www.morgypoo.com

Tale of college humor

After so many years of saying I believed the bible but my heart not showing it, I was excited to finally feel like a true Christian, like I was willing to walk the talk to some degree. I couldn't get enough of this life in Christ, and I eagerly waited to see what God would do next. I knew more was coming, more healing, more teaching, more setting me free from invisible chains. And more intimacy with God as a result, that was the best part. I was actually starting to trust Him now!

That’s when God began showing me something about my trust up to this point. In the gospel, Jesus stresses how trustworthy God is by saying something like: "Which of you, if your son asks for a fish, would give him a serpent? How much more, then, will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask Him?"

I came to see, somehow, that my heart’s belief was quite the opposite for many years. My heart had believed that if I asked the Father for a fish, I might get one, but it would be through great pain and trial. If I wanted a fish, He would put me in a boat with holes in it, in a raging storm, in shark infested waters, with a puny fishing line--so I could "grow from the experience." That's the Heavenly Father I knew. Blessings only came through hardship and ordeal, and were seldom worth the cost. That’s what God began showing me about my heart’s faith. And somehow, I suddenly realized that this impression of mine was actually limiting God. I was confining God to only bless me in this rigorous manner, because I had judged Him as only giving by way of harsh discipline.

Why would my beliefs limit the all powerful God? My answers came from the bible. "With the measure that you use, it will be measured out to you." I had sized up God as very small in the loving department, very limited in His generosity, and His generosity towards me was therefore limited to a very small measure. And as Jesus once said to a sick person who wanted healing, "Receive according to your faith." My faith was pretty wimpy, so the blessings I could receive were pretty wimpy. My faith was pretty twisted, so I could only received twisted blessings.

I asked God to change my view of Him, to trust Him and His generosity. What came next wasn’t the trust, but more details. I saw how this was connected to the bitter judgments I'd made against my earthly father. Dad disciplined when he was irritated, more so than when love required it. I guess you could say he was hard on me. He had admitted as much, and asked for my forgiveness years later. He did the best that he could, really. I suppose it’s tough to be the ideal parent when you have a stressful job that requires lots of hours, and having seven kids made it pretty tough for him to closely monitor each of our lives. He felt somewhat absent to me when I was growing up, and when he was there, he didn’t have a lot of patience. And with the measure that I judged my earthly Dad for these things, I received a heavenly Dad who was distant and not able to give me what I needed.

One of the ten commandments says, "Honor your father and mother, that all may go well with you." There’s a relationship between the way we think about our parents and the way our lives go? Scary. Why is it so important to God that we’re not parent bashers? Can’t we blame them for our troubles? Could a million therapists be wrong? I had to stick with the bible for my answers. And the very last thing it said before the New Testament was that God was going to send the spirit of Elijah to "turn the hearts of the fathers to the children and turn the hearts of the children to the fathers, else the land be stricken with a curse." Apparently God wants parent-children relationships restored. And Jesus even bashed the religious leaders of His day for blowing off their parents once they were raised and on their own. For the most part, the religious leaders were too into rules, and it was Jesus who told them to ease up on the letter-of-the-law stuff, but not on this item. He nailed them for the way they treated their parents in later years. And He was nailing me too. It was time to clean up my view of my Dad.

To the extent that I had not honored my father, but rather took a harsh view of him, life was not going so well for me. Did I hear God audibly say this to me? No. Did I have any doubt that He was saying this to me? No. I knew this was the number one thing He was telling me these days. Sometimes you can read ten chapters in the bible, and 99% of it appears dry and lifeless, then wham, one sentence nails you in the eyes. You just know it was directed to you alone for that very moment. That’s what these passages were doing. But it wasn’t only the written word. The bible also says that God talks to His children, especially when they seek Him fervently. "A voice in your ear will tell you, go this way, or go that way." That inner voice was telling me that my view of my Dad was the main reason for a weak faith in my heavenly Father.

God sometimes talks in pictures, too. The picture I got for this principle was a lamp. Before the days of electricity, lamps ran on oil, carried up to the wick through a hose. My hose had a major kink in it. The cause of the kink was my anger at my Dad, my resentment, my animosity. And the funny thing was, I got along fine with him now. He had aged and mellowed, he had retired, he even quit drinking. I loved my Dad. I loved my present day Dad. Could I be getting penalized for the way a younger me resented a younger Dad? It seemed like that was all water under the bridge. But you could look at it another way. You could look at that as a penalty flag back at the fifty yard line. I was standing in the end zone thinking I had scored, but the referee was calling me back to the point where I had stepped out of bounds.

