Grasshoppers

 "We seemed like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and we looked the same to them." (Numbers 13:33b)

One last book to read and I'll have the whole Bible read again this year. New Testament twice. Psalms and Proverbs twice. Minor prophets and Daniel twice. Revelation...four times along with Ezekiel 38-39. Privileges of being a pastor. 

My last book for this year is the book of Numbers. Don't ask me why. It just fell that way. And I was a bit disinterested, like reading Leviticus or Obadiah, because...well...its about numbers. It's why its called...wait for it...Numbers. Take a census for this. Take a census for that. Count how many of them. Count how many of those. Boring. Not really. Okay...I lied...it is. But the Holy Spirit put it in there for a reason and I need to figure it out.  

Beyond the initial chapters the book is quite interesting. Numbers 6 gives you the wonderful Aaronic blessing. Numbers 7 gives you a wonderful example of giving - starting with  leaders leading the way. Numbers 8 tells me about the rights and privileges of firstborn sons and the Levites who had the honor of taking care of God's house- the privileges associated with full-time ministry. Numbers 9 tells me that God is flexible when it comes to the rules. Numbers 11-12 and 16 about rebellion against God and jealousy against his divinely appointed leaders. And chapter 12 gave me a deeper understanding of Deuteronomy 18:15 and the description of the Messiah as one who would be like Moses - speaking with God face to face (Num. 12:8). I'll stop here but I hope that the reader will take some time to glean in this spiritual field sometime. A lot of good harvest available.

I was meditating on the very familiar story of the Israelites doing the exploratory trip into the Promised Land in chapter 14. Everything that God had promised them was there - a land of milk and honey - a land so filled with possibilities that it was quite frankly, unbelievable. For goodness sake, they brought back a cluster of grapes on a pole carried by two guys! 

Problem:  Giants. Wrong. Problem: Little God. Almost. Problem: View of oneself in light of a little God. Yes. Got it. See it. Understand it. How do I change it?

I feel like 2020 was a little me/little God year. The virus, the elections, government intrusion based on "safety"...we voluntarily shut down our houses of worship, we stopped singing, we limited people on Christmas Eve (thank God we had one), we stopped hugging and shaking hands, we stopped visiting.

I'm not down playing the seriousness of the virus or the need to love each other in a unique way for a time but where is God in all of this and what exactly is our role in it as followers of Jesus? 

I get the Romans 13 obey your government thing but it feels like we are losing ground instead of taking it. I'm saying this in my head but also knowing that God has done a lot of good work this year. In particular, the Holy Spirit kicked the church in the pants and redirected us back to the basics of our mission. And its not to make sure the building is still there. If we learned nothing else...

It's like the spies came back and said, "You are not going to believe all the good things that God has in store for us. It's just over the horizon. Yeah! But...we can't have them because there is a virus out there."  Little me. Little God. Big world. 

Interesting point that I had not seen in the many years of reading through this book: a census was taking in the early chapters to see how many fighting men Israel had over 20 years of age. Judgement: all of those counted men would die in the desert for their lack of faith. God knew. God knows. Count off. 

Only two guys, Joshua and Caleb, tried to rally the people. Express a big God and therefore a mighty people. To no avail. The will was not there. Their knowledge of God was not there. Their trust/faith was not there. 

Jesus told his disciples, "When I come back will I find faith on earth?" I wonder. I wonder if that was a question or a foreshadowing of the foreboding truth to come? Paul did tell Timothy that in the end-times people would abandon the faith. 

My New Year's resolution is simple this year. I want to be an unstoppable grasshopper - a locust plague for God, for good. In my spirit I feel like this is my/our last shot before the Uptaker comes.  

Grasshoppers jump. Grasshoppers fly. They carry around body armor 24/7. Their ears are on the belly not on their head (true fact). In other words, they have their ears to the ground - they know what's going on in reality. They have the ability to make music whenever they want (back legs rubbing together). They conquer when they work together in mass. And...they go well with chocolate. 

So...I don't care what enemy might come my way next year. I'm a big grasshopper serving a big God.

Count me...in. How about you?

Happy New Year!

December Disappointments

 "In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world...And everyone went to his own home town to register." (Luke 2:1 and 3)

Christmas time is a time of extremes:  overjoyed or depressed. It's often a hardship - like a nine month pregnant woman having to make a three day trip down south on a donkey. 

I thinks its the hype, to be honest. It's the expectation that this is the "most wonderful time of the year." "It's the hap-happiest season of all. With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings when friends come to call. It's the hap-happiest season of all." 

Yeah...not gonna happen this year. And if it does...social distancing and a mask required. Better yet let's just Zoom it. I'll buy a pumpkin pie scented candle and spill some gravy on my shirt and it will be just like I'm there. 

"They'll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting, caroling out in the snow. They'll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glory of Christmas' long, long ago." 

Nope. No parties. Marshmallows...okay, we can do that over the stove (rats...we just bought an electric cooktop - I guess we'll be searching for a large candle). Caroling. Nope. No singing this year. Scary stories...my favorite..."A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens. Hmmm...I think I found part of the problem. It's those "tales of the glory of Christmas' long, long ago." 

Childhood memories make everything perfect don't they? They weren't of course. But we didn't focus on the hardships, the lack of things at times. We focused on the joy of being together as a family. Even though our Christmas morning was cut short by heading out to an aunt and uncles' house for lunch or to a grandmother's upstairs apartment for supper. They were good memories. Grandparents. Aunt's and Uncles. Cousins. Boyfriends and girlfriends. Sad to say...I'm at the age where many of those have left this world. They are found in old polaroid photos surrounded by people you search the recesses of your mind to remember. 

Not everyone has those memories. In fact, many have family memories at Christmas they would rather bury and never remember. Like getting those red, green and white flared 1970's bell bottoms with the accompanied white belt. You could always count on clothes for Christmas. 

At least I received a gift. At least I had a tree. At least I had a loving family. At least I had a warm home to celebrate within. Thankful. Not everyone has those gifts. 

The problem that I find is that I want those times again. I want to be seven or eight again - to see "Rudolph" or "A Charlie Brown Christmas" with childlike eyes...with my sisters. To recall those "tales of glory of Christmas' so long ago." But alas, as Thomas Wolfe wrote, "You can't go back home again to your family...back home to your childhood...back home again to a young man's glory and fame...back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems which once seemed everlasting, but which are changing all the time...back home to the escapes of Time and Memory." And that's okay. New memories are in the wings. 

I think what this year has done is stripped away the glitter and noise and has allowed us to remember the true meaning of Christmas. It is the most wonderful time of the year. 

In the words of Linus, "The Angel of the Lord shown round about them, and they were terrified. But the angel said, 'Fear not! I bring you news of great joy that will be for all people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You shall find the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in the manger.' Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.'" 

