Withholding Ourselves from Our Destiny

 

Dear Reader, 

Today my thoughts reach back to 1961, to the inauguration of President John F. Kennedy, when Robert Frost stood before the nation and recited his poem The Gift Outright.

One line continues to speak with power:

“Something we were withholding made us weak,
Until we found out that it was ourselves…”

Frost was speaking of America, but his words also speak to the soul.

A nation may have land, wealth, freedom, and power, yet still fall short of its destiny if it withholds its heart from a higher purpose. In the same way, a person may have talent, opportunity, faith, and desire, yet remain bound if something within remains surrendered to fear, pride, resentment, selfishness, or despair.

Looking back, the early 1960s seemed filled with promise. Kennedy called a nation to service, courage, sacrifice, and vision. Soon after, America looked upward and reached for the Moon. For a brief moment, it seemed as though we were being invited to become larger than our divisions.

Yet history reminds us that promise is fragile. Leadership can divide. Fear can harden. Self-interest can replace service. A people can forget the very ideals that once lifted them.

Still, promise is not destroyed simply because it is delayed.

Today, as NASA again turns its eyes toward the Moon, I find myself moved by the symbol. The Moon is not merely a destination in space. It is a reminder that humanity was never meant to live chained only to what is small, divided, and earthbound. We were created to look upward.

Recovery teaches the same lesson.

Addiction, resentment, fear, and self-will all narrow the soul. They convince us that survival is enough, that protection is wisdom, and that surrender is weakness. But recovery reveals a different truth: what we are withholding often becomes the very chain that holds us back.

We may think we are withholding anger.

We may think we are withholding trust.

We may think we are withholding forgiveness.

But in time, we discover we have been withholding ourselves from God, from others, and from the life we were meant to live.

The natural man clings. The spiritual man surrenders.

The natural man asks, “What can I keep?”

The awakened soul asks, “What must I give?”

Perhaps this is true for a person, and perhaps it is true for a nation. We do not rise by power alone. We rise when we reconnect with our higher purpose. We rise when freedom is joined with responsibility, when leadership is joined with humility, and when vision is joined with love of neighbor.

America’s destiny, like our own, is not found in division, blame, or fear. It is found in becoming willing again—willing to serve, willing to heal, willing to sacrifice, willing to look upward, and willing to give ourselves to something greater than self.

Frost’s words still call to us:

Something we were withholding made us weak.

Maybe the way forward begins when we finally ask:

What are we still withholding?

And are we willing, with God’s help, to give ourselves outright?

The Moon reminds us to look upward. Recovery reminds us to surrender inward. Frost reminds us that destiny requires giving ourselves to something greater than ourselves.

Character: The Fruit of Acceptance

 

Dear Reader,

Today, I reflect on a simple statement often attributed to Lao Tzu:

 “When you accept yourself, the whole world accepts you.”

 Lao Tzu's wisdom has endured through the centuries. Peace begins when we stop resisting who we are and start living with honesty and authenticity. More importantly, self-acceptance is not the end of the journey—it is the beginning.

 Accepting ourselves does not mean staying the same. It gives us the courage to face life 'on life's terms,' honestly, and to grow through what it brings.

 Helen Keller understood this when she wrote:

“Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success achieved.”

 Our lives are often refined through experiences we would not have chosen—the disappointments, losses, and burdens that eventually shape our character.

 Jensen Huang expressed a similar thought:

“Greatness comes from character, and character isn't formed out of smart people. It is formed out of people who have suffered.”

 Many of us spend years wishing our struggles away, only to realize later that our deepest growth came from the very experiences we hoped to escape.

 In my experience, suffering alone is only part of character building. Character is revealed by the choices we make in the midst of suffering.

 Thomas Macaulay captured this truth:

“The measure of a man's real character is what he would do if he knew he would never be found out.”

 Character is not proven by public praise, but by private decisions:

• Choosing honesty when deception would be easier.

• Offering kindness when no reward is expected.

• Staying true to our principles when no one is watching.

 Over time, our daily choices shape our future.

More than two thousand years ago, Heraclitus wrote:

ἦθος ἀνθρώπῳ δαίμων   :   “Character is destiny.”

In those few words, Heraclitus reminds us that our future is shaped by the habits, values, and choices we practice today.

 The life we create tomorrow is shaped by the character we practice today.