Maybe times had changed and I was no longer feeling the resentment that fueled my earlier years, but I had never actually repented and healed the wound. Again I looked to biblical principles to see whether this mattered. And in dozens of passages, I saw that God didn’t lift the curse unless people had truly repented. When people saw the error of their ways, and saw it as despicable, and when they turned to God and asked Him to forgive them and change them, then they were able to get on with their lives and receive His blessings. Just because infractions were in the past wasn’t enough. As a matter of fact, in many passages it wasn’t until people repented for their sins and the sins of their fathers, that they were healed and blessings were restored. But I wasn’t ready to deal with that one yet. One thing at a time.

I wasn’t bummed at this revelation. I was excited, actually. Because it gave me hope that God could shatter my tiny view of Him and give me a much larger one. He could add a few lanes to the highway that brought blessings into my life. Instead of getting tiny little droplets of heaven-sent things, my cup could be "filled up, pressed down, running over, poured into my lap." I hoped so, anyway.

This opened up my eyes. I passionately asked God to show me all the other ways in which I had limited Him by judging Him wrongly. I figured God would gently point out these things. Nope, instead He illustrated them. I should say He illustrated the effects of them. The invisible chains that had held me captive for so many years in so many ways, they started to become visible, and more powerful than ever. The prison walls started to close in on me.

Over the next two weeks, I started to lose it. I thought I was going insane. I became an emotional wreck. But it would all come into focus in a matter of weeks. Several different spiritual bondages would be brought into light, then the root causes for their existence would be revealed, and then the power would be broken and I would be set free in ways I could not imagine. But I didn’t have the comfort of this foreknowledge at the time. I thought I was going nuts, and just when I was on a roll with God.

Which one do I pick for starters? How about phoniness? Over that two week stretch, I felt like the biggest phony in the world. But it only kicked in when I tried to share my honest feelings with people. And the more sincere the feelings that I shared, the phonier I felt. So I tried harder. I opened up my heart to people, sharing things that I knew to be true and passionate. But I felt like such a fake! I hated this. But do you know what? This was not entirely new. For years, maybe for most of my life, I had this thing. The more true my feelings that I shared, the phonier I felt. Only now the power behind this thing was ten times greater. There might as well have been someone in the room screaming, "Fake!"

What was behind it? I prayed fervently, asking God to show me, and He did. Another Dad issue. I was expecting God to bust me for hating my Dad’s temper and his screaming. But instead, God showed me how I had rejected my Dad during the few rare moments when he tenderly reached out to me. I recalled how my buddies and I would play poker in my basement when I was a teenager, and every so often my Dad would come down and join us. If he was really sloshed, he would be super slow, and he would be very touchy feely. My buddies laughed at him, and I laughed too, but inwardly was humiliated and embarrassed. Now God was showing me how I hated my Dad more when he was trying to connect with me than when he was screaming and hollering at me. Instantly I saw how wrong I had been. I had not only judged my Dad’s method of trying to connect, I despised his emotional needs. I didn’t give him the right to have the needs of his heart expressed. And with the measure I had used, it was measured out to me. I didn’t show mercy, so I didn’t get mercy. For years I felt phony each time I tried to get my heart’s needs met.

That wasn’t the only dynamic that kicked in, or that kicked into higher gear, I should say. Another one was my tongue. It seemed that every time I tried to say something nice to someone, it came out with a nasty little barb that wasn’t intended. I couldn’t say anything without sliming the people around me. I was a one man wrecking crew, laying people low with every sentence. You could see a trail of casualties everywhere I’d been. And I didn’t know why. I got so disgusted that I decided I wasn’t going to talk any more. My words were raining death on people, so I would stop speaking. But still they seeped out, poisonous words that made others feel very small.

What was behind this one? What was the root cause? I’m not totally sure I know the whole reason. Part of it was a fear of saying the wrong thing. Fear lets in the powers of darkness and drives out the life of God. Throughout my pre-college years (i.e. before beer), I was painfully introverted. I can recall a girl signing my high school year book with this advice: "You’re a nice guy. Just talk a little more and you’ll do okay." Occasionally I tried to talk more, only to say something stupid that made me look dumb, or worse, I’d say something sharp that made others feel hurt. Then I would swing the pendulum in the opposite direction, telling myself I wasn’t going to talk at all. Or I determined to master my verbiage, vowing to seize control of my words. But the more I determined to control my words, the less control I had! How come? Because God wanted His Holy Spirit to direct my words. As long as I had to be in charge, He was left out. That’s what I felt God was telling me.