Merry Christmas! And choose to make it a most wonderful time of the year. 

An Authentic Christmas

 "And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross." (Philip. 2:8)

How many of you had those fake cardboard fireplaces growing up? You know the one that had a black mantle to hang your stocking on with the stamped red bricks. But I especially liked the "real" fire. Cardboard log cut outs with a light behind it that had a little circular contraption that moved to give one the illusion that their was a real fire glowing in the background. 

It solved the embarrassing question every parent encountered: "If we don't have a fireplace, how is Santa going to come down the chimney and bring us presents?" Problem solved. We make one. One that we can take down before the new year begins.  The chimney, they explained, was already built behind the wall. You just can't see it. 

It might have been a chuckle to mom and dad but to a little guy, it is a prized Christmas memory. One that I am sure exists only in my head and whose physical contents have long decomposed in a landfill somewhere. I was happy. It didn't matter if it was fake. It was part of the Christmas ambiance. 

But now I'm old. The silver threads starting to show in my youthful hair which like prized beach frontage, keeps receding. My patience for the untrue, for the false narrative is shrinking like my height. I long for the authentic, for something real. I'm tired of the fake Jesus the world, and sometimes even the church puts forth for me to worship.  

I am hearing more and more people cry out for a real encounter with God this year - to engage with the child in the manger - to be changed. They thought with the Covid stuff that this year might be different, less hectic, more focused. They were wrong. It is just as chaotic as churches scramble to "have Christmas" safely. "How many can we safely have?" "Do we rope off one pew or two?" "If we do have candles, how do we blow them out?" "And what if too many people come?" 

Lord, Jesus come! Help!

Maybe that is the most authentic Christmas expectation we should have. To not expect the annual show but Jesus himself, coming in all of His glory. Immanuel. God with us.  

That old cardboard fireplace served its purpose visually and perhaps emotionally but one thing it could never do...keep you warm. 

Praying for the real thing and a reminder to turn my fake fireplace on in the basement for the grandkids. 

I'm the Angel in the Christmas Play

 "This is the account of Jacob's family line. Joseph, a young man of seventeen, was tending his flocks with his brothers, the sons of Bilhah and the sons of Zilpah, his father's wives, and he brought his father a bad report about them." 

I recently heard for the first time the song, "I'm the Angel in the Christmas Play." (71) Gayla Peevey "Angel In The Christmas Play" - YouTube  If you're not familiar with the song, its about a rotten kid...well a normal kid who just gets in trouble a lot for doing rotten things. The kicker is that she's the angel in the school Christmas play. 

I was a little like that as a kid. I know - hard to believe. My dad used to remind me of the time when I was in that remedial time of life, especially during Christmas. Apparently, I was in good form one day and my dad said, "If you don't start behaving I'm going to tell Santa Claus and you won't get any presents." Not sure if that was a good parenting strategy for a young boy bent on destruction and world domination but it did give me pause. I was probably contemplating shooting reindeer with my B-B Gun or some sort of pyro-technique explosion pointed at Santa's sleigh or wouldn't it be cool to have my own set of servant elves to make me stuff. 

When out on the lawn I heard such a chatter. I sprang to the window to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash. Tore open the shudders and threw open the sash. (Wait a minute. We didn't have shudders and I'm not sure what a sash is - I think its the bottom of the window). When what to my wondering eye should appear but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer. No...not really. It was my mom and dad's insurance agent dressed up like Satan...whoops, Santa, bringing our annual fruit basket. His car had those stupid reindeer horns stuck in the grill. But it scared the hell out of me. And now you know why I'm a pastor. And why I was the Angel in the Christmas play. 

Thanks, Dad. 

The Grinch

 "But the angel said to them, 'Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people." 

When I was little I always looked forward to the Christmas season, especially the Christmas cards that our family received. My father would play this little game at supper with my sisters and me. My mother would neatly Scotch Tape each card to the brown paneling that was our kitchen - always in a neat row and slightly angled. It was when you could afford to send out a lot of Christmas cards and...stamps. So we would have thirty or forty Christmas cards, some repeats, some homemade, some left over from a horde buy in the 1940's but none-the-less interesting. My father would say, "I'm looking at a card that has a Christmas tree on it." And we would all get one guess to see if we could find it. He would keep giving us clues until we got it. Sometimes he would pick a card that was one of three or four alike. Now things became a bit harder. My dad would say, "This card is from Aunt Gladys." So we had to go beyond the cover to the sender. It caused us to pay a bit more attention to who sent what and actually what they wrote or what was written inside. 

Sometimes it was a generic tree card with "Happy Holidays." Others were "glitter" cards, pretty but messy over a kitchen carpet. They still bore the non-offensive, "Happy Holidays" theme. Others were more "religious" in nature with a Birth Narrative quote or a thoughtful prayer from the Psalms or Proverbs. A Christmas collage. A childhood memory. 

My daughter sent us a text with a picture saying, "Don We Now Our Plague Apparel." It was a coat rack full of masks. It gave me pause to think about what Christmas cards might say this year and how I might receive the message a bit differently.

It is so easy to be discouraged right now. Planning the Christmas Eve service with my Worship Team..."nope we can't do that...nope, we can't do that either...whoops...that was just limited to fifty and will probably be dropped further knowing that people will want to gather." What's left? No choirs. No brass or woodwind instrumentals? No small group specials. Will anyone come? Will we have too many and have to turn people away (No room at the Inn)? WILL WE HAVE TO CANCEL CHRISTMAS like they are doing in Los Angeles? Yikes!

My favorite Christmas program is the original "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas." If I were to write my own words for a Christmas card it would be....

"How could it be so. It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes, or bags. Maybe Christmas he thought, doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas perhaps, means a little bit more."  It came without choirs. It came without song. It came with requirements to only hum along. It came without specials. It came without brass. It came without woodwinds or spit to be passed. Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from tradition. Maybe Christmas this year is more about omission. 

"But the angel said, 'Do not be afraid..." Christmas will come either way. 

P.S. If you would like a homemade card from me, I would be happy to design one for you. I have a hidden stash of glitter in the basement. Total cost: $20 a piece but it does include a stamp and a guarantee to arrive by Resurrection Sunday. 

Pilgrim Candles

 "I praise you for remembering me in everything and for holding to the traditions just as I passed them down to you." 1 Cor. 11:2

For those traveling tomorrow...an early edition....

I don't know what kids do for Thanksgiving in school these days but I grew up in the cool era of the 1960's where we made Pilgrim hats or Indian head bands (I know...First Nation head bands...I'm sorry, it just doesn't have the same ring to it.) I grew up making turkeys from your hand print and bringing in Indian Corn (is there another socially acceptable word for that?) and making pictures on construction paper with Elmer glue - the real stuff not that sissy glue stick stuff.

