Happy New Year!..................."

With no school over the holidays, the granddaughter is spending some quality time with her grandmother. What that equates to in terms of overnight arrangements is: I’m bunking on a sofa-sleeper while she’s here. She and her Mamaw retire to the “master bedroom” where they watch some Disney video until she falls into slumber. I wrap up in a couple of blankets in the living room, read my Bible, work a few Los Angeles Times crossword puzzles, and perhaps make another entry in my Father’s Heritage journal before finally turning out the light. Then I play a game of full-court basketball, or at least I did last night and it was wonderful. I turned sixty-four last October, weigh two-ten, and have a hard time any more just mowing my grass, but somewhere out there in dreamland I could actually feel the spring in my body as I leaped into the air to make jump shots from over twenty feet out. At one point, I awoke to find myself reaching for a ball going out of bounds. Just for a moment, though. We were down by six points and the crowd was calling my name…………

The idea that a man can literally create with nothing more than his mind is an interesting prospect; and I do not speak merely in terms of night visions. Stepping into the fantasy being produced by your thoughts isn’t limited to stretching out and sawing logs. There are other ways to accomplish the task. It is quite possible for us to just believe; and then, because we believe, make it so. We do it all the time; and I’m prone to say that, in one way or another, we all do it. The only real question about giving birth to that which is not is whether that which we produce possesses any reality other than what our mind gives unto it and whether whatever reality it holds has any negative effect on who and what we are. I see little harm, for example, in thinking the tick of a clock at the stroke of midnight somehow opens the door to second chances. On the other hand, equating that same scenario with crossing a threshold that renders us less than we were a moment ago is simply ridiculous. One’s birthday, after all, is just that: the anniversary of one’s birth. A little older; a little wiser. Hopefully………….

To live in the myth of something that has no truth to it can be a dangerous thing. That’s one of the reasons why I find faith to be a whole different matter than what I believe. To surrender yourself unto that which has proven itself again and again in your life is not the same as investing yourself into a figment of your imagination. In other words, my doctrines and dogmas do not define God; and any image of Him created via my perception of the Word is incomplete. My walk in this, then, is a journey ever forward. Time, in and of itself, leaves me no choice in that aspect of it. Any map illustrating the miles covered thus far, however, would indicate a drunken traveler stumbling to and fro along what Jesus referred to as “the strait path”. Between my hunger to know His voice and my weakness to follow my own humanity, it happens. Nonetheless, I dream. I hope. I dare to trust in those occasions along the way when His grace has been so manifested by His presence that there is no reason to doubt its continued faithfulness as I go. His reins, not my understanding, govern my heart…………

Just For The Lack Of It..............."

The new six-month schedule for the Youth Detention Center arrived yesterday morning. For the third time, in spite of being promised my group would not be bounced hither and yon plugging holes that nobody else wanted, my trust had been violated. Such news came to me out of my mailbox while headed to Bob Evans and its content was still rolling around in my thoughts when the waitress asked what I wanted for breakfast. My reply had nothing to do with what was on the menu. She, of course, looked at me a little shocked. The wife just looked at me a little displeased. Fuming on the inside, I had allowed it to overflow on the outside and that wasn’t nice. Just as unpleasant, however, it, in fact, hung around long enough to finally spill out in the form of a post. Nothing drastic. Nothing that wasn’t true. In one place, I referred to those within the faith who seemingly, after hearing God’s call upon their life, tend to lose sight of everything else. In the pursuit of their “assignment”, it matters not who gets hurt………….

If putting it down in print accomplished anything, it did allow my spirit to slowly settle into where it usually resides. In the process of composing it in its entirety, I admitted realizing that the malpractice isn’t a matter of being inflicted with evil intent. Like the apostle Paul prior to his kick in the pants on his way to Damascus, the offense is generated, for the most part, by men of good heart. Regardless, that doesn’t mean their flesh isn’t still quite capable of trying to run the show. What’s more: that applies to me as well as anybody else. Wouldn’t you know it…no more than I downloaded the piece into blogosphere, a few telephone calls brought forth an assurance to have the situation corrected immediately. Whether that will be to everyone’s satisfaction remains to be seen, but at least our conversation was conducted without threats of violence from either end of the phone line. Actually, I felt perhaps we were beginning to understand one another and some sort of connection in Christ was reached. So I deleted, re-posted, deleted again, and here we are………….