Each of these core wounds was highlighted under a powerful microscope, becoming ten times more powerful and nasty, then eliminated altogether.

Why was God so willing to not only set me free, but to teach me what principles were at work and why? Because of another judgment I’d made about my Dad, this one a good judgment. Throughout my formative years, my Dad had taken the time to teach me many things. He not only had me hold the flashlight or fetch the screwdriver, he also took the extra time with each project to explain what he was going to do and why. I had a very healthy respect for my Dad as a teacher of principles, and to the extent that I was able to appreciate my Dad in this way, my heavenly Father was also able to teach me many things. That was a pretty cool revelation. This was the plus side of judgments.

But I only saw these things afterwards. In the heat of this stage, I was far from discerning. Actually I was a basket case. Between feeling phony and trashing everyone around me, I was a walking raw nerve. I just wanted to stay home and hide under the covers. But I couldn’t, I had a church budget meeting to attend. I cried the whole way there in the car, wondering what the heck was going on inside of me. I hated myself, and I felt so little hope for getting better. Actually, I was afraid that I would feel better but not get better. I didn’t want to go back to being ignorant. I wanted this junk out of me now.

I wiped away the tears and walked into the budget meeting, determined not to speak, lest I trash yet another innocent victim. I sat through the hour long meeting without saying a word, until finally it ended and folks began to leave. Al the Pastor knew something was up and asked if I was okay. I said no, and he pulled me into his office. I balled for a good five minutes before I could tell him what was going on inside of me, and even then it was pretty hard to explain it all. I didn’t have the context that comes from hindsight, I just had bits and pieces of irrational feelings and frustrating behavior.

Al listened for awhile, then placed his hand on my head and began to pray. "Lord, I thank You so much for bringing Morgy to this church. Thank You for his gentleness…" Ha, that felt like a joke! "Thank You for giving him a heart that seeks You above everything else. Father God, I ask You to give Morgy the freedom to make mistakes with his tongue."

What? No, Al buddy, wrong thing to pray, I thought! That was the last thing I wanted, freedom to trash more people. I couldn’t believe that such a wise pastor could pray something so off base. The prayer went on for just a couple more minutes, then we were interrupted by a knock on the door and Al had to meet with someone else--probably a recent victim of mine.

Ten minutes went by, then Al returned and asked how I was doing. "I feel okay, but I don’t know if I’m any cleaner inside," I said. Then I told him my greatest fear. "I’m afraid that I’ll feel better but keep living the same way." We talked for a few more minutes, then he said we were done. I didn’t feel done. I didn’t feel much of anything. Actually, I felt normal, which didn’t make any sense to me.

After driving home, I watched my mood and my behavior over the next few hours, and days, and weeks, and gradually became aware that it was over. Stuff got lifted. Junk got purged out of my soul, and it wasn’t coming back! These ugly dynamics that God had exposed and increased in magnitude over a two week stretch, they were nowhere to be seen now. I felt like someone who had the cast removed from their leg, I was free! No more junk weighing me down, at least no junk that I could see or feel. I was a different person.

It was pretty cool to see the change in myself as I interacted with people. Once, twice, three times and more I voiced feelings from my heart and didn’t feel phony about it. I said nice things to people, and it came out nice! What’s more, my words lifted other people’s spirits. It seemed as if I was a different person!

I could confront people now, too. After nearly thirty years of ducking confrontation at all costs, I was able to speak up now, and I could do it without getting mad and nasty.

I don’t take credit for any of these things. It’s not like I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and reshaped myself. I’d failed at that hundreds of times. This was a different deal. This was God putting His hand on my broken spots and fixing them.

Boy was it easier to praise and worship God after that. After so many years of trying to change myself, and failing, I was suddenly changed in dramatic ways. And it wasn’t work, it was natural to behave in this new manner, natural because God had changed my nature. I didn’t have to constantly work at changing my outward behavior, I was changed from the inside out, just like the gospels promised.

