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Showing posts from 2014

Shepherd's Tale - A Christmas Story

Abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night and suddenly----- The lights came on. The quiet night, their quiet lives were impacted with a Word from God. They were afraid. Natural reaction to the sudden and unknown, but soon they were reassured..."Fear not." How many times in the scriptures does God tell us to "fear not?" You would think by now we would have gotten it. Then the message, the Good News, the Gospel. And fear evolved to wonder and anticipation. Let's go see - and they did. Wow! Just like God said - How many times has that happened in our lives? - they had been with Jesus; they knew He was the Son of God; they knew this would change their world - Emmanuel: God is with us - go tell the story; and they did; simple shepherds, the first preachers. When they returned to their "abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night," things were different. God had entered their lives in a mighty way, and t

Shepherds and Wise Men - A Christmas Story

The shepherds couldn't wash their hands enough to suit orthodox religiosity. Because of their constant care of their herds, they could not observe all the ceremonial hand washings and all the other rules and regulations required to be good and proper. These simple men were looked down upon by orthodox religious leaders. Yet, it was these simple men that the coming of Jesus was first announced. And, I think about the wise men who had to come from afar whereas these shepherds were "in the same country." The wise men had to follow a star, but the second class citizen shepherds were honored with an angel of the Lord making the announcement. The "glory of the Lord shone round about them." The angel made the announcement giving clear directions to the Christ child. And a multitude from heaven had a praise service glorifying God. The shepherd had lots more than a single star to follow across a foriegn country. They got the message vividly, personally, and they

No Room – A Christmas Story

They had traveled for probably a week or more, on foot or riding a donkey through tough terrain. She was in the last stage of pregnancy. Yet, when they arrived at their destination, there was no room at the inn for them to stay. The gift of love God was sending to earth was turned away, to be born in a stable. Everyone had been ordered to go to their hometown to be taxed, so the hotel business was booming. There was no room for the Savior to be born. However, the innkeeper did let them have the stable. At least that was someplace as crude as conditions might have been. But, all the rooms inside were already occupied. A law of physics says that two things can’t occupy the same space at the same time. The only way for the family of Jesus to have a room would have been if one of the guests would be removed from their room. Are my rooms all filled? Are yours? The Gift of Love comes to our doors daily asking for room. Does He find the rooms filled with the things of earth?

Believing in the Rest of the Best

Yesterday I didn't have a lot of time for my swim. My plan called for 1.2 mile swim but I wasn't sure I could get it all in before having to leave for another commitment. Going right at it, I struck a good turnover, hoping to hold that until I got at least a large portion of my swim done before having to leave. The pace continued. I never stopped; never slowed up, done. The 1.2 miles were covered and I still felt strong. Upon reflection, I felt a special thankfulness that I can do that. Ten years ago or more, when I swam my first mile, I had to stop and recoup several times. It was painfully much slower than my swim today. Amazing. I am over ten years older and can swim longer and harder now. God has been so good to me. And it made me think. If my swimming can get better with age, if my best swimming years had been before me, then what else much greater can the Lord have in store for me? It might not be in the physical realm, but I believe God will keep His prom

Be The Man You Have Always Wanted To Be

"Be the man you have always wanted to be," That is the wording of some spam sent to me, suggesting I get their product to pump up my masculinity, so to speak. I smiled. But something about the phrase made me think a little deeper. Am I the man I have always wanted to be? Setting aside the masculinity stuff, I pondered the question. I thought back over all I have done; all the places within and without that I have been, and the direction I am heading; the path I am on. Am I the man I have always wanted to be? Goodness! But I have taken a lot of wrong turns; done some things I needed a lot of forgiveness for. I have made enough mistakes and fallen often enough that I just have to laugh at myself. But, I have been forgiven and I have bee freed; picked up and set aright, and put back on course. Now, with most of my lifetime behind me, and my days drawing closer to the finish line. It brings forth the vision of me at the end of a race. It is night. Lights are beaming

