"Revival...................................."

“And I’ll follow You there, to the place where we meet; I’ll lay down my pride, as You search me again; Your unfailing love, Your unfailing love, Your unfailing love, over me again”…Hillsong



Whoever planted this tree in my back yard must have had some sense of just how much pleasure it would one day give my grandkids. It hasn’t yet begun to produce this year’s foliage, of course, but all the better for me to show you the crazy curves and bends of its limbs, the ability it affords the kids to simply walk up its trunk and vice-versa. Here’s a few shots of Beth and the crew that I took last summer when it was greener and literally full of life. Mowing that area beneath it gets harder and harder to accomplish with each calendar rotation, the weight of its growth continually making it bow closer and closer to the ground, but I hate thinking of taking it down. In my front yard, likewise, is a magnolia that each spring fights the frost, occasionally giving me more than just a few days of a white and pink splendor that warms the soul after months of cold weather. It, too, has survived much, split, somewhat, right down the middle near its base and several smaller branches broken by neighborhood children in passing. Science has stated, though, that 99% of every tree is actually dead, the only life it has being that which comes forth from its roots, runs upward just beneath a layer of bark, and then bursts into manifestation at the end of each twig. How many of us, I wonder, share a similar existence?...




Our worship service, Sunday morning, ended with the above lyrics. The ushers had already served the bread and the juice for the sacrament of Communion and the pastor paused, requesting one more sharing of its refrain. The words, he said, had reminded him of that portion of Scripture where Jesus declared Himself to be the very fulfillment of what those elements represent, giving, at the same time, notice of a requirement for His disciples to eat and drink thereof. Such dramatic use of language, indeed, caused many to abandon ship; but when the twelve were asked if they, also, would go away, Peter answered with a question: “To whom shall we go?” and then went on to add how He, alone, as Christ, had “the words of eternal life”. Even so, we were told, must we be anchored in Him. Our journeys are not guaranteed easy passage. There is a cross to carry and a path that is marked only by the tug of His voice upon our heart. Yet there is also His promise of His being with us as we walk through the shadows and of His assurance being renewed in us again and again as we return to the well. Resurrection. Not just someday from a grave; but right now, at either end of “from faith to faith”, victory can be found over winter’s hold on who we are in Him. Easter’s blossoms aren’t restricted to seasonal celebration…

"Once More Into the Deep................."

When I came to Christ, I wasn’t looking for either Christ or a religion, but for what, to me, was a miracle. Grace was the focus of my surrender; and surrender was exactly what brought it to me in the middle of my living room thirty-seven years ago this afternoon. A short time later, flat on my back in bed late one evening, the personification of that attribute was made real to me, an experience I’ll never forget. In Pentecost, along the way since, preachers have attempted to define the word, itself, comparing its similarity to mercy while explaining at the same time the difference between the two; but they came too late to extract from my mind an image already imprinted of a Holy Ghost who cannot be separated from that which He is…

So, when Paul, in Ephesians testifies that we are “saved by grace through faith”, the ending of that verse embraces, in my opinion, the totality of the Indwelling re-established within us. When the writer of Hebrews declares it good for our heart to be “established with grace”, he reinforces an earlier statement where such quality is said to not only help us better serve God, but is also seemingly aligned with “receiving a kingdom that cannot be moved”. Indeed, that same author, in chapter ten, joins Old Testament prophets in referring to the Spirit as being a vessel from which grace flows, cleansing us, filling us, immersing us into those depths of all that He is. To “know” Him, to be one “with” Him, is as close as I can come to its identity…

My favorite dictionary puts it this way: “(1) a temporary delay granted from the performance of an obligation; (2) help held to be given man by God, especially in overcoming temptation or in leading a good life; and (3) a state of freedom from sin, of love for God; a disposition to kindness or mercy.” When the term becomes “Who He is in me” rather than a condition that I apply to myself via a Biblical brainwashing, suddenly my salvation hinges on the relationship maintained and not a checklist denominationally drafted and altered to fit my own liking. No longer is divine clemency a blank check issued to cover my sins, but a living, eternal fountain to which I run again and again. He, alone, is my assurance, my confirmation of truth…

I awoke last night at three, played a few games of something akin to Boggle on the computer, and then laid down on the couch in the family room. For a few moments, Grace came to visit me, not as overwhelming as that first occasion so long ago, but just as real, just as loving, and just as compassionate. Prayer became easy, more of an inner release where one’s tears say as much as anything articulated, the connection providing a mental flow where praise, gratitude, and all my needs came up out of my “belly”. There was no “thinking” involved; and yet that part of me did not disappear. It is a “melting into His presence”, a union wherein you realize that nothing you possess warrants such a move on His part. Then the waters recede and you take the next step…

"The Good, The Bad, The Ugly, and Us..........."