It was the time to dust off the fall leaf garland and find William Bradford and what I have always believed was his dear wife in miniature candle forms. You can't put out the one without the other. We're not for dividing families at this time of the year. I know that there are complete sets with Will and Becky, the little ones, and a turkey as big as the kids but we were poor or we burnt down the bird and the kiddos. I can't remember. 

Upon further research I may have to revise my table setting this year. It appears that the first Thanksgiving was not celebrated by the Pilgrims in Plymouth, Massachusetts but rather in Florida with the Spanish and the Timucuan people. It also lasted a week. We are heading to my youngest daughter's home this year. I'm sure she'll be thrilled with the extended stay and the following menu. I'm bringing out the floral shorts, the T and my boat shoes. 

Instead of turkey, which was rare to find, they ate venison, duck medallions in a seasoned brown gravy paired with steamed carrots and broccolini, seafood - fish, mussels, lobster dipped in hot butter sauce, and their famous crab cakes lightly breaded with Toll House Butter Cracker crust slightly dusted with original Old Bay seasoning. Added to that was ground corn mush with sweet molasses (now don't be turning your nose up at that - my cows loved it) and fresh pumpkin bars with powdered sugar or a creamy white glaze, all kinds of local nuts and even those that come from trees, puddings and pies...oh my goodness...blueberry, raspberry, gooseberry (with feathers removed), and of course, apple with lattice strips on top and crow feet marks around the edges literally done with crows feet. 

Sorry to burst your Thanksgiving bubble but no whipped white potatoes with grandma's dollop of sour cream and a half a pound of butter. It was probably turnips. White potatoes didn't arrive in the country until much later. Not even sweet potatoes? Nope. Put the casserole dish and the marshmallows away.  Green bean casserole with dried onions? I am almost certain of it. They had green beans. They had onions. I think we can take the next level assumption. Thank you, Lord. 

More importantly there was friendship and family and a spirit of true thankfulness to Creator God after a year of tragedy. Out of 102 passengers on the Mayflower, almost half of them died the first year. More would have if it weren't for the kindness of the Native People in the area. 

I have a feeling that there will be many this year who will give thanks with an empty seat at the table. Recipes will frantically be recalled and written down, some without success (nobody can make those homemade hand rolled egg noodles like grandma did). Old stories revisited for a new generation to hopefully carry with them. 

But my prayer is that our faith in a Sovereign God who is Good and who is Faithful even when things are hard will be shared around the table as well. Some may have to search hard to find Him but He's there - just like Will and Becky. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Kitchen Table

 "Give thanks in all circumstance for this is the will of God..." (1 Thess. 5:18). 

After a week of being homeless and living with the in-laws, we finally made it to Logansport and our new old home. The day the movers were unloading boxes in our basement we had a toilet ring break...water flowing down through the basement ceiling through a light panel onto the floor. Welcome home! Baptized again. 

It's also the smallest house that we have lived in outside of the little 800 square foot 100-year-old farmstead house when we first were married. We had to put straw bales all around that place and wrap the house in visqueen plastic just to keep from freezing to death...the house never able to get up to 60 degrees. An early mummifcation process as Halloween pointed us to cooler temps. Remember the plastic that you put on the inside of the windows and then used a hair dryer to tighten it up? I've been trying to do that with my face wrinkles as of late but to know avail. But when your young and in love, freezing to death doesn't really matter. You just cuddle a little more. I lied. It does. But we had some wonderful memories in that house. We were young. We were poor. But it was our home. Lots of good memories at that little kitchen table where our girls learned to eat like animals with their hands and throw things on the floor in amusement. Figuring out how to control mom and dad early on in life. Go fetch. 

Our current kitchen is pretty small. It provoked us to remember the kitchens of our childhood homes. Mine...a two story farm house where to do dishes you had to pray that no one wanted to go from the kitchen table to the stairway. There was barely enough room for two. The stove out in the dining area as well as the frig. Deb's galley kitchen was much the same. But there were good memories in those places. You didn't realize what you didn't have and were thankful for what you did have. 

I can still see my Grandma Lute in her small farm kitchen, white flour spread out all over the yellow marbled Formica table, preparing to make those wonderful homemade Thanksgiving egg noodles. I can still see my Grandma Cains bending over with her baster to coat, one more time, the honey ham with pineapple slices (which she saved just for me). Houses. Homes. Memories. Love. 

Jesus didn't have a home to lay his head. Paul traveled all over the place getting beat up and thrown in prison. Freezing to death on cold stone floors. Hungry. Probably remembering his mother cooking in his childhood kitchen. Both men were thankful. Not because of what they lacked but for what could not be taken from them. Citizens of another country. Renters in this world. Houses. Homes. Memories. Love. 

As we downsize in life, I am praying that our kitchen not be a complaint of want of size, but will be another memory for us, for our girls, our grandkids, and for anyone that the Lord will allow us to share life with. Not just a house - but a home. Not just a kitchen table where we eat - but a place to be nourished. 

Thankful memories. 

Boo!

 "Amid disquieting dreams in the night when deep sleep falls on men, fear and trembling seized me and made all my bones shake. A spirit glided past my face, and the hair on my body stood on end. It stopped, but I could not tell what it was. A form stood before my eyes, and I heard a hushed voice:  'Can a mortal be more righteous than God? Can a man be more pure than his Maker? If God places not trust in his servants, if he charges his angels with error, how much more those who live in houses of clay, whose foundations are in the dust, who are crushed more readily than a moth!'" (Job 4:13-21)

Okay. I began reading this and expected, "Boo!" 

As a child I grew up reading "Ripley's Believe It or Not - Ghost Stories." (See June 3rd posting). I also grew up with the movies Halloween, Halloween II, Halloween III, the Exorcist, Rosemary's Baby, all kinds of B-horror movies at the Drive-in Theater that my older cousin snuck me into in the trunk of his car - I mean legitimately paid for (no worries - I ate my movie ticket price in over priced hot dogs and pop/soda). And then...the last movie of this genre watched...The Shining with Jack Nicholson. No blood and guts...just shear terror. As it would happen, I had a beautiful alpine luncheon at the top of Mount Hood in Oregon (Timberline Lodge) where they filmed some of this. Quite delightful. Except for those darn twins that kept showing up in the hallway. (Inside fright). 

I say this so that reader knows that I am well-versed and an expert in all things scary. Actually, I stopped watching this stuff when I entered into ministry. I found that the real stuff was much more frightening than any Hollywood director could come up with. 

As "All Hollows Eve" or "All Saints Eve" or "Allhallowtide" approaches I thought I would ejukate those of you who haven't researched this. Scholars are torn between two origins: Celtic or Christian. 

