Blog Archives

FINGER POINTING!

4/30/2021

Thank goodness it’s now over. By “it”, I mean that infernal process that happens each spring wherein my wife and I purchase, haul home, and then spread about fifty bales of pine straw in our various flower beds. Many folks here in east Tennessee use mulch for this purpose; but we were raised down in Georgia where most everyone used pine straw. So, that’s what we do.

I don’t mind the work. It isn’t actually all that hard. And the gratification that comes with seeing the result is virtually instantaneous. But what I do mind is the traditional aftermath. My wife uses gloves; but I prefer to spread the straw barehanded. I cannot properly grasp and disseminate the straw otherwise.

But the consequence of this approach is the inevitable finger or two full of very small splinters. And this time around was no different. While I managed to remove the more obvious ones, I also managed to overlook as few of the more deeply imbedded ones. About 24 hours later, however, their subcutaneous presence was evident by the pain they caused.

My right index finger, especially, contained two or three such minute splinters. The pain I experienced whenever my finger came into contact with most any object clearly confirmed their presence. Fortunately, with a straight pin and the skill of a surgeon, it only took my wife about five or six minutes to find and remove them all; and I came away from the whole experience none the worse for wear.

The soreness of my finger, however, brought to mind a story I once heard. It seems that a certain man went to the doctor and complained of being sore all over his body. The doctor asked him to point to where the pain was; which he did.

First he placed his finger on his neck, and complained of the pain there. Then, he touched his shoulder with the same result. Next came his abdomen, followed by his thigh, and last his foot – each in turn producing the same evident pain.

At this point, the doctor seemed to draw his conclusions, and made some notes on his chart. Eager for the diagnosis, the man pleaded with the doctor… “What’s my problem, doc? Why do I hurt everywhere I touch?” “It’s fairly obvious,” the doctor replied, “that you have a broken finger!”

The point of this little story is that some people go through life with a litany of complaints, all of which are leveled against outside factors - their circumstances, other people, etc… Some even blame God Himself for all their troubles.

But the truth is that they themselves, and not these other entities, are very often the source of their continual conflict, pain, and/or discomfort.

One of the wisest men I ever knew once told me that whenever a new person moved into this neighborhood, he would ask him about his former neighbors. The new neighbor was apt to give one of two responses. Either he would say that his former neighbors were wonderful people with whom he got along fine, and who he greatly respected and missed; or he would say that his former neighbors were terrible people, the likes of whom he was now quite glad to be rid.

But either way, the wise man would now know exactly what sort of neighbor he could now expect to have in the new resident. For how this individual got along with his previous neighbors was a pretty good indication of how he would now get along with his new ones!

All of this compels each of us to ask a question or two. Do I, do you, or does anyone either of us knows seem to experience a life of continual conflict, pain, and/or discomfort? If so, do I, do you, do they find it all too easy to affix blame for this on some other, external cause or causes?

Under such circumstances, might we be better served to undertake a little self-examination, and ascertain whether we ourselves just might be the source of our own continued misery? If we do find such to be the case, what can we then do to work on our own faulty perspective?

The effort to find and then fix the true source of our ongoing misery may not be pleasant; but take it from one who no longer suffers from a sore finger. It will be well worth it!

LIVING ONE’S PASSION!

4/27/2021

One of my favorite authors is the adventure novelist Clive Cussler. Now deceased, he wrote over 80 books, 26 of which were about his most famous literary creation, the heroic character named Dirk Pitt. 17 consecutive of these appeared on the New York Times best-seller list. Altogether, well over 100 million copies of his works were sold.

Several years ago, Cussler surprised a professor at the University of Oregon by accepting her longshot invitation to come and speak to here fiction writing class. In the process, he talked about how he his family came to America, how he was raised, his early career, and eventually, how he got into writing.

As part of the discussion, he discussed his love for books. As he did, he shared the following story, paraphrased here in my words...

A Hollywood producer loved books, and loved to discourse on them at any and every point. So much so that he soon turned virtually every conversation to the subject, and often bored people by belaboring the point.

A couple of associates decided to pull one over on him by employing a young aspiring actor to pose as an individual who inadvertently runs into the producer and strikes up a conversation over lunch. Soon enough, the topic turned to books.

After the producer had pontificated about the subject for some time, the young man told him he had just thrown away an old Bible that he found in a dusty, old box. He happened to mention that it was in German.

“Really? Do you remember who printed it?” asked the producer.
“Let me see… G… Guu… Guten-somebody-or-other had printed it.” said the actor.