This morning I read a quote on a friend’s site concerning the need for us all to “come to a better understanding that those who are blessed are not those who succeed religiously, but those who keep trusting even as they live the experience of failure”. Jean Vanier, in his “Befriending the Stranger”, wrote that. I agree, but also thought Hope’s own words worthy of keeping. Admitting to a present struggle with crabbiness, she spoke of humanity being like “a bad case of static cling” and likened God to being “the ultimate humanity softener”. I can identify with that and only hope my witness of His residence within me isn’t harmed in the reality of such truth. In that original three paragraphs, I spoke of lying in bed the other night contemplating the sea gypsies’ linguistic loss of the terms “want, worry, when, hello, and goodbye”. Remove those words from my vocabulary and how do I introduce to someone what Christ brings unto us? The answer, of course, is: I don’t; the Holy Ghost does. Even so, what we live comes forth unto others. God help me with me………….

Any Way You Look At It............"

Thursday it was still quite cold around here. I had taken Beth’s car to get it washed, and was about to enter their office to escape the chill when one of the young men working outside approached me. Pointing to the huge, 4x4 pickup with all the trimmings behind him, he asked “Is that your Silverado? My negative answer then took him inside with me where he proceeded to question several other men. No success there either, however, led him to return to his partner and now all males in the vicinity were once more interrogated by this second fellow. When he, too, left disappointed, I turned to the little, old, five-foot-tall, grandmotherly lady who had been occupied in conversation at the counter and inquired if the truck might belong to her. Her affirmation of that fact brought forth smiles to those of us who had witnessed the entire scenario and a bit of embarrassment to the two who had been searching for their projected image of just who might be driving such a vehicle………..

Pictures. We all tend to create them in our minds, often with no attempt to garner any information that might improve our knowledge of the truth. I sat last night and watched a portion of one of those hour-long broadcasts that the news media puts together as entertainment. All those Christmas movies were finally wearing my wife’s interest thin, so I sat down with her to learn of a community of sea gypsies off the coast of Thailand. Surviving last year’s tsunami made them somehow worthy of interview and we were now introduced to a people who, in fleeing any and all governmental society, had evolved into a bunch of nomads that lived nearly their entire life in a band of boats offshore. Such existence meant they possessed no more than deemed necessary; but what seemed strange to me was that their language contains no equivalent terms for words such as “when”, “want”, “worry”, nor the idea of “hello” or “goodbye”. The moment, however it comes to them, is all they recognize………

Perhaps you envision such a group of individuals as being something akin to aborigines, pagan in their spiritual outlook. Depending on your personal interpretation of things, it could well be you’re not all that far from being right. Christianity, Islam, and Buddhism have certainly had little success in achieving any converts. Young and old, both, swim “in the raw”, hunting with homemade tridents for eel and sea slugs. “Home” doesn’t appear to be much more than a large floating pile of scrap lumber, although I did note one fellow carving himself a small canoe out of a tree. They are Anamistic in doctrine, believing the Creator to be in all of nature, maybe including an inanimate object or two. Ulcers, though, have not found them; nobody wears a Timex; and social status isn’t determined by how much you possess. No Wal-Mart; but, then, there’s no taxes, either………

It’s not that they are not aware of a modern, civilized world and all of its technology. It’s more like they think we’re the ones who are crazy, but are too polite to suggest such an opinion unto us. Easy enough, I suppose, to simply write them off as being “full of the devil” and bound for hell. Nobody’s ever been baptized. Not one of them holds membership in a nearby church. Yet I wonder: If the Gospel message has failed to penetrate this simple, aquatic brotherhood, could it be because we’ve taken the wrong approach with what Christ is all about? Perhaps before you can convince a man that his view of God is about to condemn him to eternal damnation, you first need to enlighten him as to there being a void in his life that needs to be filled. Perhaps we might have more success if, instead of threatening others with our list of ABCs, we just shared the fruit of who He is in us.......

Joyous Noel....................."

