Tag: family

A Dad’s Inspiration

D. Michl LoweLeave a comment

In the last fifteen years or so, I have really tried to start paying attention to my Dad. I may have mentioned this in an earlier post, I don’t remember. I know it sounds like I completely ignored him. That is not the case. My parents are not getting any younger, mid-sixties at this point. I have read too many stories about people who didn’t take the time to realize their time was limited. They neglected to take advantage of these folks while they are still around!

That sounds a little dark… basically, I want to listen and take to heart what they have to tell me. The other day, I took two of my kids to their house. I was sitting in their living room, just chatting. My dad happened to mention something to me. We were talking about my oldest girl, Katarina, and he said that I needed to take the time to listen to her, really listen to her.

Don’t get me wrong, Kat and I talk a lot. She is also a writer (like her Daddy). Kat often writes down her thoughts and feelings in the form of stories, songs, verses, and even psalms. What if I read what she wrote with the goal of understanding her emotional world? He said she would teach me. I would become a person she felt like she can rely on even more. I knew she would write when she was having a hard time. I did the same thing at her age. Heck, I do it now. Some of you have read those articles.

“What our kids say (or, in this case, write) can really impact us,” he said. “Let me show you something.” He led me into the dining room, a weird place for this, but there it is. He showed me something I wrote for a school assignment when I was fifteen (pictured above). A year below where Kat is now, fifteen. This simple little sheet of paper was something my Dad had paid attention to. “For decades now,” he said. “I have been trying to live up to your words on that paper. I haven’t always been capable, but it has been my goal. To be the man that you thought I was. I wanted you to feel proud that I was your Dad.”

He had paid attention to what I wrote and listened well. Advice from a fourteen-year-old isn’t something the world often listens to. Teenagers are teenagers after all, but I am really trying to listen to my own teenagers; my own kids, when they talk, write, sing, etc. They are speaking to me, in the best ways they know how. It isn’t always respectful. It isn’t always super clear, but I am listening. You may not believe the teens around you are listening. But, if you take the time to listen, they will too. Let me tell you a quick story.

I don’t remember how old I was, but it was around the time I wrote that thing about my dad. I wanted to play basketball. It’s crazy because I am about as talented at sports as I am at being a rocket scientist. That means not at all. Anyway, my way of shooting a basket was to do a granny shot. If you don’t know what that is, think of the stupidest way to shoot a basketball, and then double it.

Video of a “granny shot” in action.

Now, the kid in that video makes this look like it’s a great idea… it is not. Be prepared to be made fun of a LOT if you happen to try to play basketball this way. Trust me, I know from experience. I argued back and forth with my dad about this. I tried to tell him that I knew what I was talking about. That this was how I knew to shoot the ball and that it was fine. He disagreed. In fact, he eventually got really frustrated with how I wasn’t listening to him and gave up. Telling me that if I wasn’t going to listen, then I could just do it any way I wanted. We had begun yelling at each other, fighting about how to play basketball.

He went inside the house. He vented to my Mom about how I didn’t listen to him. He was frustrated that I acted like a teenager who knew it all. He was very frustrated with me. An hour or so later though, my cousins came over to play and what did we decide to do? Play basketball of course. My Mom went over to the window and cracked it open as played. Then, she called my Dad over and made him sit down to listen to us. As my cousins and I played the game, I repeated my Dad’s words to them, verbatim! I was also doing my best to shoot the ball exactly as my Dad has shown me.

As a teen, I was too stuborn to admit he was right to his face, but I listened. As the handwritten note above states, I respected my Dad. I listened to him even when, in my teenage angst, I may not have admitted it to his face. So my fellow parents out there, your teens are listening. Your kids in general are listening. Are you taking the time to listen to them speak? I am trying and it is worth your time to do the same. If you listen, they will listen.

D. Michl Lowe

I Am Not Enough

D. Michl Lowe2 Comments

I’ve concluded that there is apparently something deeply unlikeable and untrustworthy about me. There is a reality of who I am that others must see, that I do not. Maybe those who truly care about me know. Maybe they have tried to tell me. Maybe they have tried to help me understand, and I have stuffed cotton in my ears and closed my eyes to their kindness. Maybe I have been willfully blind to my own shortcomings. Maybe I still am.

