People tend to be narrow minded. We make judgments based on our experiences in our own lives rather than looking at the broader picture, especially failing to consider the times and events surrounding specific moments in history. People will condemn the use of atomic weapons in Japan in 1945 and the loss of around 150,000 Japanese lives. They ignore, or conveniently forget, that the Japanese government was fanatical and would never give up the war they had started, that the Japanese populace had been trained to become a giant defending army and that an invasion of the Japanese home islands would have cost a million and a half American live, over ten million Japanese lives and would have destroyed the whole nation. Our children today are taught that the first settlers came to this country to exploit and systematically destroy the natives here, rather than for religious freedom. People refuse to examine event from the past in light of the circumstances in which they occurred. Which is tragic.

          The American Civil War is one such example. People on the political left are beginning to talk civil war now, but they have no understanding of the horror of such a thing. They want a president removed but do not want to wait for elections. The American Civil War had a much deeper cause. Several causes, actually, that struck people at their very core. Causes that made men clash in some of the worst battles anywhere in history. Those talking of such things are foolish, even stupid, in their understanding. The American Civil War was horrible in its magnitude and inspiring in its heroism. One such story that covers both the horror and the heroism follows.

            Julia Ward Howe was a woman who lived a hundred and fifty years before her time. She was a suffragette in a time when such a thing was unthinkable. (Quick now. Who knows what a suffragette was? This is what I mean by people only making judgments based on current life.) She had her own independent thoughts about religion and politics. Different thoughts than those espoused by both her father and her husband. Many others shared her religious and political views. You may have the same views now. But in 1861, a woman was supposed to have her husband’s or father’s views.

          In 1861, Julia was 41 years old. She had given her husband, Samuel Howe, six children by then, the last coming just the year before. She was a strong anti-slavery believer, but she was in anguish over the fact that the United States was now split in two warring factions. Worse for her, while she despised slavery, she also knew that the Bible did not condemn that institution. She could see the two factions fighting to total destruction, both certain they were fighting on the right. It was with this conflicted attitude that Julia arrived in Washington D.C. in November of 1861 with her husband from their native Boston. They were there on her husband’s business, but it was the first time she had seen the effects of the war.

          She saw the fortifications that surrounded Washington. The fighting was just a matter of miles to the south. Wounded were being brought back to the City daily. Wounded who screamed out their pain in that time before painkillers. The stench of death and decay permeated every corner of the Capital. Uncounted horses and wagons and other military needs clogged the streets. And soldiers. Everywhere soldiers. Marching, drilling, preparing for war. Her two oldest children, both girls, were almost of the age to go and fight, if they had been boys. As she looked at those young men preparing to be slaughtered, she thought of the countless women, her age, who were crying and praying for their boys.

          Standing by a window one evening, she was listening to the soldiers sing “John Brown’s Body,” a song popular at the time about the abolitionist John Brown and his death by hanging for his abolitionist views and actions. (Again, if we don’t know the circumstances surrounding historical or Biblical events, we cannot really understand what was happening. So, look up John Brown.) She remarked to a friend standing close by, “I hate that song!” “Well,” he said, “it has a good tune. Why don’t you write something better to the tune?” Julia was a poet of some note. In her recollection of the moment, she said she took quill and paper and began to write, rarely looking away from the encampment of Union soldiers that stretched out before her. She didn’t write about great political ideas, nor did she quote any of the leaders of the day. She wrote from her heart and she wrote from the power of Christ in her life.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord, Her deep Spiritual faith.
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; Coming from an area that grew grapes, she slipped into a visual she understood.
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword She believed both sides would pay a Spiritual price.
His truth is marching on. Always, she felt, His truth would march on.

I have seen Him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps; As she looked out that window, she could see young men praying.
they have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps; Every night the chaplains would hold services.
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps She believed that the righteous sentence of God was whatever He willed, rather than what man felt should be.
His day is marching on. It was His day.