It was time for one more change. I was sick of lust having control over me, and who knows, maybe God was ready to set me free from it too. There was only one way to find out. Like I had done many times before, I committed to abstain from lust altogether. So I steered clear of anything potentially seductive. I stopped watching HBO, Showtime, all late night TV. No more taking the chance of stumbling across a scene that could do me in.

It worked! I went days, weeks, months without having a lustful thought. Perhaps I would never cave in to it again. Somehow God had given me a strength of character that wasn’t there before.

I can recall a dream I had about that time. I was riding in the back seat of a limo, and three gorgeous women were seated around me. They took off their tops and indulged me to the hilt, but then I noticed something about their appearance. Their faces changed from gorgeous to hideous, dozens of leathery wrinkles forming, and their hair changed to frizzy and gray. They looked 120 years old and decrepit. And instead of giving to me, they were taking from me. They were ugly, gruesome monsters. Then they changed back to hot sexy women, seducing me all over again. Then they were ogres again. I eventually realized that their appearance was up to me. Their true appearance was this ugly, grotesque version, but if I was willing to ignore reality and go along with the façade, I could be shown the super model version. I woke up and reflected on what I had dreamed. Somehow I knew this was a prophetic dream, telling me that I had a choice. I could go back to being deceived, allowing myself to be seduced by lust and sexual beauty, knowing that behind the mask it was truly hideous and destructive. Or I could see it for what it was, and stay clear. I chose to stay out of that limo and not get taken for a ride any more.

Somewhere along the line, the spell was broken. I was different inside now. Not only was I free from the phony feelings, the forked tongue, and the power of lust, but another chain was broken. I knew, somehow I just knew, that I no longer had that internal self rejection thing in me. I could want something or someone without having to hide from it. The built-in rejecter was gone! Jesus came through. He said in His word: "If you hold to My teaching, you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." And it did, He did.

I'd been free from that old self-defeat thing for a couple months now, although the proof would only come when another lady came along, I suppose. Annie was that lady. She was a cheerful and spry girl who worked in the department next to mine. On our first date, she told me how she felt like she'd known me for years. I liked Annie, and I enjoyed getting to know her so fast. After aeons of lonely solitude, I at last had a woman to hold and kiss again. The curse of four dateless years had been lifted! And I chose to keep it to kissing. Nothing sexual. I firmly committed to save that for marriage.

After a few weeks of getting to know Annie, she told me she was struggling with the idea of seeing me and her boyfriend of three years who lived in Florida. Another lady bent on leaving the state. Getting close to me made her realize that she had to choose one of us before her feelings got too strong. She chose her out-of-state boyfriend. But this time I had no hard feelings. For the first time in my life, I had total trust in God to take care of my love life. If Annie wasn't the one, He would provide another, or He would make me just as happy being single.

Annie refused to believe that I could be so calm and peaceful about the breakup. She was certain that I was just hiding the pain, that I was in denial. "No, really, I am totally fine," I insisted. "God will take care of me. Don't worry."

"You can't be over me that fast," Annie insisted, wanting me to do her the courtesy of a couple tears. But there were no tears, I felt totally peaceful about the breakup. And I felt great knowing for certain that the old rejection stuff was gone. Its grip was loosened and it no longer had any power over me. I was even happier now than before the breakup, funny as that sounds.

It was cool to see God doing things in the hearts of other folks, too. That bible study group I was attending, the one where it was mostly dry theology, that was changing. The people’s hearts were changing. They weren’t content with knowing stale facts like the age of Moses when he died any more, they wanted the life that Jesus promised. They wanted healing where they had emotional wounds. They wanted God’s Spirit to live inside them. And it was clear that God was taking them through a maturation process, just like he was doing with me.

One of the chapters in the Old Testament talks about the Prophet Ezekiel stumbling across a valley of dry bones. God asks him if those dry bones can live. Then the dry bones stand up and reattach themselves to each other, and muscles and ligaments are added, until there are whole bodies. But there’s still no breath of life. Then God breathes into these corpses, and they come to life and become a great and might army. God was doing the same thing in people around me. Where ever there were people who weren’t content with their spiritual state, God was reconstructing them. Some were just piles of dry bones, others were getting put back together, and some were even having the breath of life breathed back into them.

Not only was I feeling inspired by what God had done in me, I was rooting for Him to do stuff in others. I was part of a team. Together we were going somewhere. We were making a difference in each other’s lives. It was contagious.