For the last couple of years, I had been through over twenty job interviews and had had no luck at all until just recently. For over ten years, I have been nominated for a leadership position but have never been voted into that position. And I don’t blame the voters; I believe they are voting truly and in good faith! It is myself that I see as a failure. It is an observation of my own persona. I would say I am lazy, but really, I don’t think that is it. I value being able to live with the money I make, but I struggle to see my efforts as valuable.

So, is this a depression, then? I assume so. I have heartache and am searching for passion and purpose. I would like to be a true writer, but I have never felt as though I am good enough to truly be called by the title author or writer. Am I proud of my books and writing? Yes, of course, but in the back of my mind, I continually downplay them and question their validity.

I love my family; they give me unending joy and satisfaction, but I feel inadequate at the task of being a father and husband as well. I wonder if this inadequate feeling comes from a lack of my ability to fully support them financially, but then again, maybe it goes beyond that.

I seek purpose in God but feel a failure there as well. I wrote a book in an attempt to harden my devotion and zeal for Christ, but even in all I have done, I feel a failure. As if I should have done more or not done enough. I understand there is continual growth in Christ, and I do see that growth within myself, but then I look back on where I was before. Back then, I thought I was wise, but truly, I was very foolish and didn’t know it. So how am I to believe I am now wise, knowing in ten years I may look back and see my current foolishness for what it is?

They call it a mid-life crisis, but the crisis is a realization of a lifelong inadequacy. How do you make a life worthy? How do you understand what you can change to make it better? There are some things you are locked into, some things that cannot be changed. How do you turn listlessness into motivation and purpose? I don’t trust myself to know that my answers are right.

So what am I to do? Am I meant to meander along, continuing to live in a miasma of stale living? Should I continue to be burdened by a raw and open self-inflicted wound to my ego? Or should I accept the truth, accept the truth that I am not good enough? That I am not worthy of praise? That I am not enough? Because I will never be enough. I can’t do it.

However, when I am weak—because I am weak—He is strong. When I am not enough—and I am not—He is enough. When I am lacking, and I am lacking, He is full and true. When I am down, and I have been down, He is more than enough to raise me up. When I am through with giving effort, and at times, I feel as though I am through, He is there to carry me on.

I am not enough, and I never will be. The reality is no one is enough. No one is truly able. We are all frail and slowly dying, the conscious dead. It is only through the light of Christ we become anything else. In truth, we are only ever meant to be the marionettes of God, allowing the Master to bring us to life and give us His purpose. Am I enough? Yes, but only because I am His. Do I have meaning? Yes, but only the meaning He brings to life within me?

I am the resurrected corpse, Lazarus. I’m stinking but smelling better as the light hits my gaunt face. Undecaying from my death – being brought back into the world of the living, color returning. It is not I who now lives, but Christ who has chosen to live within the destitution of my life, giving it a robust and full justification.

He is worthy, so I am worthy.

The Effect of a Good Church

D. Michl Lowe1 Comment

This past Saturday, my family and I went down to the local IHOP for some breakfast. This is a relatively normal thing for us to do on the weekend. As we walked into the restaurant, my youngest daughter tripped and fell to her knees. An older gentleman reached down to help her up. He smiled and asked her if she was okay. She said yes, I thanked him, and we walked on to our table.

As we sat down to order and later eat breakfast, it became apparent that this older man was sitting alone. He was seated in the middle of our section, and nearly every table around him got a smile and brief conversation. Before long, it was our turn. He asked about the kids and commented on the current state of politics and some other things.

“My kids won’t have anything to do with me,” he commented. “I had open heart surgery and they didn’t even come to visit. No phone call to check on me, nothing.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

“They did come to talk to me once though,” he continued. “To ask me about their inheritance. I ain’t given them nothin!”

He laughed at that and, soon after, smiled and said goodbye. As he walked out, I thought about this man. He was so lonely that he obviously came to the local IHOP so he could talk to random folks. It was clear that this was why he was there; he didn’t order any food, just a coffee.