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; The first Battle of Bull Run had been fought just a few months before. Great numbers of civilians from Washington had gone south to watch the spectacle, fully expecting the Union forces to crush the South. However, the Southern forces ripped through the Union like a hot knife through butter, driving soldiers and civilians back to D.C. The blaring of the trumpets as they called ‘Retreat’ was considered a national shame.
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat; A crushing blow, the defeat brought a nation to the Lord.
O be swift, my soul, to answer Him! Be jubilant my feet To Julia, it was far more important at this point to answer God’s call rather than the Union call. Only by standing with Him could the nation stand.
Our God is marching on. Our God will always move forward, whether we march with Him or not.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
with a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me;
as He died to make men holy, let us live to make men free,
while God is marching on. This last verse is a recalling of His birth, His glory, His death and our job, which is to make people Spiritually free while we do His will.

This isn’t the meaning to the song that I worked up. This is the meaning Julia wrote about years later. The song became known as “The Battle Hymn of the Republic”, which was fine with her, so long as we understood what battle she was talking about. She simply called it “Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory.” The glory of God in the dedication and heroism of war.

Happy Fourth of July. And as you celebrate, remember that this country was put here so that men and women could worship as they pleased and hold the God of their heritage high. Maybe most of the nation has forgotten, but we do not.

          Well, it is about to happen. I am moving.

          Not out of state. Not out of the parsonage, at least not yet. Out of my office. My current office is right in the area of the new construction at the church. When the construction is complete Rena and I will have new offices. So, for now, we are going to have to vacate the old haunts. “When” is the question. However, it really doesn’t matter to me. For this office, I am traveling light. Four plastic totes for my books and I am out. It hasn’t always been this easy.

          An office has always been an important place for me. Not as a prestige thing, but as a place of solitude where I could think and study and counsel. I have tried the ‘work from home’ kind of thing. Doesn’t work for me. If I am home, Marsha likes to pop in for a visit. Several times. We used to have a cat named Fred who liked nothing more than to jump up and lay down right in front of me. Any little household emergency required my attention, from spiders to sink leaks. It just wasn’t good. But the office has always been a good thing.

          First office. 1978. Sunset Hts. Baptist Church. Hialeah, Florida, which is a city that borders Miami. I was the associate pastor/ music pastor/ youth pastor. My office was AWESOME! Huge. Two walls lined with bookshelves and the shelves were filled with books. A huge desk that somehow looked small in the room. A window that opened up to the church’s courtyard where there were two small palm trees. It was an amazing office. The church had a sanctuary that sat over 500 people. State of the art (for then) sound. An educational wing that had ten Sunday School rooms, all very large. However, the church had been built during the 1950s and 60s. At that time the neighborhood was all Anglo. (English speakers in South Florida are called ‘Anglos.’) The church had two services each Sunday. They had a pastor, an associate, a minister of music and a youth pastor. By the time I came along the entire neighborhood had become Hispanic. We had a Spanish mission of over 400 people, but the Anglo church was in the 40 to 50 range. I had a great office, but the church couldn’t afford to pay me a full time salary, so I rebuilt carburetors and sold auto parts and the office went mostly unused.

          Second office. 1983. During seminary. Sandy Creek Baptist Church. Ponce de Leon, Florida. Seating capacity of the church was 50 people. Very country in the panhandle of Florida. The office was so small that the small desk in it went from one wall to the next. To sit in the chair, I had to leave the door open. But it was great. I went to school, worked 40+ hours a week and pastored the church. The only time I could study for school or get ready for sermons was after 10 at night. I would study and prepare and when I could no longer stay awake, I would go out the back door and walk through the cemetery, eventually getting back to the parsonage. I only fell asleep once at the desk in that office. I fell off the chair and didn’t have enough room to properly fall, so I was wedged pretty securely for a while. But I did enjoy that office.

          Third office. 1985. McKinley Community Church. Warren, Ohio. We had gone to Ohio as home missionaries for the Southern Baptist Convention. That is not a good memory. But McKinley was a wonderful experience. The office was great, too. If you are familiar with the copier room at the church, that was my office. Seemed really big after the previous office. Actually, it was bigger than that, but most of it was taken up with the furnace. I also had a desk that had a mimeograph machine. Those were outdated even then, but that is how we still did all our stuff. I was in the basement. No one wanted to come in and have to sit with the furnace, so it was secluded. Just me and my books. It was great. If anyone came in for counseling or just to talk, we went out to fellowship hall. But that was the most private office I ever had. Later on, we had a small building project going on and they wanted to construct a new office area. I told them that was fine, but I wouldn’t be moving. I know the next pastor hated sharing with the furnace, but I really enjoyed it.

