As usual, Brother Phil, I truly enjoyed this e-mail.  There is definitely a 
lesson there.  Guess what!  I am officially cancer free!  Praise God!  I 
have to go every six weeks to flush the I.V. port, and I have to have 
check-upss every three months, but God still has work here for me to do. 
Praise God from whom all blessings flow
!


----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Phil Scovell" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Thursday, January 21, 2010 12:51 AM
Subject: You Can Do Better


> I'm pretty certain I posted this awhile back but I hadn't finished the 
> article.  So, if you read this following testimony, and think you have 
> read it before, you likely have.  However, I have added a lot to it so I 
> thought some might like reading it again.
>
> Phil.
>
>
> You Can Do Better Than That
>
>
> By Phil Scovell
>
>
>
>
>
>
> I was just 20 years of age.  My wife and I had only lived in Denver for a 
> couple of
> months.  That year was an extra harsh Colorado winter for the Denver area. 
> At that time,
> in 1972, the snowfall in Denver was 61 inches for the seasonal average. 
> That first winter
> we lived here, the weather service recorded over 100 inches of snowfall 
> and a dozen
> major storms of 12 inches or more.  A couple of blizzards were over 20 
> inches.  Over the
> years, fortunately, this type of weather has dropped off to the point that 
> the annual
> Denver snowfall total is down to about 30 inches.  The high country, as we 
> call it here, in
> the higher elevations of the Rocky Mountains, still continues averaging 10 
> to 30 percent
> above normal seasonal snowfall nearly every year.
>
> I remember these wintry details for many reasons but largely because I 
> found
> myself out in this cold freezing, snowy, icy weather during November 
> trying to learn my
> way downtown using my white cane.  At that time, we lived in west Denver 
> and where I
> ended up working was about a 45 minute bus ride with an exchange of buses 
> in between
> and that alone, the exchange, I mean, lasted several minutes just by 
> itself. I had already
> trained considerably with the use of the white cane for mobility but 
> Denver was much
> larger, with more traffic, and streets that were less than the average 
> squares created by
> corridors north and south, east and west, which provided for more 
> convenient right and
> left turns.  I was more accustomed to traveling this way from living 
> previously in Omaha,
> Nebraska.
>
> I also quickly learned that places of intersections in the Denver downtown 
> area, at
> that time, had four-way stops.  That is, all four lights turned read at 
> one time and people
> could cross diagonally to any corner they wished.  This made crossing such 
> an
> intersection, especially since I learned the hard way the first time, 
> quite difficult.  As a
> white cane traveler, you listen to the people in front of you, or around 
> you, and judge
> direction by where they are going.  Logically, when the light turns, you 
> cross just like
> everyone else around you.  Not so fast, Quick Draw!  I stepped out, the 
> first time I
> learned otherwise, following a man in front of me when he suddenly swerve 
> and makes a
> hard left angle turn.  I thought, "Where in the Sam Hill is that guy 
> going," and fortunately
> I continued straight across the wide street.  A tip about this type of 
> crossing is to listen for
> the waiting traffic to the side.  Cars are pulled up, engines idling, 
> waiting for the lights to
> change.  This is, by the way, what kept me from following the man who 
> curved away
> from a straight walk through the painted white lines of the crosswalk. 
> Later that day, I
> mentioned this event to a blind friend and he explained to me what was 
> happening and
> indicated streets where this was permitted.
>
> Since I had a considerable bus ride, bus transfer, and several blocks to 
> walk to
> work even after leaving the bus, a mobility instructor was appointed to 
> come to my house
> during evening hours to teach me where to find the bus stops, going and 
> coming from,
> work, and to learn the route in-between.  This was extra training just to 
> get to work and it
> lasted two weeks.