This might sound odd, but it made me think of my church. This coming year, my wife and I will have been at our church for 20 years now. It is the longest I have spent at a single church in my entire life. Nearly half of my life has been spent around my church family. Sunday after Sunday, we come to this house of worship to spend time with these people and the God we serve.

Sometimes, I am grim in my thoughts about the future, but this time, I was uplifted. God forbid I would end up alone like the man at the IHOP, but if I am, I would not need to go down to my local eatery just to get a human connection. I know that for a certainty. The family of God would be attending to me. I have seen it over and over in our church. Tragedy strikes, or there is a need and the people of God respond.

I wouldn’t need to attend IHOP; I could just attend church. It’s like God understood the need for fellowship in humans. Go figure.

D. Michl Lowe

Side Project: My Forgotten Youth

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So I took a break from writing the fantasy book that I have been working on and wrote something different. I woke up last night at 3:00 a.m. and had a book idea ramming itself into my consciousness. The idea wouldn’t go away. I had to write down the general idea. Below, I have written out the rough introduction to the book. I don’t plan on stopping work on the fantasy book, but I just needed a break. In my mind, this will be a very short book, less than 200 pages for sure. A middle-grade book, I think. We will see. In my head, this book is dealing with some heavy issues kids are dealing with even today. My current working title is My Forgotten Youth. Enjoy.

Introduction: The Abnormal Life

You don’t really question the things that happened to you as a kid. To you, it was just how life was and that was normal. It’s not until years later that you start to understand that your childhood might not have been completely regular. Example: My mom once told me that my father was a famous magician. I asked her why I didn’t have a dad and she said that he was busy working in Vegas and that the entertainment company that employed him wouldn’t let him take time off.

It made sense to me at the time, that my dad was a magician; too important to come and visit me. I told all my friends at school, and when they got old enough to realize it was a lie, they let me know, harshly, over and over. It was 1990 and I was eight years old. My mom would often disappear for weeks at a time, that was normal. My grandma and I would always order pizza when she knew mom wasn’t coming home. I got to the place where I hated the very smell of the stuff. Mom continually traveled up to Detroit with her boyfriends; sometimes just for the weekend, and others, for a month at a time.

We lived with my Grandma Susan. She had a little trailer that my grandpa had left her when he died. That was years before I was even born though. We all lived in Sissonville, West Virginia and my mom and Grandma had their own rooms, but I had the hall closet. It was big enough that my twin mattress could fit, but that was about it. 

One morning, I woke up before I should have. Not sure why, but something seemed wrong. Sometimes you wake up because of a noise, but you think you just woke up naturally. It was one of those times when you feel like you slept for a long time. I was wide awake. There was the sound of clinking dishes in the kitchen and I walked in, the footed pajamas I wore had a hole for the big toe on each one, but they still made a soft shiff shiff as they slid across the linoleum floor. 

The sound of my feet caused my mother to drop her little plastic purse on the side of the sink. When she did, amber pill bottles came plopping out on the counter and the floor. She was startled.

“Hey darlin’, what are you doin up?” She asked, smoothing her blond hair back from her face and licking lips that were too dry. 

“I heard something, and woke up,” I said. 

She was fully dressed in a short skirt and some of those fishnet stockings that girls loved to wear in the 80s, but that she was obviously too old to be wearing. Mom was fashionable; MTV was always on when she was home. Her bangs were the poofiest bangs in the whole town. While I always thought mom was pretty, in a “my mom” sort of way, I hated poofy bangs. She quickly picked up the pill bottles and began stuffing them back into the hot pink purse. One of them had rolled across the floor and my bare big toe twiddled it. I reached down and picked it up. It had my grandma’s name on the label.

“Oh,” I said. “This one is grandmas.”

A slight panic flashed across her eyes. “Yes, well I am taking it to get it refilled,” she said.

“Are all of those grandmas?”

She backed away from me and I was confused. “No, these ones are mine,” she said glancing towards the door. “Why don’t you mind your own business, huh? You think you know what’s best do ya? You aren’t the parent here! I am!” She screamed the last part, but immediately hushed herself, glancing towards the hall that led to grandma’s room.