          Fourth office. 1995. Park Street Christian Church. Geneva, Ohio. The pinnacle of a church office. The secretary’s office was attached by a door and the two offices were the size of the entire sanctuary back at Sandy Creek Baptist Church. This church wanted a pastor/counselor, so the office was top rate. Extremely attractive so that those coming in for counseling could be comfortable. Two very nice wing chairs and one very nice full length sofa. A desk I often referred to as the aircraft carrier. I once had a lock-in with all the boys in the youth group. It turned out to be a thundering, rainy night. We were in fellowship hall and I called lights out. I told the boys that I trusted them to behave, so I was going to go up to my office to turn in. That was when the storm really hit. Lightening and thunder and all of a sudden the boys were pouring into the office and throwing their sleeping bags on the floor. There was more than enough room, but I had to leave. They were stinking the place out. When we went to that church I made the assumption that it was the end of the line. I could never want a better situation. I was prepared to stay 30 years. So, I made that office truly mine. It had more of my ‘stuff’ in it than our home did. I could be there at any hour of the day or night. No TV, just books. Eventually a computer. It was truly my home away from home.

          But we only stayed 11 years. When I moved out of there it took load after load. Never again, I promised myself, would I make an office so much like home. If you are doing it right in the ministry, you are functioning at the Lord’s beck and call. You might think you and hunkering down for a 30 year stay, but He may have another plan. Eventually I went to work with the funeral home and became a church consultant part time. At the funeral home I shared an office with two other directors for seven years before getting my own little office and for the church work, just worked from home.

          And then the Lord brought us here and this office I have occupied for the last two+ years. Now, there is a new office to be built. That is exciting. We will just have to see how it works out. However, it will only be a good place so long as the Lord’s will is accomplished there, just as the remodeled church will be a good place only if we seek Him out. The work doesn’t end with the end of construction. That is when the real work will begin.

          This blog is called ‘From the Pastor’s Desk.’ My monthly article in the church newsletter is also called ‘From the Pastor’s Desk.’ These will continue to have that name. But for a while I will be moving to temporary quarters until construction is complete. So, even though the name will not change for the blog, it is actually going to be “From a Table the Pastor is Borrowing Somewhere.”

Blessings!   

          It is a strange little story, but one that is very important.

          The woman lived in a society that didn’t allow women to own property, have real jobs or in any way to be independent of men. What was worse, she was apparently not of the people she lived with, a stranger in a strange land. She didn’t look like them, she had no respect, no honor was given her. We do know that based on her offspring and how they looked, she was very different. She had a family; parents and other relatives, but no children of her own and no husband. It seems that none of her family were of any importance and it also seems that it fell to her to provide a living for that family. To that end, she sold herself. She was a prostitute. Life would have been desperate for this woman.

          History gives her an odd name. The name literally ‘Big Red.’ Being that this was at a time before the color red was associated with prostitution, most people assume that the name was descriptive in nature. Like a red headed, light skinned man being referred to as ‘Red.’ Some of this woman’s descendants are said to have had ruddy skin and red hair, so the assumption is that Big Red was because of the way she looked. No one who was naturally born in her city or area would have had fair skin or red hair, so, again, it is thought she was a trophy of some far flung war. But, assumptions are just assumptions. There may be a totally different reason she was called Big Red. But the evidence fits that it was descriptive.

          The common thread that has bound one society to another society, and eon to eon, is war. Mankind is always at war. We say we desire peace, but we are always ready to fight. It would be n amazing thing to know how many people have died in one conflict or the other. To say that one day man will outgrow war is to be ignorant of what makes humanity tick. One day, yes, there will be no more war, but only when the Lord returns. And so it was, that the city Big Red lived in was now besieged. There were no airplanes to bring over bombs, no artillery to blast away the walls of that great city, no tanks or Humvees to charge the massive fortifications. Just an unprepared people not used to war camped outside the great city that stood in their way. The people inside the city barely slowed down their evilness and hatred. The group outside would eventually tire of this and go away.

          Big Red did not want her family to die in an all out war, but she had no love for the people of the great city, either. One man after another came to her, yet she was barely able to eke out a life. Rejected by the society matrons, she was accepted by the husbands of those matrons, but only in the most base of ways. She would have known of the gathering outside the walls, but there was nothing she could do.

