daniel troy carmichael

Merry Christmas!

My family in front of the old family plantation home, Dellmont, built 1858.

Merry Christmas! We had an excellent family time today. Christmas for our family marks the anniversary of our being back in Birmingham. The hardest thing about the past year is that we miss all of our friends who we left behind in California.

Look for some pictures after the New Year reflecting this month in pictures.

My prayer is that everyone would find in their heart the best Christmas gift of all, Jesus my Lord and Saviour.

Check Mate: Going Mad Playing Chess with God

Chess players go mad; poets live long happy lives.

(note: I wrote this some months back and am only just now publishing it)

G.K. Chesterson once quipped that poets do not go mad, but chess players do. Now, in my observation, this may be due to the fact that poets are already so crazy that their further decline into mental illness is hardly noticeable--especially when compared to the intense sanity of chess players. (I'm grinning as I write this).

I, however, never was a real chess player. One of my memories from boarding school is of a fellow student so obsessed with chess that he literally played it every spare moment; I could last maybe five to ten moves before it was apparent I would lose--or had already lost. In my mind's eye I can still see him playing chess, making a simultaneously guttural and nasal snort (reminiscent of Larry Flynt with the flu), wiping his nose with his knuckles, twitching his eye, and clicking his fingers. Truly, he must have been slowly going crazy pursuing the perfect and best move to every situation he encountered in this game that was his life.

However, while not an actual chess player, in my Game of Life I have noticed how I have tried to play it like a game of chess with God--like my schoolmate but instead with real people on the board (memories of The Seventh Seal, anyone?). I search the board, my life, trying to determine where the pieces are, how they got there, where they could go, and what is the best move that ensures I win. Slowly though, over nearly 40 years, every move I have made has been seemingly countered by God through the events of my life and the increasing complexities of details that an intense analysis of life reveals.

Many other intellectual types do the same thing I do: they are forever analyzing the world around them, searching for the answers, convinced that there is a perfect move against each opposing experience. At some point, however, each must come to their wit's end or go mad--perhaps both! The fault in their thinking, however, is in the paradigm they have chosen: life is not like game of chess with an analytical counter-move for every opposing move. Sure, there are many things in life that can be analyzed and examined and there are "moves" we can make that are better than others. But life is not linear, logical, and two-dimensional like an eight-by-eight checked board game.

In fact, life is more fluid, more organic, less mechanical. It is beyond our four dimensions, not a set of causes each with a logical, predetermined effect. There is a quality about life that cannot be quantified. At some point, the chess player must approach life as a poet, as a man who can look at the world and what God has done and simply say, "It is." If he won't, he will never find fulfillment in this life nor understand the love of God, for God may only be approached through the poetic, through faith, and not pure rationalism. Pure rationalism arrives only to conclusions within the boundaries of this Universe. But the poetry of life--expressed in faith--brings us to the presence of God.

In my life I am now trying to live more as a poet than a chess player: a man living by faith, beyond what the limits of my intellect and study can take me. To walk by faith means that at the point where our intellect and logic ends our understanding transcends beyond the ending into heaven. A great security in our insecurity before a heavenly Father that loves us and cares for us, of whom we are able to please solely by faith. This is the adventure of a poet; this is the adventure of faith.

Welcome Home, Elizabeth!

Unless.... Elizabeth Ashley Carmichael, June 2006 and November 2007.

"You're never coming home again, Elizabeth," I said flatly to my daughter, eleven years old. Things had worsened over time to where it became necessary as provider and protector of my home to protect the family by removing one of our members from our midst. On June 26, 2007, my fourth child's fourth birthday, we removed Elizabeth, my second child, from our home and placed her in a therapeutic boarding school in the middle of nowhere Louisiana, Evangel House.

By way of analogy, imagine that you and your family are in the open seas aboard a rubber life raft. One of your children decides to start juggling knives. Not only is that child in danger of stabbing the others on board, but the danger to the life raft being punctured is a threat to the survival of the entire family. As captain, one is provider and protector of those aboard his ship. When the child refuses to let go of the knives, a point is reached where the only option left is to push the child out of the life raft and row away.