"Not Gutenberg?" Gasped the collector.

"Yes, that was it! Gutenberg." Came the response.

"Why, you idiot! You've thrown away one of the first books ever printed. A copy recently sold at an auction for half a million dollars!"

"Oh, I don't think this book would have been worth anything close to that much," replied the man. "It was scribbled all over in the margins by some guy named Martin Luther..."

I have determined that there are essentially two types of people in the world - those who love books; and those who do not. While I am not a Hollywood producer, I do tend to fall into the former category. I read as often as I can; and listen to an average one audiobook per week to boot.

Sadly, for me, Clive Cussler died a little over a year ago, having lived to the ripe old age of 88. His scores of thriller books were centered mostly on ships and shipwrecks, archaeological pursuits, treasures both lost and found, globe-trotting travel, ancient history, and the like, all usually woven into intricate plots designed both to entertain and to educate.

But there is something more that is commendable about this man. All throughout his life, he did more than just write adventurous stories. He lived them out. He became an Eagle Scout at age 14. He served in the Unites States Air Force. He got married, had a family, earned a doctorate, wrote scores of books, travelled the world, and engaged in archaeology and discovery.

The latter he did by founding NUMA, the National Underwater and Marine Agency, the real-life counterpart organization to the one in his novels. Through this organization, he discovered and/or salvaged some 60 plus historical shipwrecks, including such world famous ships as the Confederate Submarine Hunley, the RMS Carpathia, the World War Two troop carrier Leopoldville, and numerous others.

Now I grant that not everyone cares for such things as history, archaeology, travel, treasure hunting, and adventure. Either you like such things, as I do, or you do not. But it seems to me that this is not the point here. What is the point here is that Clive Cussler loved such things, not just enough to celebrate them solely on the written page, but so much so that he also found a way to live them out!

The preacher in me recognizes an important principle here right away. How many of us claim to love certain things, but do not actually live them out? Specifically, how many of us purport to celebrate the principles found on the pages of God’s Word, but do not really love them enough to find ways to put them into practice, to live them out?!

To his credit, Clive Cussler lived out his passions. They consumed him. And thus, he investigated them, discussed them, wrote about them, and then pursued them. And in terms of both the knowledge he left behind and the inspiration he gave to whole generation of adventurers, archaeologists, salvors, and would-be authors, the world is now much better off because he did.

How much better off might the world also be if Christians did the same with their purported passions! There is little doubt that the Apostle James had similar thoughts in mind when he was moved to admonish us as believers to “prove ourselves doers of the word, and not merely hearers.”

We are clearly meant to practice what we know and preach to be the truth. A head full of Bible knowledge has little meaning if it is not lived out passionately in one’s life!

In summary, in every generation, the best approach to life will surely be to follow one’s heart and live out one’s life in accordance with one’s true passions. And the same holds true for one’s spiritual life as well!

CUSSLER’S LECTURE AT THE UNIVERSITY OF OREGON on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0aZCAlFVxIQ&t=2325s.

NOTE: Be advised - Cussler is often quite free with his expressions. But his stories are truly powerful.

SCRIPTURE SOURCE: https://biblehub.com/james/1-22.htm.

LITTLE MATTERS, BIG CONSEQUENCES

4/23/2021

We first met about a year ago when I retired and moved to the country. I was out walking one morning when we crossed paths. It (more likely she than he, though I never which) was a very large, mature snapping turtle, making its way across the pasture between ponds.

The encounter was brief; but memorable. I stopped and beheld the majesty of this creature for several minutes. It returned the stare with evident disdain; but I like to think that we parted ways with equal respect.

I saw it again and again over the next day or two, before eventually losing track of it. Though we parted company after only a few encounters, I never forgot the experience. In fact, I remembered it so well that I found myself in hopes of another meeting or two this spring.

This is exactly what came about this past week; though not nearly in the manner in which I had anticipated. While out walking a few days ago, I came across this same turtle, not 50 feet from where I had done so a year ago. Only this time, it was not in the pasture, but in the road. And this time, it was not alive, but dead. Its shell was crushed, and it lay in pool of blood, obviously as a result of being struck by a car.

Needless to say, I was saddened by the whole experience. Granted, we are only talking about a reptile here. But the demise of this magnificent creature still left me feeling somewhat saddened.

Snapping turtles, it seems, grow their whole lives. Thus, the larger they are, the older they are. For this reason, from my estimations of its size – with a shell somewhere around 15 inches – I have concluded that this particular animal was of an advanced age – perhaps several decades. It was likely in the prime of life, and quite healthy.