When I speak of how working in Special-Ed has been a rewarding experience for me, that doesn’t mean that my return home each day is a skip up the sidewalk, top-of-the-world and feeling like a million bucks event. My physical and emotional state of being, at any point in time, can be determined by a number of items and just because the Indwelling has been part of my spiritual make-up for nearly thirty-seven years now, it doesn’t guarantee that the two of us are one twenty-four/seven. My wife will testify to that fact and Wednesday evening is but one slice of the pie. Grouchy I was. A short nap in the recliner would no doubt have put me in a better mood, but events and circumstances didn’t allow such pleasure and so Beth, for about three hours endured my obvious discontent. It was probably a relief when this old man left and drove over to church. My own medicine came while seated on one of the back pews, the worship music flowing over me and through me, peace rising up from within and carrying me, somehow, to a place where all mental stress simply ceased…..

Our class, afterwards, was taken from Ezekiel and dealt with taking the Gospel unto others. For the most part, that was addressed from a standpoint of talking to unbelievers of Christ. I enjoyed how the teacher didn’t just put forth the issue as a blanket commandment that the Almighty held over our souls with no consideration other than to “win the lost at any cost!” We discussed the difference between being “bold” and being “arrogant”. We looked at the truth of God being the real power in the matter and, as such, being able to work in spite of our inadequacy, our errors. It was an hour well utilized, helping some to understand that it is not about “knowing all things”, but about following His tug on your heart and relaxing in the transparency of this being a journey for all of us. Nowhere is it written that we have the mystery all solved. Nowhere are we directed to do anything other than be a vessel for Him. Indeed, it might be good to note that the prophet, in this portion of Scripture, wasn’t talking of warning the “heathen”, but Jehovah’s own, the “elect”…..

I don’t kid myself about having it all together. I just take the next step and give it to Him. It was good to discover, in leaving, that one of the young women there recognized me from a few words spoken in testimony. I knew her father, as it turned out, and she, herself, was one of the kids who attended my inner city Children’s ministry ten or fifteen years ago….

"Aeration............................"

If the last post makes me appear to be one of those “my-way-or-the-highway” Bible-thumpers who are always looking to argue the Gospel, I’ve tried hard, along the way, to avoid such label, believing Grace to be bigger than the narrow-minded restrictions that some would assign it. To be truthful about it, though, I do admit to my nature with it being much the same as my being a “Wheel-watcher” and losing it if a contestant on the show does something that makes no sense to me. Time and again, people will have a phrase like “faster than a speeding bullet” all solved except for the first four letters of that last word and will give display of their obviously already knowing the answer, but will then throw hundreds/thousands of dollars away by choosing only the “b” instead of the double “l”s! My eyebrows go up and, as if a loud groan isn’t enough to express my frame of mind, I explain to the wife, in detail, the fortune that was just wasted…..

So it is with me and my understanding of the Holy Ghost. Just as everything within the Old Testament points to Christ, everything in the latter part of the Book gives witness to this Third Member of the Trinity being the “meat” of what Jesus brings to us via Calvary. We testify to an acceptance of His existence; but then, for the most part, in one way or another, mistreat that which we do not understand. To me, it’s like someone giving us a free BMW and, after noting our gratitude, we tell our benefactor to keep the engine! It’s like winning millions in the lottery and then burying the money in your back yard while you continue to work the night shift at the factory. I speak not of this present-day charade that some would sell for profit and I realize that each of us must find Him for ourselves; but all the more reason to encourage this generation in the possibility of drinking from that well, of swimming in the depths of His presence…..

"Salesmanship................."

The last few posts have been an attempt to refrain, somewhat, from long dissertations on my view of Scripture; but seeing as how it’s Sunday, perhaps I can be permitted to return to what usually has my attention. With Easter just around the corner, the pastor has been focused on that aspect of the Gospel; and this morning, utilizing some video clips from Mel Gibson’s portrayal of the event, he preached on the crucifixion, what it brings to us upon conversion. Justification. Redemption. Reconciliation. Definitions were visually supplied and when he ended his message with a plea for people to make a public confession of Christ, three in the congregation came forward…..

