CHRISTMAS IS A TIME OF JOY!!!

-----except when it isn't.

A woman is grieving over a brother who has had a debilitating stroke. He may not make it to Christmas. If he does it will likely be his last. Another woman is awaiting the results of a cancer test. It would be the second instance of cancer for her in the last four years. One gentleman is losing his ability to walk. Another fellow faces his first Christmas in sixty four years without his beloved wife. Instead of the festivities and joy she infused into the holiday for him, he has only the jarring memory of her recent death. The list of Christmas time concerns goes on and on. These are not just random things that I know of, either. These are things happening right here where I live and minister. So many here have lost the joy of Christmas and have replaced it with grief and sadness and concern and fear. And it has been this way for generations. People wanting the joy of Christmas but instead finding pain and desperation.

Some try to push through the gloom. Pretty lights, festive decorations, shopping, familiar carols. All of those things that have marked the joy and fun Christmases of the past. But when your heart is breaking or your worry runs deep, nothing can lift you up.

Sometimes Christmas is ruined forever. One gentleman in a church I pastored years ago sat in a hospital room watching his beloved dying on Christmas Day. He said to me as he watched her struggle to breathe, "Pastor, Christmas will never be good again." A pastor who suffered a terrible auto accident on Christmas Eve told me from an ER cot on Christmas Day that Christmas would never be joyful again. 

As you go through life you find that the dark clouds of despair that come upon you at times throughout the year are even darker and more ominous when they drift in on Christmas. Where is the joy? Where is that light hearted feeling? Where is the hope and wonder? Where is, well, the Christmas spirit?

So, has it ever crossed your mind that maybe Christmas really isn't for the kids or for those who are, even if just temporarily, carefree? Maybe, just maybe, Christmas is for the hopeless. Maybe it is for those who are beaten down. Maybe it is for those who have lost that elusive 'spirit.'

The Jews expected Messiah to come in royal themes to throw off the hated Roman overlords. The Jewish Zealots were tired of waiting for Messiah and were beginning to commit small acts of terror. Whole groups of Jews, out of despair, were beginning to believe Messiah would never come. The local ruler, an appointee of the emperor, was unspeakably evil and mean. It was no wonder that the people were on edge and ready for revolt. A man had escorted his betrothed over ninety miles on foot over rough and treacherous terrain based on a dream he had and a story she told. That man, Joseph, had to be having some doubts. A group of shepherds were settling in for another night in the open, smelling their sheep, feeling the weariness that comes from laboring in a nasty, dead end job. Despair, fear, disillusionment, hate and doubt. Above all, a sense of hopelessness. 

Into this brew of despondency, a Child was born. In time, He was rejected by most, but He came to infuse hope into a hopeless situation. His birth, what we call Christmas, was never intended to create Santa Claus or discounts on TVs or extreme online shopping. Messiah came for those who are hurting, for those who are struggling to overcome. Messiah came to offer life eternal, but He also came to bring hope back into shattered lives. Messiah came...for you.

Consider: Jesus Christ, Immanuel, the Son of the living God, the Prince of Light and Peace, stepped down from His home and position in heaven to be born into a world without hope, a world of despair, OUR personal world, and He did this because He loves us. That stroke victim may die, cancer may take hold, death, or the memory of death, may dog us, physical infirmities may pull at our bodies. But that doesn't mean a bad Christmas. It means we can feel the comfort of our Lord. His gift to us.

So, with the understanding of all of this, I wish you all a Merry Christmas. With that, I pray you count as your best gift, the gift of a loving Savior.

CHRISTMAS IS A TIME OF JOY!!!

Blessings.   

I am enjoying Miss Mary's series on 'Anticipation.' Realism is so much more powerful than myth. Miss Mary looks at the Scripture like I do. Why did they do the things they did? Why did they say this or that? When the Bible says, "as it is written," where is it written? The reality surrounding the birth is so much more meaningful than the myths we tend to embrace.

I do not come from what anyone would call a religious family. it was just the way it was. My folks both grew up in the same small town in Kentucky and they both went to the same little Hardshell Baptist church just outside town. A Hardshell church is a church that doesn't believe in Bible education or even studying before you preach, Strictly Holy Spirit driven. Or rather, Holy Ghost driven. The King James says 'Holy Ghost' and that is all there is to it. The Holy Ghost delivered the message to you as you walked to the pulpit. My father was five years older than my mother, so she was a girl while he was a teenager. The each knew the other, but not well. Although, they were cousins. That always bugged my wife. Anyway, Pearl Harbor came and my sixteen year old father went down to enlist. He lied about his age and got in. By the time he got home after the war and a period of time in service afterward, my mother was an adult and one thing led to another and they got married.

They eventually ended up in Ohio where there were no churches for them to attend. Of course, there were churches and many Baptist churches, but no Hardshells. Since all the other churches were modernistic and liberal, they chose not to go anywhere. (Hardshells consider any church that is not Hardshell to be modernistic and liberal.) Then, when I was five years old, they heard about a Hardshell church in a nearby town. The preacher was from West Virginia, and that bothered them a little, but as they say, Kentuckians and West Virginians are double first cousins. So, we attended there for a few years until they found out that the pastor attended the local ministerial group, therefore, rubbing shoulders with modernistic and liberal preachers. That ended my church life for many years.