Nonetheless in spite of all this, it was apparently in the wrong place at the wrong time; and sadly, by its very nature, simply too slow to get out of the way. Alas! Life sometimes works that way. Despite our best intentions, the cards are stacked against us, and we come up short. I accepted these facts and went on with my walk, slightly saddened but somewhat sager by the acknowledgment of these facts.

Fast forward to the next day, when I once again set out on my morning walk, when what to my surprise did I encounter but another snapping turtle! Only this one was not crossing the road, but our driveway. And this one was not large and mature, but small and not fully formed. In fact, its shell was barely two inches long. It had obviously been born this very spring.

As it too appeared to be headed for the road, and the inherent dangers entailed, I chose to pick it up and carry it next door to my son’s house. I knocked on the door; and when, as I anticipated, my little grandson answered, I showed him the turtle. Suffice it to say that he was enthralled by what I had with me.

With the little turtle in my left hand and his hand in my right, my little grandson and I walked together to the back of our property, where we proceeded to place the small snapping turtle in the creek. As it quickly acclimated to the water, and then slowly made its way underneath a log, my grandson was fascinated. I, however, was given pause for further reflection.

I do not know if the large turtle of the day before was in any way a progenitor of the small turtle of that day. Given their close physical proximity, as well as their size differential, it is likely that the two were related in some fashion. The larger could have easily been an uncle, an aunt, a cousin, or a sibling. It could also have been a parent, a grandparent, or even a great grandparent.

Needless, to say, this latter realization had special significance for me as I stood there holding the hand of my very own grandson! You see, I have been blessed to live what many might consider a full life - if in no other way, then at least in the number of years. As to whether or not I have actually reached maturity in this process, others will have to judge. Either way, as turtles generally live long, full lives, I hope to do the same.

At the same time, I fully recognize that I am more than likely nearer to the end of my life than the beginning. And it is the recognition of this very fact that makes the blessing of grandchildren all the more special.

While the two of us stood there watching this little turtle swim boldly off into its future, it is likely that only one of us reflected on the events of the last 24 hours. Or on the parallels. Yet, I know that each of us will have some part to play in the living out of those parallels.

For my part, I hope to come to the end of my life one day with the satisfaction of knowing that I have been used of God to provide this grandson (and six more like him) with life and all the possibilities that entails. For his (and their) part, I hope he (and they) will one day venture boldly forth into the world and live that life to the fullest, in the process becoming all God intended for them to become, and accomplishing all God intended for them to accomplish!

I do not know if the mature snapping turtle referenced above died with any such satisfaction. But I certainly hope I will do so whenever that day comes for me!

The Old Testament Book of Proverbs (chapter 13, verse 22) affirms that: “A good man leaves an inheritance to his children’s children…” I, too, hope to leave an inheritance to my grandchildren. Only I hope it is one of more than mere material substance. I hope it involves a legacy. And I hope that legacy includes a good name, and a set of values, and a passion for life with all that entails.

Above all else, I hope it involves a spiritual component! I hope they will have seen in me a man who chose to live his life in a manner consistent with Biblical principles and in pursuit of the overarching will of God. If so, then I will know that I have been in large part the very person who God created me to be and done in large part exactly what God created me to do!

SCRIPTURE SOURCE: https://biblehub.com/proverbs/13-22.htm.

FREELY GIVEN!

4/19/2021

A pastor friend of mine recently told a story about a man who was an umpire for a local community softball league that was pulled over by a cop while running late to get to a game where he was to officiate.

Even though he knew in his heart that he was guilty, he went through the routine we all might expect to give in such a predicament… He was a safe driver. He normally drove at or under the speed limit. He had never even pulled over before, let alone been given a ticket… Only, today, in this one incident, when he was late, trying to get to a ballgame, had he inadvertently exceeded the speed limit. He would be more careful next time. Etc, etc…

The response from the officer? “Well, then, you’re just gonna bit a bit later now. You can just sit right here while I write you out a ticket!”

About three weeks later, the man was behind the plate and preparing for the opening pitch. Lo, and behold, who walked up to the plate as the first batter but the very same policeman who had given him the ticket?!

Recognizing the awkwardness of the moment, the cop decided to be proactive and break the ice by venturing the following question: “How did that ticket ever work out for you?” “Oh, it turned out alright,” said the umpire, “But, I’ll tell you right now that you had better go ahead and swing at every single pitch that’s thrown!”

