The Apostle John.

          People talk about Paul and Peter a lot. Great men! Deserving of just about any good thing people might say of them. (For the record, Peter was not the first Pope. He died in Rome as a prisoner, not as the Bishop of Rome.) But John…. now there is someone to model one’s life after, especially if you are a Pastor.

          In the famous painting ‘The Last Supper’ by Leonardo da Vinci, we see John portrayed as a very effeminate man, no facial hair and an almost frightened look on his face. The painting is supposed to be the moment Jesus tells the disciples that one of them will betray Him. They all start talking at once to each other except for Judas and John. Judas sits there staring at Jesus and John has drawn away from Jesus. The reason John looks very womanish is because Leonardo used the same female as his model that he used for Mary in some other paintings. It is because of that painting that we have come to think of John as a slightly built, quiet man of little consequence.

But John was a fisherman. Not the kind of fisherman who drops a line into the creek now and again, but a man who hauled nets and fought storms every day. A man who lived a physical life. And a man who, later in life, took whatever the Roman officials threw at him and endured it, all in the name of Jesus.

So, I have been thinking of John. Historically we know he was actually a pastor of three or four churches. First, Second and Third John are all written to those churches. We also know that he was in his late eighties or early nineties when he died. In thinking about this wonderful man of God, I began to wish he and I could sit down and talk for a while. Some day we will be able to do that, but for now one can only wonder.

I think if we could bring John here for that sit down, he would be fascinated by our world. Personally, I think that throughout the prophetic portion of the Book of the Revelation, he is seeing our world. He describes things he can’t understand but in our time are easily recognizable. However, people have been saying that he is describing their time frame for hundreds of years, so I think I will just let God sort that out. Anyway, if we could bring him here for a while, think how he would react.

We would want to put him in our style of clothes so he wouldn’t feel like people were staring at him. Imagine his reaction to a zipper. How would you explain that little device that is in so much of our clothing? Could you explain Velcro to the Apostle John? And how would you explain boys wearing their pants halfway down their rear ends? What would this disciple who was beloved of Jesus think of a young lady in very short shorts? Or, worse yet, yoga pants? Would he be hesitant to climb into a car? Almost everything that we find common place he would find unusual, even fantastic. Unbelievable. A toilet! A shower! A washing machine! I wonder what his thought would be when you explained your cell phone and what it could do. Even the most ordinary of us has luxuries and technologies that even the Caesars didn’t have and couldn’t dream about. What a rush it would be.

          I think at some point, John would want to get away from all the new stuff. Maybe head out to a farm and just relax with something he could understand. Only the farm wouldn’t help him. How would he process a tractor? What would those big rolls of hay in a field mean to him? Could his mind even begin to cope with tens of thousands of laying hens in an egg producing facility? John would be out of his depth.

          Well, he was a fisherman. We could turn him over to Ed Fitch to take him fishing. Only, would that work? He had fished with big nets. He would have no idea how to use one of Ed’s rod and reels. (Ed would have given him one of the cheap ones to use. Ed has to be pretty sure of the person before he turns over quality.) Would the Apostle John even know how to bait a hook? And a boat that could glide across water without a sail of a bank of oars…. Pure amazement. With his head spinning      and all his senses just about fried, we would try and get him calmed down. We would tell him that in a few days we were going to be celebrating Easter. Surely he would like that.

          Except he would have no clue as to what we were talking about. Easter would sound to John like a holiday some of the pagans observed during his time. Why would we want him to observe Easter? So we would explain that Easter was all about the Resurrection of Jesus. This would be even more confusing. The Easter he knew was a fertility festival. What did that have to do with Jesus? But, eventually he would agree.

          By Sunday he would be anxious to get to a worship experience. Entering the church would be, for John, an incredible experience. There would be much he wouldn’t understand. Actually, there would be nothing he would understand. What was the purpose of windows with colored glass in them? What were the benches for? Why was the preacher elevated above everyone else? The music coming out of those big boxes would be totally different from anything he had ever heard. Not that it was unpleasant, just different. We would explain that people all over the world could, if they so choose, watch the service, and that fact would completely amaze John. And so, finally, we would get started.