In Sunday School there I saw pictures of Jerusalem and Bethlehem and all of the Holy Land. Arid and dry and desert-like, we were told it was very hot year round. But when Christmas came around, the pictures we saw were snow scenes in Bethlehem. How could that be? I asked my mother, who was the one with answers. "How could there be snow if it is hot." Remember, I was five. She thought for a bit and replied, "They have snow one day a year, and that turned out to be Christmas Eve." Wow! I bet the kids had fun on that one day! I absolutely believed my mother. We had a young lady in our church who loved to bicycle. When she was five or six months along, I heard her tell my mother that she really missed riding her bike because it hurt. When Christmas came, the picture showed Mary riding a donkey. I was only five, but I had ridden a donkey. If it hurt a woman to ride a bike while she was pregnant, how would a donkey feel under you. So, I asked my mother. She thought for a bit and then said, "Donkeys over there have really soft backs. Now quit asking questions! It is enough that the Bible says so!" And I absolutely believed my mother. I didn't know that the Bible said nothing of snow that night and I didn't know that the Bible doesn't say she rode a donkey, and neither, I am sure, did my mother. But we tend to believe what trusted adults tell us.

And that is how the myths grow.

Of course, in time I learned to look up answers to my questions on my own. With that, the nativity story became more and more amazing. The reality is so much better than the myth. 

And this is why I am enjoying Miss Mary's 'Anticipation, Part One and Two.' The Jews had their own myths about how the birth of Messiah was to be, which had only a little to do with the Old Testament prophecies. They painted a very different picture than Scripture, so when it came about, He was rejected. A mere carpenter and a girl? Nonsense! The shepherds said what? They've been drinking bad wine! This man Jesus does miracles? A fake who must be stopped! The guards saw an angel and the tomb was empty? No, they must have stolen the body! Reality can be tough to handle, especially when it goes against all we believe.

Time is growing short. Christmas is upon us. Lay the myths aside and read the reality. Matthew 1. beginning in verse 16 and Luke chapters 1 and 2. This is the Story. No presents, no pretty lights, no snow, no Wisemen, no animals that we know of, no Santa. Just the parents and some shepherds beside their selves with joy. And, of course, Jesus. 

Amazing.

If you don't get Miss Mary's blog, go to Mary's Moments and give her a read.

Blessings.

I went to the doctor's this morning at 8 AM. Some snow, but not too bad. Coming home was another story. There is a gale blowing off Lake Erie right now with winds in the 55 MPH range. Waves at 14 feet. It slows down a bit when it hits land, but just a bit. At times coming back from the doctor's office I couldn't see past the hood of my car. Wind chills just below zero. A Lake affect is setting up and we will get more snow by this evening. I am supposed to take a man around to do his banking and such around noon, but that isn't going to happen. He is not happy, but I have always hated to go sledding on the highway. Just miserable out there right now and will be until Friday.

So, why am I telling you this? Partly to say that I really miss my Miami days when snow was something you read about. I even miss my Indiana days. They get the bone chilling cold, but not the snow. But coming home this morning a Bible verse popped into my head. I had to look it up when I got home and I wanted to share it with you. Matthew 5:44-46---But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same?

I looked around at the other drivers. Intent on staying on the road with high winds from the northwest pushing them along the ice. Faces set in concentration. No way to know what their lives are like. No way to know if they believe in Christ or Allah or Buddha or whatever. All of us in the same boat, fighting a storm and trying to get where we were going. And EVERYONE of us in need of a Savior, the Savior, Jesus Christ. It is easy to love our pewmates. Easy to love our Sunday School class. But it is a different story when someone cuts you off or mocks your faith or shows little regard for you. However, if we don't react with love, they might never find Jesus. When our trials come, it is important to remember that others face the same trials and how we deal with our tribulations may point someone toward Jesus. 

We all live on this earth. We all face difficulties. But what sets a Christian apart is love. Spread the love around.

Blessings.  

          We all love our Christmas hymns. But usually we just know the first verse well, then stumble through the second verse and then we are back in the hymn book. However, most of these writers built the song through all of its verses to come to a wonder end with a wonderful message. What was the writer thinking? What emotions were present? What was the story? We love these songs for how they impact our lives.          

        How does a Christian not love “Silent Night?”

Silent night, holy night, (Maybe not so silent, but certainly holy)
All is calm, all is bright (Had to be Spiritually bright as the light of the world came)
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
Holy Infant so tender and mild (Beautiful image of Christ)
Sleep in heavenly peace

Sleep in heavenly peace (Captures the mood)

Silent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight (They were startled!)
Glories stream from heaven afar (The angels sang from Heaven!)
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!
Christ, the Savior is born
Christ, the Savior is born. (The most blessed event in Jewish history)

Silent night, holy night
Son of God, love's pure light (Yes! Yes! Love’s pure light!)
Radiant beams from Thy holy face (We don’t know this, but it is powerful)
With the dawn of redeeming grace (Dawn broke with new promise)
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth (Even as a baby, He was the Lord!)

        And then there is the beautiful and powerful “O Holy Night.”