We get the point, do we not! The umpire was serving notice that, in his opinion at least, the officer was now about get everything he deserved! This, of course, raises a crucial question – just what if we each got exactly what we deserved?!

If we did, of course, we would get God’s displeasure, God’s judgment, and God’s punishment. But the surprising message of the Bible is that God gives us, not what we deserve, by rather grace! As the Old Testament Prophet Isaiah puts it (chapter 30, verse 18): “…the LORD longs to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show you compassion.” Amen!

I write this today, just a couple of hours after a young sixteen year old girl who lives nearby came knocking at my door to tell me she had just hit our mailbox. She did not know that another lady, who had witnessed the whole affair, had already come and told us what happened. Nor did she know that I had already been out to the mailbox, assessed the damage, and even made the repairs.

For my part, I listened to her apology, and then told her it was alright, and that we all make mistakes. I also told her that I already knew of the incident, and that I had already taken care of the matter. I told her that all I required was that she tell her parents what had happened, and then learn from the experience. Visibly grateful, she wiped her tears, apologized yet again, and departed.

What I did not tell her was that she had just gone through a near universal experience – that of a driver’s first accident. I did not tell her that my son took out no less than three mailboxes between the age of sixteen and twenty one. Nor did I tell her that my wife, at age 15, while driving her parents’ station wagon with her learner’s license and mother aboard, took out a mailbox at 50 mph.

Above all, I did not tell her that I myself had bent more than my share of mailboxes, fenders, and bumpers down through the years. But what I did tell her was that we all make mistakes; and that what mattered was that she owned up to hers, and learned from the experience. (Just as my son, my wife, and yes, even I, had once done. And, my suspicion is, just as you too, my friend, if you are a licensed driver, have also done!)

In effect, I showed her grace. Why? Precisely because of what Jesus Christ Himself once postulated: “To whom much is given, much is required!” Actually, the New Testament Gospel of Luke (chapter 12, verse 48) puts it this way: “When someone has been given much, much will be required in return; and when someone has been entrusted with much, even more will be required.”

And now, as Paul Harvey would say, for the rest of the story… At age 16, as I was leaving church one warm summer Sunday evening, I backed right into the taillight of Mr. Roy Harkness, who was none other than our church’s Minister of Music. Sick to my stomach and scared to death, I sought him out and laid bare my soul!

To his everlasting credit, he recognized what an insurance claim would likely do to my rates, and so told me that, because I had sought him out and confessed, he would get an estimate and have me pay half. Three days later, on Wednesday evening, he told me the bill would be $90. The following Sunday, I gratefully handed him an extremely hard earned $45.

Roy Harkness is now in Heaven. I will be there one day. Once I am, I intend to seek him out and thank him for his lesson in grace. And who knows, I may well discover at that time that I am approached by some hitherto unknown young kid who was shown grace when they backed into either the bumper or the mailbox of a lady, who had herself earlier been shown grace by me when she backed into mine!

And all this is surely just as God Himself had intended! What I have been freely given, I have in turn chosen to freely give! For as we learn from the grace shown us by His One and Only Son, Jesus Christ, “To whom much is given, truly, much is required!”

SCRIPTURE SOURCES: https://biblehub.com/isaiah/30-18.htm;
and https://biblehub.com/luke/12-48.htm.

WHAT’S THIS I SEE?!

4/16/2021

Today’s blog is a follow up on my previous post. It concerns a conversation that unfolded between my grandson and me while we were enjoying the aforementioned order of McDonalds’ French Fries together. But first, a little background.

My wife and I had been undertaking a little spring cleaning. Included among the myriad of items on that list was the pressure washing of our garage floor. She and I were busy cleaning the floor when my son brought me a new high pressure tip he had recently acquired. He cautioned me to be careful, as it affected its purpose by forcing water through a particularly narrow slot, in the process creating an extremely powerful rotating jet of water.

I assured him that I understood. And promptly proved that I had no idea what I was talking about when, within thirty minutes, I had nearly amputated my left thumb by carelessly attempting to hold a piece of metal while I sprayed it. The stream of high pressure water literally sliced a gash a full inch long across my left thumb, cutting through multiple layers of skin in the process. It was only by God’s grace that I survived the episode intact, albeit with a nasty cut on my left thumb.

Now, this all transpired some three or four days before I saw my grandson. So it was that, by the time he and I got together, I had large, red, partially scabbed over wound on my thumb. As we were eating, and as I reached down to get a French Fry, he took notice of my wound, and made a simple observation: “Granddaddy, is that ketchup on your hand?!”