Come See Me

"Come see me” Nick used to say. He would look up at me with a smile that spoke of an admiration he had for me. It’s heavy to be looked up to. Sometimes it seems I can only maintain while fearing to fail and disappoint someone: or worse, turn them from the faith. I would hope that anyone who chose to look up to me would see my frailties and my scars too. Nick was not the church favorite, but he was usually there willing to help. However, no one really wanted him to. I don't know, maybe Nick wasn't churchy enough or just wasn't part of the group. Nick was different. He was a Viet Nam veteran and the experience had taken its toll; his weathered face spoke volumes of the sordid life he had led. His family had more or less disowned him when he became a street person. Now he was living in a run down, falling down trailer back in the woods not far from the church. The road to his house was an adventure trek. Once I did try to go see him but it had rained and

Hoeing Weeds

I have had a substantial garden for over 30 years. You might say at one time we practically had a truck farm, here. It is a lot of work but there is something about taking an area of brush and weeds and through care and cultivation, make the land say vegetables. This is not my concept. Henry David Thoreau in his book Walden tells of the experience of taking a weed patch near his cabin and making it say beans. And one thing that I have found is that the same moist, fertile, and loamy soil that can grow great vegetables, is an equally great medium to grow weeds. So, a part of gardening is hoeing and pulling weeds, to relieve the competition for space, light, and nutrients from the purposed plants I want to grow and bear fruit. Life can be like that. We can turn areas of brush and weeds into fertile areas of our lives through cultivation, hoeing and pulling out the competing weeds. Once pulled or hoed, the weeds will try to come back. “The price of freedom is eternal

An Answered Prayer: Nothing I Asked For - Everything I Hoped For

Soldier's Prayer "I asked God for strength, that I might achieve. I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey. I asked for health, that I might do greater things. I was given infirmity, that I might do better things. I asked for riches, that I might be happy. I was given poverty, that I might be wise. I asked for power that I might have the praise of men. I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God. I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life. I was given life, that I might enjoy all things. I got nothing that I asked for but got everything I had hoped for. Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered. I am, among all people, most richly blessed." {found on page 536 of The War Between the States}

Overcoming the Love of the Plastic Easter Egg

The baby bird was barely alive. The children felt a need to take it inside, give it water, and try to nurture it back to health. The baby bird died. The children were very sad and couldn’t understand why it had to die. An adult put the baby bird in a one half of a plastic Easter egg . “We can close the egg up and bury the bird right here in the flower garden,” the children were told. “Bury him in my plastic Easter egg?” the child asked. Can we take him out of the egg, and bury him in something else so I can have my egg back?” We have all the sounds and symbols of compassion down pretty good. And we can be moved with pity – that is - unless it were to cost us something: unless it costs us one our plastic Easter eggs. A child’s plastic egg viewpoint might be understood, but could it be we are more and more becoming more in love with what we have that is plastic, more impressed by our own bells and whistles than loving our neighbors as ourselves. Do we ever reall

Praise God for the Bloom

The time of the bloom when a rush of nature’s beauty bursts forth. The preparation through youth and inexperience culminate in the bloom of life. That special time when health and vigor peak in our lives: when the petals of our flower open to consummate in beauty and ultimately bear fruit, then wither to die, leaving a seed of legacy, bearing bloom instructions for the next generation. As an aging-up athlete and child of God, I can see this in myself. As my bloom fades into history, I can look toward others just blooming and appreciate - live the bloom vicariously within, and praise God for the bloom, the fruit. For now, I am an old dead plant, stiff, and brown, standing against the winter in life, as if to say I am still sturdy. I bloomed in my time. My empty seed husk bears witness my life bore fruit in due season. And, my life is still speaking, still growing my legacy in that I am still standing; still remembering my bloom-time; counting my blessings; praising

A Hundred Years Old

Ellen Dittfurth – Age 100 Born 7/18/14 – a few weeks before World War I and about six years before women had the right to vote. She was the oldest of three children born to James and Abigail Thompson. Her father was an accountant and part-time preacher. Ellen used to recall how she loved to go on trips with her father to hear father preach. Ellen finished high school in Cold Springs, Texas, valedictorian of her class of twelve. During the depression her father had a job in a bank in Shepherd, Texas. Ellen often helped her father in the bank and learned her bookkeeping skills through this type of unpaid apprenticeship. One day the bank in Shepherd was robbed and Ellen’s father roughed up. The robbery had a telling physical and mental impact on her father, who recommended to the bank that they allow Ellen to take his place. She did and became the breadwinner of the family during these hard times. Her father died less than a year later. The Shepherd bank finally had to