Surely this old man should be happy with that scenario. Right? Well; I am; and I’m not. Not once was there any mention of the Holy Ghost, no reference at all to the fact that what confirmed the covenant in the promises, as stated, was a renewed connection with the Almighty through an indwelling established in the convert. What that says to me is: all a man has to do is believe. Believe the Koran. Believe Buddha. Believe whatever, whomever, and go in peace. Some, of course, would tell me-”No! No! You’ve got to believe the right thing!” But how does one know what’s “right” if he has no more than another man’s guarantee of what he’s buying?.....

In my opinion, the Church, at large, has greatly failed in its attempt to evangelize the world. We have either enshrined the Book and abandoned the reality of the Spirit, or we’ve made ourselves the Third Person of the Trinity and misused what thus saith the Lord. That’s not to say that everybody but me and those who think like me are going to hell. Rather, I only suggest that most of those in the faith fall short of realizing that Jesus, alive “in” me, equates to anything more than an un-tangible mystery uttered by the apostle Paul and their journey is a matter of “long-distance communication” with an image they’ve constructed for themselves out of chapter and verse…..

No rant-just thinking out loud.....

"Occupational Therapy...................."

For the third time in as many weeks, my autistic charge suddenly erupted yesterday afternoon in a not-so-hostile display of temperament as it was an angry, emotional “boo-hoo, I want my way or else” demand of whomever. The first two occasions ended with his dad coming to get him; and this seemed but an attempt to accomplish the same. Instead, we simply sat, isolated, in an empty room for about an hour, me ignoring all the tears, he finally realizing that it was getting him nowhere, and then we returned to finish the day as if nothing at all had happened. While there is the possibility of communication with these kids, maintaining a connection is always a matter of their consent. Like any other child, they have their mood swings and their methods for avoiding the task at hand. I teach only as long as he is willing. I bribe as it seems necessary. I learn to “read” him in the relationship that we share. This morning was another day, another seven-hour walk through our routine. At three-fifteen, he boarded his bus, happy and grinning, no problems in between and a folder full of his efforts to take home and show mom…..

Here I stop. My frustrations with this job do not come from working with these young ones. If anything “gets my goat”, sending me home with a need to relax a bit, it is “the system”, the upper level authorities existing beyond our school personnel, people who know our students only from a piece of paper, yet have all the answers for meeting “their” needs. It could be my own perspective is limited to these last seven years of employment and I’m just not getting the “big picture”; but there’s no need, no real reason to turn this into a rant. Prayer smoothes out the wrinkles and keeps me going, hopefully for a few more years anyway. As long as my days continue to begin with a song, I’ll try not to bombard anybody with sour notes here…..

"Pause........................................."

Wednesday morning, on way into work, I stopped at the local Wal-Mart for some small, stick pretzels that I use to bribe my autistic charge. In passing through the front, sliding doors, my eyes immediately took note of the friendly greeter who is always stationed there, who, in this case, looked as if he were still fighting getting out of bed. No expression on his face at all but a lack of enthusiasm for his assignment, arms folded across his chest, and lost in a world that was somewhere else other than the one I was in. “Good morning!” I cheerfully extended him in hope of a reply. No such luck. He just stood there like a cigar-store, wooden Indian while I went back to locate my purchase. Humor, as it happened, came from the check-out clerk who was another fellow about my age. We, too, had no conversation at all. Fishing for the correct change to go with the two dollars I held in my hand as he scanned the bag, my whole manner went into shock as I heard him announce, “Eight dollars, please.” I looked up, with eyebrows raised and mouth posed for a stutter, only to find him laughing, explaining his love of joking with the customers on occasion. On my way outside, Tonto was still standing there; but, then, you never know what’s holding another man’s mind…..

Wednesday evening, at the rescue mission, His Spirit was with us from the “get-go”, making us one from the front to the back. Our combined “sermon” was nothing more than testimony shared of encounters experienced in the journey, witness of God’s reality being more than a theological image constructed out of Biblical verse. Grace, we concluded, was not subject to a definition we assigned, but a relationship held with the Holy Ghost. Faith might well be our shield against all the enemy brings at us, but its strength comes through possessing renewed knowledge of Him. Closing prayer came easy. If our ministry was conducted in a flow of His presence, however, let it be said that it probably was set into motion by a concern put forth by Bob unto all who were there at the very beginning. A friend, a co-worker of his, talking to him these past few months of all the plans he had for his soon-to-be-made-official retirement, got a telephone-call one day this week from his wife. The medical results on some tests she’d recently had conducted on a growth discovered on her neck were back. Brain cancer. It didn’t look good. In a moment, in a second, life has a way of hitting you right in the gut, taking you down a road you weren’t ready to travel, and what you need is hope as an anchor for your soul…..