O holy night, The stars are brightly shining;
It is the night of our dear Savior's birth! (Surely it was glorious!)
Long lay the world, in sin and error pining, (Sin everywhere, then the sinless One came)
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth. 
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, (Even for those whom didn’t know, it all must have felt different)
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn. 
Fall on your knees, oh hear the angel voices! (Worship! Worship!)
O night divine, oh night when Christ was born!
O night divine, oh night, oh night divine! (A divine and holy night, indeed!)

Led by the light of Faith serenely beaming, (He came for us, so we are, in a Spiritual sense, standing by.)
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand. 
So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,
Here came the wise men from Orient land.
The King of Kings lay thus in lowly manger, (The rustic setting, but still the King and our Friend!)
In all our trials, born to be our Friend! 
He knows our need, to our weakness no stranger;
Behold your King! Before Him lowly bow! (Bow before Him, world. Bow before your King!)
Behold your King! Your King! Before Him bow. 

Truly He taught us to love one another; (Much is said about the Law in the Bible, but love is the key.)
His law is love and His gospel is peace. 
Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother (Written in 1847, the song was banned for a time for saying the slave was a brother.)
And in His name all oppression shall cease. 
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we, 
Let all within us praise His holy name! (Let praises ring for Him!)
Christ is the Lord, oh praise His name forever,
His power and glory evermore proclaim (Never cease to proclaim Him!)
His power and glory, evermore proclaim!

          But, my favorite Christmas hymn, and my all time favorite hymn of any kind, is “Joy to the World!” The first verse is about the Birth, but the song as a whole is about His life.

Joy to the World , the Lord is come!
Let earth receive her King; (Oh, if only the world would receive!)
Let every heart prepare Him room,
And Heaven and nature sing, (One day, even the rocks will cry out and proclaim His holy name.)
And Heaven and nature sing, 
And Heaven, and Heaven, and nature sing.

Joy to the World, the Savior reigns! (Even as a humble carpenter, He ruled the world, if only a few knew.)
Let men their songs employ; 
While fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains (One day all will know and all of creation will repeat the sounding joy!)
Repeat the sounding joy, 
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat, repeat, the sounding joy.

No more let sins and sorrows grow, (Now, we do not have to let sin rule.)
Nor thorns infest the ground; (The curse of Eden no longer has to infest our spirit. It is His blessing.)
He comes to make His blessings flow  
Far as the curse is found, (Since the curse is over all the earth, all can be free of it within our souls.)
Far as the curse is found,  
Far as, far as, the curse is found.

He rules the world with truth and grace, (We don’t always acknowledge it, but He does rule!)
And makes the nations prove,  
The glories of His righteousness, (He is righteous,)
And wonders of His love,  (He is love,)
And wonders of His love,  (He is wonderful!)
And wonders, wonders, of His love.

          I don’t appreciate the way Christmas is celebrated by the world, but I do appreciate the Birth of our Savior!

          What is your favorite Christmas hymn?

          It couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Really, it was bad. Joseph was beside himself. Mary had gotten pregnant. Joseph knew it wasn’t his doing. He had spent years working toward that moment he would be able to marry Mary. The marriage had been arranged years before, when Mary was a tiny little girl. It was the way things were done. There was not supposed to be much, if any, contact between the betrothed couple. Joseph, learning his trade and making his way in life, preparing for that day when they would wed. Mary, growing up and learning all the things she would need to know as a young wife. But, there was still some contact. Joseph was able to see her grow up. She was with her family at synagogue, she was with her mother at the market, she would be at play with the other children. Joseph had seen her. Occasionally, in rare moments, they would even share a few words. It was just such an occasion that had set Joseph’s life into a turmoil. Mary had come to him and told him that she was pregnant, that she was pregnant with the Messiah. She said she was the virgin Isaiah had spoken of, the one who was to give birth to the Promised One. Joseph let his mind drift back to that moment. He had stared at the girl. Was she joking? No, there was a fear in her eyes. Well, if she wasn’t joking it could only mean that she had been unfaithful, that she had violated the oath her father had made with Joseph all those years before. If she was pregnant people would find out. They would blame Joseph. Perhaps both would be stoned to death. Even if they weren’t stoned, Joseph’s reputation would be ruined. There was only one thing to do. He had to turn her in and let the village elders deal with her. It would be horrible for her, but she had done something unspeakable.

          But, Joseph did care for the girl. He certainly wasn’t wealthy, but perhaps he could arrange for her to leave town. There were those who took care, quietly, of such people. There were ways. It would cost, but Joseph couldn’t bear to see young Mary harmed, perhaps even killed.

          However, as he slept that night he was visited by an angel. This creature verified all that Mary had said. After all of these centuries, Messiah was coming. And Joseph now had a special job. He was to raise the child. Joseph woke from the dream and did as he was instructed, but it was a hard thing. Mary was fixed on the idea of having the Messiah. Joseph, on the other hand, had to give consideration to other things. For one, how do you keep a pregnancy secret? People were going to know! How was this to be handled? That seemed to be working out when Mary went off to her cousin Elizabeth’s home. They would have lots to talk about, anyway. The word was that Elizabeth, an old woman, was also pregnant. She was supposed to bear the forerunner, the one prophecy said would show the way for Messiah. Joseph hadn’t really believed that when he had heard the news, but she was a woman well past the age of giving birth, yet she was going to give birth. That deserved some consideration, a miracle in itself. Now Joseph knew that Mary would bear the Messiah, so it did make a kind of weird sense. Mary going to live with Elizabeth for a time, helping her with the birth of the forerunner, all was a good thing. Maybe Mary would be there for her own birthing. It seemed the perfect solution. Eventually, Joseph would go there, take Mary and the Child and move to a place where no one knew them and start their family life.