          But this wouldn’t be the worship service he was used to experiencing. That is not to say it would be bad, just different. As John would sit there and listen, his mind would puzzle over it. And then it would hit him. Somehow, with all the trappings and all the amazing technology and all the music and everything, we were just not quite connecting with the Resurrection. Clearly we knew the story, but we were missing something.

          Almost apologetically, the dear friend of Jesus would rise to his feet. The shoes he had to wear to be like us would be causing him pain. The shirt and pants he was wearing would be irritating and uncomfortable. Slowly, John would come up the steps to the pulpit, and begin to speak. Instead of a polished sermon it would be the words of a fisherman who had witnessed the greatest events ever. He would tell us about Jesus healing the sick and blind and diseased. He would tell of those who hated Him, and those who loved Him. He would tell us of the joy and the feeling of expectation when Jesus rode into Jerusalem, and yet how odd it was that Jesus Himself wasn’t expressing joy. He would explain the emotions at what turned out to be the last supper with Jesus. How they felt when they found out it was Judas who betrayed their Friend. And then, the fear. The guards had come to take Jesus away. He would tell us how they fled and how awful he felt because he couldn’t stop his feet from racing away. They all went into hiding. They knew that the people who hated Jesus also hated them. They went and escaped into the darkness. And then John would tell us of the streets of Jerusalem. Dirty and dusty as Jesus struggled with the Cross. We would hear, sitting there in our sparkling clean church, all about the people who spit on Him as He went past, how on Golgotha they nail Him to a Cross and dropped it into a hole. John would tell us how, while standing there with Mary, he heard Jesus charge him with caring for the woman who had brought Jesus into the world.  He would tell us of the darkness that came, of the final words of his Friend and how they brought Him down with no care for His wounded body. Standing there in a nice, orderly church, John would describe how blood and water sprayed when the spear ripped into His heart.

          After pausing to collect himself, John would go on. About how he and Peter wound up together. Cowering in their fear, they would have tried to figure out their options. And then, just at sun up, the other Mary came to them. Jesus was risen! No longer in the tomb. She had spoken to an angel. John would have told the church that day how he and Peter          raced for the tombs. How they looked into the tomb where Jesus had laid. How the grave cloths were neatly folded. How Jesus Himself was gone.

          John’s story would have gone on for a bit. Eating with the Resurrected Jesus. Spending time with Him. Watching Him ascend into heaven. Hearing the angels give them their instructions. And then John, an old man, really, would have looked out at the congregation and taken a deep, ragged breath.

          “And that’s the way it happened. You can believe it or not, but that is what happened. He died, He was buried, He rose from the dead and He is coming again. And all who believe that simple truth, will go home with Him. Amen.”

          Rachel was 21. Vivacious. Fun. Ornery. Mother of 6 month old Kyle, Jr. Kyle, Sr was 23. He was willing to go along with things the craziness of his wife, but having been married for two years and having a baby, the increasing responsibilities of life had begun to take hold. You could look at these two and see not only love, but a growing respect. And the baby was a healthy and happy little guy. I had met them at the funeral home, where I worked, at grandparents funeral, first when Rachel was verypregnant and then once just after the baby. I took an immediate liking to all three of them.

          Everything was great. Until that night at work when an accident fatally injured Kyle. He held on for four days, but the injuries were too severe. He never regained consciousness and he was never able to whisper “I love you” to Rachel one last time. He left behind a 21 year old wife and a 6 month old baby who bore his name.

          Both Rachel’s parents and Kyle’s parents were very worried about Rachel. What was she going to do? What would happen to her? How could she deal with a child all alone? It was all so overwhelming. Rachel seemed to be in shock. She answered questions with single words. She clutched to Kyle, Jr. She had that look in her eyes; seeing something other than what was in front of her. An empty look.

          I knew something that her parents and Kyle’s parents didn’t know. I had seen similar situations. I had watched young people climb out of the pit. I had a real feeling that Rachel would eventually bounce back. She just needed a little help. That was my job, at least at the beginning.