“Mom, are you okay,” I asked, brushing off the harshness of her words. I learned long ago, not to take her harshness with any sincerity.

“I’m fine,” she hastily said, zipping up the little purse. It looked stupid, hot pink and almost rubbery. I thought it was like something a little kid would have, not a grown woman. She brushed tears out of her eyes. When had she started crying? Coming over, she kissed the top of my head. She smelled; sour, like ammonia. Like when our cat’s litter box hadn’t been cleaned in several weeks. Her arms were too thin, I could see the bones in her wrists. She had bruises up and down both of her arms, little scabbed dots all over.

“You be good okay. Listen to your grandma. I’m gonna be gone for a couple weeks, alright. I have a job up in Detroit I have to do. Robert says we can get some real good work this time.”

Robert was the current guy she called her boyfriend.

“Okay,” I said.

What else could I say? She looked back once, then walked out the front door.

I never saw my mom again.

Roller Skating and Maturity

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-The beautiful skates my wife rented-

So my wife and I recently took the kids to a roller skating rink. First off, these still exist. Secondly. The one we went to could have been mistaken for a crack den. Or at least what I assume a crack den looks like. I nearly passed it for not realizing it was the place. It was built inside what I assume is a condemned school gymnasium from 1973. You might think I am kidding. I am not. See photo below. My middle daughter brought a friend and I apologized that she would need to get a tetanus shot after coming with us to this place.

-Literally an old grade school gym-
-The entryway was only slightly flooded-
-We weren’t allowed to go up stairs apparently-
-The skate floor (old basketball court) was nice-

Anyway, this got me thinking about how much things change. When I was a kid, going to the roller skating rink was a highlight of school trips. Thinking back on it now though, sure there was the fun going going fast, but the thrill of the place was finding a girl to hold hands with during the “couples skate” time. Also, the lead up to that time, there would be a whisper campaign of friends going to ask other friends if they wanted to be your couple skate partner.

As a child, that thrill of holding hands and the build up of who it was going to be was what made that time special. We were too young for real boyfriends or girlfriends, but playing the part was exciting. I walked out on the rink today and realized the thrill of childhood newness was gone. My wife skated by me and I realized I already had my partner to hold hands with. There was no mystery or thrill in wondering who, but that was okay.

That thrill has been replaced with the maturity of a deep and meaningful relationship. One that has led to my children being born and getting to see them experience things in somewhat the same way I did as a child. There was no couple skate today, but my girls come home from middle school talking about their friends who are “dating”. Alicia and I don’t allow boyfriends until they are 16 years old. Which might sound old fashioned, but we find allowing them to focus on childhood has worked out well so far.

I have often said that my current life is my favorite time of my life. I am 40 years old this year. That being said, I said that at 35 and also at 30. At 25 and at 20. I also said it at 15, and while I might not directly remember, I’m sure I said it at 10 and 5 as well. My point is, while I appreciate my past, I am happy with my life now and am looking forward to the future.

D. Michl Lowe

The Need for Honorable Men

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This is the introduction to the book Men of Valor, by D. Michl Lowe.

I have sat back and waited. Waited on the church. Waited on my friends. Waited on society. Waited for them to start moving, to wake up and see that our world is dying. The earth itself seems to be groaning. There is a palpable tension in the air. Evil is no longer allowed to be called evil and even those who prey upon children are starting to no longer be vilified. Not to mention the devastation of abortion. There is a great need in our culture to begin unraveling the problems that most of society no longer calls sin. It must start with Christian men. It must start with them standing up to be counted.

Creating a new way of living. Showing the love and truth of Christ to the dying world, but also working to show that men are culturally here to stay. That masculinity is not something shameful, but a prideful way of expressing gender that sets us apart from our wonderful ladies. We are strong, resolute in our faith, and gentle in our demeanor. We are silken iron.