"Morning Magic....................."

The sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon in the east as I exited the Interstate on my way to school. For but a few moments, it was a definable, bright golden ball in the sky with me debating if perhaps it wasn’t the moon; then its form simply dissolved into a magnitude of light too brilliant for me to observe…..

We’ve seven more working days before the arrival of Spring Break. Already, it’s easy to detect the obvious anxiety within both students and faculty. Everyone knows that when we return from this mini-vacation, final testing will occupy us for a few weeks, but from there it’s a downhill coast into summer. Studies, of course, do not cease. Homework still is assigned. Quizzes occur. The pressure, though, is off once those state exams have been accomplished and, almost daily, a metamorphosis of sorts takes place. Life is more about all-day field trips, assembly presentations in the gymnasium that could be anything from a Chinese family of acrobats to a rock ‘n roll band whose music spans the last five decades, and an ever-growing realization that three months of doing whatever you might want to do is right around the corner….

No matter how old one gets, I think it is natural that we remain in a habitual existence of looking forward to future events. Somewhere along the way, however, I think you learn to do so with less boredom, less antagonism against the rut through which you’re passing presently. You look around, enjoy a laugh with a friend, reach out to a neighbor, count your blessings, and maybe even discover the miracle of what He set into motion with not much more than the sound of His voice…..

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! I’ve never seen so many interesting contraptions devised by the kids to catch leprechauns!

"Reflections.........................."

Working in Elementary School Special Education has been a pleasurable experience for me. Like any other job, it has had its ups and downs dealing with administrative policies that continually change; but contact with the kids, themselves, has remained food for my soul, daily episodes of delight no matter the situation. This time around, they returned me to the unit where I made my original entrance seven years ago; and when I consented to the transfer, it was with the assumption that my duties there would once again be a one-on-one relationship with one boy in particular. He has done so well, though, that, little by little, we have integrated with the group, a conglomeration that not only represents a wide spectrum of the term “autism”, but also spans the stretch between Kindergarten and Fifth Grade. For over six months now, we have sat with them every morning around a semi-circular table in an attempt to conquer the calendar, probing them to identify, not just the month, but “today, yesterday, and tomorrow” as well. During such process, one will usually cover her ears and scream several times; another gets angry and resorts to banging his head on the flat surface before him; and one, unable to cope with all the noise, protests via a gibberish conversation held with her own hand. There are but two or three who have conquered the subject matter to any degree of accuracy. That might sound like an exercise in futility. Academic success, however, has been achieved in other areas along the way. We rejoice in those, push on, and see each as individuals possessing their own capabilities and their own personality, each no different than the other, each somehow having become attached to your heart somewhere in the journey…..

The Youth pastor’s title for his sermon, a week ago Saturday evening, is still rolling around in my mind. “The Good, The Bad, The Ugly…..and Us” he called it and, by the time he got done with it, you knew that, at one time or another, you’ve probably held a position within all three descriptions. I’m just glad to know God’s grace established in Christ and to realize He looks beyond who and what I am to see my need…..

"The Way It Was....................."

The temperature here in northern Kentucky spiked this week, hitting a high, one day, of seventy degrees. Of course, just as suddenly, it then dropped back into the lower forties, sending half the populace running to the drugstore for cold medicine. One young fellow who evidently lives along the route I drive to work, though, must have been encouraged that Spring had actually sprung and set his mind to adopt that view in spite of the return to previous conditions. For the last three days he has been there, atop the earthen dam a few feet above the side of the road approaching school, backpack on the hill and fishing rod in hand as he casts his line into the icy waters of the pond. Today he was wearing one of those stocking caps that pull down to completely cover the head. He looked like a bandit about to hold up some nearby bank just as soon as he finished catching his breakfast. My own thoughts, however, were focused on what he would do if a big one took his bait just as the big yellow bus arrived to collect him. Then, again, I can well remember my own passion for such activity when I was his age…..

"From Here to There........................."

Our regular Wednesday evening teacher was a bit “under the weather”; so, at the last minute, the fellow who leads worship on Saturday nights was drafted to lead the lesson. For those who aren’t familiar with what has caught my interest over the course of the last few weeks, that’s the service reaching out to today’s youth, turning the volume up a few degrees music-wise and creating an atmosphere where the tattooed, the pierced, the who-so-ever are welcomed on their terms, not ours. I attended last week for the first time and was pleasantly surprised. I was even more impressed, on this occasion, to hear him speak from his heart about such ministry. Rather than being “puffed-up” in the success achieved thus far, he was concerned that their efforts not somehow evolve into a “rock-star atmosphere” where spirits get lost in the wrong anointing. It was important to him that the Holy Ghost, not he, himself, was “spot-lighted”…..