>
> During this particular November, it was bitterly cold, snowy, and the 
> streets,
> parking lots, and sidewalks all had a great deal of ice and snow 
> incrustation.  After being
> outdoors for two and three hours, we both, my mobility instructor, and 
> myself, were
> getting more than a little cold.  Such focus mobility in bad weather, for 
> a blind person,
> creates, to say the least, extra stress.  You are listening at all times 
> to your surroundings
> such as barking dogs, are they coming this way, cars backing out of 
> residential
> driveways, not seeing you, and nearly running you down, sidewalks at 
> intersections with
> cut down curbs level which assist in helping you suddenly find yourself in 
> the middle of
> the traffic without realizing it until several car horns begin honking 
> louder than a flock of
> geese flying south for the winter, and you scurry back to where you judge 
> the sidewalk is
> and pray you don't get run down before you fine the damn street corner. 
> Of course, no
> respectable Born Again Christian, spiritual man of God such as I, would 
> never think, let
> alone say, such a thing, but it is the way of things traveling blind and 
> hoping your white
> cane isn't mistaken for a broom handle or mop handle before a driver 
> squashes you, or
> knocks you into next week, which has, by the way, happened to a couple of 
> friends of
> mine; one died and the other survived.  So we ain't talking about a warm 
> Sunday
> afternoon stroll in the park type of relaxation sort of thing, when White 
> cane traveling is
> via busy metropolitan streets, if you get my meaning.  Additionally, in 
> such cold weather,
> wearing earmuffs, a stocking hat pulled down over your ears, or even just 
> a common old
> hat can change the acoustical characteristics of the sounds around you and 
> coming to
> your frozen ears.  If you think feeling around with a white stick with 
> your eyes shut is
> dangerous, just let your hearing freeze up and find out now you can't even 
> ear where you
> are going.
>
> Another unique experience for a blind person is crossing a street with a 
> situation
> of a parking lot, or in my case, a gas station on the opposite corner. 
> Since there are few,
> if any at all, reference points in which to allow you safe passage 
> traversing such a place,
> it is common, if you aren't staying focused, especially to the traffic 
> noise on one side of
> you, to veer off a straight line into the parking lot or gas station.  In 
> such cases of drift,
> you end up walking into a parked car gassing up, or you'll be introduced, 
> somewhat
> embarrassingly, to a gas pump with which you have collided, , or perhaps 
> you'll miss
> everything and walk right into the front of the gas station building; 
> breaking out a large
> display window with your head.  Then there is the likelihood of being run 
> down by a car
> pulling into, or out of, the gas station just as you are crossing the 
> entrance or exit
> driveways.  This was one of those cases.  Due to the extreme cold, 
> frustration of learning
> a difficult mobility route, I drifted off to my left.  I was tired and 
> cold and sick of trying
> to remember all the left and right turns to reach the appointed 
> destination. In fact, I
> occasionally, to this very day, still have nightmares that harkens back to 
> those days of
> watching your step, sort of speak, or be killed on the way to work.  The 
> mobility
> instructor, who was following at a considerable distance, began yelling, 
> no, screaming at
> me, "Think, Phil!  Think!"  There was something to the tone of his voice 
> that angered me.
> In my ears, his words sounded more like, "You idiot.  Can't you do better 
> than that?"
>
> Many decades later, I was seated in a friend's office as we talked about 
> my
> daughter being a meth addict, the stress of closing a church I was 
> pastoring, and a dozen
> other things that had finally gotten me down.  I was depressed, hardly 
> sleeping, hearing
> voices, and was suicidal.  A ministry a man was doing is quite similar to 
> what I do as an
> intercessor and praying with people, allowed me to make an appointment 
> with him.  The
> anxiety and panic attacks I was having at this point in my life were more 
> than I could
> handle at the time.  During our conversation and time of prayer, my friend 
> said, "Phil,
> you know what to do; you just aren't doing it."  It was true, of course, 
> that I knew what to
> do, at least, based upon what he had taught me and that I had learned from 
> other Bible
> teachers and preachers.  The problem occurred when I found myself doing 
> all the things I
> had been taught by such people but it wasn't working for me.  "How could 
> the Bible," to
> which I was obedient, "not be working for me?"  This was pushing the 
> anxiety level off
> the meter's scale.  I honestly did not know what to do.