Christmas Day. It’s in the low forties here, damp and drizzly. Last night the small rooms of this house I call home were filled with family. Ten adults and six grandchildren up to their ears in excitement, laughter, and gift-wrapping. This morning the wife and I, both, awoke with a bit of a headache, but a phone call from the boys found us walking next door to see what Santa had brought them. They’re much too old, of course, for such fantasy, but that doesn’t mean they’re any less happy about finding more presents beneath the tree from mom and dad. It does help that they no longer get up at daybreak to investigate the matter……

This afternoon five of us visited the Youth Detention Center. Not a whole lot of cheer there. In past years we have noted the count usually falls over the holidays. Not so this time around. Two girls seated against the wall in the rear of the room. About thirty-five young men and three guards completed our congregation. It was a rough group, obviously disgruntled with their present incarceration. None, of course, are ever amused about the situation, but today even more so. In the end, all the easier to take them into prayer; and what better gift to discover than the reason for the season taking up residence in your heart……

Tonight Beth is stretched out of the living room sofa in front of the fireplace. I just arose from the recliner across the room to relax at my favorite leisure activity. In another time and another place, Sunday evening church service was a must. Somewhere along the way that changed. Actually, the message changed and I found myself unable to blend into the format. Nonetheless, to each their own. God remains the same and I’m ready to worship with you whenever you so desire. Yet in my dark streets shineth the everlasting Light. The hopes and fears of all the years are met in me tonight……

The Tie That Binds.................."

The wife and I have frequented the local Bob Evans since the day it opened, more for its location and its staff than the menu, and somewhere along the way you reach a point of familiarity with all, even with the intricate details of their life. Waitresses, hostess, cooks, other customers. The bus “boy” and I talk sports. One manager will, on occasion, sit and have a cup of coffee with us. You learn their kids and their outlook on life. I’m sure that’s true the other way around. It’s not an easy job and I’ve witnessed some people who seem to think they deserve perfection for their seventy-five cent tip………

Monday morning, with our regular gal on an off-day, another favorite was serving us breakfast. In taking our order, the subject of Christmas was introduced and she commented on an emotional break-“down” over the weekend while wrapping presents. I took it to refer to the loss, in recent years, of not only two daughters, but also her mother. She would return to the table in a few moments, though, apologize for so speaking about the holidays, and explain the situation mostly attributed to stress. Her tears, she said, were but a reaction to what seemed a tangled mess of busyness at the time……….

On impulse I asked her about her faith, already knowing the answer I would receive: Catholic and strongly rooted in more than just the doctrinal structure of its beliefs. Why did I expect such reply? Conversation with her on other occasions bore witness to such fact. Not that she ever mixed chapter and verse with an air of self-righteousness as some do. No. What has always connected with me at such times is an inner strength flowing from who she is in Him. This incident was no different. Her eyes watered, but with conviction she spoke of her inability to face life without that which He provided…………

In the long run, it is our experience that teaches us. It is in those things that God proves unto us that we draw our line in the sand. The written Word, to be sure, plays a part in it all, but give the Book to any two of us and we’ll each walk away with our own understanding of it. Indeed, I’ve come to believe that no matter how much any of us think we’ve conquered the jots and tittles of the Gospel, revelation is still a personal one-on-one with its author. In truth, we all approach Him from different perspectives; He meets us where we are; and we learn as we go. He remains the preacher. What makes any of us think we can improve on that?…………

Still Cookin'........................."

***Updated since first posted, even as the last sentence of my introduction so stated that it might be...

Since walking away from teaching Sunday School, I seldom do more than throw bits and pieces around in my mind along with scattering them here and there on a sheet of paper, trusting God to just bring forth whatsoever He desires in my speaking to others. For whatever reason, however, I sat down today with the ingredients referred to in my last post and put the following together. Tomorrow night we visit the local rescue mission. Whether it will stay as it is remains to be seen……….


Luke 2:24-35……..”Spigot Theology”

As professing Christians, we tend to pause and reflect at opposite ends of the Lord’s life, focusing on either event with no real tying of the two together. “Arise! Shine!” the Scripture declares, “For thy light is come and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee!” In another place it is written: “The people that have walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.” We attach the historical fact of Jesus to such declarations, then, and declare unto the world that we, alone, have found the truth, packaging our particular version of the Bible as what we believe truth to be. Jesus, Himself, however, while encouraging the religious to search the Word, declared unto them that what their search was all about stood right there in front of them! Can I suggest to you that even tonight it is yet so: Christ is in this Book, is in this room, is in His people, and is knocking at the heart of every man on this planet! The spigot has been reconnected and ready for any man to use………..