In the Celtic tradition, this day was thought to be the time when the space between this world and the nether world was at its thinnest - where the spirits of the departed could easily cross over for a brief time. The idea of wearing a costume was so that the spirits would not recognize you and take vengeance against you. And...so that you could get free food from your neighbor to appease the "spirits." Bobbing for apples, roasting nuts, etc...were part of the fun. Except that they were intended as divination objects. So sorry for ruining that for everyone. Drench those apples in some caramel and nuts and it will be sanctified as God-honoring. Just say a prayer over it first. 

In the Christian tradition, "All Saints Eve" can be traced to the 8th century under the rule of Pope Gregory III. Most scholars believe that it was a Christianization of pagan tradition (like several of our traditions, e.g. Christmas trees, Mistletoe, decorations, etc...) Instead of inviting the spirits of the dead, the tradition changed into a remembrance of the dead, especially those martyred for their faith. Light a candle. Say a prayer. Go eat some soul cakes with little crosses painted on them. 

Most Protestants reject those religious traditions as unbiblical. But there is no denying the spirit realm and the respect one needs to have for it. As I read through Job this week, I was reminded once again that the scariest thing in this world is not a spirit that might show up in my dreams or...in my bedroom, but to stand before a righteous God with my unworthy works. 

Boo!

Something in the middle

"I'm torn between two desires:  I long to go and be with Christ, which would be far better for me.  But for your sakes, it is better that I continue to live." (Philip. 1:23-24) 

Life is always full of choices. When you say, "yes" to something it often means having to say, "no" to another. When you say, "yes," to something if often means having to stop something else. But there is always something in the middle. There is that awkward or often stressful time of the in between. 

Trying to keep myself positive I began thinking of things in the middle. The white creamy part between an Oreo or a Whoopie Pie or a Twinkie. The marshmallow and chocolate between two graham crackers in a S'more. Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun - a.k.a. - yes, I know your singing it now - the theme song for my favorite show - the Big Mac. I can't believe I still remembered that. I haven't had a Big Mac in years. 

If you think about it there are numerous opportunities to celebrate that which is in the middle. 

I don't know the future of my life but if I should live to 120, I'm just shy of the middle. My life is in transition. I'm still pastoring a church in Bernville but hired to pastor a church in Indiana. It's a bit taxing. Not to mention having to pack up the house at present. Longing to go but needing to stay focused for the  good of the flock. Longing to savor the deep relationships made here but longing to start something new. 

You can almost hear that same sentiment in the voice of the Apostle Paul. Tired of the prison cells, the beatings, the travel, the cold - how he longed to go home to be with Jesus. Yet, here he writes to his crown, his joy, his motivation for getting that stiff body around every morning to go out and do it again - to share the good news of Jesus, to see people saved from hell and to a vibrant life with God. Just one more, Lord. Just one more. Yet, I'm torn between the two. Perhaps Paul felt like he was a bit in the middle. 

At the time of this writing we have 5 baptisms coming up this Sunday and a potential to bring in 9 new members. It brings us such great joy to think that God would allow us to have some sort of eternal impact on the lives of the people that we serve. It brings us great joy to know that God is adding to the church not because we were there (perhaps that was the initial reason) but because God is doing something supernatural at St. Thomas. 

All I know is that sometimes it good to get to the middle. 

A Master Piece

"One thing I ask of the Lord, this only do I seek, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek Him in His temple." Psalm 27:4

This past weekend was our second twelve hour trip to Indiana within a month. Grueling - even for a young and vibrant man like myself. But it wasn't long before Deb and I were sighing a bit as we drove through the Pennsylvania scenery. We will miss the mountains -although our new home sits on a hill. Well...our backyard slopes. But we will really miss the Turnpike and State College views that we've grown to anticipate over the last few years of our travels. 

There is nothing more breathtaking than to view the fall colors of the mountain sides and the valleys. Stunning. I'm a fall color guy by natural palate so I enjoyed the burnt oranges, reds, fading greens, and umbers. If you aren't familiar with the color "umber," its similar to ochre and sienna. (I know your laughing right now in your color palate ignorance). Paint section. Home Depot. Widen your horizon. Plus they make really great book marks. 

I'm so glad that God is not boring. I'm so glad He loves diversity. I'm glad He loves color. 

I once asked one of my students in a "Studies in Genesis" class, "Why did God create color?" (Gen. 1:30, "every green plant). It's a speculative question at best but it was designed to help us understand that God is not simply pragmatic but an artist.(Yes, I do understand chlorophyll and sunlight and photosyth...photosin...photocopying).  

He could have created things like our old 1960's television set: black, white, and shades of grey. It functioned. We could use our imagination. But the thing is, our imagination can only be based on some sense of reality (Dr. Seuss excluded). I can imaging a blue suit and brown shoes because I have seen blue and brown. God has given me a color palate to work with. He could have also created with such beauty and yet made man blind or fully color-blind. But with healthy human eyes He graces us with the beauty of this world. It is nothing more than a gift to bring us joy. It has very little, if any, practical use. You might be saying, "Well, what about stop lights?" Answer: Stop signs. And it wouldn't matter if it was red, turquoise, mauve, or...umber. It's the word, "stop" that gives it away. We would just have to be patient as we go one at a time or thankfulness for the traffic officer. 

Now, if this fallen world is filled with such beauty, how much more will heaven be? It will be the perfect place of enjoyment reflecting the beauty of the Lord. Can you imagine? Only in similes. As the Apostle John tells us in Revelation, "It's like..." And the psalm tells us that we will "gaze." Isn't that a lovely word? God is so beautiful that we can't take our eyes off of Him. Wow!

Yes, we do have trees in Indiana but the view is from below. Still pretty amazing. But nothing compares to the sites from above. I can only imagine what God sees - a Masterpiece and a piece of the Master. 

 

The Von Trapp Family

 "My soul is weary with sorrow; strengthen me according to your word." 

I love "The Sound of Music." It's one of those seasonal films that I can watch every year and not get tired of it. Much like Charlie Brown and "The Great Pumpkin" or "A Charlie Brown Christmas," "Elf" or "The Grinch that Stole Christmas." 

"The Sound of Music" reminds me of family, of love, of dangerous times, of saying "goodbye." 

Many of you are aware that Deb and I will be taking another ministry position in Indiana. We are looking forward to building another group of deep friendships, seeing God work in yet another context, being a part of a new larger community, and...after twenty years of being gone, closer to our children and grandchildren. Family. Love. Dangerous times. Goodbyes. New beginnings. 

But our hearts are sorrowful because we are leaving deep friendships, God's great work, a community that we have integrated into, and so much more. 

We also leave at a time when there is so much uncertainty in the world. The enemy is at the gates and I am looking for Mother Superior to tell me that the Hills are Alive. "Go child. Run to the hills." Wrong direction. I'm heading to Indiana where its as flat as a board. But we can hide in the corn. 