          Five years later I heard my name called out in a grocery store. Turning, I saw Rachel, now 26, flying down the aisle pushing her cart in front of her. She came to a sliding stop when she got to me and gave me a big hug. Usually, when I worked at the funeral home, I dealt with grieving spouses or parents or adult children in the first 6 months of their grief. Because there were so many, I had to file them away deep in my brain and move on after our time together was done. While Rachel was running toward me, my mind was clicking away through faces, trying to place this wide eyed, laughing girl. By the time the arms wrapped around my neck, I had connected the dots. I pried her arms away (I don’t hug very often) and held her at arm’s length. She was laughing, but tears were in her eyes.

          “I want you to meet someone. You remember Kyle.” A shy little smile from a little face peeking around the leg of a young man I didn’t know. “And this is my husband, Geoff.” They had been married almost 9 months and now lived in a neighboring town. Little Kyle was trying to get Geoff’s attention by pulling on his pant’s leg. “Daddy, I have to pee!” We all laughed and Geoff scooped the boy up and carried him off, leaving Rachel and me to talk. “Am I an awful person that I met someone else?” “No, of course not! You need someone to share your love with and Kyle really needs a daddy. You are fine, girl!”

          Was her love for Kyle real? Of course it was real. So is her love for Geoff. Young love is intense and resilient. Young love carries with it hope and ambition and a little fire. But…love at 21 is very different than love at 81.

          I am still on the e-mail notification for obituaries at that funeral home in Ohio. There are notifications almost every day. More often that not, the names are familiar to me. This morning I saw one that made me chuckle. Mr. Kuebler, a WWII vet, had been married to Dorothy for 72 years and they had lived in the same house all those years. When Dot passed, he went to live with his daughter. I asked him one day how he managed so many years of marriage. He winked and said that he had been born on Valentine’s Day, so it would have just been wrong not to have been married all that time. Mr. Kuebler was 104 years old when he passed away this past Monday. The other obituary was a gentleman I had never met, but I wish now I had. Mr. Etzel, also a WWII vet, also passed away on Monday. He was 97 years old. At the time of his death, he and Bernadette had been married 73 years. She survives him. All those years, all that love, all that experience.

          It all brought my mind to the losses of this week here at the church. Comparatively speaking, Jim Krom, at 82 years of age, and Richard Miller at 81 years, are just young whipper snappers. And, compared to Mr. Kuebler and Mr. Etzel, both were virtually newlyweds. Jim and Carol were only married 63 years and Richard and Janice just 62 years.

          Rachel and Kyle were really, truly, in love. But that love was very, very different from the love that the Kueblers and the Etzells and the Kroms and the Millers shared. Rachel and Kyle probably would have gotten there if the accident hadn’t happened, but it would have required change. Crisis in the form of deaths and sicknesses and financial issues and whatever else can happen. Weathering all the storms together. Facing disappointments and angry moments. And the fights! Oh, my, the fights! When you are 21 you never imagine that you and your partner will ever fight! But you will. It will be epic. You will deal with it.

          I see in a long marriage an amazing love. My one and only regret I have in my own life is that I will never have that amazing love. But it has been my privilege to see it. To be around people who have been married and in love for 50 and 60 and 70 years. It always makes my heart lift in joy.

          I believe I have shared this before on these pages, but maybe not. A great example of love. While at the funeral home, a gentleman died whom I had known since my pastoring days. His wife was so precious. Both of them were gracious people. They had been married more than 60 years when he passed away.

          He was a pretty big guy. As I talked with the wife and her children, she gave me a picture of them on their wedding day. She still looked much the same, but he was a skinny little guy, just home from the war. I smiled and told her we would place the picture on a special table of mementos.  Then she handed me some clothing in a sealed plastic container like what a new shirt might come in. “Pastor, this was the suit we were married in and I want him to be buried in it. It was the only suit he ever owned.” Her son took her hand and said, “Mom, that suit isn’t going to fit anymore.” She turned to her son and said, “Why not? It will be fine.” All I could do was take the suit. But it was going to be way, way to small.