It was immediately obvious to me that, busily dousing every French Fry he selected in ketchup, my grandson had naturally made the assumption that the red wound on my hand must also be ketchup. I proceeded to explain to him what was on my hand, and how it had come to be there.

This whole episode immediately brought to mind the now famous painting by American artist Lars Justinen, who created a sensitive symbol of Christ's sacrifice in his world famous oil painting titled “What Happened to Your Hand?”

In it, one sees a little girl depicted beholding the nails scarred wounds in Jesus’ hand, and innocently asking, “What happened to your hand?”

Now, I’m glad my grandson takes note of any perceived wound to my hand. It simply proves that he loves me and is concerned for my well-being. But I will be far happier when he reaches the age of accountability and becomes concerned over the nail-scarred wounds in the hands and feet of God’s Son, Jesus Christ.

While I am comforted by the knowledge of his having taken note of my own wounds, I will be all the more comforted to know that he has taken note of Christ’s wounds. Why? Because his knowledge of my wounds ultimately has little consequence; whereas, by consequence, his knowledge of Christ’s wounds will have eternal consequence!

The 53rd chapter of the Old Testament Prophecy of Isaiah says it all. Pay particular attention to verses 5 and 6…

1Who has believed our message
and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
2He grew up before him like a tender shoot,
and like a root out of dry ground.
He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
3He was despised and rejected by mankind,
a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.
4Surely he took up our pain
and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
stricken by him, and afflicted.
5But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
and by his wounds we are healed.
6We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
each of us has turned to our own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.
7He was oppressed and afflicted,
yet he did not open his mouth;
he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
so he did not open his mouth.
8By oppression and judgment he was taken away.
Yet who of his generation protested?
For he was cut off from the land of the living;
for the transgression of my people he was punished.
9He was assigned a grave with the wicked,
and with the rich in his death,
though he had done no violence,
nor was any deceit in his mouth.
10Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer,
and though the Lord makes his life an offering for sin,
he will see his offspring and prolong his days,
and the will of the Lord will prosper in his hand.
11After he has suffered,
he will see the light of life and be satisfied;
by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many,
and he will bear their iniquities.
12Therefore I will give him a portion among the great,
and he will divide the spoils with the strong,
because he poured out his life unto death,
and was numbered with the transgressors.
For he bore the sin of many,
and made intercession for the transgressors.

That, my friends, is the Gospel of Jesus Christ in a nutshell. For truly, “by His wounds, we are healed”!

SCRIPTURE SOURCE:

https://biblehub.com/niv/isaiah/53.htm.

PAINTING SOURCES:
http://bitsandpieces-sonja.blogspot.com/2010/10/no-words-necessary.html;
http://larsjustinen.com/; and
https://www.goodsalt.com/dynamic/What-Happened-to-Your-Hand_7.html.

According to these websites:

“This beautiful picture is as reminder of God's love that beckons us to witness the innocent discovery of God's greatest Gift in the sacrifice of his son.”

“Lars Justinen was born near Seattle, Washington in 1955, the son of a naturalist father and high school art teacher. Lars’ first paintings were used to raise money for missionaries overseas. Over the years he has painted thousands of paintings for publications and galleries. Lars’ philosophy of art begins with the Book of Genesis - "Man was made in God's image," he observes, "and the first thing we learn in the Scriptures is that 'In the beginning God created.' To create a painting is, in many ways, a spiritual undertaking, because we mirror God's creative power. It is also a fulfilling and joyous process. I believe it is important to remember that all talent, energy, and opportunities come from God, not from us." Today Lars, his wife Kim, and their two children live in a remote fishing village in the Pacific Northwest where they enjoy country living and creative pursuits.”

NOTE: It seems obvious that Justinen was heavily influenced by another painter of a previous generation: Harry Anderson, who also painted a picture titled: "What happened to Your Hand?".

Cf.: https://harryandersonart.com/religious-art-i/; and
http://sacredartpilgrim.com/collection/view/9.

According to this website: “In 1945 Harry Anderson did his first painting of Jesus, “What Happened to Your Hand?". This painting depicting Jesus with modern-day children was decried as blasphemous by some adults, but was eventually printed in the publishing program after the editor's daughter longingly wished that she too could sit on Jesus' lap like the girl in the painting. This was the very first painting of Jesus done showing Him in a modern-day setting. These limited edition prints are signed and numbered by Harry Anderson. Lithographed on acid free paper suitable for matting and framing.”