>
> Recently, at a low point, these two memories collided in my thoughts.  I 
> could not
> identify the emotions associated with either of these two memories which 
> had caused me
> to instantly conduct my standard automatic (SAD), Search and Destroy 
> mission.  I felt,
> based upon the Lord displaying both memories at the same time, they had to 
> have a
> common theme, commonality, or buried lie, but how and where?  I could not 
> see the
> connection but I knew it was there.
>
> Several weeks passed and I had, of course, prayed about these two memories
> repeatedly and seemed to make little, if any, headway in understanding the 
> memories and
> their relationship.  One day, as I sat at my computer, not typing but just 
> finishing a task, I
> felt the Holy Spirit say, "So how did you feel in both these memories?" 
> Since I was
> finished with that which I had been working, I stood up and walked about 6 
> feet to a
> secondary room where I have a reclining rockingchair I sit in when praying 
> with people
> on the phone.  Sitting down, I allowed my thoughts to instantly focus on 
> these two
> memories and straight up, whatever first came to my mind, answered the 
> Holy Spirit's
> question.  I named things such as rejection, a feeling of defeatism, and 
> other related
> emotional feelings but somehow, none of what I felt really touched the 
> core of the
> woundedness these two very vivid memories brought to my mind and emotions. 
> Then, I
> heard it within the flow of my thoughts, "You can do better than that." 
> It was actually a
> more menacing and threatening thought in my mind along the lines of, "You 
> can't do
> anything right.  You're blind.  Blind people can't do anything right.  And 
> you call yourself
> a Christian."  These fiery darts of outside thoughts attempted, and 
> accomplished,
> penetration into my mental flow of thinking patterns, (I.E. my mind).  . 
> Recognizing
> what it was, demonic oppression with a truck load of lies they were 
> dumping on me, I
> took every thought captive, praying against it, and authoritatively cut 
> off their ability to
> continue trying to gain a spiritual handhold in my thoughts and mind.  The 
> two
> memories, although different, were linked.  Thus, the Christian and the 
> secular crossover
> perpetrated a dual mental attack.
>
> In such wounded memories, there is also the truth that is needed to bring 
> healing
> to the circumstances and the damaged emotions associated with the pain one 
> feels.  I was
> stumped as to what the truth might be and turned the memories over and 
> over in my mind
> trying to probe for the truth that Only the Lord can give.  It eventually 
> dawned on me that
> the lie the Enemy was attempting to hide was, "You can do better than 
> that." The
> problem was, this type of a lie contains truth.  We all can most certainly 
> do better.  We all
> can achieve personally.  We all can succeed in any area of life we desire. 
> In short, there
> is no limit to what we can do but even great achievers in life often 
> suffer from depression
> and overwhelming thoughts beyond their control.  So what's the truth? 
> Usually doing
> better means based upon someone else's standard, that is, "Do it like me, 
> and as well as I
> am doing it, and you will not only be ok, you'll be like me."  WRONG!  I 
> want to be like
> Jesus and I am, so buzz off.  This attitude, though normally unspoken, 
> creates an endless
> and impossible level of accomplishment because, quite simply, everyone is 
> uniquely
> created differently.  So, in short, in an earthly sense, there is no human 
> standard of
> success or failure.  In this case, Jesus answered my question concerning 
> the truth and He
> said, "I have already done all that needs to be done.  I accept you as you 
> are.  You don't
> have to become a better person to impress me.  I am already impressed with 
> you just as
> you are now, and this is because you are just like me.  I have made it 
> so."
>
> If you try and improve upon this concept, you will discover you can never 
> do
> enough; you can never achieve adequately, to the point, that you are 
> fulfilled or satisfied
> with yourself.  You will be that little cute hamster in his wheel; 
> running, and running, and
> running, and spinning, and spinning, and spinning, yet without ever 
> reaching your goal
> and satisfaction that you have done well in the sight of the Lord.  You 
> will, in short, spin
> yourself into what I call, (CQG), Christian quasi genericism simply put, 
> performance
> based Christianity.