Dorothy, in the Wizard of Oz, at the end of her journey observed: “I’ve learned that if I ever go searching for my heart’s desire, not to look any further than my own back yard; because if it’s not there, I never really lost it to begin with.” Can I tell you that what this Book suggests is that, in the beginning, God created man “complete”, and designed with an inner connection between the man, himself, and his Creator. What the first man did was to “dis-connect” such plumbing. What the Second Adam, as Jesus is called within the pages of the Book, did was to swim through the cesspool and reestablish the connection. Some of us speak of that as being “saved”, being “born again” and, indeed, they are Biblical terms; but where we tend to miss it is in then splitting hairs over what the language actually means. What we have created in such manner is not necessarily what was intended. An old newspaper comic series once had a bunch of swamp critters march off to war. The particular episode ended when they finally realized: “We have met the enemy and he is us!”…………

It was Plato who said: “We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.” He probably spoke that in reference to scientific learning, but it holds up just as well in the spiritual. What Jesus brings unto us is an enlightening, one that reveals unto us ourselves every bit as much as it does God; and, in the same way as we never really conquer the Almighty in His totality, we continually keep bumping into “pieces” of who we are as individuals. Sadly, humanity, as a whole, is never really pretty. Happily, God loves us anyway. Anne Dilliard wrote: “You do not have to sit outside in the darkness. If, however, you want to look at the stars, you will find darkness required though the stars neither require nor demand it.” I take that, myself, not as some blank divine endorsement of our condition, but as recognition of the fact that the Almighty isn’t afraid to walk with us through the muck and mire of our identity. And the Cross and the Crib have made it possible for every man to know that merger……….

All the Holy Ghost requires to meet you where you are is for you to be willing to walk with Him a little further. A little further down the road. A little further deeper inside. Not so much to open up God’s eyes to your darkness, but for you to face yourself in His light. After all, God already knows us inside out. It’s not unto Him that those innermost thoughts of our heart must be made known, but unto them whose heart is known to be “deceitful above all things”. It’s not a question of whether His grace is sufficient, but whether our pride is willing to humble itself to meet Him in the journey. Christ has already established the juncture. Our part of the bargain isn’t so much a matter of format as it is a matter of surrender. Not so much some instant transformation into super saint as it is an everyday learning; and all too often we in the Church seem quick to forget that. Ten, twenty, thirty years down the road, righteousness is yet determined as it was the first day: not via our works nor doctrinal correctness, but by an ever abiding recognition that we need Him in all that we are………….

Communion....................."

There were but five of us yesterday morning to minister at the Youth Detention Center. The woman who is always so faithful wasn’t able to make this trip and another fellow thought us scheduled for the afternoon. I was able to fill one of those vacancies, however, with a young preacher quite familiar with the inside of facilities like this. Awhile back, he spent a little over three years in one for trying to burn down a church. Both his age and his testimony seem to immediately “make a connection”. Therefore, with about twenty minutes left, even though he had already shared earlier with the kids and this portion of the service usually falls to me, I gave him a nod to do whatever was on his heart. The few verses of scripture on my mind hadn’t really come together yet, still sitting there on the burner. Often, all that often means, of course, is the Holy Ghost will finish it as it comes forth; but, nonetheless, following an inner nudge, I handed the reins to Dustin and he took the room into prayer…………

This morning it hit me. Out on the Interstate, headed to the mall with the wife, all of it bouncing around in my head. The words of Christ unto the woman at the well concerning her ignorance of both the gift of God and the One Who stood before her. The proclamation in Isaiah to arise and shine. His mention elsewhere of a great light having shined upon a people who walked in darkness. A few quotes from Anne Dilliard, Plato, and The Wizard of Oz. These were the ingredients that were in the pot. What was cooking is another matter. Then suddenly, in the middle of holiday traffic, the timer went off and I could smell the aroma of fresh-baked manna. The recipe now had a name to it. Whether He agrees to serve it up this coming Sunday afternoon at the Center remains yet to be seen. Indeed, it could be meant, at the moment, only for my consumption. The important thing to share with these kids is Christ, not necessarily his message unto me along the way…………..

Taking No Prisoners............."