          Then one day there was an uproar within the city. Shouts and curses filled the air in neighborhood. Big Read’s rooms were built into the city’s walls, which was a place not to be desired. In time of war, a determined enemy would attempt to scale those walls. If you lived in the wall you were much more likely to die. Being in the wall, she would only have had to open her door to see what was happening.

          It might have been, though, that you didn’t want to know. So, we don’t know if she did look out. What we do know is that suddenly two men appeared at her door. This was not unusual. She was a prostitute, after all. But these men were not after sex. They were after safety. They wanted to escape the authorities of the city and get back to their own people, who were the very people who now camped without the city walls. These men were spies and now they needed to get their in formation back to their leaders.

          Big Red lived a hard life. She knew what people were like. Turn these men in and there would almost certainly be a lessoning of that hard life. Maybe a reward, maybe some honor given to her, surely something that would have improved her lot in life. But, she was moved by these men. Against any good judgment, she decided to help them. Not only did this endanger her, but it also endangered her family. Her price for hiding these two men and then helping them escape was a promise that she and her family would be spared. This was a foolhardy deal for her to make. Almost certainly these people would fail and she and her family would die, but Big Red, for some reason, believed.

          The two spies escaped and got back to their own lines with their information. The walls were breached and the city fell and Big Red and her family were not only spared but accepted fully into this new society. One of those ‘happily ever after’ stories.

          But it doesn’t end there.

          By now, most of you have surmised that this is the story of the conquest of Jericho. Big Red is translated in our English Bible as Rahab or Rachab. We would think that, at best, Rahab is merely a minor heroine. But, she was much more than that. She married a Jewish man named Salmon. One of her descendants, just a few generations later, was King David. A thousand years after that, she had a descendant named Jesus. Her courage not only changed the Jews, but also changed the world.

          She might have, if she had lived to a great age, known the baby David. However, there would have been no way for her to have known Jesus. But, her perception of those two men and the bravery she showed by reaching out to them and risking all, make her one of the greats in history.

          The point of this is that we should never sell ourselves short. Maybe we will not rattle the world in this life. But the foundations we lay may be used to one day build something totally incredible. That is not so far fetched, either. It all adds up, it is all connected.

          A child’s prayer. “There is but one life, it will soon be past. Only what is done for Christ, will last.” Begin doing something, even if it seems small, for Christ.    

          The other day I posted a blog about Jesse Duplantis, the Louisiana evangelist who wants his ministry’s followers to send in 54 million dollars so that he can buy a plane that will take him anywhere in the world with only one refueling stop. He says it will save money because he will not have to pay the high cost of fuel in some foreign country. The reality is, Duplantis doesn’t leave the US very often. He and his wife have a 35,000 square foot home just out of New Orleans, so they are sort of home bodies. But that is beside the point.

          At dinner on Wednesday evening, my wife brought the subject up. I was really enjoying the chicken and pasta recipe she had made, so she did most of the talking. “Do you think his followers will actually put up that kind of money? I mean, they have already bought him three planes, but this is a lot of money. That would be terrible if they spend that kind of money on a plane rather than real ministry. I wonder what his wife thinks about all this. Is he married?”

          By this time the chicken was gone and there were just a few pastas left. This allowed me to join in the conversation.

          “Well, Marsha, I imagine she is OK with it.” Marsha shook her head. “I don’t know. She has to know that is excessive.”  “Sweetheart, they have one child who is now grown and married and living away from home. The Duplantises live alone in a 35,000 square foot home that cost $3,000,000 to build. Twenty five rooms plus an in-house movie theater. His net worth is between 40 and 50 million dollars. Multiple cars. Rolling acres surround the house. She is probably OK with anything he does. In fact, I bet she hasn’t had a yard sale in a long time.”

          Marsha just stared for a bit. Then, “How long has he been doing this?” “I don’t really know, but at least since 1976.” Marsha nodded her head. “So, one year less than you?” I thought for a bit…”Yeah, I guess that’s right.” Marsha looked at me thoughtfully. “What’s your net worth?” I laughed, but she repeated the question. “What’s your net worth? You’ve been doing this longer, you should have more money.” “Marsha, I could never preach the prosperity Gospel.” “Why not?” “It’s not right. It’s not backed up by Scripture. I couldn’t mislead people.” “Not even for a little while?”

