Transitory Psychosis

Now might be a good time to get into the rehab business, helping people put their lives back together and deal with their addictions–real and perceived. I noticed a teaser on a magazine cover at the drug store checkout: “Jesse James Goes to Rehab.” Apparently after being caught cheating on his wife, Sandra Bullock, James has decided he needs rehabilitation. He joins a long list of celebs that have done stints in rehab.

Most notably in recent months, Tiger Woods has spent some time in rehab trying to put his life back together after his sexcapades were exposed. Last week, Tiger was back on the links at the Masters making some amazingly good (and bad) shots and scowling his way around the course. At a tee on Saturday, Tiger was so frustrated by his drive that he blew up, spouting profanities. The announcer said, “Well, at least one thing hasn’t changed.”

Now I’m not trying to say rehab is all a scam. I know some people who have been helped through rehab programs. Neither am I saying that once a person goes through rehab we should expect him to behave perfectly from then on. Habits of all kinds are hard to break, I know. So I’m not criticizing Jesse or Tiger or anyone else.

I do find it interesting though that in so-called “post-Christian America,” rehab has become a means of rebuilding a public image. There was a time when people would “get religion” in order to accomplish that end. Years ago, people might be photographed going to church after their misdeeds had been exposed. Sometimes it smelled phony and probably was. The same thing is true of rehab today.

The sad thing to me is that both approaches miss the one ingredient that can truly change a life forever–a genuine personal encounter with Jesus Christ. Rehab can certainly help you cope with a life out of control. It may even been a successful means of breaking free from a self-destructive habit. But it cannot bring about the inner change that comes from a personal relationship with God through repentance and faith in Jesus Christ. That is a change that will last for eternity.

The evidence of Christ’s ability to transform a life is plentiful and exhibits abound. From the apostle Paul who went from a Christ-hater to a Christ-follower to my friend Gene who went from a drunken patron of the rescue mission to a pillar of his church and community. Tiger can change. So can Jesse. So can you. But I’m convinced that change requires a fundamental “rewiring” of the soul found only in Jesus Christ.

After nearly two weeks of silence in this space, some may be wondering if I am still around. As you can see, I’m still here.

It’s been an exciting time for our family. Dianna and I spent a week in Oklahoma welcoming the arrival of our third grandson, Landon James Horath. He was six weeks early and small (4 lbs 2 oz 16.75 inches) but healthy. After a few days in the Neonatal ICU, he went home last Saturday (April 18). As you can see in the photo, Papa’s quite proud! Cassie, his mom, is doing well too.

The blessings keep coming, too. Our daughter-in-law, Amy, is due to deliver her first this Friday (April 24). Of course, that depends upon Baby Yandell’s timing. He or she (they have chosen to be surprised) may have other ideas. Anyway, in less than two weeks, we’ll be in California to say hello.

Then, last night I received a letter from a friend. Enclosed was a check he felt prompted by the Lord to send to me, not knowing whether I had any particular need for it. As the Lord would have it, I incurred an unexpected expense for almost the same amount earlier in the day! God was preparing several days ago to meet a need I didn’t even know we had.

Needless to say, I’m feeling blessed today . . . hope you are too.

Since I last posted to this blog, life has been a wild ride. On October 31 I was basking in the afterglow of a great birthday celebration. My 50th was welcomed with lots of fun and fanfare. The only negative thing at the time was that my wife, Dianna, was not feeling well. It had begun a few days earlier with a respiratory bug of some kind and then morphed into what appeared to be a stomach virus.

On Friday, October 31, it appeared the worst was over. On Saturday, November 1, things took a major turn for the worst. Dianna’s incessant vomiting and agonizing pain resulted in an afternoon trip to the ER. Over the next few hours, tests revealed something much more serious than a stomach bug–an intestinal blockage, apparently resulting from an adhesion that had formed from a previous surgery.
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This morning, I’m thinking about my friends—the ones that no longer walk this earth. Some of them have been gone a long time, others were more recently loosed from these physical chains. It may seem a little morbid to you, but it does me good to remember that one day, I will join them. All were people of genuine faith in Jesus Christ. He was both their Savior and Lord. Someday, I hope to get the opportunity to introduce you to them personally. Until then, here’s a little info on some of the people I’d like you to meet.
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Being a Christian doesn’t exempt a person from the tragedies of life. Case in point: Earlier this year, the family of gospel music artist Steven Curtis Chapman experienced a tragedy of immense proportion when their youngest daughter Maria Sue (a 5-year-old) was killed when she ran into the path of the family’s SUV, driven by her 17-year-old brother, Will Franklin.