It is not bed time yet. I have a few more hours to stay up and enjoy the party but like little Marta with my bandaged finger, a time will come when I will have to say "goodbye" and head over Mount Nittany. 

"There's a sad sort of clanging 

From the clock in the hall

And the bells in the steeple, too. 

And up in the nursery

An absurd little bird 

Is popping out to say, "coo-coo" (coo-coo)

Regretfully they tell us

But firmly they compel us 

To say, 'good-bye' to you."

Up to Bat

 "Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord." Ps. 31:24

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life."  Prov. 13:12

I watched the Franklin Graham 2020 Prayer March last Saturday. Boy, did I need that. Prayer. But more importantly, hope. It's amazing how prayer reorients you. All the negative news. All the negative speech. All the negative attitudes. All, I confess part of my life at present. It disparages. It overwhelms the good and pushes aside the positive. It's hard being positive all the time. And sometimes...just down right impossible. But hope is a very powerful antidote.

For some reason, I have been reading a lot of WWI and WWII era writings. I finished Ian Murray's biography on Archibald Brown, the successor of C. H. Spurgeon during the late 1800's up unto the beginning of WWI and then read through Banner of Truth and Trust's two volume compilation of his sermons. Wow! It was like hearing sermons written for today's struggles. I also read Ellie Wiesel's Night. My goodness...if there was ever a time to just give up and die. Some did. Many survived but were dead inside until the physical caught up with the spirit. I read it in one sitting. Captivating. Convicting. Contemplative. Man's inhumanity to man. Hope in times of absolute hopelessness. 

The great Catholic Theologian, G. K. Chesterton wrote, "Hope is hoping when  things are hopeless or it is no virtue at all. As long as matters are really hopeful, hope is mere flattery or platitude; it is only when everything is hopeless that hope begins to be a strength." 

I saw this first hand when I worked with Hospice as a guest pastor. Those who were terminal and had no hope died very quickly. Those who had hope lived and some even recovered to the amazement of the medical community. 

Theologically, I know this. When the spirit is willing but the body is weak, it will keep pressing forward. But when the spirit is weak and gives up hope, the body will quickly follow. 

There is a story of a little boy who was hospitalized with a very serious illness, each day getting worse, each day giving up. His school, along with his parents, asked his teacher if she would be willing to go up and make sure that he kept up on some of his school work. If nothing more, it was a distraction from the seriousness of his illness. The boy made an amazing recovery and the doctors asked him what changed. He said, "Well...I was about to give up hope of getting better but then they sent my teacher up to teach me about nouns and verbs. I thought, 'If I was dying, why would I need to learn about nouns and verbs.'" 

Hope is a powerful thing. 

A man approached a little league baseball dugout and asked one of the boys what the score was. He said with a smile, "We're losing eighteen to zero." The stranger said, "How can you be so happy about that?" The boy said, "Well, pretty soon we'll be up to bat!"

Hope is a pretty power thing. 

Don't be discouraged. We'll soon be up to bat. 

Taming the Beast

 "My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires."

I was reading the latest edition of the Pennsylvania Game News that brother Earl gives to me after he's finished perusing and came across an interesting article about raccoons - "masked bandits." 

Belonging to the family class named, "Procyonidaes" (don't you just love learning new words you can use at Thanksgiving!), they are nocturnal, have 3-5 offspring called "kits" (refer once again to the above parenthetical), have five fingers that they use much like a human, are Covid-ready in that they prefer to wash their hands and food before eating, and they have retractable claws that are much stronger than our finger nails. And...they are soooooo cute. You just want to cradle them like a little baby and give them a bottle of milk while gazing into those big brown eyes. 

Oh...one more thing...they are vicious and are the second most infectious carriers of rabies next to bats. They have been known to attack deer when pursuing food (legal bait sold that is illegal to use 😜 ), when cornered or when you get between it and her young. In other words, they're not pets. They're animals with attitudes. It is how they survive, especially down in Philly where they are having a raccoon population problem because of the amount of free food and housing.  

My animal attitude has been coming out of late and I'm not alone. I feel threatened by BLM, Antifa, irresponsible neighborhood dog owners, and politics in general but I won't even go there. I feel like I'm under attack as a white, male, conservative, Christian, non-dog owner in ways that I have never felt before. Seeing old people in Portland and in Seattle being blocked from crossing the street by thugs masquerading as social justice proponents. Threatening to burn down homes that display the American flag. Stupid Covid requirements that have nothing to do with public safety but with public control and politics. Deep breath. I feel the beast rising. And yes, dogs barking as soon as I step outside of my house. 

I don't have an answer to the BLM/Antifa/non-stop barking dogs problem...well, I do and they're both fully loaded. Whoops. There I go again. Let's start over. I don't have an answer to the BLM/Antifa/dog problem but God does. He very clearly tells me to listen...listen to the genuine concerns but listen more closely to the heart. They are unbelievers. They are in need of salvation. They need Jesus, not conjured up demonic spirits promoting a spirit of lawlessness. And...they're going to need that dog when I'm in heaven and they are stuck here on earth with the Antichrist. 

Be slow to speak. Amos 5:13 says, "Therefore the prudent keep quiet in such times, for the times are evil." 

Be slow to become angry because it doesn't produce the righteousness that God desires. I am reminded of the description that Peter gives me of Jesus - "When they hurled insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to the one who judges justly." 

I want to be like Jesus. I'll be in prayer. I'll repent of my sinful anger. I'll listen. I'll be slow to speak. I'll trust the Lord. I might even buy a box of dog treats...mmmmm...I don't think so. 

He's still working on me and the raccoons.  

 

Spotted Lantern Fly

 "Jesus replied, 'No one who puts hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom." (Luke 9:62)

Ah, the beauty of those little bugs. We thought we had escaped them this year. Grey spotted wings. Red underlying wings with a rich yellow body. Lighting everywhere. Laying eggs all over for another year of plague. Another gift from Asia to the world. The Spotted Lantern Fly. 

The Spotted Lantern Fly "is a planthopper that is indigenous to parts of northern China, Taiwan, and Vietnam. Although it has two sets of wings, it hops more than it flies." It goes after grapes and fruit trees laying its eggs in mass - between 30-50. It also produces a sugary sap that turns into a black type of mold that will eventually kill the tree or plant. 

What I find fascinating is that its hard to kill the darn things with your foot. We finally figured out that they must have eyes in the back of their heads and somewhat blind in the front. If you try to sneak up on them, they jump. If you face them...squish. My back patio is often littered with the carcasses of my insect dance. I'm assuming this is what the neighbors are observing as they see me moving my feet up and down in a strange, and unnatural motion, trying to get in front of them as they keep turning to keep their back toward me. Given a feathered head dress and an animal skinned drum, I could do a good imitation of a first nations dance routine or maybe a good start to some good ole Pennsylvania clogging. 