He had been given an outline to follow for the class, taken from the Book of Jeremiah and dealing with the call of God on one’s life; but it didn’t take us long, as a group, to agree that, as believers, we are “called” to be a vessel for the Indwelling. Individual assignments tend to fall, always at His discretion, as we surrender to His tug within; and, quite often, our natural talents and gifts play a big part in where we are used. Indeed, I was amused when he admitted that his own placement emerged out of “just feeling right” and not some deep, heavenly voice audibly giving him commandment to “Go! Sing!” I was one with him when he noted that never is it a matter of “our” witness”, “our” sermon, “our” wisdom, but a flow of His reality through us. To know it, one must simply be willing to decrease, to “relax” in Him as He comes forth; and yet, humanity being humanity, the experience is a stumble, at best…..

Christianity, for me, has been neither a singular divine appointment to position, nor a series of victories through which I attained some higher level of spirituality. There’s an old song that Janet Paschal once recorded with a verse that went something like: “any wisdom I’ve obtained comes not from battles won, nor basking in the glory of a race that seems well run. No; it’s trudging through the dry, deserted places I have been that let’s me know if You made now back then-I’d choose You again.” Jesus has been life within life, a small inner stream running from oasis to oasis, giving me strength, peace, and purpose in the journey; and when I hear any bear like witness to their own walk with Him, I rejoice. It is thus I see Him in the Gospels; and thus I have found Him in the way…..

"Closing the Gap................................"

In reading another fellow’s account of growing up “in the fundamentalist South during the 70s and 80s”, I recognized, somewhat, my own environmental beginnings within a small “old-time holiness” church here in northern Kentucky. The racial bigotry and the redneck image he presents wasn’t so much a part of our heritage, but the legality issue, the idea that sanctification could be achieved and maintained via a long list of doctrinal “thou-shalt-not”s, I remember well. An old, Navy buddy, in jest, recently e-mailed me a link to a Nashville skit mocking that sort of preaching. If it offends you, I apologize. In truth, however, while the individual “sin” being addressed here hadn’t yet found its way into fashion that far back in history, our pulpits suffered no lack of blasphemous items to likewise Biblically examine. It’s amazing how many sermons can come forth with no more “foundation” than a verse of Scripture commanding women to adorn themselves in “modest apparel”. For that matter, legality would have had a field day if it had found itself inside the sanctuary I visited last night…..

The room was packed, the darkness covering the pews penetrated, somewhat, by those on stage being bathed in light and, also, the three huge screens on the wall behind them giving image to the words they were singing. The music, as I had expected it to be, was loud. The volume, however, stopped just short of being unbearable, allowing my mind to enjoy the message theatrically provided in large print. The lyrics were beautiful; and I worshipped along with everybody else. Not all in the congregation gathered before me were young. Indeed, at least one elderly woman was there with a walker. The majority, though, was a generation marked by its tattoos, piercings, and distinct wardrobe; but, if their appearance separated them from me in any way, their enthusiasm for Christ pulled me into their midst. For nearly an hour, we swam together in His flow, then listened to our assistant pastor speak on the humanity of Nicodemus as it related to each of us, the service coming to a close with a call to prayer. I left as the altar area began to fill with a multitude of hearts turned toward Him…..

It is not the outward expression, but the inner search to make sense of existence that is my concern. Someone asked me today if I didn’t think this bunch, somewhere down the road, shouldn’t stop trying to “look like the world”. My answer was to return query as to just who “the world” was. It seems to me that these kids, in actuality, are only trying to escape the norm, to make a statement against society as they see it, and to find some valid reason for the whole affair. They don’t need a doctrinal demand to look like me, think like me, a religious uniform and code whereby we all accuse or excuse each other. Grace isn’t bound up in chains. Grace has a name, an identity, and an assurance of His having taken up residence within us. To Him I point. In Him I trust. He leads; I follow; and we are all made one in the Spirit. We are, that is, if we are but willing to put it all in His hands……

"Joel 2:28.................................."