          Then, the horrible news. Word came directly from Rome. A census was to be taken. Everyone had to go back to their family’s town of origin. This was a nightmare. Mary was already in the area, since Zechariah, Elizabeth’s husband, who was a priest at the Temple and had to live near Jerusalem. But this changed everything. Mary would have to return to Nazareth so that she could travel with Joseph, her betrothed husband, to his town, which was Bethlehem, but she was very pregnant. Not only that, but Joseph’s whole family would be there. They would figure it out, someone would do the math. They would know. Worse, because Mary had been living with Elizabeth, Zechariah would be implicated in the crime of concealing a woman of low morals. This was bad, very bad.

          More than once, as the couple traveled south from Nazareth toward Jerusalem, Joseph had wondered how this would all work out. Out of necessity, they stayed away from other travelers. Mary was obviously in distress. If they could have stopped along the way, but that couldn’t happen. Joseph had to be in Bethlehem. And Mary would have to give birth in Bethlehem. That was what the prophecy had said, so it had to happen that way. When she gave birth, it would all be over. Mary’s premarital pregnancy would be discovered. There would have to be a mid-wife, after all. Questions would be asked. Somehow, Joseph would wind up with the baby. The angel said he would name the child and if he named Him, that meant he would be raising Him. But, what of Mary. No one would believe her. Joseph couldn’t see the end being good.

          Mary was very close to giving birth. They had to hurry. It was dragging on and for Mary it was excruciating. They arrived as evening fell, going to a boarding house for a place to stay. Bethlehem was a very small town and there were not many such places. As it happened, the boarding house was full. The keeper of the house offered a stable, which Joseph accepted. What choice did he have?

          And this is where Joseph found himself. Mary was suffering. The only place he could put her was in this smelly stable. Not knowing what else to do, he lined a manger with straw to place the Baby when He came. And how on earth was that to happen? Give him a saw or a hammer or a planer and Joseph was in his element. Given time and materials, Joseph could build a bed for Mary to be laying in and build a proper crib to lay the child in. But all this was rushing on so fast. He didn’t know how to deliver a baby! How did this all fit into God’s plan? It was out of control, or at least that was what Joseph saw.

          Mary called out. It was time! Joseph pulled himself together. He had to handle this. The Baby was coming…….there He was! Joseph lifted the Baby and quickly wrapped Him in some scraps of clothing. His heart was pounding, sweat ran down his face. He looked over at Mary and lay the Baby down in the manger to see to her. What was he supposed to do now?

          And then, the door flew open. Men, apparently shepherds based on their clothing, rushed into the room. There was praise on their lips as they ran. Sizing up the situation, they went into action. Joseph stepped aside. These men, giving praise and practically shouting, knew all about giving birth and taking care of all the needs. Now, here as the promised Lamb was born, who better to tend to the situation that these shepherds?

          God had seen to it all.

          When I first accepted Christ in high school, I began to see the worldly celebration of Christmas for what it was: foolishness. I began to wonder about the real event. It seemed that in the telling of it, Mary and Joseph were as cool as cucumbers throughout. Everything was under control. But that couldn't be true. I always thought that if I was Joseph, I would be going crazy. As I looked into it, I found that Mary would have been much younger than Joseph, based on the custom of the time. Then there is the whole thing about travel. In the narrative we are used to, Mary rides a donkey to Bethlehem. I have ridden a donkey. I cannot imagine a woman, nine months pregnant, riding a donkey the 110 miles from Nazareth. With mountains between the two places, Mary would have been lucky to have done 20 miles a day. So, a trip of six days on a donkey. These people were walkers. More likely they walked. Maybe she rode in a cart. But I doubt it was a donkey.

And I always wondered about a carpenter delivering a baby. Joseph was one of the finest men we see in the Bible. God chose Him to raise His Son. But he was a carpenter. The shepherds, I believe, were there to do more than give praise. They were experts and God used them.

The Roman Catholic Church created a long, drawn-out narrative about the birth of Jesus from just three New Testament chapters. We have the name of the inn keeper, multiple animals, a drummer boy, wise men attending the birth, a star in the sky, snow in Bethlehem, calm and collected people and a sweet infant Baby who does not cry. I prefer to think God used real people doing the things real people do and having the fears and hopes real people have. It is a mighty story, a wonderful story. Take away the make-believe and it gets better and better.

        I wasn't there, so some small details in my version are probably wrong. But still, there is amazing wonder in all of this, and we need to see it. Over the years I have been called a Scrooge simply because I don't like the flash and dash of today's celebration. However, for me, the real Christmas story is something I treasure. Please, read Matthew 1 and Luke 1 and 2 and e-mail me back with your thoughts. Forget what you have ‘known’ all your lives and tell me what you see when you actually read the chapters. Blessings to all as you search His Word. My e-mail is oldirishguy51@yahoo.com.  