There was certainly nothing wrong with the performance rendered at the church musical I attended last night. Excellent singing by all, scenery and costumes well assembled, lighting and special effects superb. It was evident that a lot of hard work had gone into its creation. My favorite part, though, was one scene where the magi discover the star in the east pointing toward Bethlehem. Trying to bring some humor into the evening, I suppose, someone had transformed these three kings of old into a trio that more resembled Larry, Curly, and Moe. Along with a Shakespearean Balthazor and a Pee Wee Herman Melchior, now in his seventies and at least a head shorter than the other two, the fellow who pastored this same assembly back in ’72 made a great Tim Conway Gaspar………….

If I had any disappointment in the production, it was in its choice of theme. The Gospel message, itself, had been reduced to a love story concerning the marriage of Mary and Joseph. A few verses of Scripture were thrown into the dialogue here and there, but nothing that might speak conviction unto a heart void of Christ. Boy loves girl. Girl loves boy. Union contracted in spite of no real evidence that boy actually able to bring more than love to the proposition. Whoops! Girl divinely impregnated. Now how did that happen? Storm weathered. Baby born. Enter the three comical wise men once more, this time with gifts and a warning to flee with the child unto Egypt. Then the curtain call and an “invitation” given from the preacher in charge that left me shaking my head………….

Standing to our feet, we were asked, as a congregation, to join hands with the person on either side of us and he began to pray. There was nothing offensive in his words. Spiritual communication, after all, should be part of any such gathering of believers. I really had no problem with his requesting anyone present who didn’t possess a relationship with the Lord to squeeze that connection with their neighbor. He didn’t stop there, however. Instead, he now pleaded for any that had been on the receiving end of such indication to lead that individual to the altar. Definitely not my kind of evangelism and it yielded no results. Mistake? We all make them. It’s just that I find such tactics to be exactly that. Erroneous. Put it to music any way you want; it still reads: “Whosoever will”………..

The Bare Facts.................."

Whether Christmas drawing ever closer has anything to do with the chaotic state of events lately, I do not know. My group was scheduled for three visits to the Youth Detention Center this month and we fulfilled one of those obligations this past Sunday morning. We do it again this coming weekend, plugging a vacancy created when a church bowed out of the program for whatever reason, and then, Christmas Day, we are slated for an afternoon sharing of the Gospel. Mix in our usual third Wednesday of the month service down at the local rescue mission and but one more of those “Good Old Boys” Bible discussions we’ve been putting together on a regular basis, and what you’ve got is my wife wondering if I’m planning on celebrating Christmas Eve with the family.……

School is about the same. After a mini-vacation that Thanksgiving brings to us every year, we did manage one fairly normal five-day span; but even that included a community outing to the bowling alley. Last week, though, after a Fifth Grade field trip to the Aquarium, we took our Special-Ed bunch Thursday to see a huge model train exhibit in Cincinnati. That was nice. Helping them shop in a downtown dollar store was a bit of a hassle for me. But…I did survive. Three inches of snow that same afternoon bought us a long ride home and it looks like there is another weather system about to greet us before we escape for the holidays. Classes, of course, have not been totally dismissed; just rearranged to allow for all the extra-curricular activity the season brings to us……..

It is these two elements above that have turned retirement into excitement for me. As I switched from one set of lyrics about Calvary to an invitation for the kids to join me in “Silent Night”, the Spirit settled upon each of us within the room and “preaching” the theme “The Cross and the Crib” became easy. Yesterday, the autistic boy with whom I work had just urinated all over himself when my turn at the helm occurred. Heading hand in hand for the nurse’s station where his supplies are kept, I noted no irregularity in his gait. As we entered her spaces, however, Cheryl broke into laughter. Hopefully no farther back than just outside the door, Logan had undone his britches and they were down around his ankles for whomsoever to admire his underwear clad physique…….

Make no mistake about it, though: it is Christ Who keeps me balanced. It’s too easy to not only “cover yourself up” in ministry, neglecting your family in the doing, but also to find yourself thinking such flow in the course of what you’re doing is somehow of your own making. A young friend of mine who thought himself, at one time, perhaps “called” to preach, within the text of his sermon noted that “the anointing was not solid evidence of the vessel’s integrity”. While he would eventually realize God had different plans for him, that one point he brought forth has stayed with me through the years. New creatures we may be, but humanity remains humanity. Forget that and you usually find yourself with your pants down and just looking silly……

Bitter and Sweet Water..............."