The sad truth of today’s culture is that it has become normal to understand that men are stupid, clumsy, fat, lazy, and just useless. We see characters like Chandler and Joey from the sitcom Friends who are bumbling idiots only really interested in sex. The women of the show manipulate them constantly using sexual innuendo to get what they want. In one episode, the boys have rightly won the right to live in an apartment from the girls, only to have the two girls kiss each other in front of the boys in payment for the apartment. The boys leave the apartment saying, “Totally worth it! Then go into their separate rooms giving the impression they are going to go masturbate with the memory of what they have seen. These types of scenarios play out constantly in this show.

Or we see the characters Homer Simpson and Peter Griffin from The Simpsons and Family Guy, who are always doing stupid things. Countless times in shows like these, men are nearly always seen as the idiots and women seen as the voice of reason. I understand that this is done for comedic purposes, but men are the butt of jokes nearly all the time. It is rare to see a woman portrayed in this manner. Sitcom comedies do this so often, that the idea of masculinity is now seen as negative or even wrong. This is sad because masculinity is needed. Yes, that is a bold statement to make, but one that needs to be made. Masculinity is seen as unintelligent and even crass and uncouth. To some degree, men have not helped this stereotype with our sometimes-stupid antics, but this does nothing to degrade the need for masculine men.

Matt Walsh a popular online blogger and conservative commentator said it well;

“Disrespect for men is a joke to us now. A little while ago I stopped on the way home from work to buy my wife some flowers. As she rang me up, the cashier quipped: ‘Uh-oh, what’d you do?’ I wasn’t particularly amused, but I chuckled. She continued. ‘I don’t know if that’ll be enough to get you off the couch tonight!’ Ah, yes, the old “husband is punished by his wife and sent to the couch” meme. I’m not sure if this actually happens in real life, or if it’s an invention of 90’s ‘all men are fat, witless, oafs’ sitcoms, but the popularity of the stereotype is telling. Is this how we see husbands now? A man gets ‘in trouble’ with his wife, she scolds him and puts him in time-out on the couch. Now he must placate his alpha-bride by showering her with flowers and jewelry. Men are painted like children or dogs. They can be shooed off their own beds by their wives and sent to cower in the living room until she permits him to return. This is only slightly less offensive than the cliché of the sadistic wife who punitively withholds sex from her husband. ‘You didn’t clean the garage like I told you. No sex for you, mister! Next time, follow my instructions!’”

In our schools, typical male childish behavior is seen as deviant and a problem. Psychologist Michael Thompson has famously said that girl behavior is the gold standard in schools and boys are treated like defective girls. It is sad that boy behavior is so misunderstood and hated. Our young boys are treated with disdain and are misunderstood, recently in the news, I saw where a young boy in grade school bit a pop tart into a gun shape and started playing with it. He was promptly expelled from school. This type of intolerance isn’t right.  Our teachers are hamstrung in being able to implement discipline for actual negative behaviors and mandated paperwork for oversight has made it difficult to even teach what needs to be taught, so time afforded for simple physical play (an important need for young boys to exert energy) has become a secondary thought even though it’s also a mandated requirement.

This is not to say that women are less than men in any respect, but the idea that the sexes are both the same is not just silly, it’s dangerous. We are different right down to our chromosomes. Men have one X chromosome and one Y chromosome while women have two X chromosomes. Chromosomes are basically the fundamental building blocks of humanity. They contain DNA, which is the pattern by which humans are created and built. Within every human DNA is what makes a person an individual. The combining of their mother and father’s DNA has created each person; those patterns are used to create a completely new human being. Men and women are not the same and to pretend otherwise is honestly just silly.

I feel as though men are lost in our culture today. There isn’t a place for men to truly be men and embrace our masculinity. They search for meaning and purpose. One of the biggest forms of entertainment in the modern age is video games. It is estimated that by 2019 videogame yearly sales revenue would be around 41 billion dollars, not a small industry to be sure. It is a well-known fact that men tend to be consumers of the higher-end video game industry. While many women have broken into casual gaming, which accounts for many of the skewed statistics stating that women make up more than 50% of gamers, they continue to be underrepresented in the mainstream gaming market.