          When it came to the point that I could dress him and get him into his casket, I determined I would make every effort with the suit. By the time I had finished I had just about worn out a pair of scissors. We always said that we could make anything fit, but there are limits. It did not look good. I had a suit provided by the funeral home on standby. The family would be in early and I knew that when she saw the suit, she would want to go with the funeral home suit. I led her into the viewing room and she got her first look at her husband in his suit. She began to weep, which I had expected. It didn’t look good. Finally, she turned to me. She laid her hand on my cheek. “Pastor, thank you! He looks just like he did the day we were married!”

          Love like that is beyond words.

          And we are witnesses to it this week.

          Blessings.            

           It has been a year.

          A year ago, we were all plunged into the COVID-19 mess. Our church was shut down for weeks, but there are cases of some churches that have yet to reopen. In some places, state governors or city mayors fined or even jailed people for gathering together for any reason. When sporting events were eventually allowed to recommence, there were often cardboard cutouts of people in the stands and crowd noise from previous games piped into the venues. Social distancing and masks and hand sanitizer all became the rule, and for some reason there was a run on the purchase of toilet paper. The whole thing was politicized and greatly affected our political structure, perhaps for generations to come.

          So now, a year later, we see new cases going down throughout the country except in isolated areas. We are learning that death numbers were exaggerated in some places. We are dealing with a new normal. We see that with people staying home more, domestic violence, drinking and tobacco consumption all increased. Jobs have been lost and some businesses have been closed for good. People going into the hospital or into nursing care facilities are only allowed phone calls or, for the lucky few, visits by loved ones standing outside their windows and talking to them over the phone. Sometimes you can get in to see them, one at a time, if they are dying within 48 hours. But then you have to garb up like you are going for a walk on some barren, alien planet. This, we are told, is the responsible response. We are left wondering if things will ever get back to where they once were. Will we ever feel safe? Will we shakes hands again or give hugs or kiss a favorite aunt. How has our society changed?

          For me, being a Christian means I have lived outside societal norms all my adult life. How society has changed is far less important to me than how this pandemic has affected other Christians.

          The definition of religion is; the belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power, especially a personal god or gods. I wince when I hear someone say they watch a sport religiously, or they watch TV religiously, or they spend time with their family religiously. Since we have language, we should be aware of what we are saying. Such people are actually saying that sports or TV or family are their god. The same goes for the person who says they go to church religiously. Church should not be your god.

But back to the definition. Many religious people have ceased going to church because of the pandemic. Maybe their church has shut down, maybe their denominations have shut their churches down, maybe their fear has caused them to stay away from church. Will they go back now that restrictions are easing and vaccines are available? They are religious. They can believe in that superhuman controlling power from home. They can worship that superhuman controlling power from home. Do they really need church? Not according to religion. It can all be done in the home or at a park or walking through the woods or strolling through a bean field. Church is not necessary for the belief or worship of a superhuman controlling power.

           But, what of Christianity? Christianity is separate from religion. Christianity is not the idle worship of some superhuman controlling power. In Christianity, we are not controlled. We are united in a blessed family and our response to Christ is out of love, not obligation. Hebrews 10:19-25 says this; 19 Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, 20 by the new and living way that He opened for us through the curtain, that is, through His flesh, 21 and since we have a great Priest over the house of God, 22 let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. 23 Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful. 24 And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, 25 not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near. So, what is the author of Hebrews saying? He is saying that through the sacrifice of Christ and the eternal life that is provided by that sacrifice and the blessings we can enjoy right now, we MUST gather together. Some can say they gather with their families, but is that a true worshipping experience? As I write this, I just had one of the sweetest examples of the Lord’s blessings fall upon our church. God is so good to His people! We MUST gather together.

          So, what has the pandemic done to your Christianity? Not your religiousness. That is different. But after this year, are you a better Christian, or have you used a situation to back away? With the vaccines, it appears to be under some kind of control. So, how has it affected you?

I can tell you how it has affected our church. From the start, we have encouraged folks in the crisis groups to stay home. Many have. But some of those are ‘plotting’ their return. Looking forward to walking through the doors because of the vaccinations. Rejoicing to be back in the presence of brothers and sisters in Christ. By Easter, many will have returned. And even without the vaccinations, folks have been blessing the congregation with their presence. New faces, new members, new energy. As a people of God, we are rebounding. Stronger than before. We have seen suffering and death, but that is part of being a family. I look at our people and I see the power and grace of God. The religious folks can change their life habits if they like, but the Christian folks have drawn closer to the Lord.