While our bible study gang was getting stronger all the time, our church began losing momentum. Somewhere along the way, our church began to lose something. I’ll call it the power of God, or maybe the presence of God. Some traumatic events had happened, some lives were lost, and that’s a tough blow to anyone’s faith. It’s especially hard on a church that believes in the supernatural power of healing through prayer, because if God can heal, but doesn’t, whose fault is it? Was our faith too weak? Were we living outside of His will? Or were we being tested? Those are the questions that began nagging at people, eating away at our faith and spiritual hunger. We stopped growing, at least as a congregation. And I’ll even go so far as to say that God stopped showing up. Sure, He still saw us and tended to us. But the days of getting zapped when you walked in the door were over. People weren’t touched left and right like before. Hearts weren’t laid open and revealed like before.

A church with God’s presence is a very attractive sight. You can’t help but come back for more. But a church that used to have God’s presence is the saddest sight you can imagine. It’s sadder than a church that has never known the powerful presence of God. The average church doesn’t know what they’re missing; they are content with mediocre spirituality, because it beats none at all. But a church that loses God’s Spirit won’t be satisfied with anything else.

In the Book of Revelations, Jesus dictates letters to seven churches. To one of those churches, He calls them to "remember the height from which you have fallen" and to "return to your first love, lest I come and remove your lamp from its stand." Our lamp had been removed, and no amount of human skills could restore it. Creative programs wouldn’t bring it back. Hyping up the crowd wouldn’t restore God’s Spirit. Rites and rituals wouldn’t do it. Begging God wouldn’t do it. God had removed His Spirit for a reason, and until He had a better reason to return, nothing that we did could override His will.

I don’t know all of the causes for our fall from power. Maybe I know some of the pieces. Early on in our decline, I recall having a dream that I felt was prophetic. I saw the people of our congregation sitting in a cafeteria. Someone noticed that there was a camera up on the ceiling, taking pictures of us. They decided that it would look really cool if we held up the plates and cups real close to the camera, so that they would look a lot bigger, kind of a distorted view. That’s the dream. And I had the feeling God was saying something through it. We were holding up the supernatural gifts that He was giving us, we were showing them off and trying to make them look bigger so we would look more impressive. The gifts were spiritual gifts, like healing people’s diseases, knowing other people’s thoughts and secrets, things that the Holy Spirit imparts in people so they can serve others. And we were using these gifts to serve, but we started getting big heads. I know I did.

When Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, huge crowds shouted praise to the King. Imagine the donkey thinking that all of this adulation was for him, instead of the One he was carrying into town. That’s the danger of being given spiritual power; we can forget that it’s about Jesus, and we can start looking at our own contributions. Maybe that doesn’t sound so harmful, but in God’s kingdom, it’s fatal. Humility is everything, because without it the devil gets a foothold and starts to inflate our ego. "God gives grace to the humble, but resists the proud." Our church had started out very humble, and God gave us tons of power and grace. But once we let pride in, He had to remove His grace.

Folks started leaving, and the church shrank to half its size. We all started asking ourselves what was wrong with us, and that line of thinking spiraled us downward until all of our attention was focused on our flaws. None of our attention was on the One who could change us. We didn’t stand a chance.

If church life had become dry and lifeless, my own personal life was anything but that. I never had this much joy and contentment and zeal for God for this many months. I was no longer constantly disqualifying myself, I could stay in the race! And I had never been so readily able to say no to sin and temptation. In the past, I never thought that was possible. Even though God's Word proclaimed it all over the place, my own track record spoke louder to me. But not now. God had established a track record with me now.

It used to be that resisting temptation took an incredible amount of human will power, and still I would fail. Now, it took very little effort, and I didn’t fail. I had a new nature, and all I had to do was follow that nature. Now that I wasn’t so preoccupied with fixing myself, I spent much of my energies on others. I taught bible studies, I led prayer groups, I did things that I hoped would make a difference in other people’s lives. Jesus said once to His apostles, "Freely you have received, now freely give." It only seemed fair. I was happy to give.

I met a sweetheart of a girl in one of the bible studies that I led. Amy was her name. Big beautiful eyes, a soft voice and a quiet demeanor that made me want to know her better. She asked if she could read the book that I was writing. She was surprised, I think, to see such carnal stuff written by a guy who seemed so spiritual at the bible studies. But she saw honesty in what she read, and I think she liked getting to know the human side of me through those chapters.