Oprah Winfrey has never been one I would point to as being anywhere close to “Scripture literate”. That’s not meant to insinuate her heart isn’t full of kindness and a desire to do the right thing. Merely to suggest that some of her remarks, spoken on occasion, indicate a lack of any real foundation in the Word. I’m not arguing theology here; just saying she surprised me this afternoon testifying of an event that changed her life. In conversation with Faith Hill about an old hymn the gospel star was about to sing, she told of walking an exercise track back in 1985 and taking prayer to “a higher level”. Recently rejected for a role in “The Color Purple”, she had retreated to that which she called “a fat farm”, determined to lose weight and dealing with a sense of failure in many things she had hoped to achieve. With tears running down her face, she began to talk to Jesus. Somewhere in the process, however, words and thoughts dissolved into the lyrics of “I Surrender All” overflowing from down deep inside her. Then, peace; and the knowledge that her life was in His hands…………..

Witness. This morning was the yearly invitation for our groups to enlist fresh personnel concerning our visits to the Youth Detention Center. The letter announcing the event requested all leaders to arrive half an hour early. It seems there have been some “miscues” lately and the lady who runs the program wanted to address them. While we waited, then, for her to get there, conversation about various things took place, one of which was one elderly gentlemen’s concrete opinion about there being NO other version of the Bible acceptable other than King James. Nobody argued with him, but I do admit to a few ideas about people like him going through my mind. Once we were inside for the meeting, he would but reinforce such thoughts by gruffly questioning the woman, herself, as to why there were only NIVs provided for the kids; and then, just as ill-manneredly, announced her stupidity in bringing all of us into the gym for the presentation. No “excuse me, ma’am” or “would it be alright if”. Just an arrogant spirit that left its imprint on me if no one else…………..

Why is it that we, as believers, have reduced the command to “preach the gospel” to nothing more than forcing our particular view of the Scripture upon whomsoever? Even as Christ informed the Pharisees that chapter and verse, themselves, do not give life, but point to Him as the Source of life, if He is not in all that we claim to be, that which we offer gets lost in the translation. Oprah Winfrey may indeed have given me reason to shake my head and marvel, from time to time, at how she ever came to various conclusions. Nonetheless, her heart shows His and her story of finding a heavenly connection one day in the middle of her despair rang true with me. I’ll just let God work out the wrinkles in her understanding of the divine mystery. Personally, I find her probably a little farther down the road in such task than both my cantankerous colleague today and that enraged preacher on television the other day who didn’t like President Bush’s “Happy Holidays!” card. If you’re going to bring the message, you’d better first get plugged into the Messenger…………….

Elementary, My Dear Mr. Filer..................."

The Newport Aquarium is a rather new addition to Northern Kentucky. Seven years ago, a group of business men proposed the idea to the city of Cincinnati, but when that great metropolis drug their feet, the guys with the money went south. Today, on our side of the river, there stands not only the dream accomplished, but also a great variety of restaurants and novelty shops in the surrounding area. It’s become quite the tourist attraction. This Wednesday morning, however, they gave our Fifth Graders an inside tour of the facility, even providing everyone with a free box lunch. How much (other than the sandwiches) actually “sunk in” with the kids is debatable. My group of boys found the room where they prepare the food to feed the animals unbearably “stinky”, but were quite fascinated by a two-foot square opening in the concrete floor at another location. Peering into the darkness of its depths, it was possible to feel the heat rising from the sounds of the salt water being manufactured in the huge cistern below. Discovering the staff veterinarian kept dead creatures in bottles for future research, though, was, no doubt, the “neatest” thing they encountered all day…………

On the other hand, what grabbed my mind was the revelation that there was over two hundred miles of piping in the facility. Up and down, round and round all three stories with several different types of filtration systems built into its course. The fact that they are able to make it snow twice a day to keep the penguins happy intrigued me. The news that until some fellow invented a special tank in 1984 jellyfish could not be contained in captivity was enlightening. But I stood there looking at one of those biological cleansing points with my thoughts, as usual, out in another universe. They utilize PVC plumbing, greatly eliminating the risk of chemical contamination; and about head high at this particular location, a vertical column piercing both floor and ceiling is joined together by a clear bubble container. It’s filled with what appears to be some sort of blue charcoal and, as the water passes through, a bacterial community living within devours any parasites it might have picked up along the way. You could almost hear that old Twilight Zone theme song playing in my brain as I stared at it thinking to myself: “A world within a world within a world”…………