Technology has helped. Mary Earle and I write blogs that are read in at least 80 countries. Every month we have right at 400 views of our worship videos and they are also available to anyone in the world with internet access. We can keep our people informed and united in a time when we are told we have to limit contact. But tech cannot replace the sound of a baby trying to sing with the music, tech cannot replace someone tearfully announcing the coming birth of a grandchild, tech cannot replace the sharing of a funny story before church between two friends. Tech cannot replace being here, taking your seat, resting in the grace of God and being with your brothers and sisters.

I have kind of a different take on this than most. The day is coming when Christianity will be persecuted. Christians will be prevented from going to church or from gathering. Such restrictions will come about in a seemingly normal manner. People won’t revolt. The government will explain that there is no choice. We see this in prophecy. I see this last year as a scaled down version of that coming day. If we can’t stand for the Lord during this time, how can we stand when the real crisis comes? The religious have shown that they won’t stand. But here, at the Yoke, we see Christians rising up. When the vaccinations take complete hold, I expect some of our folks in the crisis groups to come back and rise up as well.

So, we have been at this for a year. Are you a better Christian than you were a year ago? That should be a normal progression. No virus should affect your Spiritual growth.

I have seen so many wonderful things happen this COVID year. Some frustrating and sad things, too. But to see Christians overcome is the greatest joy a Pastor can have. I am proud of the people of this congregation and proud that you have invited me in to be your Pastor these last five years.

 

         I am dizzy, my mind is foggy, I have had chills and then sweats and I hurt all over. Wednesday I had my second COVID-19 shot. This is far worse than the first shot. I have decided I would not go to the office. I can hurt and chill and sweat at my desk and there are those who say I am always foggy, but I am having a hard time walking from the computer to the kitchen. The rooms swirl around me. Driving the seven miles to the church scares me. It should scare you, as well.

         I do not want to be totally useless, though. I have tried to write my blog twice now. I finally gave up. And then, I had a wonderful idea! Back on January 11, 2017, I wrote my first blog. Actually, it was a test blog just to see how the system worked. I always intended to get back to it and publish it, but I just sort of forgot about it. I started this whole thing at the insistence of several in the church, so now you get to see the original and see what you started. So, from 01/’11/2017, even before Donald Trump took office, my first blog effort, which you have never seen. Except Mary, who said it was 'well, OK.'

        So, this is a blog. I have read blogs and I have read about blogs. I have never really considered doing a blog. However, when we did the 40 Day Prayer Guide e-mail at our church I added my own two cents in, usually in the form of a thought and a story. Several on our prayer chain e-mail asked if I could continue with the writing and this seemed to be the easiest way to accomplish that task. I would like to thank Mary Earle for her help in setting this up. She, herself, is a blogger and she has shared her expertise with me. I had no idea how to do this. I would invite all who read this to read Mary’s blog, “Mary’s Moments.” That blog address is http://mary-marysmoments.blogspot.com/    I am sure she will be tickled you dropped by.

            I have done a little research on what is a blog. The word ‘blog’ is a shortened version of the word ‘weblog.’ Basically, a log of one’s activities and thoughts published on the internet. My first encounter with the idea came back in 2001. At that time I wrote a weekly article for our church’s newsletter. The newsletter went out to hundreds of postal addresses and one of those addresses was a religious organization based in Illinois. They contacted me with the idea of doing a weblog. That was interesting and so I asked what I would need to know to produce this weblog. I was told that I would need to know the basics of HTML and computer programming. Actually, I did have some experience in these things, but when I worked on programming it was the early 1980s and you had to have these huge notebooks to take you step by step through the cyber minefield. Even though the technology had changed somewhat, back in 2001 I didn’t want to be bothered with it all. Now, however, it has changed to the point to where most people can do a blog if they want. It is easy, and that appeals to me!