That is where our family was two summers ago. Because of the example of our friends, the W's and the S's, I realized what was happening to the relationships in our family; the only option left to our family's relational survival was to remove Elizabeth from our home. At the core of Elizabeth's problems was an incredibly strong personality in a person not yet submitted to God. Like a wild horse, she had great strengths that, should she ever be saddle broken, would make an incredibly positive impact on the world. As it was, her great strengths were her undoing and left her, in every sense of the word, incorrigible.

"You're never coming home again, Elizabeth," I said, ".... Unless....Unless....Unless YOU decide to change....And then, if you decide to change, then you will have a lot of work to do before you can come home again."

Unless. UNLESS...... UNLESS!

Last night, we brought Elizabeth home. I am proud and delighted to say that, after 18 months, my daughter, now 13 and a young woman, has come home to her family once more. She has learned a lot and grown a lot. The change in her heart is sincere, her growth reflected not only in her physical appearance but in her emotional, mental, psychological, and spiritual wellbeing as well.

At her graduation ceremony at school Saturday, with her friends and family sitting in the circle I told my lovely, lovely daughter on behalf of the rest of her family, "Welcome home, Elizabeth! Welcome back to YOUR family!"

Bursting Forth: Reverberations of Spiritual Battle (part 2)

The bursting of the dam from the movie Force 10 From Navarone

(this is the second part of a two part series)

As I mentioned in the previous post, sometimes Holy Spirit's moving in our life can be likened to water moving through a pipe, flushing the soul clean of gunk as He works in our life. Sometimes, though, it seems like He works in a different way.

Two weekends ago, I attended a "Life Retreat" held by my church. The semester-long small-group and its subsequent 24-hour retreat is based on the Cleansing Streams ministry. A lot of spiritual and soulical work was done at the retreat in a very thorough and Biblical manner--repenting, renouncing, breaking of sins and soul ties, etc.. Most everybody walks away from that experience with incredible feelings of release and freedom.

But I felt little changed. Part of it, I am sure, is due to the fact that I have gone through similar experiences in the past and a lot of that which was done for the first time at the retreat for others had already been done in my life before. Another part of why I felt little changed from the experience is probably due to the fact that I from a more stoical, less emotional, less feeling type of personality. However, in my heart, I suspected a big reason was that there were much deeper issues at work in my soul that has prevented me from sensing much change and affect of God in my life.

Several days after the retreat, while talking about it with the small-group of friends and acquaintances, I had a word picture come to my mind that resonated with my heart: my experience at the retreat was rather likened to a dam being blown up than a pipe being flushed clean.

In my soul, I feel that the spiritual battle we did almost two weeks ago was much like the dam in the movie Force 10 from Navarone: the explosives detonated but nothing seemed to have happened. The dam remained standing, unharmed by the explosions deep in its belly. Yet, just as in the movie, wisdom tells me that though nothing has been felt or seen, the explosions succeeded. Deep in my soul it begins to feel that the foundations of long entrenched bondages were broken that weekend. But now, as in the movie, I recognize that it is going to take time to see the results of the battle.

In the movie, the bursting of the dam holding back the waters took many minutes; perhaps, in my life, it will take many days, weeks, or months. Yet, at a point, the water finally makes its ways through the cracks and fissures of the broken foundations of the dam. At first, the water just trickles out. Then more. Then more, and more, and more, until, finally, the entire dam of bondage bursts forth, breaks open, and the Life of the Spirit pours abundantly through the dried up parts of the soul, never to be parched again.

If you struggle in your own life with the parched dryness of soul that comes from the bondage of a dammed up spirit, I pray that you have your own dam-blowing moment that shatters the foundations of bondage in your life and that the River of Life of the Spirit of God begins to pour through the channels of your soul! That is what I am praying for myself and all who seek to know Him.