His hair was a dusty brown, as if he had just walked into the classroom from some sand storm outside. It wasn’t long, but disheveled, going in all directions at once with an elastic string of some sort circling the whole of it. Three times I examined his ears, making sure I was seeing what I was seeing. Both lobes had not been simply pierced for adornment, but stretched and then “hole-punched”, the openings about the size of a fifty-cent piece. He did not, however, seem “out-of-place”, the crowd intermingled with young men tattooed and wearing earrings. Two years ago, the pastor felt led to release the sanctuary on Saturday evenings for services geared toward a different style of worship. Based on a verse in 1st Corinthians that reads, “I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some”, the new outreach was dubbed “Church 922” and our Wednesday night Bible study was now enjoying the fruit of its success…..

The lesson, on this occasion, was taken from the Old Testament and concerned itself with the life of Josiah who, at the age of eight, ascended to the throne. Scripture doesn’t give us a lot of information about his reign, however, merely letting us know that he died in battle about three decades down the road and that, in the interim, he brought the nation of Judah into a restored relationship with Jehovah. Nonetheless, that was enough to stir a discussion between all there on “this present generation” being blessed in such manner. God was “moving in our midst” and showing Himself unto “us”, in spite of an older crowd who thought such methods and manners just “too much” to be received by the Almighty. Nothing was spoken in terms of their throwing stones at the elderly. The remarks were only made in testimony unto the goodness of what He was confirming unto them in their pursuit of Him; and not one of the “ancient” seated there among them took any offence…..

As the hour was coming to a close, though, a “stirring in my belly” was prompting me to share. I had not yet said anything; so, when an opening was seemingly “divinely” provided, I said to the teacher: “Where the Spirit is, there is liberty. The kingdom of man is always changing, time and technology always bringing forth new insight and perspective; but the kingdom of God is eternal. I once read a complaint written as if some gray-haired fogey like me was griping about this modern bunch of adolescents. In truth, the author lived in ancient history. The gap between men and their offspring is nothing new. In 1959 they had us going to hell over our hot-rods and bubblegum rock-n’-roll music. In 1972, holiness legality condemned women for cutting their hair, men for letting theirs grow long; and they based it on the Book, not Readers Digest. What connects us on earth is even that which ties us to heaven: the third member of what we profess to believe-the Holy Ghost! You all have but caught the flow of His presence and you’ve got me swimming in those waters with you!”…..

We ended in prayer.

"Peace in the Pew......................"

“The Shack” has been conquered, well, by me, anyway. I “cheated on my wife”, raced ahead to the final chapter on my own, and now have persuaded her to continue with me in what was our original intention with it. While the author’s theology, as presented therein, might indeed rankle those who have their Biblical conclusions laid in concrete, for the most part, I found it acceptable enough to digest. There were points with which I disagree; and, yet, am willing to admit that further discussion with the fellow who penned them might prove us not all that far apart in our thinking. For me, one can’t just dismiss Scripture. It’s always quite possible that my view of any particular verse is subject to error; but my humanity in no way erases the fact of God’s anointing being upon its inclusion within the Book. So, when the plot here seems to suggest the final judgment will condemn nobody to hell, I’m left to question what this guy does with those red-letter words of Christ in three of the Gospels. Maybe I missed something the first time around and this second perusal with Beth will give insight…..

Not that the writer’s perception of forgiveness didn’t meet my approval; and I love what he says in this paragraph concerning the world system: “(It) is what it is. Institutions, ideologies, systems, and all the vain, futile efforts of humanity that go with them are everywhere; and any interaction with all of it is unavoidable. I can give you freedom, though, to overcome any system of power in which you find yourself, be it religious, economic, social, or political. You will grow in the freedom to be inside or outside all kinds of systems and to move freely between and among them. Together you and I can be in it and not of it.” That is supposedly spoken by the Almighty, of course, and it’s a good example of why, fictional or not, the story ministered to my heart. It’s the initial item on the above list with which I’ve struggled for the last decade or so, knowing the entire journey that we get grace even as we give grace, but not finding it all that easy to fulfill the latter part of that contract, not realizing my departure from following the flock didn’t mean He couldn’t yet be in our fellowship…..

Sunday evening I sat in the old church and listened to the congregation applaud the idea that, despite our present economic crisis, God would prosper the Christian community. Like those Jews who came out of Egypt with the wealth of that nation, likewise, we, too, shall escape all recession, depression, and anything else Congress brings upon us. “Could be,” I thought; ”but I prefer that confession the three Hebrew boys made before being thrown into the fiery furnace. Jehovah was able to deliver them; but, even if He didn’t, let it be known.” To each their own. Worship was good…..