Most people need to talk, and the holiday season makes that more pronounced than the rest of the year, for a variety of reasons. It is a time of memories and creating memories and, if you are content to sit and listen, it is a time of gaining great insight.

In this blog, I want to focus on two such individuals. Very similar backgrounds, Spiritually, financially and physically. When I say 'physically,' I mean growing up in the same area. This involves a woman and a man who are both seventy four years old. They grew up attending the same type of churches and both have very fond memories of those times. Their fathers both earned roughly the same money and provided well for their families. And, finally, they grew up less than five miles from each other, but went to different school systems and never crossed paths. They are both financially secure, money is not a problem and they both live alone. In the last week I have sat down with both of them and listened to them share their lives.

The woman has no friends here at our senior apartments. This is not just her statement, either. This is truth. As far as I have seen, I am the only person who ever says hello or who will engage her in conversation. This does not say that the folks who live here are snobbish. Most of the people who are here are very friendly and love to interact. People maintain their distance from this woman because she makes it clear that she doesn't want to talk to anyone. She only talks with me because I am persistent and she has become used to me. In fact, we have a set time to sit and talk now every week. For her, it is a chance to vent about how everything has been wrong with her life and how everyone she has known has done her wrong. For me, it is a counseling time to try and get to the root of her problem and help her deal with it. It is a depressing time for me, but it is something I have done a lot of over the years. She is such a negative person that some of the folks here wonder why I am bothering.

The man in question is the exact opposite. From what I can see, he has yet to meet someone who doesn't like him. Apparently, then, he and the woman in question have never met, which is entirely possible here. He is active in his church, attends a regular Saturday morning men's Bible study and loves to sit and talk and listen. Our chat this week came about because we are working up a special worship service of remembrance for everyone in the complex. (Interesting point; when I came here there was no interest by the management of having any kind of religious gathering. Now we can do pretty much what we want. Moral of that story is, Prayer, Don't Leave Home Without It.) We sat at the kitchen table and ate peach pie and drank coffee and worked out the odds and ends. And told stories. And laughed. He has never done anything like what we are doing with this service, and I have, but I want it to be his. My ideas tend to be, "We always did it like this..." because I have done this while his ideas are fresh and really interesting because it is new to him. We had a very pleasant and productive time.

The lives of these two people really did mirror one another until they got into their early twenties. Then their life paths began to diverge until they got to the point where they are now. Anyone who met them would wonder why God would create two such different people. But I know the background and I know what happened to these two people.

After high school (they graduated the same year) they both went to college. Away from the immediate influence of their parents, they embarked on their life journeys. They both naturally gravitated to churches, but here is where it began to differ. For the woman, church cut into studying time and soon her attendance became more sporadic. Finally, it ended all together. Oh, she still believed, but while Christ was her Savior, He was not her Lord. There is a difference. The man, on the other hand, felt he needed that anchor in his life. Christ was his Savior, but He also became the man's Lord. And this defined their lives until now, when the woman is miserable and the man is exuberant. 

I have seen a lot of miserable Christians. Nothing to do in life but grumble and complain and do the whole 'woe is me thing.' But I have also seen a few Christians who relish their faith, who face life's bricks and just keep on with a song and a prayer and a smile. 1 Thessalonians 5:12-22 says this, 12 We ask you, brothers, to respect those who labor among you and are over you in the Lord and admonish you, 13 and to esteem them very highly in love because of their work. Be at peace among yourselves. 14 And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all. 15 See that no one repays anyone evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to everyone. 16 Rejoice always, 17 pray without ceasing, 18 give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. 19 Do not quench the Spirit. 20 Do not despise prophecies, 21 but test everything; hold fast what is good. 22 Abstain from every form of evil. The church at Thessalonica was the most persecuted church that Paul wrote to in the New Testament. Here he tells the beleaguered people to be the best Christians they can be, regardless of what they face. Verse 18, specifically, tells us to always give thanks and verse 22 ends the thought by telling us to avoid evil things. I am certain that this means not evil things in our eyes, but evil things in God's eyes. The woman in question has lived a life void of any of Paul's words while the man has made them his very life.

I believe most of the folks who read my blog have taken Christ as Savior. Otherwise, why would you read my writings? I know my own limitations. But how many of you have taken Jesus as Lord in your lives. It makes a huge difference.

Blessings.

It didn't really occur to me until much later. I woke up on November 6 achy all over. I mean, we all have our aches and pains, but this was different. I just hurt everywhere. This went on for a few days and then, Saturday night, the 9th of November, I got extremely nauseous. I was so sick I had to cancel worship on Sunday morning. (We have no Elders or deacons to call on, so we called it off.) Sunday and then into Monday I was terribly sick. When that abated, I became congested and started living on NyQuil. This past Sunday came and we had worship, but I didn't allow anyone near me. Monday I went to the store, but that little activity just about killed me. I had a regular doctor's visit on Tuesday morning and I thought about canceling. But on Tuesday morning, after almost two weeks, I felt a little better. So, off to the doctor I went.