The manner in which this family has “grieved with hope” has been a powerful testimony to their faith in Christ and an encouragement to all who suffer such tragedy. This week, the Chapman’s appeared on Good Morning America to tell how they have faced every parent’s nightmare. They were transparent about the reality of grief, but sounded a note of hope in Christ.
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Baseball needs a new hero and Josh Hamilton, an outfielder with the Texas Rangers, just might be the man. Hamilton wowed ‘em at this year’s Home Run Derby by hitting 28 baseballs over the fence in a single round. While Hamilton didn’t actually win the contest, his towering blasts into the far reaches of Yankee Stadium will long be remembered as the highlight of the derby.
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There’s a lot of talk in Tennessee this morning about a very unusual event for this part of the country—an earthquake. The radio reported that the quake occurred somewhere around 4:45a and was centered somewhere close to Evansville, Indiana. It registered 5.3 on the Richter scale. People were calling into the radio station to say that it woke them from a sound sleep and several people here at the office felt it too.

Having spent much of my life in California, 16 years of it in SoCal, I am an earthquake veteran—so is anyone who has lived there very long. Thankfully, the worst damage I have experienced to my personal property is a few things being knocked off the walls, a bookshelf that collapsed, and a few unsightly cracks in buildings owned by the church I served.
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In a few days, my wife Dianna and I will celebrate our 30th anniversary. (Applause, please.) Our love has thrived through two children, two cross-country moves, two career changes (one each), one chronic illness (mine), and a million other exciting occurences. But, for the last several years there has been another woman in my life.

I first met her when she was down and out–a runaway that had been captured and then incarcerated. Honestly, I wasn’t too impressed when I first met her. She was beautiful, a fact no one disputes even to this day, but she had a bit of an attitude. She was not one to raise her voice, but she clearly wanted to be in control. She laid down the law: “I’ll see you when I want to–and if I don’t, I won’t.”

Her attitude was a little disconcerting and more than a little humbling. But, she was undeniably intriguing. Before long, I was committed to her, even though she was by no means committed to me. I knew she didn’t really belong to me, but I paid the bills nevertheless. And, believe me, she knows how to run up the bills!

This thing has been going on now for about seven years, and the activities of the other day are typical. I had come home from work, tired and worn. Frankly, I needed a little TLC. Dianna was preparing dinner, so I decided to give the other woman an invitation to join me. Normally, she would jump at the chance, but this day she refused to respond. I called, but she did not answer. Aggravated, I gave her a bit of a scolding and tried to console myself.

However, after dinner, Dianna left to go to the store. As soon as she closed the door behind her, the other woman pounced. She was all over me–begging for my attention and affection. Reluctantly, I complied. Setting aside my own agenda (something she would never do for me), I stroked her soft hair. When she left my side, I sighed. I knew this relationship would never be more than an occasional fling–always on her terms.

When Dianna came home, I couldn’t wait to tell her what happened. She didn’t mind. In fact, she found it all amusing. Why? Because this “other woman” is only 14 inches tall (or thereabouts). She is also a real dog–a Cavalier King Charles, a member of the terrier family. Her name is Lola. And she’s the most maddening kind of woman–selfish, self-centered, and beautiful. But, for some strange reason, I keep paying her bills.

So what is this insanity that keeps me tied to her? I like to think of it as grace. In reality, it may be more of an illness–”suckeritis.” Still, in a very imperfect way, our relationship reminds me of God’s love for me. In spite of all my moods and ‘tudes and selfish ways, He keeps paying my bills. I think He calls it love.