          This conversation did happen, but it was all in fun. The prosperity Gospel is a lie. By taking verses out of context, you can make an argument for it Biblically, but if you read and know the Bible, you know the Lord doesn’t promise wealth and health and all good things. In fact, we are called upon to suffer for Him.

          But then again, maybe there is something to it. I couldn’t go big money, but, well, you know. It’s like this.

          When I grew up only farmers had trucks. Usually, an unpadded church pew was more comfortable than an old farm truck. If you were to look at a restaurant or theater parking lot, you would probably not see a single truck. It just wasn’t done. Except by me. I drove the farm truck on dates occasionally because it had more gas in it than the car. Marsha’s Dad figured I was some backwoods hillbilly. He did not like it at all. But, I liked the truck. It smelled bad, it ran really rough and rode like a, well, like a truck. I just figured, to bad, sweetie. If you don’t like the truck, you don’t like me. I have always liked pick-ups. But I have never owned one. I drove a company pick-up for a while and my neighbor Lou had a pick-up he let me drive when I was doing something for him, But I have never owned one. I have always had fuel efficient cars because I drive a lot and have limited funds. A truck, however, would be a neat thing to have. I don’t want a new truck. Those cost about as much as a small house. No, an older truck. Maybe a four wheel drive, but not necessary. Something that can tow the trailer I don’t have and have no use for. Color doesn’t matter. In fact, I like that rust color you see on some. I’d be willing to spend, well, maybe $3000. But I can only do it with your help. If I had a truck, I could go all the way to Fort Wayne to the hospitals and come home on just one fuel stop. I could carry one other person comfortably, or we could squeeze in two others. Jesse Duplantis said that if Jesus was here now He would be flying around in His own jet. Well, Duplantis is wrong, folks! Jesus would ride in a farm truck! (Seriously, I think we would see Jesus in a farm truck a whole lot more than in a jet.) So, if you can help, send those checks to the church and they will be tax deductible.

          And so long as we are talking about ministry, there is this blog you are reading now. This is written on a laptop that cost less than $500, but that was back before we went all prosperity Gospel on you. This blog is read in thirty nine countries. (Actually, that is true and I have no clue as to why it is read in 39 countries. It is read in Russia more than any other country except for the US. Kind of creeps me out a little.) Now, folks, don’t you think that if we are going all over the world on the world wide web that we should have something more than a $500 laptop? To really get into a real good system, you are talking $3,000. Is that to much to ask, good folks? If I had a really good system, why there would be no end to what I could write. If Jesus were here today, you can bet He wouldn’t be using any old $500 Hewlitt-Packard laptop. No, He would have one that could anticipate His next words. If you want to help, send that donation to the church and it will be tax deductible.

          The last two paragraphs have just been for fun. (Well, the truck, now, would be cool.) But this does illustrate the absurdity of the prosperity Gospel. I have eternity to bask in the grand blessings of God. Here, on this level of existence, it is time to do the job. It sounds odd coming from me, because most of you know me and know I would reject such heresy. But coming from Duplantis or some of the others, people accept that and give to it. Don’t be mislead, don’t be gullible. Be God’s man or woman and stand for the Word.

          Blessings.

          Bill was going to have double by-pass surgery. Good hospital, good doctors, pretty standard procedure. He wasn’t happy about it, but he would do whatever he needed to do to be healthy. He was soon to retire from the fire department of a small city where he was the captain of one of the divisions. Just in his early 50s, he and his wife Sandra looked forward to traveling. He was also the chairman of the deacon body at our church and was a fine Christian man.

          Surgery day. Sandra and her two adult daughters were there. No one was particularly concerned. Bill was a strong and healthy man. We prayed with him before he went in. A few hours later the doctor came out and told us all was well. He was still sleeping but would wake soon and we could see him. I had someone else in a hospital a few miles away, so I said my goodbyes and promised to stop in later once Bill was awake.

          Bill never woke up.

          The machine that handles the functions of the heart and lungs during the time the heart is stopped had malfunctioned. Instead of infusing the blood with oxygen as it ran though it was infusing it with carbon dioxide. Bill was without oxygen to the brain for a number of minutes. He died a week later, never having regained consciousness.