I saw Amy quite a bit that fall, but always in a group setting. I wondered if she was interested in becoming closer. In years past, I would have wondered from afar. But I was a changed man now. I didn’t have that self-rejection thing knocking me out of the race. So I told Amy what I was thinking and feeling, that I really liked her, and I was interested in dating her, but wanted to become better friends first. Life sure was nicer now that I could speak from the heart without fear.

So Amy and I began doing things together, though we were careful not to enter the romantic stage just yet. No kissing, holding hands, or hugging: we really wanted to lay a foundation of friendship. Yup, we were going to take it slowly, one stage at a time.

As we grew more fond of each other, it became difficult to express that fondness. The quickest way to show a woman how much you like her is with a kiss, with romance, with a touch. But we had made those shortcuts off limits, which forced us to express our affections through words. We lay on the floor of her apartment, underneath the lights of her Christmas tree, and talked for hours, just inches apart. We talked about our dreams, our past, even our flaws. I’m so grateful for that chance to get to know each other before we ever got to the touching stage.

Of course, I was pretty grateful for the touching stage, too. We held out for six weeks before deciding that we were ready to begin kissing. And it was another six weeks before we decided to get married. On paper, it looked like we were going awfully fast. But the timing seemed right. We had grown to know each other very well in that short span of time, and we weren’t just putting our best foot forward. We were very open and vulnerable to each other. And we weren’t kids. I was thirty one, Amy just three years younger, and by that age you become very quick at figuring out when relationships aren’t going to work. When you’re twenty, you’re naïve enough to overlook some major differences just because you’re attracted. But as the years go by, you get pretty good at ruling out candidates, often within the first few minutes of meeting someone. You can just tell that some people live for different things than you, and it wouldn’t work out.

Still, this was fast. We met in summer, began hanging out in the fall, kissed around Christmas time, got engaged by Valentine’s Day, and set a wedding date for June, less than one year from the time we met. Friends that knew us weren’t at all surprised at the news, they seemed to see it coming.

Amy was a beautiful bride, her dark brown hair silhouetted against her white veil. Her eyes sparkled on this, her special day. And friends told me they had never seen me smile so big and wide, a happy grin stayed frozen on my face all day. It was great to share this event with everyone who meant so much to us, parents and family members, friends, the folks from church who had made such a huge difference in our lives. And I was honored to have Pastor Al unite us together. Without him, I don’t think I would have had the emotional maturity to make it that far in a relationship. How do you thank someone for that?

Our wedding night was something I will never forget. I was so glad that we had waited, that discovery and intimacy would be new.

Lately it seemed that God was always up to something, always working on one particular theme in my life, constantly growing me and setting me free from stuff. This time around, being newly married, I felt Him wanting to set me free from poverty. Not that we were poor. But we didn’t have much. And we were in debt.

The first time I ever earned more than $12,000 in a year was when I was 28. And even now with a college degree and a decent job, I knew I was vastly underpaid for what I was doing. And I felt like God was showing me that it was a spiritual block. I had judged my Dad for being materialistic, I despised his love of wealth, and as a result, I was barred from wealth, even normal wealth. "With the measure you judge, it will be measured out to you." So I began repenting for those old critical thoughts and judgments. And I could feel God setting me free from poverty. My income started mushrooming. I finally got out of debt. I could provide for a family now.

One thing at a time. I was having such fun living the Christian life now. It wasn’t always that way; for years it was the hardest thing I ever did. But after these breakthroughs, it all changed. I was where I wanted to be. I was who I wanted to be.

I hope you have enjoyed reading this book. Thanks for taking the time.

Do you know someone who might like to read this? Steer them to http://www.morgypoo.com/

The book is free of charge. But I do gladly accept donations from readers who have enjoyed the book and wish to send a few bucks. That helps me to continue making it available to others. If you would like to give, feel free to send a contribution via Paypal...

I also enjoy hearing feedback. Send your thoughts and comments to info@morgypoo.com

Would you like to receive updates and other writings from time to time? Visit www.morgypoo.com/morestuff.html and add your email address to my subscriber list. While you’re there, browse around and look at some other recent writings.

And if you would like to receive Christian teachings, check out www.freshbread.net. The Nuggets of Truth page has a bunch of good teachings to choose from, and the home page has a selection of daily email devotions. It’s a great way to make sure you stay in God’s word.

I leave you with the question Musky asked me long ago:

Are you who you want to be?