I find that too many Christians live like this. Always looking backward so as to not get hurt but losing out on life because they neglect to look forward. Yes, those who do not remember the past are destined to repeat it. I'm not suggesting that we do. But I had a dear friend who said to me, "There is a reason the windshield in your car is much larger than the rear view mirror." Live for what's ahead while once in a while checking to see if something is creeping up on you from the back or the side. 

Jesus was pretty straight forward to those seeking to follow after him. If you want to follow me, take up your cross daily. If you want to follow me, your family has to come second. If you want to follow me, know that the things of this world cannot be a passion for you. If you want to follow me, grab hold of the plow and make a straight line while holding on to your oxen. I don't want any farmers who look back while trying to plow, i.e. I don't want a person who is always looking to their past life while trying to live for me. It won't work. 

Isaiah tells us to forget the past and to look for what God is doing in the present for a blessed future. 

We haven't been designed to merely jump but to fly. 

Solution:  Stomp away. 

 

Faithfall

"As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, will never cease." (Genesis 8:22)

Ah, the lazy days of summer are about ready to go into winter hibernation but not without the transition of Fall. I don't know how others sense it but its in the air for me. I think botanists call it "tree mold" but I prefer to call it my favorite time of the year (allergies not included). 

Warm days. Cool nights. Crickets. Cicadas (how they get that loud I'll never understand). Changing of the leaves to their true colors. Mums. Fried pumpkin donuts with cinnamon glazed frosting (definition of heaven). Pumpkin milk shakes. Pumpkin cereal. Pumpkin bread. Pumpkin...enough with the pumpkin flavors. Oh...and pumpkin pie (reserved for Thanksgiving). And as a farmer...the harvest. The culmination of your work and the visible result of the grace and mercy of God. 

In normal ministry time, this would be the most stressful time of the year, with the exception of December. All the ministries would be in full operation. The church doors would have been open to someone almost every night of the week. I would have already had meeting exhaustion by now. But alas, the halls are still quiet. The building is dark most nights. The young voices screaming with delight as they play in Beatrice Hall are silent. It feels like we have been robbed of the harvest as we stare at a barren, empty field. Not true, of course. The apples are still on the trees. They are just in backyards and in other orchards. Seeds we planted that have borne fruit. We just have to look a little harder for them. We have to go get them rather than they come to us. 

This is interesting to me because Fall brings the sense that things are not beginning, but things are coming to a close. Sometimes that is a good thing. Sometimes things have to close, to die, in order to be reborn. Everything has its season. It has been the blessing of this epidemic. Rebirth. New ideas. Creative ministry. Better congregational care. Intentional care. Intentional ministry. Evaluation. Introspection. Forced change. 

Change. I think this is part of what God was trying to communicate to Noah after the devastating flood. Change was what God was promising. Change was the hope. Change was/is meant to be a blessing. 

As long as this earth endures, God will faithfully bring forth the seasons and with it change. It is a reminder that we truly are blessed that God does not leave things the way they are.

He, indeed, is a faithfall God.  

 

Porch Swings

 "Now, brothers, I know that you acted in ignorance, as did your leaders. But this is how God fulfilled what he had foretold through all the prophets, saying that his Christ would suffer. Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord, and that he may send the Christ, who has been appointed for you - even Jesus. He must remain in heaven until the time comes for God to restore everything as he promised long ago through his holy prophets." (Acts 3:17-20). 

"Times of refreshing." I always took that phrase to be something that I could attain in the present but I can't think of the last time that was true for me. A holy discontent. Jesus said, [I paraphrase] "Come apart before you come apart." Thank God for vacations. But even then I don't think I experience what is intended for me. Get a bunch of sinners together, redeemed though they may be, and there is still conflict, negative talk, different food, and a bed that's hard to sleep on each night. 

Refreshing. I think I received a little taste of this on a bench swing at my in-laws this week. Mid 70's. Overcast. Slight breeze. Eyes periodically closed. Nature sounds. A good biography on Archibald Brown (ca. late 1800's). But then I came to the section where all kinds of church strife came into his life. Denominational splits. His best friend, Charles H. Spurgeon dying as well as two of Brown's wives and several children. Cultural changes that saw people disinterested in the things of God. Reminders of the stress of this world. Book closed. Eyes closed. Elusive refreshment. Deep breath. Almost.

Reminded me of simpler times when I was a kid, sitting out on the back porch on what seemed like a ten person black bench swing with my cousin, Beth, whom I thought I would surely marry. My grandmother's very large apartment was located on top of a liquor store right on the main street of town. We all (my mother's side of the family) have such fond memories of that place. It was noisy but it was quiet. The lights of the nearby filling station shone brightly and offered just enough light for us to see each other. The weekend cruisers went up and down the street. And yet there was a sense of tranquility. Peace. No one said anything. We just were. Swinging. Gently. Rhythmically. Great memories from a farm kid of the big city. 

Our vacations are usually spent driving back to Indiana to visit family since we live so far away - its nice, but its draining for me. It was nice to not have all of the work deadlines but that darn phone keeps dinging with people sending texts and notifications. They generally start out with, "I know your on vacation but..." It's okay. I love those people and ministry is not a job but a life for me. But the spiritual tank was near empty when I left and not much came home. I'm tired. That's okay. 

You see, that verse on refreshment is not for this world. There is a rest for me, for us, but its when Jesus comes to take us home. He helps us bear the burden in this world but relieves us of it in the next. It's my hope, our hope. 

I thought about joining a monastery but I do love the company of my dear wife. And...I have read enough of Church history to know that they are fraught with the same tensions and stress of the world. You're just locked in and have to eat veggies the rest of your life. 

I thought about another dangerous mission trip to a 3rd world Muslim country but the danger would actually be riding in the plane for that long with Covid recirculating air. 

A nap sounds good but effects the body more than the soul. 

The swing it is...and a daily hope for His coming. And wouldn't you know it...its raining. Maranatha!

Our Greatest Need

 "But if serving the Lord seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served beyond the Euphrates, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord." (Joshua 24:15). 

Israel was at a crossroads or should I say, every Israelite was at a

crossroad. Go forward. Go backward. Short-term memories. Long-term memories. Fear. Faith. Forty years of wandering. Seeing an entire generation die. A new thing one step ahead. An old thing one step behind. Decision. A choice. 

It seems that America is at a crossroads or should I say, every American is at a crossroad. Go forward. Go backward. Short-term memories. Long-term memories. Fear. Faith. Wandering. Wondering. Thousands in our world - dead - because of a virus, because of lawlessness, because of power, because of greed, because of politics, because of sin. A new thing one step ahead. An old thing one step behind. Decision. A choice. And I'm not talking about a November election.

