the word, “Love”, another wave came in and erased the moment.

That serendipitous beach walk had made an impression on me—amidst my day’s activities, God’s love became brighter and inspired my afternoon.

Accepting the beauty of new territories

What I like most about writing is the vast landscape my imagination explores. It’s a library of dreams. My mind envisions the real melding with the unreal everywhere I go, including a long-lost memory.

In the memory, I am in Bartlett, New Hampshire, thirteen years old with chickenpox, and I have two girlfriends: one back home, her picture temporarily taped to my bed post, and a new one in the local school my brothers and I are attending so we can enjoy a month-long ski vacation.

My New Hampshire girlfriend tells me about her family’s summertime lake house and the Loons that make wistful hoots that travel over the lake. My imagination goes wild. Growing up on the ocean, I don’t get to see many lakes, and I have never heard anything but seagulls and sandpipers.

I know I’ll never get to see her lake or hear the Loons, because it’s deep wintertime. So, my mind goes to work. I write a poem called The Loons. I place my desire in a landscape of my making.

“When I visited the moon, there lived some loons…” the poem starts.

As I rediscover my young writing efforts, such as The Loons, I recall the angst of passion intermingled with duty. Passion was superseded by duty (mercifully, creative) through college.

After graduation, I moved to the moon: Los Angeles, where I met plenty of loons and perhaps became one myself. I was living in a greenhouse of ripe ideas. Eager to transform these ideas into skilled narrative, I enrolled in UCLA’s writing program and South Coast Repertory’s playwriting course. This fueled my passion to write.

Somewhat hastily I decided to leave a solid career in theme park design.

I moved back east and rented a house on the beach so I could write. Self-doubts filled that place. What do I have to say? The others are so much cleverer than me. They have all the answers. This neurosis revealed maintenance was necessary on my inner landscape: Talent needed pruning and emotional issues needed to be uprooted.

It’s been a long journey to Summer Haven, Florida where divine intervention brought me. Countless beach walks have been therapy for my bad writing, self-doubts, and lack of trust. When I felt the silky waves around my feet or saw the sunrise and sunset light in the clouds, I felt victorious.

As a writer I needed a jumpstart. I journaled every morning and worked on writing projects. But, I lacked the intention that this was in fact what I was called to do. I know God won’t honor what he’s asked me to do. Believing this simple lie perpetuated my writer’s quarantine.

God intervened and showed me the root of the lie: I had lived my life my way and ignored His guidance. I saw myself as a deflated balloon.

God saw me as a shiny full balloon, and said, “All you have to do is let me fill you.”

I shared this balloon story over an unexpected lunch with a stranger, author and illustrator Linda Brandt.

She said, “That’s a children’s story! You’ve got to write that book.”

God sent her to be my jumpstart: Someone who believed in me. And I heard her. That’s important because before that moment, my self-doubts drowned my ability to hear. Linda has been a patient mentor throughout the writing of Balloon.

This is how I’m becoming a writer: I’m letting God fill me every day—trusting His Spirit, rather than relying upon mine. It’s easier now too, because I am aligned and comfortable writing fiction in the genre of magical realism. The three manuscripts on my desk are Balloon, Venice in Missouri, and Florida Blues, each one a hero’s journey. It’s thrilling to discover there are actual literary terms for things I feel or want to say.

I’m becoming a confident writer with the help of multiple resources, which include: My neighbor and author Skye Taylor, the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators Florida Chapter, Florida Writers Association, my Inspire Christian critique group, Elizabeth George’s book Write Away, Blake Snyder’s book Save the Cat! and A Novel Idea by several gifted and insightful authors.

In full disclosure, I still love creating and visiting cool physical environments, but with the eyes and mind of experience. After all, without that experience, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I’m grateful that I know what it feels like to master something, namely, how to tell a story visually and make that story come to life in the physical realm. Now, I’m embarking upon the mastery of writing that brings the reader into a realm they’ve never been before and while there enjoying the experience. This is my life’s next chapter: Becoming a writer.