Halfway there, the thought popped into my mind, 'maybe this was COVID!' As I thought about it, I remembered Christmas last year. I did have COVID then with the same symptoms and for about the same amount of time. Immunity and inoculations do not work because they tell us the virus mutates. Whatever. But I realized I needed to tell them at the office of the symptoms.

I got to the doctor's office and went to the counter and announced I was there for my appointment. The girl behind the desk asked the standard question, HAVE YOU HAD ANY COVID SYMPTOMS OVER THE LAST TWO WEEKS? So, I told her my tale. I mean, I was standing there wiping my nose. Hard to lie in that circumstance. When I was done, this bright, young lady stared at me for a second or two, and then said, "Well, we aren't going to make a big deal out of that."

I went and sat down and an older gentleman, who had heard the exchange, laughed and said, "Four and a half years ago someone in a haz-mat suit would have slapped you on a gurney and shoved a swab up your nose while someone else warmed up a respirator! Times have changed!" We sat there and talked for about ten minutes about how things have changed. Some of it was laughable, most of it was sad and some of it, like the COVID scare, was just silly.

On the way home I worked it over in my mind again. Donald Trump was elected in 2016 and immediately upon taking office, he set about putting people back to work. The economy had been sputtering, but within two years people were working. African-Americans reached their highest employment rate in decades. There was a real pride. America was working. Detractors made up stories about Mr. Trump, which were later debunked. But there was nothing else to attack with. 

And then COVID came. No one knew how to react, so the extremists won the day. The country was shut down. Many of those new jobs were in start-up companies, and they didn't have the financial ability to wait out the shut down, so many, many closed up. Jobs were lost, the economy crashed. Government began issuing stimulus checks. Mr. Trump was blamed and he lost his re-election bid in 2020. A huge segment of society reverted to letting government sustain them and pride in country dwindled.

Another political blog? Not at all. The above is just a listing of facts. I really do pray the country rights itself. But there is something here for all of us, as well. The doctor's office is in Willoughby, Ohio. As I drove out of Willoughby, I passed a church I had once served as an interim pastor at during my time at the funeral home. It was a church in trouble. Right on the main drag in a bustling town, it was in danger of closing due to people leaving. The big argument was traditional/contemporary music. And, do we put the songs and announcements on the big screen. It was getting pretty heated. So, in the time I was there, we had many meetings. My answer was always the same; if you want to grow, you have to actually get out and witness. Share the Gospel. Don't expect your 90 minute Sunday morning to grow the church. The government was in the same malaise then that we have seen the last four years, and I compared the government to the church and the people. Most people will take anything the government will hand out to them and they are satisfied. And, if the church can grow without any effort coming from the people, they will take it. The arguments in that church all ended with, "if we do this, folks will come!"

Praying with a co-worker, slipping someone a $20 dollar bill so they can put gas in the car to get to work, cutting someone's grass when thy cannot. And, of course, telling someone about the saving power of Jesus. If you tell the story, the Spirit will begin to work.

As I passed this church, I thought about what I had recently heard. By selling off some property, they had bought some time. Their denomination was helping some. They dropped the name of their denomination because they figured the bad press of the denomination was to blame. They finally settled on music, and half the church left. They had done everything the way the new growth books said to do them. And the church is still gasping for life.

Over the last year I have seen so many pictures of grandkids! Yes, here, see my grandson! I am so proud of him! And that is all good. But there needs to be a renewal of pride in our Savior.

Be proud and tell the story.

         I have a fascination with cemeteries. No, that isn’t really normal. I like to wander around and read the headstones. Here will be a little grouping of a husband, his wife and their child. Maybe 100 years old. The child might have died on the same day of birth and the mother three days later. The father twenty-five years later. That tells a story. Youngish couple, she is pregnant and has a child. The child is either stillborn or dies quickly. The mother was apparently having problems with the pregnancy and, in three days, it takes her. Because there is no second wife or other children in the grouping, I would assume the husband never remarries. Since he dies in his forties, I envision him carrying his grief for the rest of his life and dying, in his time, of a broken heart. Of course, I am probably wrong on several counts, but I like to wonder as I wander.

          Many, many hours have been spent in different cemeteries in a number of different states. Walking in the day is a joy, but walking in the night is more interesting. In Florida I encountered an armadillo. I think it is fair to say that we both screamed in our own language. On another night in the same cemetery I came across two young men standing and talking. Since the armadillo thing I had taken to carrying a flashlight. I didn’t have it on as I walked and nearly bumped into the two teens. “Who are you,” one of the young men snapped. “I pastor this church! Who are you and what are you doing in my cemetery at one in the morning?” Hey, humans I can deal with. Armadillos can scare the daylights out of me, but humans in the dark in my cemetery at one in the morning better have an excuse. “Uh, well, sir, were visiting Granny’s grave.” “Uh, yeah. Granny’s grave.” They both took off their hats folded their hands in front of their ragged jeans and looked down, as if they were in prayer. “You boys must miss her a great deal, to be out here so late.” “Oh, yes sir. It is just killing us.” I played my light over the headstone and said, “Well, I would have thought that after 75 years it would be getting a little better. Why don’t you fellas leave.” “Uh, yes sir!”