We would refer to most male gamers as “core” gamers in this respect, not players of Candy Crush or Angry Birds, as fun as those are. Some of this trend is changing with games that are marketed directly to women, but now it’s just the way things are. Why do so many men flock to video games? Besides the sports genre (which I believe is popular for different reasons), many of the games we see men playing involve stories and situations in which the player may assume the “role” of a hero of some kind.

Within the role of the male hero is the question, “What does it mean to be masculine?”. This idea of masculinity is idealized in the role of the male hero. Most men have a desire to be the hero of their own existence. In many PC games, one takes on the role of a hero that starts off as mostly a normal person, but through adventures and fulfilling quests begins to gain great power and becomes a leader in the vast world in which the game takes place.

In first-person shooter games on consoles and PCs alike, players often take on the role of a super soldier in a world of the future where aliens are trying to basically end all life in the universe. Through these super-soldiers, players can become the hero of the entire universe, saving humanity. It is often as if the player can save their game, sealing themselves away for a time when humanity might even need them again in the future. Self-sacrifice is a very pure form that often rises in these storylines.

While not a videogame, pen and paper role-playing games like the classic Dungeons and Dragons present a very solid argument that men are gravitating towards the realm of role-playing for a reason. In these games, you choose a “role” to play and through a form of guided storytelling, you can become the hero of your own story. Now there are a lot of reasons why all genders play these games, but for men, it often has to do with this innate desire to gain significance. God gave men this desire for significance and heroic inspiration. In Psalms 57:2 David says, “I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills His purpose in me.” God calls all his people into glorious purpose. For men, this is often a desire to achieve significance and meaning. This isn’t a bad thing. In the realm of working towards achieving Christ’s purpose and meaning for our lives, men can find a true significance, but when we look past God to the world for significance, something is lost.

A while back, I sat in a very questionable chair in the back of a dirty and rundown shop in a very bad part of town. My wife was worried that I was going to this place; a day before, someone had been shot only one block from this store. There were about eight of us and the unkempt appearance of the other men around me might have off-put many (along with the smell), but I was comfortable in this place. Dungeons and Dragons had a way of bringing people together. However, on this day, the man on my left was not very happy. He had failed in several rolls of the dice and his character was on the verge of death. He angrily shouted at the Dungeon Master (the leader of the game) that it wasn’t fair, letting multiple expletives leave his person.

After the game was over, he was packing up all his books and little plastic figurines he angrily threw his pack on and stormed from the table, leaving the shop. His manhood, his meaning for life was so wrapped up in the fictional character he had created, that losing it was like losing part of who he was. It was sad to see. Shouldn’t there be more for men in this life? Shouldn’t there be more for them to strive for than just a fictional monument of meaning?

The men of this generation are lost, children. Society has taken away the villains and often even denies that such a thing exists. It is no longer good or evil, there are only differing opinions and cultures. No one is wrong, and everyone is right. There isn’t an outlet for masculinity in American society that is not in some way shunned. Men are now the aborted children of society and it is time for them to take a stand and become something more than just a joke. It’s time for true purpose to come back into the darkened hearts of men.

The truth of the issue is, there is evil in the world. Some issues are not questions, but facts. There is a great need for men to be willing to stand up and be accountable to the society they live in. It is time for us to step onto the dais of history once again and take a stand for what is right. There are certain truths in this world that should be observed and should be written in stone. There are ways of viewing the world that is right. The way men treat their fellow human beings matters. One of the greatest tragedies in this life is that evil prevails because Christian men choose to do nothing. The children of God have set on the sidelines for too long and allowed the truth to be kidnaped.

The truth has a nasty way of being unpopular. No one wants to hear the truth; people want you to agree with them and validate that what they have already decided is okay in their minds. There are no real attempts to understand the other side; there is only the manipulation and deceit of tolerance. It is this idea of tolerance that’s only there to convince you that this other person is on a higher moral level. Do not be deceived into the idea that tolerance and understanding are right because “everyone is okay”; that every idea is right and moral. Acceptance is only possible if you don’t disagree and don’t speak out. According to society, the status quo of tolerance and acceptance must be maintained above all other ideals. Understand the spiritual and intellectual warfare that is going on and continue to speak the truth regardless. This is a verbal war that will not stay in that realm for long, violence and death are already in the streets.  