Next Stop

I arrived at the next stop on the game board of my life: Oyster Cottage, Saint Simons Island. This is where I’d spend at least the next three months of my life. I was barely verbal after the fifteen-hour pack-and-move marathon. The new bed was made so I didn’t have to unload the truck and go through boxes. What a mercy.

Next morning my friends and I sipped coffee on the porch. I admired the home they offered me. A tabby exterior featuring shells in a mortar bed traditionally made of sand and lime.

James Oglethorpe who settled the colony of Georgia for the Crown of England introduced this practical indigenous building method in 1736. I half-joked that it looked like a German or Swiss immigrant had designed and built the house, because it felt and looked like a chalet. It even included an awesome corner fireplace inglenook. 

After coffee, my friends helped me unpack. Suddenly, I was gripped with fears of the future. What happens when this interim next season spot is no longer available? This worry threatened to keep me from ‘relaxing and enjoying’ the provision of this house and the special coastal environment. God reminded me of a scripture he’s used countless times to settle my being. 

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him and he will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5&6 NIV)

Repeating that several times out loud invoked a platform of faith for me to stand on. Faith opened my eyes and pushed worry aside. Heck, I was already miraculously in the place he provided for me! 

Settling into the cottage over the next week, friends gone, the powerful force of contentment stirred. This is what it’s like to be loved. No expectations. No limits or restrictions. No directives. Just be you, fully. I felt this joyful eruption of being loved by friends. I choked up. I allowed myself to trust God’s provision more fully by entering into the house without reservations.

I wouldn’t let worry crowd out my connection with all of this. 

This season, wasn’t about the supposed-to-be me, it was about the loved me, the valued me and the appreciated me. The supposed-to-be me that typically obeyed expectations and cowered in self-hatred was being served notice.

Over the years, these emotional idiosyncrasies fouled my healthy perception of self, and conspired to rob me of God’s affirmations. Settling in, the content me felt called out into the open space of vulnerable gratitude. 

Just be.

I did nothing to merit or deserve this provision. God said it. It came to be. And he used my friends as his hands, feet, eyes, and ears to bring it.

Thankful and overwhelmed with mercy, I simply recognized my blessing of being me, a broken compass, loved and valued, cherished enough to be brought to a place of recalibration. This is the practical awesomeness of God’s kingdom.

Be sure to check out Part 1 (previous post)!

I’ve found that journaling is a record of God’s handiwork in me. Journaling reveals how God’s infinite abilities engage in specific ways in my life. As a journaler, I live my life more alert and interested in what’s going on around me in the physical and spiritual realms. I’m able to identify beauty or hardship because I’ve learned to open my eyes and ears to observe and engage with my Lord through my open heart. Like farmers who learn to sow and harvest based on their understanding of the weather and seasons, journalers bring what they see and experience to the Living God, who in turn provides unparalleled insight and wisdom for practical use.

This is the difference between spiritual journaling and cathartic journaling. God is welcomed onto the pages of the spiritual journal for his purposes to be made manifest.

Cathartic journaling is a way to seek much-needed relief, but it is without the benefit to the journaler of being transformed by the renewing of the mind. Only God provides this incredible transformation as we seek him to be renewed. It boils down to devotion. To whom does your heart belong?

In conversations with Christian counselors and recovery ministers, I discovered that journaling is a helpful tool to open the door to the heart and to the throne of the Almighty. It is a spiritual landing pad. A place to open up in our own honest and vulnerable voice to God.

On those pages, like the pages of the Bible, God will reveal himself. What does God say? “Draw near to me and I will draw near to you.”(James4:8)

As you open your heart, allow the God of the Universe to engage with you on the pages of your journal. Provision in God’s terms is pro-vision, for vision, the vision of your life. He will provide all that is necessary in this life, including your value and purpose.

“And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.”(Philippians 4:19) Jesus wants to be the one who satisfies us with good things. These are love, joy, peace, and other fruits of the Spirit, plus knowing his loving presence and eternal life, his rewards, and all the profound mercies and graces of being a child of the King.

We tend to focus on the physical rewards, but God uses his supernatural rewards to provide for our physical needs as well as the spiritual needs of our hearts and minds.