>
> Aren't you sick of living like all your Christian friends?  Haven't you, 
> by now,
> exhausted about everything the pastor has told you to do to become a well 
> behaved good
> little Christian?  Haven't you read one too many Christian books telling 
> you how to live a
> successful, productive, Godly Christian life?  Hasn't legalism, in all it 
> various shapes and
> ugly forms of phony spirituality, gotten the best of you by now?  When 
> will you ever
> achieve the best you can be and how will you know you have spiritually 
> arrived?  My
> answer is simple.  Whatever I can't do, Jesus already has done.  Why 
> should I reinvent
> the theological wheel, whipping up a denomination in the process, or in 
> order to maintain
> a good strong hold, that is, control, just have one big megachurch with 
> thousands of
> Sunday-go-to-meetin' folk and thousands more on television that send me 
> money.  Boy,
> ain't we having church now!
>
> Recently, a good Christian buddy of mine tried reaching me three times 
> over the
> weekend.  I don't know where I was but it wasn't where I could hear my 
> office phone any
> of those three times.  He did record each time, a voice mail message, 
> leaving strong
> words of encouragement and instruction.  How did he know I needed to hear 
> his
> encouragement?  He knows how to pray and how to hear the Holy Spirit. 
> It's easy;
> anybody can do it who learns how to pray.  In his direct words of 
> challenge, it included
> mild rebuke for trying too hard and forgetting to let the Lord do all the 
> heavy lifting, plus
> confirmation of his personal love and concern for me as friends and 
> Christian brothers in
> the Lord.  He also told me a story you also need to here, so I'm going to 
> tell it to you.  It
> is more than worth retelling.
>
> A good old boy is walking down a dusty old road in the summers heat with a 
> 100
> pound see bag toss over his shoulder.  During his long walk into town, an 
> old beat up
> pickup, with bald tires and rusting paint, slowed and stopped next to him. 
> "Say, son," he
> called out the open window which handle had busted off three years before, 
> hop in the
> back and I'll give you a ride right on in to town.  I'd let you ride up 
> front but got my wife
> and two young-uns already up front, if-en, that is, you don't mind ridin' 
> yonder in back."
>
> "Naw, sir," the young boy replied.  "I'm much obliged and I surely thank 
> yaw
> kindly."
>
> The boy, with his heavy feed sack, climbs into the back and sits down with 
> his
> seed sack still hanging off his right shoulder.
>
> As they drove on in toward town, the driver of the pickup looks back and 
> notices
> the boy is still trying to hang on to that heavy feed sack tossed over his 
> back.  Since the
> back winda of the truck had been blowed clean out accidentally by the 
> farmer's shotgun
> discharging last fall when he had been hunting rabbits and squirrels, 
> blowing the winda to
> Kingdom Come, nobody hurt, praise be to the Lord, the farmer said, "Say, 
> son.  I knowed
> this here truck ain't much but she's strong and big enough to carry that 
> feed sack you be
> trying to carry.  Drop the load, boy, and enjoy the ride."
>
> Do you see it?  Even as Christians, and I don't care if you have a radio 
> or
> television show, have written 50 books on how to be a magnificent specimen 
> of Jesus
> Himself, are a millionaire and give a 20 dollar bill each week in the 
> offering at church, or
> even if you've been saved and healed from disease, bowlleggedness, bald 
> headedness, an
> athlete's foot, if you are still dragging that heavy sack around when 
> Jesus has done
> already done all the heavy lifting, you best be getting your head examined 
> real soon like.
> And if you cannot understand plain English, you ain't never gonna be free 
> in Jesus.  If
> you need help finding out how to get rid of that heavy old sack, you all 
> give me a ring.
> Yaw hear?  Better yet, get Jesus on the horn and talk it through with Him.
>
> It Sounds Like God To Me
> WWW.SafePlaceFellowship.com
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