          His widow decided not to sue. There was no point, she felt. Bill was gone. But a week after Bill passed, another man died at the same hospital from the same thing caused by the same machine. The nurse who called Sandra begged her to sue, if for no other reason than to just hold the hospital up to their responsibility. Sandra decided to do this and a long drawn out legal battle ensued.

          This, however, is not a cautionary tale about hospital abuses. Bill’s situation  weighed heavily on our minds when I had my surgery, but that is something else entirely. During Sandra’s early meetings with her lawyer, he told her what kind of questions would be put to her on the stand. The defense would try in every way possible to call into question Bill’s health, saying eventually that he was so sick and weak he was about to die anyway. How much did Bill drink and smoke, what kind of wild sex did he have and with who, what kind of illegal drugs was he on. Sandra was shocked. Bill was a good Christian man. He didn’t drink or smoke or have any bad habits. Yes, the lawyer told her. Her legal team would have a doctor on the stand who would testify to Bill’s fine health and obvious clean living. But the point of the defense’s line of questioning was to put doubt into the jury’s mind and to rattle Sandra in order to get her to say something incriminating. (The defense team did just that and Sandra was a rock.) Sandra looked at her lawyer and said, “I know my Pastor will testify that my Bill was a good, good man! The jury will believe him!” Now, here is the point of this blog edition. The lawyer looked at her and said, no, the worst thing that can be done in a situation like this is to have a minister on the stand. No one believes or trusts them.

          That was over twenty years ago. Sandra won her case. Hospitals throughout Ohio had to change their maintenance standards. Sandra won a settlement, but it wasn’t as large as most thought she should have, but that wasn’t the real goal of the suit. It all worked out.

          However, it was the first time I had run into that attitude about ministers. There was a time when a minister was respected for no other reason other than the “Reverend” at the beginning of his name. It was like that when I started. But things had changed. Not just with ministers, but with any committed Christian. No one believes or trusts them.

          That is kind of harsh. When did this change happen?

          Well, it wasn’t a sudden thing. People the nation over didn’t just wake up one sunny Thursday morning and say, “You know what? I don’t trust my pastor as far as I can throw him.” No, it came along gradually. Little ripples in the pond, mostly, along with the occasional big splash. Some minister who embezzles a little money from the church. Doesn’t affect any other church but does shake up the church that was stolen from. A ripple. A minister has an affair. Doesn’t affect a wide number of churches but it is another ripple. Then the big scandals came along. These are the big splashes. They really disrupt the pond. But all the smaller incidents together cause great damage, too. Meanwhile, the good news that came out of churches has lessened as churches decline. Churches and denominations reject the teaching of the Bible to try and stay in harmony with society and all that it accomplishes is that society despises the lack of spine in those churches and denominations. Now, the pond is in disarray. The waves eat at the shore line. Only in places where there are rocks to block the waves do the waves not break and destroy. Just pockets of dedicated Christians.

          The latest big splash happened last week. Jesse Duplantis, an evangelist out of Louisiana, is asking people to send in $54,000,000 so he can buy a new jet for the ministry. He expects it will happen, too, because he has done this before. Three times before. People have sent in their five and ten dollar contributions to buy these planes so he can fly around and preach his version of the Gospel.

          The media is doing what they can to make him look like a fool. No one believes or trusts them.

         The thing is, of course, he isn’t a fool. He is a huckster. He is using religion to feather his nest. He says he needs this new plane so that he can fly anywhere in the world with only one refueling stop. I think you can make a lot of stops for 54 million dollars. I know nothing about this man. Have never heard him preach. I have very little use for the televangelists. They do way more harm to Christianity than good.

Millions of people out there will dig into their pockets and buy him yet another jet so that his ministry can encircle the globe. His ministry has a location in the United Kingdom and in Australia, so he is international. To prosperous, English speaking countries. He is going to be at a meeting in Edmonton in Canada later this month. Does he really need the new plane? And if he has it, he has to have a crew to fly it. Two pilots and one in-flight crew member as well as a ground crew. If he had the plane he wouldn’t have to ride in some big airliner and mix with the ‘little’ people. He wouldn't have to take his shoes off in the terminal like the rest of us so TSA could check for bombs. If he had the new plane he could fly triumphally into Edmonton this month and people would flock to hear the Word. It boggles the mind.