Joshua knew what the real choice was. It is the human heart that needs to change, that needs to be decisive about choosing to serve the Lord. And this was not a once and done decision. In the words of Jesus, "If anyone wants to be my disciple, he must deny himself and take up his cross...daily."

I yield at this point to Rev. Dr. Russell DeLong - 

"Our greatest need in America is: 

Not for better legislation but for better legislators
Not for better business but for better businessmen and women

Not for better banking but for better bankers

Not for better farming but for better farmers

Not for better teaching but for better teachers

Not for better preaching but for better preachers. 

A revival of religion that would transform millions of individuals would result in increased justice, goodness, righteousness, and spirituality." (Christ or Chaos, sermon, 1945)

Our greatest need is for Christians to actually follow Christ. 

I am amazed at how many brothers and sisters set following Christ behind their politics or behind their pocketbook or their personal conveniences. Discipleship is an option. Egypt wasn't that bad. Onions. Leeks. Cucumbers. Melons. Garlic. Really bad breath and...oh, yes, that darn slavery thing. The good old days. 

I am amazed at how many brothers and sisters set following Christ behind entertainment and even family. The Amorites aren't really that bad. They ritualistically kill their own children and enslave their neighbors, but...they grow nice wheat and barely for bread and beer. We love inviting them over for parties. 

What America needs...what I need...is to be a better follower of Jesus, a decisive follower of Christ. What I need is to stop looking for the benefits of Egypt and the Amorites...to stop being Switzerland. Egypt was an enemy of God. He decimated her and she has never fully recovered from the plagues or the Red Sea. The Amorites were abominable. So much that they no longer exist as a people. God exterminated them like bugs. The Bible says their stench rose up into His nostrils. 

And Jesus says, "When I come back, will I find faith..." 

I wonder. 

As for me and my family...

 

Law and Disorder

 "For the secret power of lawlessness is already at work; but the one who now holds it back will continue to do so till he is taken out of the way." (2 Thessalonians 2:7)

When I was a kid my cousin Rod and I used to attend Sunday school at the Methodist Church in town, then we'd ditch church, go down to the gas station to use our twenty-five cent offering money that we were supposed to give to the Lord to buy some Chuckles as we headed down to our grandparents home a few blocks away. Ironic because we used to love sitting in the living room with grandpa watching those old westerns like the Cisco Kid and the Lone Ranger. They were the heroes of old, men of law and order. Men who had a moral compass who sought to make the west safe for the average citizen. Men who knew right from wrong and did what was right. Men who were our idols. Men who would have locked us good-for-nothing tithe stealers up and throw'd away the key. 

There have always been criminals. Men and women who make their own rules, who live by their own code, who don't seem to care much for what or how society is to function in an orderly fashion - no moral compass or at least one that works. The first murder was Cain killing his brother, Abel - a jealousy issue (God likes him better than me). People have been acting out in an unrestricted way ever since. Good guys. Bad guys.  

Sin and Satan are the culprits. The sin of humankind coupled with the temptations and evil of Satan is a deadly combination, especially since Satan masquerades as an angel of light deceiving people into thinking that what they are doing is good when it is actually bad. 

Perhaps you have noticed there are nightly riots cloaked in "peaceful protests." Some actually are against a system that is utterly broken and abusive but I would venture that the vast majority of people breaking windows, looting, stealing, injuring police officers, journalist, home owners, etc...because they are "owed" it are nothing more than lawless thugs. No wonder there was vigilante justice in "them there" days. When criminals flout the law, the Law, which is supposed to bear the sword, does nothing, and the average law abiding citizen has to live in fear...the majority rise up and say, "Enough is enough. If you won't do something, we will." I'm not advocating for this but I would be tempted if I still lived near Portland or in Seattle or San Francisco or Baltimore or any other place where there seems to be this good is bad and bad is good mentality. 

We shouldn't be surprised. In the last days, lawlessness is going to increase but the spirit of lawlessness has been around for years - it is already at work. Just ask a couple of kids who still remember getting Chuckles contraband from a gas station vending machine. 

May God have mercy. Enough is enough! Okay...I'm dropping in an extra quarter in the plate Sunday and a chuckle : - )  

Remembering also the words of a 92 year old woman whose funeral I officiated this week:  "Those bad people need Jesus." 

Anticipation

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is like the tree of life." (Proverbs 13:12)

"We can never know about the days to come

But we think about them anyway

And I wonder if I'm really with you now 

Or just chasin' after some finer day."

I can name that tune in...? Come on you know this. I'm humming it right now. Well... you have to be over 50 to remember it. Okay...here's the chorus. 

"Anticipation, anticipa...a...tion

Is makin' me late

Is keepin' me wa...a...a....a...aitin." (I tried to spell out the vocalization; hope you were all singing along.) 

Yes. It's the Heinz Ketchup theme song sung by the second love of my life (well...she's actually way down the line but still a crush), Carly Simon (ca. 1971). I must be stuck in this year for some reason. My video for tonight's teaching in Revelation and linked to rampant globalism is "I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing" originally sung by the New Seekers but coopted by the greedy corporate world to sell liquid carcinogens - Coke-a-Cola. 

I feel like this is my theme word - "Anticipation." Anticipating when some sort of normalcy will infect my world again. Anticipating God doing new things during this pandemic. Anticipating new opportunities or new open doors for ministry. Anticipating new visitors at church. Anticipating old family and friends who have been gone for the last 4 months returning again. Anticipating being mask-free. Anticipating restaurants at full capacity again. Anticipating the presidential elections. Anticipating another "free" check from the government (and a substantial raise in my taxes to pay for all this "free" stuff). Anticipating....anticipating the coming of Jesus in the clouds for His Church, His Bride. Maranatha! Whew -Hoo...a tree of life. 

But until then, I am trying not to become sick. Not with the Covid, but with despair. Hope deferred. Longing unfulfilled. 

So until then, we need to stay positive. Think about the good things. Encourage one another. Help each other out when we get frustrated. 

It's because your smacking the bottom. You have to gently hit the neck where the label is. Or just use your knife, for goodness sake. 

Anticipation...its keepin' me wa...a...a....a...aitin'. 