Bursting Forth: Reverberations of Spiritual Battle (part 1)

Our souls without the pure waters of the Holy Spirit traveling through it could be described as a clogged pipe.

(this is the first part of a two part series)

In 1988 or 1989 I attended a conference in Birmingham on prayer for spiritual awakening. I was 19 at the time and the youngest person there by about twenty years. Several years later, when I came across the list of its thirty or so attendees, it read like a Who's Who: I remembered meeting folks like Joy Dawson (YWAM) and Vonette Bright (CCC) and others whose names are familiar to contemporary Christendom. At the time I had not realized the caliber of the men and women at the conference and thought little of it. But my most memorable conversation came from a simple nun whose name I have long since forgotten.

The nun identified herself to me quite paradoxically as a "born-again, Spirit-filled, charismatic, Franciscan Catholic Christian nun who loved to pray in tongues." Her comments sorta separated my head from my shoulders, for at that time I was a reluctant charismatic (*) from a chosen-frozen high-church background. Descended from a long line of stoic and intellectual Scottish stock, it seemed contradictory for someone like her to be from a "traditional" background, yet walk in the Baptism of the Holy Spirit.

In her attempt to help me intellectually step through the experience of praying in tongues, she gave me a wonderful analogy: imagine a pipe, clogged with all kinds of gunk. This symbolizes us without the experience of praying in the the spirit by the Holy Spirit, also known as praying in tongues. One day, a little bit of water, the Holy Spirit, makes it through the gunk of our souls and out through our lips when, by faith, we first start praying in tongues.

If that one time of praying in tongues is the summation of our experience then not much will happen in our life and, as a result, it will be evidenced by the gunk remaining in the "pipeline" of our soul. That is to say that our soul, even years later, can still be stuck with all kinds of gunk in it if we cease or never again continue to pray in the spirit.

However, if, through faith-filled diligence, we pray regularly in tongues by the Holy Spirit, the water of the Spirit begins to flush out the vessel, or pipeline, of our life. The more water, the more gunk comes out and the more gunk comes out, the more water. Until one day so much Holy Spirit flows through our lives that little gunk can remain stuck in the pipes of our lives.

Like all analogies, it is just that: an analogy. It still took me about fifteen years to cease being a reluctant charismatic. About six years ago my theology, or intellectual understanding, of the Baptism of the Holy Spirit finally caught up with my experiences of His moving in my life. I now pray in the spirit by the Holy Spirit often yet still find it quite curious as to the "mechanics" of how it all works. But it does...and HE does.

continued in part 2....

(*) When I coined the phrase, "reluctant charismatic", it was my attempt to describe the contradiction I felt between my traditional Presbyterian theology and the experiences God kept giving me and others. I was charismatic because I found myself experiencing the Baptism of the Holy Spirit and the supernatural; yet I was reluctant because I could not comprehend or theologize from the Scriptures how it could be. I was trapped between the worlds of charis-mania and charis-phobia, the happy-clappies and the chosen-frozen.

Interesting Evangelistic Tools: Freedom, Hitchhikers, and a Gun

The Keltec P32, a .32 caliber pocket pistol. This is my standard conceal carry when my civvies won't hide something with a little more umph!

Last Thursday, on my trip to Atlanta, I passed two rough looking men walking along the interstate. They were in the middle of nowhere and, I was to find out, on a long walk to nowhere until I came along. Normally I don't stop; however, these guys weren't actually hitchhiking (I found out later they didn't want to break the law by thumbing) and I had the time. I pulled over a little ways ahead of them and waited for them to walk up.

I guess I should say that I rarely pick up hitchhikers now that I am married. Before, when I didn't have much responsibility, I would take the risk (hey, to live is Christ and die is gain so if I got killed, no one else was depending on me and I got to go home). But as a married man and sole provider for six, intentionally putting my life at risk is rare. But I felt I should stop and help these guys out, so I took the risk.