            Which illustrates how technology has advanced even in my short lifetime. Well, maybe not so short. I was born in Eisenhower’s first presidential term. But still, the changes have been incredible. For instance, when was the last time you heard a kid talking about their pen pal? No one has pen pals any more. You would send off a letter, wait a couple of weeks and get a letter back. The process would then repeat. Now, if you are old fashioned, you do e-mails. If you are more up to date you use various social media. I only ever had one pen pal, and she wasn’t really a true pen pal. We merely exchanged letters for a while. Now, 45 years later, we are friends on Facebook. She is a funeral director in Missouri. Television is another thing. I well remember the rabbit ear era. The concept of pulling a signal directly off a satellite with your very own satellite dish was completely unthinkable. As was the idea of having your own computer or a phone you carried around in your pocket. I remembered how amazed I was, as an adult, the first time I used a pocket calculator. I actually know how to use a slide rule! And, I can write in cursive. Now I understand that in just a year or two there will be a pocket translator on the market that you can set for one of a dozen languages and then speak into it in English and the language you choose will come out the other end. There will be no need to learn new languages. It would seem that there are no technological barriers any more.

            Everything changes, it seems. What used to be a family unit, a Mom and a Dad and the children, is no longer the only family unit. There have always been single Moms, for one reason or another, and even once in a while a single Dad. But now a child can have two Moms or two Dads. Now when I have do weddings, it is quite often the biggest problem is where do you sit the step parents and the step grandparents. Schools can no longer control the students and parents can be arrested for spanking their own kids. While technology gets better, family life worsens and society seems to be in chaos.

            Even in religion there are huge changes. Parts of the Bible are now considered hate literature. Religion has become a gooey, watered down mess. We can’t teach Christianity or Judaism in schools, but Islam can be taught. Religion has become thought of as a big money enterprise with pulpits filled with hypocrites and pews filled with simple minded folk. So much has changed in so short a time.

            Except for the wonderful and blessed story of Christ and His ability to change lives. Christianity is under attack, but it has been attacked before. Communism, socialism, fascism, Islam, paganism, various religious groups who have sought to take Christianity and bend it to their own wants. Oh, yes , Christianity is under attack. But it will survive, and the same creature who is behind this attack and all previous attacks, Satan, will lose.

            This blog illustrates the huge changes that have taken place during my life time. But it will always represent that one constant that will never change; Jesus Christ, sacrificed for our sins, living now on the right hand of the Father and coming again!

          It was the summer of 1985. It had been really hot and really muggy. Where we lived had no air conditioning. Open the windows and set up fans. Miserable. One evening in late July, my four year old son came to me. “Daddy, can I sleep outside tonight?” Interesting question. I thought for a couple of seconds. “Well, you can sleep outside only if I can sleep outside with you.” His face lit up. “Yeah! Let’s sleep outside!” Mommy wasn’t too happy, but so long as I was there, she figured it would be OK. After all, she told Adam, if anything comes up that is hungry it will eat your father first because he is bigger. That was said to scare the little guy, but he just giggled.

          About nine o’clock we went out and laid a blanket on the ground. A couple of pillows and we were all set. We lay on our backs and looked at the sky. Adam talked and talked until I told him we needed to just lay still and be quiet. In a couple of minutes, we heard the wind pick up. Clouds started to move across the stars. What was left of last year’s leaves started skittering across the yard. I thought in my mind, ‘OK, he’s going to want to go inside now.’ Instead, I heard a real quiet laugh.

          “Is something funny, son?” “Just thinkin’. Why do people even want to sleep inside?”

          Indeed. A summer breeze may be the most relaxing sound in the world. That, and waves crashing on the shore. But the movement of the wind brings so many things. Soft caresses, distant sounds, smells. From the breeze you can tell what the weather is soon going to be, you can hear voices from well down the road and you can gather the knowledge that Mrs. Wilson from way down the road has baked a couple of apple pies. Central A/C has ruined a lot of what a breeze can tell us, as has traffic noises and television, but if you indulge yourself, the movement of wind brings all manner of information.