 Perhaps this is why self-acceptance matters so deeply. When we stop pretending, comparing, and chasing approval, we are free to do the deeper work. We can let life's challenges refine us instead of harden us. We can choose integrity over image, growth over comfort, and service over self-interest.

 From a spiritual perspective, character is not merely self-improvement. It is the gradual shaping of the soul. Through acceptance, adversity, and faithful choices, we become more fully the person God created us to be.

In the end, our reputation is what others think of us.
·      Our character is who we are when no one is looking.
·      It is who we become through the choices we make each day.
·      And who we become determines where our path leads.

🙏🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️

Before the Miracle

Dear Reader, 

I have often been encouraged to look beyond the surface of Scripture and consider the deeper lessons within the text. Today, I spent time reflecting on Mark 9:14–29. 

For convenience, here is a link to the passage: https://biblehub.com/bsb/mark/9.htm#:~:text=The%20Boy%20with,by%20prayer.%E2%80%9Dd  

This passage from the Gospel of Mark is one of the most human and relatable encounters in the New Testament. It speaks not only of miracles, but also of faith, doubt, suffering, compassion, and dependence on God. 

The Father’s Prayer: “I do believe; help my unbelief!” 

The father does not claim perfect faith or pretend to be certain. He comes to Jesus as he is—hopeful, desperate, fearful, and uncertain all at once. Remarkably, Jesus does not send him away until his faith is stronger. He meets him where he is. This may be one of grace’s great lessons: God works with the faith we have, not the faith we wish we had. 

 

Do we not all, at some point, find ourselves in that same place? 

• I believe, but I still have questions.  

• I trust God, but I am afraid.  

• I hope for healing, but I wonder if it will come. 

 

Jesus does not reject the father because his faith is imperfect. Instead, He responds to the faith the man has and helps him where he lacks. In doing so, Jesus shows us how to care for others who are struggling—much like an AA sponsor listens to a sponsee who expresses hope while still feeling trapped in despair. 

 

Faith is not the absence of doubt. Faith allows us to move forward, trusting that God’s power can lead us toward something better. 

In recovery language, this is honesty—and that humility opens the door to grace. 

 

For me, the greater lesson is found in how Christ handles the entire situation with both the disciples and the father. Notice that Jesus first speaks with the father—before any miracle takes place. 

He asks, “How long has this been with him?” Jesus already knows the answer, yet He invites the man to tell his story. This reveals something beautiful about Christ: before solving the problem, He ministers to the person carrying the burden. 

The father has likely spent years watching his son suffer, and Jesus acknowledges that pain. 

Sometimes God’s first act is not to remove our trial, but to hear our heart. 

 

The Disciples’ Failure 

The disciples had previously cast out demons in Mark 6, yet here they fail. When they ask why, Jesus answers, “This kind cannot come out except by prayer.” 

The lesson may be less about technique and more about dependence. Past success can tempt us to rely on ourselves, but prayer reminds us that spiritual power does not originate with us. 

 

For those of us in recovery, service, ministry, or leadership, this is a powerful reminder: 

• We cannot heal ourselves by willpower alone.  

• We cannot save others by our own strength.  

• We remain dependent upon God.  

As the AA Big Book says, "Lack of power, that was our dilemma." 

 

Mark 9 and the Human Struggle 

Whether the boy’s condition is understood as demonic possession, epilepsy, or both, the story powerfully portrays destructive forces that can dominate a life. 

The spirit: 

• throws him down,  

• isolates him,  

• attempts to destroy him,  

• keeps him from speaking.  

Symbolically, addiction, fear, resentment, shame, depression, and destructive habits can behave in similar ways. 

They try to pull us down, silence us, and separate us from life. 

The story becomes a picture of Christ confronting whatever enslaves a person. 

The Final Lesson: “Jesus Lifts Him Up” 

The final verse is easy to overlook: 

"Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up." 

The miracle is more than the casting out of the spirit. 

It ends with Christ’s touch. 

 

The image is powerful: 

• The boy falls.  

• The crowd thinks he is dead.  

• Jesus reaches down.  

• The boy rises.  

 

This pattern appears throughout Scripture: 

• We fall.  

• God reaches.  

• We rise.  

That may be the deepest lesson of the passage: God does not wait for perfect faith before He begins to help us. He asks only that we come honestly, saying, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” Jesus brings compassion, power, and healing before our faith is complete. 

AMEN 

🙏🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️