If Only for the Moments

Moments: would I do it all over again? The long rides, sometimes very hot, humid. Try to dry off, get the bike loaded, and get in the truck: air conditioning. Ah, thank you for auto air conditioning. It is hard to stop sweating; drink, drink. How nice. My wife has a small towel on top of some ice in a small cooler. Does that feel good on the back of the neck or what. And the cold recovery drink in there is sooo good. Call home, she answers, will be ready. A shower feels like heaven. She has a meal for me, good but can't eat it all. So tired, go to the bedroom all made dark and cool beforehand, lay between fresh cool sheets and sleep like death. Such a blessing to have that kind of love and support...so many days, so many times she was there, propping me up when I was coming down. What she got out of it for herself? Not much. And I wish I could have finished this, completed this ironman, if only for her. She made me a visor to place on my office wall. It reads

"Life Cannot Be Sealed Up in a Tomb"

It is not just about the cross but also about the tomb. Easter morning the tomb was empty. He was not there. "Because He lives, you shall live also." Do we? Or, do we call our lives hard names, and stay in the safety of the despair of our tombs and try to call it life? Oh, the wildflowers of Easter I see on my bike rides, the peaceful feeling of a run well done, the rhythmic power of some good swim strokes in the soothing medium of water, the little children with their Easter baskets, the vibrant green grass, the singing birds, and the eternal Hope in my heart, which says "come on out, you are free from the law of sin and death, come on out to embrace the life I have called you to. I have paid the price; I have rolled your stone away from the tomb." He is alive, and because He lives, I shall live also.

Credible Witness

The other day I was tilling the garden. My 7 year old granddaughter came out to the garden and began to follow me as I tilled row after row. She made large steps to step in the imprints that my feet made in the freshly turned earth. She was trying to walk in my steps. My first thought was how scary that was that she followed me so closely. What an awesome responsibility to provide a credible witness for a young soul to follow to Jesus. As we walk through this world and call ourselves Christians, we can leave imprints in the soft earth of fertile minds and hearts. Will they follow in our steps? Have we shied away from the heavy responsibility of being credible witnesses for our Savior. Will others see our witness and want to follow where we have tilled. It occurred to me that, indeed, I want to be the credible witness for my granddaughter. I would like her to continue to be lead to follow where I tilled. And, if I am to be a credible witness that others might follow my

Learning to Love as Jesus Loved.

My granddaughter didn't feel well so I put her to bed, covered her, and lay beside her to comfort her. I told her I hated to see her feel bad and wished she felt so much better, "because I love you." "I know," she said as she smiled warmly. "And I will always love you until I die. And when I die I will love you from heaven. I will love you forever." She snuggled closer, and I thought. I would die for her if I had to. Then the epiphany: That is how Jesus loves: now and forever. That is what Jesus did. He died for me. How I love my granddaughter, is a small sampling of how Jesus loves me: now and forevermore. And I felt so honored that I had sampled just a bit of learning to love as Jesus loves. But, it is easy to love my granddaughter, or members of my family. But it will be a difficult step in learning to love as Jesus loved. Things start coming apart when I try to love them that curse me, and pray for them which despitefully use

Building a Fire

The fire had almost burned down while I had been out for my run. We put some fresh wood on and watched it smoke and smolder on the coals but it really provided little warmth. After a time I took some paper and stuffed it on the coals. The paper ignited, flames licked the smoldering wood and then the wood caught fire too. All the other fire joined in the flaming. We had a fire; we had warmth. Sometimes our world is like that. Cool, with lots of smoke and little fire; no warmth. And when we are surrounded with like people as ourselves, we produce a lot of smoke but little warmth. We need something to elevate the temperatures of our lives so they burst into flame. We need Jesus. When we ignite Jesus upon our smoldering lives, we can catch fire too. We had the capacity already. We had laid there almost hot enough to come to flame but we couldn't do it on our own. We need Jesus to bring out what is already there, ready to burst to flames; to give light, to share warmth,

Beautiful

As I write stories of my life, there are common threads that seem to reappear. One of them is beauty. So many times my heart and soul and mind have been thrilled by the beauty of God's world. Sunrises, sunsets, dense fogs, violent storms, beautiful flowers, beautiful moments of inspiration permeate the tale of my life. And when I experience beauty, I find I simultaneously experience God. At the end of it all though, I have found, is that experiencing God is the most beautiful of all.