To help hedge the risk, as those two stranded men walked up to my car, I deposited my glove box handgun into the door side pocket of my dress pants (an offhanded draw but more discreet). I've been a licensed concealed carry individual since the month I turned 19. (In California, of course, my rights to carry were abrogated, as they were for most folks in Alameda County unless they were a rabid gun-control nut with the last name Feinstein--but I digress.)

The gun I put in my pocket is the same gun I bough after the Virgina Tech shootings: I needed something I could carry more often since my other conceal carry gun only works in a back holster that requires either an untucked shirt or a jacket to conceal, something I rarely do. Some may find my habits and behavior strange but I consider it not only a right, but a privilege and a responsibility to carry concealed, especially to high-value targets for criminals (like malls and concerts, for example). If I die in the process of saving the lives of others, I'm willing. It's part of what our country was built upon: freedom and individual civic responsibility to others.

So, anyway, these guys hop in the car and I end up driving them about fifteen miles up the interstate then several miles off the road to nowhere. Their car had broken down and they would have had a very long walk back to their home if I had not stopped. They were blessed.

We all had a wonderful time; I shared with them truths of God (though they didn't sound so spiritual the way I presented it to them) and I got to leave a little Life with them and invite them to church. Maybe they will come, maybe they won't. But the whole point of all of this is that I was able to help two folks out who really needed help, share some of the Gospel, and make my appointment on time.

Now, I wonder, if I hadn't had the pocket pistol, would I have stopped to pick them up????

Moving the Heart of God

By faith Noah ... built an ark. Hebrews 11:7

I felt like posting something today, but not writing. Strange, isn't it? I've been under attack in my emotions in some vital areas; the difference, though, from the past is that now I am aware of the enemy and engaged in active resistance. God is good.

As I have been pondering the past several days, these words keep coming to mind:

God is not moved out of pity, but out of faith.

Hebrews 11:6 says that without faith it is impossible to please God. When God looks at me, I want Him to enjoy the faith and trust I have in Him, to be carried along in His grace and mercy by the waters of His Spirit. It's time to give up thinking that God is going to help me out of of pity and instead to get up and start moving in faith.

What about you?

The Hero Series, Chapter II: Teddy Roosevelt

President Theodore Roosevelt, 1904

This is part of the hero series which I started here.

Many years ago I read a great book called, "Carry a Big Stick". It was a succinct description of TR's life and I came to respect him more so than any other President.

Very simply, the thing that made the biggest impression on me was his balance. He had a good family life, church life, and government life. There was great consistency throughout all the areas of his life and, because of him, I have ever since had the hope that I would be able to live the call of God upon my life in such a balanced manner as I saw him do.

He had many gifts and talents that God gave him that allowed him to do so much in so little time. I remember a vignette where he was being shaved by his barber while simultaneously dictating several letters and either writing or having a conversation with another gentleman. He used the gifts he had.

At one time, his father pulled him aside and encouraged him to partake of vigorous exercise. The wisdom, his father said, was that his mind and mental abilities could not progress further while continuing to lack physical discipline. This principle, too, encourages me to get out the door more often to develop my physical abilities so my mental and spiritual abilities can develop further.

He started the National Parks Service, which I am grateful for, and all through life he seemed to enjoy every moment. It did not matter what he did, he was going to have a "bully" time. He was an avid hunter and, though no big hunter myself, I started shooting my Marlin 1895 .45-70 lever action partly because he loved the 1895 so much himself.

In a nutshell, what makes Teddy a hero of mine is that he lived the life God called him to live and did so with great honor and balance of priority. May I be able to successfully follow his good example.

God Doesn't Want You Getting What You Deserve (the devil does!)

You are God's Happy Thought! Captain Jack Frost

Because she asked me to, I have been reading a book Ashley finished earlier this year, Experiencing Father's Embrace by Jack Frost. By the title you can tell why I had no desire to read it: even though written by a tough sea captain once known as the Captain Bligh of the Carolina Coast, the title creates one of those images that is baffling and confusing for me.

I'm an nth generation American of Protestant Scottish descent; with the traditional upbringing of that culture, the concept of the "[Heavenly] Father's Embrace" does not compute. Like Spock, my Vulcan mind finds paternal and maternal affection illogical. And so that's why I read the book when Ashley asked.