I get frustrated sometimes with existence. Not so much with the “Mother Nature” of it all. Hurricanes. Floods. Earthquakes. Tragedies are just part of the package and somehow we get through all the suffering and sorrow. If anything, those encounters are what renew us in character. In spite of the mess we make of being human, helping each other navigate the “un-navigatable” reminds us that beyond our failures we can still be humane. Within most of us, I think, there is at least a spark of that potential. Likewise, I also believe there is instilled within each of us, from birth, an ability, of sorts, to “create”. From aquariums to potholders, we have been given by the Crea-TOR an imagination and the tools to bring it “alive”. Where we get into trouble and what tries my patience is when we consider ourselves the Master Designer, put self as the main motive for what we do, and lose all reasoning in the process. Be it the government. Be it the Church. Be it Enron, the PTA, or a man’s marriage. It all boils down to love. Respect, concern, and empathy for one another. Heart-felt honor and gratitude unto Him. Everything else is just statistics, “progress”, and business as usual………….

Just a thought................"

Maybe instead of putting Christ back into Christmas, we ought to first attempt to put Him back into the christian?...............

Second Edition........................"

Maybe the icy temperatures that have invaded this neck of the woods are what’s responsible for having frozen my musings in their tracks. The old brain is still pulsating. It hasn’t shut down, by any stretch of the imagination. The last few days, however, that prophetic utterance given unto Mary in the Gospel of Luke has had my complete attention and I’ve found it impossible to break away from. Simeon, the old man of the temple, predicts that the baby before him “is set (appointed) for the fall and rising again of many in Israel”, suggesting to me their having a spiritual experience akin to what we in Pentecost refer to as being “born-again”. Indeed, he speaks of it as “a sign to be opposed” and then goes on to tell how such event will be a sword that will pierce even Mary’s soul…………

Nothing, so far, that we, as Christians, can’t explain at this point in the unfolding of the message. It is the next part of that 35th verse, though, that intrigues me. Giving divine purpose to that already noted, this agent of God now adds: “to the end that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed”; and leaves me wondering what his final words mean. Doesn’t the Almighty already know us from the inside out? We are told several places in Scripture that our contemplative accumulations are not hidden from His ears, with or without a restoration to the indwelling that Adam received. It’s hard for me to believe, as well, that the phrase merely refers to a denial of the Cross lending evidence to a man’s inner condition. Surely there’s more significance to this utterance than that…………

Oftentimes when the Bible offers us the term “heart”, it usually encompasses our identity as a whole, taking in our mind, our soul, our emotions, and even our mental process. When Jeremiah, then, declares that part of us to be “deceitful above all things and desperately wicked” and immediately afterward asks “Who can know it?”, I’m of the opinion he might just be giving us a clue that unlocks the puzzle. What Jesus brings unto us is not necessarily deliverance in the sense of instantly becoming “super saints”. It may be true that we’re no longer what we once were, but that’s not to imply we now have victory over all things. Most, if not all of us, yet possess some deep, dark places not yet given unto the Light; and the journey, it seems to me, is as much about that as anything else………….

The fellow who drew me into this attached an Annie Dillard quote to his post. “You do not have to sit outside in the dark,” she attests; “If, however, you want to look at the stars, you will find the darkness is necessary. But the stars neither require nor demand it.” I, too, find it appropriate. Thirty-three years down the road, exploring those nooks and crannies where the shadows still hide me in many ways has just as much to do with my salvation as trying to be a vessel through which He shines unto others. I’m just thankful He continues to walk with me in both areas, especially when the one sometimes tends to get in the way of the other. It is not the muck and mire of who we are that gives Him problems, but an attitude that refuses to admit to the condition………….

Fisticuffs or Fellowship and Flow?................."

In following a link that I’d rather not duplicate here, I found myself on a site seemingly dedicated to ridiculing what I’ve come to know as “the emerging church”. Picture after picture was utilized to lambaste that with which the owner of the blog obviously disagreed, indeed, taking it to the point of being quite distasteful, as far as I was concerned, and my reaction was to simply depart without comment. Realizing that my words here have often been blunt in stating my own opinion about the ecclesiastical community’s state of affairs in general, I indeed might appear hypocritical for so taking offence. To be truthful, it’s a question I ask myself……….