Note that Anderson’s painting, “What Happened to Your Hand?” was intentionally included in the 1980 Academy Award winning film, Coal Miner’s Daughter, as part of the background in a scene in which Loretta Lynn and her husband, Doolittle, are with their small children.

QUIVERING WITH THOUGHTS…

4/12/2021

I tend to post a blog about twice a week. Obviously, as I am a bit late in posting this particular blog, this week has been somewhat of an exception. Suffice it to say that several factors conspired to cause the delay, the most significant of which is that I had some serious changes and upgrades for both my computer and internet service that had to be undertaken. In truth, they were all long overdue.

Let’s just say that I have quivered at the mere thought of the update process, knowing what it would likely cost me – not only in terms of finances, but also otherwise. The one redemptive factor in all of this, of course, is that they have now been addressed; and at least I am now getting caught up.

Not that other things haven’t been happening in my life while I have been offline. Indeed, they have. To begin with, the second of my grandsons celebrated his third birthday. A party, a cake, and a few presents, all topped off with fries from “Mickey D’s”, came together to comprise one big day for the little fellow!

Add to that the fact that he gained yet another cousin this week as well. I say yet another because he already had one brother and four cousins. But this week, they were all joined by grandson number seven!

The 127th Psalm (in verses 3-5) affirms the value of children, stating: “Children are a gift from the LORD; they are a reward from him. Children born to a young man are like arrows in a warrior’s hands. How joyful is the man whose quiver is full of them!”

Take it from the proud father of three children - if there was ever a true statement written, this one is. The blessings my wife and I have received as result of our three children are innumerable. But, at this point in my life, I now have to tell you that if this is true of children, then how much more is it true of grandchildren! Especially when God has seen fit to give you seven of them!

Not a day goes by that I do not marvel at the creative power of God on display simply in their having come to be! Each one has been born with all their little body parts properly in order, five fully functional senses, and a healthy appetite and digestion to boot!

Seven grandsons! All separated in age by four and a half years. Yet, they have each followed a very similar path. For instance, as each in turn has aged, the consumption of food has changed appropriately. The suckling of liquids has given way to the eating of increasingly more solid foods.

Along the way, the intake of energy has been equaled by the burning of calories. Each has learned, first to roll over, then to sit up, then to crawl, then to walk, and eventually even to run. The same is true for their communication skills. What at first was cooing has given way to babbling and then to words - the latter eventually manifesting itself in full-blown sentences.

Seven grandsons! Separated in age by four and a half years of age. Yet, the neatest thing is how each has a different set of strengths. One or two are clearly meant to be gifted athletes. Their running and ball handling skills abound. Others will most likely one day earn their living with their mouths. And one, in particular, is especially verbose. Who knows?! He may well prove to be a preacher!

Seven grandsons! Separated in age by four and a half years of age. Yet, each has been a tremendous blessing to me! And for this reason, I continually thank God for each and every one of them!

Oh, by the way, my son and I did something else this week. Behind the house in the woods linking our two adjacent properties, we set up a dozen or so archery targets. We have been enjoying leisurely walks through the woods together each evening as we have been shooting at the various targets (deer, bear, elk, antelope, turkey, peccary, boar, etc…).

But trust me, as pleasurable as this experience is, it does not even begin to compare to one other thing going on in the process – and that is being reminded, as I draw each arrow in turn to shoot, that my quiver has now indeed been made full. Not just of physical arrows, but also of little blessings from the Lord!

SCRIPTURE SOURCE: https://biblehub.com/nlt/psalms/127.htm.

LITTLE TYKES?!

4/6/2021

Nearly all of us have played with one or more of them at some point – Little Tykes, that is. They comprise a very extensive and very popular line of toys. Most likely, you, like I, first encountered them as a child. And now, like me, whenever you encounter them again as an adult, perhaps while playing along with a child, you still get to sense a little of the wonder of childhood. I got to experience some of that very wonder this past Sunday.

It was, of course, Easter Sunday. The service my wife and I attended was among the most unique we have ever experienced. We had been invited by our daughter to attend a special mid-morning Easter service with her and her family at a local high school football stadium.

We gladly accepted her invitation, in part because we desired to be there to be with her three young sons (and our three young grandsons). All three boys are under the age of five. She needed the help; and we needed the blessing.