It has for decades been obvious to me that I have and have had deep soul issues dealing with my emotions, their freedom of expression, and feelings. God will and is continuing to heal my soul in this area. As an aside, I should say that in my own family with my wife and children I have been able to easily express affection to them; however, it is upwards that I have the bondage. The thought of my parents or my heavenly Father being affectionate with me or embracing me is still, simply put, just weird. I recognize it as a place I need to go, but it must be done through the hand of God working in my life--it is not something I am able to will it to be attained.

Paralleling my reading of the book, I have also listened to two of Frost's CD's dealing with a chapter in his book: Would you rather be right or have relationship? On the CD he spoke of the remarkable heart of God who does not want any of us to get what we deserve--we may end up getting what we deserve, even an eternity in Hell if we deny His Lordship--but he so eagerly longs and desires to give us mercy through Jesus. When He thinks of us, we are His "Happy Thought".

Each of us chooses to traffic in either the love of law or the law of love. One brings destruction, the other life. Satan desires for each one of us to get what we deserve, which is why he stands before the Judge accusing us--for he is the accuser of the brethren. But God does not want us to get what we deserve but wants us instead to to live under the law of love, which is grace and mercy. This means to love those who mistreat us--to pray for them, bless them, forgive them. It's God's grace and mercy in the motion of our lives touching others.

According to the the Scriptures, the measure we use on others is what is measured to us--pressed down and shaken together, over flowing. By God's grace, I choose to walk in the law of love which is freedom, and not the love of law, which brings bondage and is of the devil.

I want to be God's happy thought and his delight--to somehow arrive at the point where in my soul I am comfortable with the concept and feelings of an emotional God emotional about me. A place where Jesus' death, resurrection, and seating at Father's right hand is more than just a business transaction but a passionate God expressing His passions for His creation.

To be free from bondage and full of the life of God....to walk in a way that honors and glorifies Him. To delight in life and the world in which He has placed me, to complete the purposes for which I was created. To be God's friend and He my own, this is my desire.

November at a glance: Photos

I am thinking of doing this every month or so. Basically, I grab the photos off one of the cameras here at the house and post those that capture the moment or tell a story I want remembered. Tell me what you think!

November 2007

Ashley and I with our brunettes at our first Auburn game since Alabama played Auburn for the first time at Auburn (that was in 1989--and we won then, too!)

Ashley on the side of a waterfall in the Sipsey Wilderness. She rarely has come with me to the out-of-doors, but I sure like having her with me when she does!

The same spot as the other picture, just a few feet away. I'm eating dinner that I cooked up for us.

Don playing my piano while Thanksgiving Dinner is being prepared.

Our dining room on Thanksgiving Day. We had my parents and all of my brothers and their families, except one sister-in-law who stayed home sick: I'm sorry you missed it, Vicki! Don said it was the best Thanksgiving yet but next year will be even better with you there!

Daniel Troy Carmichael's, I and II, working hard to get Thanksgiving on the table.

One of Ashley's homemade flower arrangements on the table. Notice the empty plates--the food was spectacular this year!

This is me, across the table from my bride.

All of the desserts were eaten! I made the chocolate crème brûlées, meringues, apple pie, and pumpkin pie (Ashley did the crusts on the pies).

My two redhead gals at the Till's in Monterey (pronounced Monteree, not Monteray like the Californians do).

Hay ride at the Till's. Kara (in the hat) and her sister Kimberly and I grew up playing here at their pa-pa's. Now, Kimberly's daughter and my son are the same age difference as we were so the tradition will continue.

Family picture in the process of being taken at Dellmont (built 1958). My several times great-grandfather Robert Yeldell built the place and, except for a season when Mr. Arthur Till owned it and lived in it, it has always been in the family.

My oldest two daughters having fun in the front yard at Dellmont.

Well, I hope you enjoyed these photos! I certainly did! Be sure to let me know your comments!