          I was at McKinley Community Church in Warren, Ohio for ten years. There were a number of small cemeteries scattered around the area. The community had originally been settled by pioneers from Connecticut. When they came to the area, they brought their own pastor, a Presbyterian minister. Many of those first settlers are buried together in a small cemetery just outside of the current city. On the pastor’s headstone, in worn letters, are the words, “Still serving my Savior.” Probably more than any headstone ever, that one really got to me.

          Working at a funeral home gave me ample time to explore cemeteries. Some of those wanderings were not good. Once a lady and I were looking for her husband’s grave, who had just been buried the day before. There was no headstone yet and his was the first grave in the new section and it was winter and a lot of snow had fallen overnight, so finding the grave was a problem. I found it by the unlucky happenstance of stepping into it. The dirt was very loose and very soaked and I sank like I had stepped into a swimming pool. I went down until my foot hit the top of the vault that the casket was in. I was seriously in some deep trouble (pun intended). Another time, with the cemetery full of people and about a foot and a half of fresh snow, I disappeared from sight because I stepped into a hole where the cemetery workers had dug out a tree a couple of days before and had not filled the hole in. I walked into the hole on one side and walked out of the hole on the other. Now that I think of it, the armadillo wasn’t so bad.

          But it is the story on the headstones that captures my imagination. I had read about the Presbyterian minister in Warren, so I knew something of him. And I have visited the graves of several presidents and other notables, but the regular folks in the regular graves……

          I didn’t realize it until I was an adult, but my mother shared the same fascination as I. She and Marsha’s mother came to Florida for my ordination. This was at the church with the cemetery with the armadillo. Mom wanted me to walk her around the cemetery and we spent several hours reading headstones. She did the same thing I had done, working up a story of the lives based on the little information on the headstone. It was surprising how close our stories were. One section was given over to a family with the somewhat unfortunate name of Butts. In this section there were the older stones from the time of burial but also a much newer stone detailing that particular family. The father, Mr. Butts, was born in the 1700s. He married a native American named Lehey. For some reason, Mom saw the Lehey and thought it was Leathery. She said Leathery Butts just wasn’t a good name. My mother didn’t have a real refined sense of humor, but when she saw it was Lehey, she got tickled at herself. Anyway, the stone said they had 18 children. Then it listed their names in their birth order. The first child and the last child had the same name. When Mom saw all the names on that stone, she said, “Well, I don’t think I have ever seen so many Butts in one place.” So, there we were, two adults standing in a cemetery laughing like a couple of loons. When we had settled down, I pointed out the same name for the first and the last. “Do you suppose they just ran out of names and started over?” She sobered quickly and explained to me that the first one probably died shortly after birth. Lehey had many more, but probably always missed the first born. So, she gave the same name to the last as a way of remembering the first. She had a whole scenario created and she was probably pretty close to the truth.

          Our time here is limited. In a hundred years someone will wander through your cemetery and observe your grave. They will not know who you were or how you lived your life. But maybe, if we are faithful, it might be that their life was affected for the Lord by someone who was affected for the Lord by someone who was affected for the Lord by someone and going back until it gets to you. Or me. We have no other more important job.

          Our pastorate at Park Street Christian Church in Geneva, Ohio was an example of all the right puzzle pieces coming together and making an awesome ministry. I pray all of you will experience that someday. But I knew that within a few years of my departure I would be mostly forgotten. I never cared about that, but I wanted to leave my stamp on the Spiritual aspect of that church so that for generations to come the Word would be preached. On my last Sunday there I asked the choir to sing a song by Steve Green, “Find Us Faithful”.

We're pilgrims on the journey
Of the narrow road
And those who've gone before us line the way
Cheering on the faithful, encouraging the weary
Their lives a stirring testament to God's sustaining grace!

CHORUS

Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
May the fire of our devotion light their way
May the footprints that we leave
Lead them to believe
And the lives we live inspire them to obey
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful

Surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses
Let us run the race not only for the prize
But as those who've gone before us
Let us leave to those behind us
The heritage of faithfulness passed on through godly lives
CHORUS
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
May the fire of our devotion light their way
May the footprints that we leave
Lead them to believe
And the lives we live inspire them to obey
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful

          The only footprint we leave behind that really has importance is the footprint that blazes the trail that leads to Christ. Just like that Presbyterian minister, “Still serving my Savior.” 

I have no idea.

As I write this, I have no idea as to who the next president of the United States will be. I have no idea of who the winner of the Senate seat of my state is. I have no idea of the outcome of the ballot issues of my state and county. I just have no idea.

We may not have the answers to these questions for some time yet. It may be that as you read this, you have the answers to all the questions because it is Wednesday or Thursday. You may feel pain, or you may feel joy. Frustration or justification. Fear or confidence. 

However, I do know that the evil and hateful political ads we have been treated to are over by the closing of polls tonight. The yard signs and billboards will soon disappear. Thanksgiving is coming and Christmas is on the way. Life is just about to go on.

We all feel we are right and the 'opposition' is wrong. We have been told that there has never been an election as critical as this one. And we are told that the nation has never been this divided. However, I have lived through thirteen presidents (Really? That doesn't seem possible, even to me!) and I have to admit I have been surprised at times. I have heard over and before every presidential election that there has never been a more important election. And the nation has been more divided. After all, we did have a civil war.