Does he really need the new plane? No, he does not. He is attracting attention, though. CBS posted a video of him pointing to pictures of the planes his ministry has bought. He points to the first plane and talks about it for a bit, then the second and then the third. The fourth picture is the Starship Enterprise from the TV show Star Trek. He is looking like a fool. Then, he says that if Jesus were here today Jesus wouldn’t be riding a donkey. He would be jetting around the world preaching the Gospel. Now he is making Jesus look like a fool. He is asking his followers to send in them money, just like they did before. He is making them look foolish. Wow.

Are his followers foolish. No, they just want to spread the Word and he is promising to do so for them. Is Jesus a fool? No, Jesus is God. When He was here He could have gone anywhere (without a fueling stop) He wanted to go. He could do the same now, too. Instantly. But, His mission was to Israel to begin Christianity. Maybe He wouldn’t travel around the Holy Land on a donkey, but maybe He would, too. Is Duplantis a fool? No, he is a con-man who wants a fancy new plane to fly to Canada. He doesn’t care if he damages the world’s view of Christianity. He just wants his plane.

The Gospel needs to be spread. The intention was never for one man to do the spreading. We are all involved. We need to share with our neighbor, our friends, our co-workers. We must not depend on the televangelists of the world. People who hold up Christ in such a way that the world jeers His holiness.

Don’t be taken in. I can take a verse here and a verse there and make it say whatever I want. But you cannot find a book in the Bible that holds an entire passage that says that if you believe in Jesus and have enough faith, you can have anything you want. We are Christians. We are not fools.

          This past Sunday evening Marsha and I were at Timbercrest. I was speaking at their evening chapel service. As is our custom from doing this kind of thing for a long time, we got there early and went around shaking hands greeting people. We don’t do it together, but instead I will usually start and then Marsha follows shortly. The result is that each resident gets two visits instead of just one visit by two people. One lady I talked to engaged me in a jokingly manner and we both had a couple of good laughs. As I was moving away, I reached down to shake her hand again, and when I did I, without thinking, put my left hand on her right shoulder. I caught myself, pulled my hand away, smiled and moved on.

          What was the big deal, you might ask. Believe it or not, that action has been determined in a court of law to be sexual assault. Back in the 1980s, a secretary for a large firm sued her immediate supervisor for sexual harassment over just that action. She won. Back then, that amazed me. I went to a seminar on sexual harassment to see what all that was about. What I learned was astounding. And that was 1989! It has gotten worse as time has gone by. Coincidentally, women are wearing more and more provocative clothing while screaming more and more about sexual harassment.

          What I learned….a handshake that lasts just a moment to long, any hug other than an A-frame hug, a hand on a woman’s back that touches her where her bra strap is, the handshake with the other hand on her shoulder (you are restraining her and putting her in bondage), never ever touch a woman’s face, never be alone with a woman, the list goes on. These are all forms of sexual harassment or assault. What really disturbed me was what is considered sexual assault toward children. If a little three year old girl runs up to me and I scoop her up and her derriere is on my arm (like it would be if you were holding a child) then I have just assaulted that child and probably ruined her for life. If I call a little girl (or a big girl, for that matter) ‘sweetie,’ I have just used sexually provocative language. Believe it or not, if I refer to a little boy as ‘buddy,’ it is also sexually provocative.

          You may not believe this to be true, but it is true. And, if your life is spent dealing with people, it is impossible to live up to these rigid rules. I must confess to you, given what society sees as sexual harassment, I am guilty. I have lingered over the occasional handshake, usually because the woman wouldn’t let go. I have done the wrong kind of hug, but what do you do when a woman who was a friend of your mother loses her husband of 60 years and you arrive in the middle of the night with the removal team to talk with her? You hug her as long as she needs to be hugged. I have placed my hand on a woman’s back in an attempt to keep her from stepping on me. One night, many years ago, Marsha and I were seated at a theater when two ladies were squeezing past us to get to their seats. The older of the two, and the largest, got right in front of me and apparently thought she had reached her seat. All of a sudden, she started to sit down on top of me. I put both hands up to ward her off and had a double handful of rear end. She squealed and I apologized and we all laughed, but I could have gone to prison, I guess. I have reached up with a Kleenex and the wiped the tears from a young mother’s face as we have talked about her child’s funeral. I have held a three year old girl on my arm because she ran up to me and wanted to be held. One time Marsha and I were out and we heard a loud “HEY!” We both turned and a blur was headed toward me. It was a seven year old girl, but I didn’t know that at the time. She leaped through the air into my arms and wrapped me in a fierce hug, arms around my neck and legs wrapped around my chest. “IT’S HIM, MOMMY! IT’S HIM!” Turns out, she had been in VBS. She told her mother, “This is the guy who told me about Jesus!” I was a little bothered and the mother was a lot bothered, but in the end, it was OK.