The air was filled with excitement as the stadium filled and the service got under way. The music, though a bit loud for my 59 year old ears, was obviously God-ordained, especially for that particular gathering. Everyone around us seemed to be thoroughly engaged in sincerely worshipping the Lord.

The sermon that followed was what I considered to be an excellent message, in both its content and its delivery. In it, the pastor challenged all in attendance to consider what the power of the resurrection of Jesus Christ means to us today. He delivered one profound truth after another, leaving me much to ponder.

At the same time, I will have to admit that I really only listened with one ear, as it were. With the other ear, and with both eyes, I largely helped to occupy my three rambunctious grandsons. As we played with Play-Doh (which was, along with similar assorted items and activities, provided by the host church to each child in an Easter activity bag upon entrance), I found myself reminiscing about the myriad of church services I myself attended as a small child.

(Would to the Good Lord I had had such distractions! Devoid of any such devices, I usually came up with my own. I literally counted every single fleck in the ceiling of the little country church we attended. I found ways to fight mighty wars between the fingers of my right and left hands. I formed imaginative images out of the distorted lights emanating from the stained glass windows; and on the rarest of occasions when a wasp became trapped inside the little sanctuary, I followed its every bounding movement off of the ceiling with unbridled enthusiasm and rapt attention!

I thought about these things and many more as I vainly endeavored to occupy my grandsons’ attention in order to allow my poor daughter a few moments respite in which she could actually worship God.

In the process, quite unexpectedly I was confronted again with the notion of what it means to be a child! As I molded Play-Doh into first a ring for their littler fingers, and then a watch for their little wrists, all the creativity, all the amazement, and in fact all the wonder of childhood suddenly flooded back over me! In and of itself, this was quite an experience. For a fair portion of the duration of the pastor’s sermon, I enjoyed the momentary escape from the pressures of adulthood into the joys of childhood.

Then came the end of the pastor’s sermon and the biggest blessing of all. As only a God-gifted speaker can do, he skillfully undertook an invitation, during which, “with every head bowed and every eye closed and no one moving about”, he clearly presented the plan of salvation and led any would-be converts present through the so- called “sinner’s prayer”.

It was at this point that the Lord truly spoke to me! As the Pastor was conducting the invitation, and in the process, leading any and every one present desiring to become a Christian through the sinner’s prayer, a little boy, who was clearly not more than two to three years of age and sitting with his family one row beneath us, began to pray OUT LOUD, repeating phrase by phrase, the exact words of the pastor that he was hearing over the loudspeakers.

As he fiddled with his toys, he stated loudly and clearly enough to be heard for twenty five feet in any direction the following words…

“Dear Lord…” (Followed by a pause while the Pastor spoke.)

“I know that I am a sinner…” (Followed by another pause while the Pastor spoke.)

“I know that I deserve judgment and Hell…” (Followed by yet another pause while the Pastor spoke.)

“But, this very moment, I confess my sins…” (Followed by still another pause while the Pastor spoke.)

“I ask forgiveness of my sins…” (Followed by a still further pause while the Pastor spoke.)

“And I ask you to come into my heart, make me a Christian, and give me new life.” (Followed by one final pause while the Pastor spoke.)

“Amen!” (This last spoken heartily!)

Along with around fifty or so surrounding people, I was deeply touched by the simplicity and innocence of the words being offered up by the little child. I do not know that he knew what he was actually saying, given his tender young age. It is likely that he has not yet reached the age of accountability in God’s eyes. But to his credit, he was clearly engaged!

As I beheld all of this, the admonition given by Jesus (in the New Testament Gospel of Matthew, chapter 18, verse 3) came to mind: “Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.”

I’m glad I got to be a child once. I’m glad I got to be a so-called “little tyke”. In the process, I’m glad I got to live in a carefree time in which I was easily distracted by things that would later prove to be of little consequence! I am also glad that my parents took me to church; for it was there that I slowly began to comprehend the meaning of becoming a child of God!

For, in accordance with God’s perfect plan, there came a moment in time when I trusted in Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior. And when this happened, it was done with simple child-like faith and obedience. I accepted the fact that I too was a sinner and that I deserved death and Hell. But God sent His One and Only Son into this world to die for my sins on Good Friday, that they might be forgiven, and then to rise again on Easter Sunday, in order that I might be given new life in Christ Jesus!

At the same time, I am glad that there eventually came another time when, as the apostle Paul says (in First Corinthians, chapter 13, verse 11): “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.”