But do we know him in this way? Do we know him as our provider and the one who will see to it? Do we allow him that position?

“For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost…” (Luke 14:28) 

When God asks us to do something, it’s essential to count the cost. And, it’s essential to consent to what he’s asking, because he knows why he’s asking. In other words, don’t delay and don’t enter into the request without taking it seriously. 

How long had I kept hearing the conviction Stop drinking? Years. But when I’d asked, Is drinking wrong? God never said it was wrong.

While journaling on May 27^th and May 28^th, my spirit was stirred to ask God to deeply search me, for something was troubling me. I prayerfully asked for more understanding through scripture.  

Like David, the journaler and writer of Psalms, I began, “Lord search me and know my anxious thoughts.”  

And then the Lord spoke Proverbs 13:21 to my spirit. “Misfortune pursues the sinner, but prosperity is the reward of the righteous.”

As I considered the deep meaning of this, I was reminded of my life in New York City, and how so much hardship and misfortune beleaguered my business and personal life because of my ongoing sins. And God reminded me that his grace was all the more, because he brought me to this present place of righteousness in Christ. 

To prove his power in my life, God first led me to the scriptures that revealed sins misfortunes. “For every living soul belongs to me, the father as well as the son—both alike belong to me. The soul who sins is the one who will die.” (Ezekiel 18:4) 

I had tried to assuage sin’s misfortunes with money’s shiny false blessings. Finally, humbled and emptied, I recognized God’s word, his powerful, real, and sober word is all that satisfies! And he had pursued me! 

Many years of spiritual rehabilitation mixed with joy and despair have wrought in me a spirit that recognizes my Lord amidst my circumstances.

I am free to choose with clarity and purpose, not reaction and survival.

In that time of journaling on the 27^th, after the reminder of sin’s misfortunes, the Spirit led me to other verses that highlighted the reward of righteousness. My favorite: “Many are the woes of the wicked, but the Lord’s unfailing love surrounds the man who trusts in him.” (Psalm 32:10) 

My spirit, that inner real me, the one that will rise up to heaven, asked the soul, the logical and reasoning me, “Chris, what is the one way you cling to that in your heart, you know the Lord is asking you to abandon and let go of?” 

And my flesh responded, “Alcohol.” 

My spirit responded, “So stop, abandon, and let go of it without thought, apprehension, or delay in Jesus’ name. He will make a way.” 

Just as quickly as this had come, my desires rose up as if to quench the fervor of clarity. 

Not recalling His request, I asked the Lord, “Did you ask me to stop drinking?” My flesh arose and immediately justified the excuse of drinking. I journaled the word excuse and pondered that it might be a clue to my problem, but paid it no mind. 

I fixed a martini and got depressed as I looked at homes online that I could not afford. In that instant, I remembered: I will not share my glory with another. 

I looked the scripture up. It became clear that the verse the Spirit was referring me to had been Isaiah 42:8. 

And this is for every Christian; every child, man, and woman who calls on the name of the Lord Jesus:  

I, the Lord, have called you in righteousness. I will take hold of your hand. I will keep you and will make you to be a covenant for the people and a light for the Gentiles, to open eyes that are blind, to free captives from prison, and to release from the dungeons those who sit in darkness. I am the Lord; that is my name! I will not give my glory to another or my praise to idols. See, the former things have taken place and new things I declare; before they spring into being, I announce them to you. (Isaiah 42:6-9) 

And my eyes were opened! It’s an idol. Alcohol has become an idol! “O Lord, please remove this idol from me.” 

It doesn’t matter how I perceive it or think about it. It’s what the Lord says that matters. Does the Lord’s word torment us or provide discipline for our good? 

I got into the hot tub to consider. Cooling off, the Spirit began unlocking the treasure of insight and understanding. God revealed it had been generational spirits that tricked the men of my family to turn to alcohol, which became an idol, greater than our dependence upon God. It replaced the need to meet God in His way with an idol of false satisfaction, masking or dulling our response to meet Him and receive our desire for the true answers to the need!