          The rules are crazy. You are a man and you are waiting to get onto an elevator. A woman comes up and begins to wait, as well. When the door opens, do you motion her to go before you, or do you go ahead and go first? You are a man and you are exiting a grocery store. As you head to your car you notice a woman having a difficult time getting her door open with her arm loaded with bags. Do you take a few bags, do you open her door, do you walk on to your own vehicle? Recently, on Facebook, there was a general question posted. “Are there any real men left out there who will still hold a door open for a lady?” Of course there are, but will we be accused of being sexist and condescending?

          It seems everywhere we look these days there is another well known male being accused of some sort of sexual misdeed. I am sure some of those accusations are true. But why would a woman who had been handled in a shameful way or had been talked to in a degrading manner or has had her career derailed for refusing sexual advances, why would that woman wait ten or twenty or thirty years, until the man in question was famous or rich or both? And why is it that when one woman comes forward all of a sudden four or five or ten others suddenly remember that they, too, were treated poorly by the same individual?

          I believe that many of these accusations are true. No doubt. But I also believe that some of the accusations are for publicity or extortion. Usually, the statute of limitations has run out, so the alleged perpetrator cannot be prosecuted, so what is the point other than some self serving motive? The most recent is against Morgan Freeman. I don’t know anything about Freeman, other than if he is in a movie I will at least consider going to see it. I rarely do, but we seldom go to the theater anyway. Three times a year, maybe. But I do think Freeman is a good actor. In his personal life, he may truly be a sad excuse for a person. But the whole accusation scenario of these eight women seems almost orchestrated. CNN was the reporting network, which makes me shake my head, anyway. And, while some of these incidents involved Freeman ‘looking’ at the woman in a way that made her uncomfortable, a couple involved actual touching. Why go to CNN? Why not the police? If the man in question is a pervert, let’s get him off the street so he cannot molest any others. These women are called brave for coming forward. I think it is just convenient. If they were brave they would have taken care of it long ago.

          I know, being a man there is no way I can understand how hard it is for a woman in today’s society. Our church in Ohio supported an organization that sheltered abused women and children. One day I was leafing through their monthly newsletter and found an article that said 25% of all women have been victims of rape or some other severe form of sexual abuse. I called the organization in question and, in general, got the run around. Finally, two days later and after multiple calls, I finally talk to a woman who told me that their surveys showed that the number was actually less than 10%, but that they knew (I guess because all men are animals) there were women who were just too ashamed to admit it. So, they set the number at 25%.

          How does this affect us? Well, I have been told that I am cold in my actions toward women. I rarely hug a woman. I refrain from just reaching out and even touching a shoulder. It changes who we are and how we react. And it also tells girls who are growing up to be women that men are predators. Not to be trusted. Feared, even. You rarely see a man and a woman as good friends. The cesspool that passes for our society says it has to be something more. This is tragic and wasn’t, I believe, as God intended. Men and women have different views and thought processes. Mixing those in a friendly give and take can often result in some really good programs and can reach hard to attain goals.

          We were told in seminary that all of us, if we stayed in the ministry for more than in ten years, would eventually run into issues with the opposite sex. The professor told us that it might just be that someone wanted to start a rumor and stir the pot. Somehow, for 42 ministry years, I have avoided that particular pot hole. Many, however, are not as fortunate. One of the real problems is that so many believe what they see on the internet or read in papers or hear on the news. I firmly believe that the actions of the Kardashians and others of their ilk are not newsworthy.

          What a sad state we are in. I was asked once what I would want to wrap up in my life if I knew the Lord would return tomorrow. The answer is absolutely nothing. Ready to go and leaves world behind.