You see… Becoming a Christian is easy; but being one is not. It requires that we not only receive Jesus as Savior at the foot of the cross; but also that we go forth from the empty tomb committed to serve Him as Lord! This latter part is not always easy. It entails giving ourselves completely to Him, and yielding fully to His Divine will and plan for our lives!

And yet, as we do this, god works His miraculous power in our lives and we find that we grow in grace, eventually becoming the mature followers of Christ we were each meant to be. We may start out as little tykes spiritually, but hopefully, over time, we grow into strong, fully developed believers, able to reproduce ourselves in others and helping them to become all God intended for them as well!

A popular children’s product commercial includes a well know phrase at the end of its jingle: “I’m a big kid now!” Sunday reminded me that this is exactly what I hope I now am spiritually. Having given my heart to Jesus, I will always see myself as a child of God. But I hope I will also be seen by others as a big child of God, in the sense that it will be evident to all that I have grown into both who and what God desired for me to be!

What I hope for myself, I also hope for you as well.

SCRIPTURE SOURCES:

https://biblehub.com/niv/matthew/18.htm; and

https://biblehub.com/niv/1_corinthians/13.htm.

ALL I CAN DO FOR YOU!

4/2/2021

A few weeks ago, in an earlier blog post titled JUST DESERTS?!, I referenced a series of messages by Charles Swindoll on Matthew, chapters 1-7, called “The King’s Arrival”. I return to that series again today with regard to another story told by Swindoll. In his March 30, 2021 podcast titled “Our Favorite Sin, Part 3”, he shares an illustration that has particular relevance during this week leading up to Easter.

The following is a summary of Swindoll’s story…

Elmer Bendiner was a navigator in a B-17 during WW II. He tells this story of a World War II bombing run over Kassel, Germany, and the unexpected result of a direct hit on their gas tanks…

“Our B-17, the Tondelayo, was barraged by flak from Nazi antiaircraft guns. That was not unusual, but on this particular occasion our gas tanks were hit. Later, as I reflected on the miracle of a 20 millimeter shell piercing the fuel tank without touching off an explosion, our pilot, Bohn Fawkes, told me it was not quite that simple.

On the morning following the raid, Bohn had gone down to ask our crew chief for that shell as a souvenir of unbelievable luck. The crew chief told Bohn that not just one shell but 11 had been found in the gas tanks. 11 unexploded shells where only one was sufficient to blast us out of the sky. It was as if the sea had been parted for us. A near-miracle, I thought. Even after 35 years, so awesome an event leaves me shaken, especially after I heard the rest of the story from Bohn.

He was told that the shells had been sent to the armorers to be defused. The armorers told him that Intelligence had picked them up. They could not say why at the time, but Bohn eventually sought out the answer. Apparently when the armorers opened each of those shells, they found no explosive charge. They were as clean as a whistle and just as harmless.

Empty? Not all of them! One contained a carefully rolled piece of paper. On it was a scrawl in Czech. The Intelligence people scoured our base for a man who could read Czech. Eventually they found one to decipher the note. It set us marveling. Translated, the note read: ‘This is all we can do for you now.’”

I find this story particularly significant as Holy week unfolds and Easter approaches. As I write this, it is Good Friday, the day commemorating when Christ was crucified. And I cannot help but see certain parallels here.

No one will ever know just who this anonymous Czech slave laborer was. Very likely, he died at the hands of his captors, the evil Nazis. But even in his adversity, he clearly found a way to insure that his imprisonment and death were not to be in vain. Even as he was at the mercy of his enemy, he found a way to impart life to his fellow man!

And there you have the gospel in a nutshell! For there, you have a picture of what Jesus Christ did for us on that very first Good Friday. Even as He was at the mercy of His enemy, the Evil One, even as he was imprisoned and giving His life on a Roman cross, He was still finding a way to give life to those He loved and cared for!

I am one of those He loved, and saved by His sacrifice. And so are you! I trust you already know this. If not, then I encourage you to revel in the Good News of the Gospel. For as the Bible tells us, “He died for us so that … we may live together with him.” May we never forget how much God loves us! May we exult in and celebrate His love forever!

SWINDOLL VERSION SOURCE:

https://subsplash.com/insightforliving_usa/lb/mi/+h95q2kg.

ORIGINAL STORY SOURCE:

Elmer Bendiner, The Fall of Fortresses (New York: Penguin Press, 1980), p. 139.

SCRIPTURE SOURCE:

https://biblehub.com/1_thessalonians/5-10.htm.

SEE ALSO:

https://biblehub.com/bsb/isaiah/53.htm.