A friend recently posted about a young man who asked him, with Jesus being a non-conformist and well outside the margins of Judaism, “why isn't Christianity more heretical today? Acknowledging himself as “a heretic, lunatic, fool for the king”, Ron defined that first part of that trio as “one who comes from the same tradition, but who reads it in a different way”. Then he continued to state that interpretations, inevitably limited by a number of things that are a part of humanity as a whole, ought to allow both the Spirit and other people to challenge those tenets we believe. I would agree, emphasizing the need for the Holy Ghost to be in the process………..

Back in the seventies, not long after my own entrance into this, the local gospel station would broadcast a half-hour program where one particular denomination would take calls and then, of course, answer all inquiries about scripture in accordance with their own doctrinal view. What followed their attempt to gain proselytes, then, was another church that proceeded to utilize the next half-hour to refute everything previously said by the first group. I thought it amusing at the time, but just plain sad when, six months down the road, I discovered the order had somehow been reversed, the farce still going strong. Thirty years later, here I sit wondering…………

Is there yet a voice that “cries out in the wilderness”? Is there yet a “weeping for Jerusalem”? A recent addition to my sidebar, in quoting Luke 2:35, suggested that the piercing of Mary’s soul through the crucifixion of Christ but opened up a path that all of us, as believers, must walk. Within the journey, hearts are revealed. I am well aware that, even as a born-again believer, passion can flow from me as well as from Him. Hopefully, my own will one day learn to bury itself in His before it overflows the vessel. Yet convinced the Institution, as a whole, now sits within the mind frame of Laodicea, more than ever I want His voice, not mine…………..

Fall Back and Punt..................."

There’s an old joke about the lady whose husband’s ashes were maintained within an hourglass kept on the mantle over the fireplace. When people asked, she would always explain it was the first time in their relationship that she was ever able to get him to work. If you find no humor in that one, however, consider the movie I recently viewed. The elderly sister who was raped by her older brother in their youth now steals his post-cremation remains in order to take them back to Newfoundland, the scene of the crime. Carrying them back to the outhouse behind the family estate, she now pours them through the opening and turns to welcome him home by utilizing the facilities. Rather appropriate, I thought, but am quickly coming to the conclusion that immediately reducing the body to dust opens up the door for any number of possibilities. Spreading my mother’s molecular status on the forty-yard line during the next Bengals game probably wouldn’t be one to cross my mind, but apparently Philadelphia has now been so blessed by one of their devoted fans. Rest in peace, mom…………..

Fact. Fiction. When you think about it, it’s amazing the various approaches we, as a species, take in dealing with the reality of death. Not only in our methods of body disposal, but also in our theology concerning that eternal part of who we are. Indeed, I thought it interesting that almost immediately after telling us of religious ritual in the city of Philadelphia, one of the morning television anchors interviewed a Catholic priest about Purgatory. It came as no surprise to me that the good father should admit to there being no solid Biblical evidence to confirm such tenet. It didn’t shock me that he should indicate the reason for the Church giving birth to the whole idea emerged from a need to explain what God did with infants who died before baptism was possible. The truth is: we, in Pentecost, have long utilized those same portions of chapter and verse to achieve our own opinion on Jesus taking “captivity captive”; and when existing policies within Full Gospel would deny someone dear to us entrance into heaven, we usually have no problem with making exceptions to the rule………….

The wife and I watched what was supposed to be a “scary” movie last night. Within the threads of its plot was woven the premise that in order for satanic hoo-doo to work, all involved in it had to believe it capable of what it promised. I’m not so sure I fully understand the logic behind that. Indeed, it sounds to me a little bit like the Rene Descartes’ theory, “cogito, ergo sum”. Or, in more modern terms, “There is no spoon”. Ludicrousness? Nonsense? Before you shake your head, consider that most of Christianity is asked to simply accept whatever doctrinal slant torn from Scripture is laid before them. “Believing,” they say, “is receiving”; and anything less is perceived as a failure of one’s faith. For me, however, that last item is not born out of personal effort. I’m in full agreement with that friend who declared its genesis in “self-doubt” and “shunning self-reliance”. His Word lights my path. It gives meaning to that which I do not comprehend. It meets me in my humanity and, in that connection, makes known the truth of His presence. Put that in mid field and do what you want with it……………..