The stance of moral and Christian truth will only be allowed for so long. Freedom as an idea is slowly moving towards being parallel with the status quo. This isn’t a call to rebellion in the sense of militaristic action, but it is a call to a rebellion of conscience and behavior. Within a framework of honor and Christian faith, men can begin to unravel the current culture of compliance and tolerance. Standing for Christian truth is not hard, but it will cost you. In fact, at some point in the future, it could cost you everything. Still, what is your soul worth?

“For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world, and forfeit his soul?” Mark 8:36.

Men are becoming what society has wanted them to become, pitiful creatures that are ashamed of their own masculinity. The men make a case to dismiss God so that they can ignore his law and live their lives in selfish admission. Distractions and sin have led to a willingness to live a blinded life; a life ignorant to their own destruction. Hedonism is the new vogue and it is the greatest lie that men believe to be true. Brief moments of pleasure and fun are constantly sought out and chased after. Downtime is filled with small screens, meaningless memes, and videos of cats with bread on their heads. What are men doing with their lives? What purpose is there? What meaningful significance is there to this existence if we pass into history without changing anything for God’s better plan?

As Paul Bois said in his Oct. 17th, 2017 Daily Wire article,

“…when knights surrender their swords, beasts shall devour maidens.” In a country and culture ruled over by Harvey Weinsteins, one can only raise the question; as Paul asks, “Are there any knights left”?

This has been the Introduction to Men of Valor, by D. Michl Lowe. Available now in full from this website. or at the link here:

https://amzn.to/3PiWUoz

D. Michl Lowe

The Wayward Uncle

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We had taken a trip to the Smokey Mountains with mom and dad. Our idea of fun on these sorts of trips is shopping at the outlet stores, walking around the specialty shops, going to the aquarium, and most of all; eating at the restaurants. Every time we go through, we always eat at the Apple Barn at least one morning. During this trip, Uncle Ron had called mom and asked her if we could meet with him while on our trip since he doesn’t live far from this area.

At first, she balked at the idea, but he pushed her and said, “You all are going to eat at Apple Barn, right? Well, let me pay for your meal and eat with you.” How could she refuse, a free meal, and without a rude excuse, no real reason to say no. So, we met Uncle Ron for breakfast that morning. I had to explain to the girls who this man was, he had never met them after all. “This is Grammy’s ex-husband. They got a divorce when I was a teenager and I haven’t talked to him in years, just be nice and it will be fine” I said.

The girls of course were as loveable and cheerful as they have always been and took to Ron immediately. He was cautious though as if he wasn’t sure of himself around us now. Of course, he still had his laughable and gregarious nature about him, the one that makes people want to be around him, telling stories and laughing that full laugh he always had when I was growing up. But something else was there. A tinge of something quiet just on the edge of his voice. He was nervous around us. As we sat there, I couldn’t tell you anything he said. I was just staring at him; inside I was a fury of emotion. Several times I nearly had to get up and leave the table as I was becoming overwhelmed with emotion.

Breakfast ended and I don’t think I said ten words to the man. We walked out and Alicia was taking some pictures with the girls. Mom and dad were talking with Ron and it became time for him and us to leave. I suddenly felt a pang of need. “I’ll walk you to your car,” I said. We walked through the parking lot until we got to his car. We were standing there… not really saying much and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I burst into tears and grabbed him in a hug. Holding him tight I sobbed uncontrollably, “I miss you, Uncle Ron… I miss you.” We were both crying now. “I don’t want to be angry anymore. I don’t want to be upset anymore. I just want you back,” I said. “I want that too!” He said. “If I can, I want to be your little girl’s grandpa, if I can. I know I’ve missed a lot. I know that. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

We most likely stood there for 15 minutes. I don’t honestly remember what we said to each other, but it was a profound healing moment. A letting go of hurts and pain that had been compounding for years on both sides. I got in the car and discussed what had happened with mom, dad, and Alicia. They were skeptical, not sure if we should allow Ron back into our lives too easily. What would Grammy think about it? She had stayed with us throughout the years, not pushed us away, and had even been at my children’s births up to this point, holding them on their first day of life. I never wanted to do anything that would have hurt her. While I would ultimately call her and have a conversation with her about the experience and what it meant to me and to the future, for a while anyway, I just kept it to myself.