Freedom

"You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the sinful nature; rather serve one another in love." (Galatians 5:13)

Years ago I can remember flipping through the television stations one night trying to find something worthy of watching - which is getting harder and harder anymore - and was captured by a unique figure on a strange station called EWTN (the Eternal World Television Network) - sounds cool, doesn't it? The show was in black, white, and shades of grey. The man was clearly a Catholic priest or, as I later learned a bishop. He was in full costume - cape draped over his shoulder, beany on top of his head, cross (huge) hanging perfectly square in his chest and somehow the chain catching in the middle as if afraid to fully extend lest the cruciform fall from its grasp and be desecrated. The cumber bun  serving to wrap the finished product. Captivating man. One whose presence I have yet to emulate but pray I will. He was speaking to me...and a million other viewers I guess. A commanding voice. Sure of his message. Certain of his audience. Piercing a live audience with his eyes, with his convictions, and they loved him. I wasn't Roman Catholic but I would have been if I had watched him often enough. Persuasive. Holy. In his day he was a vocal proponent against the Nazis and the Communist agenda to destroy the United States from within. Bishop Fulton Sheen (1895-1975) was his name (formally:  The Right Reverend Monsignor Fulton J. Sheen, Ph.D., D.D.). 

I was reminded of him this morning as I was reading through a book of classic sermons from 1946 for my added devotional material. His is entitled: The Purpose of Life. 

If I might indulge the reader with his opening paragraph: "There is no word more often used in our modern world and more often misunderstood than the word freedom. Almost everyone thinks of it as freedom from something, but rarely freedom for something. Men think they are free only because they have no ball and chain on their feet, without ever adverting to why they want to be free. What I am trying to say is there are two kinds of freedom; an external freedom from restraints, and an internal freedom of perfection; a freedom to choose evil and a freedom to do whatever you please, and a freedom to do whatever you ought." 

I see the pain of birthing an external freedom in my world at present. Broken storefront windows, looting, murdering, raping, intimidating what used to be good neighborhoods where good folks sat outside on their porches and let their kids play in each others yards. Portland will never be the same. Chicago...New York...St. Louis...no thanks. Those who enter the night to do what comes natural in the night - as those who have no light - are choosing, choosing to be free - free to be evil with no plans for their freedom except to enslave others, to be agents of destruction. 

But lest I neglect the state of my own soul, "Am I choosing to do what I ought?" 

I watched an episode of Little House on the Prairie with my grandkids this morning. One of the boys at school, the teacher's son, was coerced through the guilt of not measuring up to his parents standards to cheat on his final exams. Another classmate intentionally missed questions so that the other boys would not make fun of him for being so smart. The first boy fessed up and was forgiven. The latter was challenged about cheating as well. "I would never," was his reply. "And yet you have," his father explained. "You have cheated God, your family, your schoolmates, and most importantly yourself by not living up to your potential." 

I know he's dead but I feel like Bishop Sheen is staring at me right now. How are you using your freedom, Dan? Are you standing up against the social evils of your day as I did? Is love of God and love of man on your heart? Is the good news on your lips for the lost to hear?

Be free...

To choose what kind...

New Harmony

"While people are saying, 'Peace and safety," destruction will come on them suddenly, as labor pains on a pregnant woman, and they will not escape." (1st Thessalonians 5:3)

"Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Take delight in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart." (Psalm 37:3-4)

Deb and I were sitting down a few nights ago watching mindless television and the following commercial showed from a Italian source. It immediately caught my attention but I couldn't recognize  the voice. At the end, it was the voice of Charlie Chaplain, from 1940. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_9OcI0C3ozc  [From Charlie Chaplain, 1940; a self-described "Peace Monger"]

There is something internal in most of us that cries out for peace, for social justice, for a society where all get along. I believe they call this a utopian model. I'm from Indiana and we have an example of this well-intended trial called New Harmony (New Harmony, IN). As one historian put it, "New Harmony was to be a perfect place but was destroyed by the imperfections of man." 

It's what I find most perplexing of both the Charlie Chaplain commercial and John Lennon's famous song, "Imagine." 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkgkThdzX-8&feature=emb_logo

"Imagine there's no heaven...no hell...no country, nothing to kill or die for, no religion to. Imagine all these people living in harmony." 

Each of these men were hoping for something - peace. Charlie grew up in abject poverty and his heart's desire was that no child have to endure that abuse. But he placed his faith in imperfect man, in his abilities, in science..."We have the power...to do away with national boundaries, with greed, with hate and intolerance, where science and progress will lead to All men's happiness."

John Lennon had it all - the fame, the fortune, the fans. "Meaningless! Meaningless!" says the great teacher (Eccl. 1:2). It's nice to have these things but in the end they mean nothing if you don't have peace (inner and outer). If mankind would just...

I listen to these men's messages and in my heart I say, "Yes! That's what I'm looking for as well." But the lessons from New Harmony keep ringing in my ears, "A perfect place destroyed by the imperfections of man." It feel hopeless and helpless. And that's a good thing because it allows me to turn to the one who will bring peace, who will bring social justice, who will bring perfect harmony - Jesus. 

Imagine that...

African Violets

"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all of his splendor was not dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and gone tomorrow, how much more will he clothe you - O you of little faith." (Matthew 6:28-30)

On the scheduled days that I arrive to church I am greeted with a silent "Hello, Dan. It's going to be a good morning now that you are here." No, its not a quick head down acknowledgment from my secretary with an accompanied queen wave. That's more like..."Ahhhhhh...I've been waiting for you to come in because I need this and this and then there's so and so and you know who...and you're supposed to call...and check your emails..." Actually, she a wonderful secretary and co-worker. But she has a run for her money when I open my door and see my window sill full of blooming African Violets. Maybe some of you flower aficionados knew this but the genus name for this flower is "Saintpaulia."

St. Paulias as I call them collectively and affectionately, not preferring one over the other, greet me like a pet waiting at the door, always grateful for my return - except without the slobber and dander and smell and need to go out. Wow! I never realized how much I like pet flowers. A stick of my finger in their soil to check for moisture and I'm on my way. 

I didn't think that I would be able to care for violets. They are a bit temperamental. There were quite a few occasions where I thought I was going to have to officiate a funeral but I realized they were in a growth cycle. 

The leaves would be this deep, beautiful, green with a vibrant purple flower or flowers in the center. Then the flower would die and dry up. Then the outer leaves would get a little yellowish brown. I would check the water. Just right. Hmmm. Should I be feeding them? Be patient. Then a few center leaves would sprout. Those deep, beautiful green leaves eventually would extend  out to the ends and yet again produce the flower of life. 

It was Jesus' point. Don't worry. Things look healthy. They bloom. And then for no reason (to us), things seem to die and dry up. We wonder what we should have, could have, would have done if we had only known how to curtail the difficult events that came our way. But alas, it was not for us to control. Things have cycles. People have cycles. Nations have cycles. And we are hoping...diseases.

I feel like the flower has died in our world. I'm sad. I'm frustrated. I long to do something to change things - to bring back the color, the green, the purple, the joy. But Jesus reminds me that somethings need to die so that they can be resurrected or renewed. There is still life in the plant but it needed a rest, a chance to catch its breath, to gather enough strength to push up and out. 

God is doing something. He is in control. And my plants are still saying, "Hello, Dan. Its going to be a good morning now that you are here."