          When the breeze strengthens to a wind, it can become something else. It can become dangerous. I belong to an exclusive little club. I have been in a vehicle in a hurricane, a tornado and a waterspout when it came roaring ashore. Hurricane Frederick hit South Florida like a sack of bricks. I was supposed to be somewhere, so I told Marsha to stay put, I was headed out. How dangerous could it be? They fly planes into hurricanes. Made sense, sort of. (Note to church; next time you are interviewing a pastoral candidate, ask him if he ever willingly drove in a hurricane. If he did, DO NOT INVITE HIM BACK! He is an idiot.) For the tornado, Marsha was driving. She actually did remarkably well, all things considered. Between the screams. The tornado was ripping through a corn field, which we couldn’t see because of the trees. When it hit the trees it elevated some as it crossed the road. I don’t know how high it was, but I do know it went over head. The roof of the car popped up (and stayed that way) and it felt like the wheels left the pavement. The tornado dropped into the field on the other side of the road and went on its merry way. The car was fine, except that the doors were a little hard to open and there was a funny looking dome on top. I was driving for the waterspout. A waterspout is a vortex over water, usually not as severe as a tornado because it is picking up water, which is heavier than dirt and dust. They rarely come ashore, spinning out fairly quickly because of the weight of the water. One evening the conditions were just right and I suggested to the wife that we go down and see if we could see a waterspout over Lake Erie. The particular park I wanted to go to had lights that shone out over the Lake to warn ships of the rocky shore. They also let you see out in the dark. Just as we entered the park, a spout raced onto shore. Immediately the car was beat with hailstones that left big dents in the metal. The wind was intense and water was everywhere. I got turned around and took off. We couldn’t seem to get away from it. The noise was so loud we couldn’t talk to each other. We were almost home before it let up, but we only lived a few doors away from the Lake and could hear the pounding of the surf all night. We got in our driveway and, in the relative quiet, I could hear my heart pounding. Marsha had her head down and was bent over in her seat. She slowly looked up with a big smile. “THAT WAS AWESOME!” Yeah…..

          This is the month for wind, and I love wind. Little soft breezes, big blowing gales. Each one tells our very souls something. It is just a natural thing.

          In the Bible the Hebrew word for the movement of air is ‘ruwach’ and the Greek word is ‘pneuma.’ You know what the word means by the context in which it is used, whether it is gentle or fierce or anywhere in between. But both words are also translated as Spirit, as in the Holy Spirit. When the Lord chose a word to describe the third in the Trinity, He chose a word that meant the movement of air. It could be a soft whisper, it could be a hearty breeze, it could be a roar. It is perfect, really. Like the wind, the Holy Spirit can come up at any moment. The Spirit can be a soft and gentle nudging or He can grab hold of our lives and put us on a completely different path. The Spirit can make it hard to walk in the direction we want to walk and He can give us a boost. The wind can bring us comfort with a gentle touch on tear stained faces and the same wind can lift a kite to new heights or billow a sail to move us forward. In the same way, the Spirit brings us comfort in times of distress (Jesus calls Him the Comforter) and the Spirit gives us the power to step up and bring a witness to the world. The Spirit is the very thing that enables us to stand for Jesus. A lot of people believe that if they are excited by a praise song or fiery preaching that they are in the Spirit. But the true evidence of the Holy Spirit in our lives is the ability to share the love and power of Jesus with others. The rest is emotionalism. Nothing wrong with emotionalism, but the Holy Spirit changes our lives so we can change others. If it is just emotions, then it is empty.

          Little kids (and their grown up Dads) don’t sleep under the stars much anymore. Heat and humidity does not drive them out because the central air units hum along pushing cool air through the house. Kids might sleep in a tent for a few nights, but that novelty soon wears off. The house, with closed windows, shields us from the storms and winds of nature. In the same way, all kinds of things keep the Holy Spirit from getting through. Busy schedules, other concerns, sometimes even church blocks the Holy Spirit. We think we are aware of the Spirit, but it isn’t changing our lives. When we are open to the Holy Spirit, our lives change, not just our emotions.

          A four year old boy, lying on his back and looking at the stars, laughs quietly and asks, “Why do people even want to sleep inside?” That should be us as Christians. Why do we want to clutter our lives so much that we miss on the blessing of the Spirit?

You can’t share Jesus? You can’t comfort some poor soul? You can’t look to the future with confidence without knowing what the future will bring? Jesus sent the Spirit; we just have to let Him work.