D. Michl Lowe

What I Believe

D. Michl LoweLeave a comment

I believe that God came to earth to reveal Himself to the world. There might be a lot we still don’t understand about him, but I believe that He gave us his Word to make knowing Him easier.


I believe He is a God of reason and understanding and that He is not bound by those things. He can do things outside of the bounds of reason and can accomplish things beyond our human understanding. I also think that it doesn’t matter if He does these things because we wouldn’t understand or be able to reason it anyway.

His thoughts are higher than mine.
I believe He is all-good, all-knowing, and all-powerful. I also believe that part of being all-powerful is the ability to limit the powers available to Him at any given time to be able to converse or directly affect humanity. As an example, just because I have access to the nearly infinite knowledge available on my phone that has access to Google Search, I don’t have to choose to have access to that nearly infinite knowledge at all times. Even if God did decide to have complete access to all known outcomes and knowledge, He can choose to keep that knowledge outside of His perceived knowledge if He would so choose.

I believe in absolute truth. I think that we as humans are able to know some things that are true and some that are not true. God in His ultimate knowledge gave us reason so that we might be able to discern truth as filtered through scripture first, prayer second, and then the counsel of Godly peoples third. In this way, we can understand the will of God and how we play into that will.

I believe Jesus died to pay the ransom of the sin we owed. Because of this, we are able to believe in Him, repent of our sins, and put our trust in Him. We will have eternal life with Him in heaven if we do that. It’s that simple, yet also that complex. I believe in marriage between one man and one woman as God’s ideal union for humans here on earth. He gives us this example in Genesis with Adam and Eve and continues it through scripture. I believe sex outside of marriage is a sin. Because of this, I believe all homosexual sex is a sin. It can’t happen within the bounds of Biblical marriage and therefore is a sin.

We can also see homosexual acts mentioned throughout scripture that are said to be in as well. I don’t believe that the state marries anyone. They might recognize “marriage” as they define it, but this is not the same as marriage within a Biblical context. I believe beyond specific scriptures, that the overall tone of the Bible gives us a model for marriage. We (as the Church) are called the “bride” of Christ. God uses the model of a man and woman engaged in marriage to symbolize his relationship with the Church. It is clear that his intention for marriage is one man and one woman.

I believe that God calls us as His children to love Him above all else. Because of this, I give priority in my life as follows:

  1. God
  2. Family
  3. Others
  4. Liberty
  5. Self
  6. Sword (The call to be a protector)

God, family, and others should be pretty clear as the order of relevance, but I’m sure Liberty, Self, and Sword cause you to have questions.


Liberty is the idea that our country (the USA) is special. In the USA, we have done things no other country has ever dreamed of. God has truly blessed this country. I believe we are a shining city on a hill. Without the USA, the world would be a dark place indeed. So when I say the pledge of allegiance to our flag, I mean every word of it. I believe in our Constitution and the Bill of Rights.


Self is next on the list. It is a call to preserve the body I have been given as a temple to the Lord. I am to honor the Lord with my body. This means I should keep it safe, feed it well, keep it fit, and make sure everything it does brings honor to Christ on his throne.

The Sword is the last one. It has to do with a man’s calling to protect what the Lord has given to him. This takes many forms, but mostly covers the protection of others and self through force of arms (if need be as a last resort), protection of truth (through standing up for it in the public square), and protection of finances through providing money through work. It should be noted that this includes the defense of one’s homeland through the Military and/or Militia.


I believe the state may take life as punishment for terrible crimes. Humans may take life in defense of themselves or others. This is not a legal statement, but a moral one.

I believe that once the egg and sperm combine, it is a human life and should be considered sacred. All peoples are created in the image of God and therefore have innate value. To end a human life for convenience or when it is not in defense is murder. If there is a choice between the life of the mother or child, whichever has the most viability should be given preference to survival. Each life is equal in value, the mother and the child.

D. Michl Lowe