So, for a bit, let's put the hyperbole aside and look at something else.

How would Jesus vote?

If you support former president Trump, you are a conservative and you would say conservative values are all about Jesus, so Jesus would wear a MAGA hat. If you support vice president Harris, you are a liberal and you would say that liberalism is all about love and that Jesus was all about love and so Jesus would vote Harris. But what does the Bible say?

I know what some of you are thinking. "Here he goes again, always using the Bible to connect the dots." Good! That is the way I want to be remembered! That is good! So again, what does the Bible say?

Romans 13:1-7, 1 Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. 2 Consequently, whoever rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves. 3 For rulers hold no terror for those who do right, but for those who do wrong. Do you want to be free from fear of the one in authority? Then do what is right and you will be commended. 4 For the one in authority is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for rulers do not bear the sword for no reason. They are God’s servants, agents of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer. 5 Therefore, it is necessary to submit to the authorities, not only because of possible punishment but also as a matter of conscience. 6 This is also why you pay taxes, for the authorities are God’s servants, who give their full time to governing. 7 Give to everyone what you owe them: If you owe taxes, pay taxes; if revenue, then revenue; if respect, then respect; if honor, then honor.

Wow! This creates all sorts of questions! What do you do if the government is unjust? What if the government bans Christianity? What if..... Well, those questions certainly deserve study. But let's look at the time this was written. Rome was unjust. Rome did ban both Judaism and Christianity for a time. And yet Paul tells these people to follow the laws and the rulers. What goes on here?!!?

IF Christians did their job, people would be turning to the Lord and accepting Christ and the governments would change. It is not government's job to cater to Christian concepts, it is the job of Christians to bring all to Jesus. When persecution against Christians was at its highest, the church in Jerusalem and Rome and all the others began to grow and grow. When the Catholic church persecuted true believers, the underground church blossomed. When communism tightened down on Christianity in China and the Soviet Union and places like Cuba, the underground church thrived. Christianity gets better and better when the persecution gets tougher and tougher. 

How would Jesus vote? 

Clearly, He has. Verse one in the above passage tells us that God gives the authority. Not man. God. God, and therefore Jesus, desires us to be a fruitful people, to share the Gospel and to be a light to the world. Since human nature has shown us that when times are good, we get weak, God has allowed the hard times to come so that we would be stronger. The parade of presidents and prime ministers and kings and all the rest have served the purpose of the Lord.

So, if it is all in His hands, why vote at all? Well, He allowed this democratic republic to be created. He has blessed us to live here in the safety of this democratic republic. He gave us the way to be involved. We do the citizen thing.

But our ultimate citizenship lies elsewhere. We have a responsibility far greater to the Kingdom of the Lord's than our little earthly home and we have been given a job.....bring the light to the lost.

I took a call this evening from a dear friend, a person who has walk along my rough roads with me as I have walked along her rough roads. She asked who I thought would win. My answer was, I have no idea. But just tell me your gut reaction! I have no idea. And I don't. But I do know that Christians need to wake up and start acting the way they talk. Change will only come through Jesus and the world will only hear of Jesus if we tell them.

The Lord is in total control.

    We hear at Christmas and Easter time that it is all about the kids. If that is you, shame on you. The virgin Birth and the ultimate Sacrifice and Resurrection are for all and especially for the adults. If the adult keeps the Birth and the Sacrifice and the Resurrection holy, then the children will, as well. Or at least they will be inclined to do so if they can stand against the world's onslaught. 

    Halloween, on the other hand, is for the kids. Yes, it certainly has at its roots an evil origin, but it has evolved into something fun for kids. While I abhor the watering down of the Advent and Lenten seasons, I rejoice at the watering down of Satan's holiday. You may be one who never lets their child participate in Halloween, but there are many, many things that will draw them into evil. If, however, we water down the Birth, Sacrifice and Resurrection with all the worldly aspects, we take away the best of opportunities to bring the Gospel to our children. 

    Having said that, it is important how we approach Halloween. Church sponsored events are best. Trunk or Treats are great and can bring the Gospel to a child's level. Before Trunk or Treat, many Christians gave out a little Ziploc bag with maybe five good pieces of candy and a Gospel tract made for kids. We did that at our home for many, many years. And then, while I pastored in Geneva, Ohio, the local churches took it up a couple of notches. And this is where the story gets good.

    The evangelical churches in our small city got together and devised a 'Kid's Party.' The idea was simple. Rent the Community Center (a large venue usually used for wedding receptions and that also served as the home for the Food Pantry and the Seniors' Center). Let the Youth from the various churches devise games of chance and have the churches buy TONS of candy. The pastors and some of the other adults from the churches rode herd on it all. It didn't cost the little ones so much as a penny and, win or lose, they all got candy. As they entered, they gave their name and address and they were each given a ticket, like a raffle ticket, and told to hold it until the end when there would be a drawing for one new boy's bike and one new girl's bike. (The bikes were donated by a local hardware store.) The only thing was, to win you had to be there. The drawing was to be at the end of the program and the Gospel message. Everywhere around there were signs telling what churches were involved and who would be presenting the Gospel message. Every year the pastors voted on the most child-like pastor to present this message, and it was, for some reason, always me.

    This was actually quite expensive. The churches wrote it into their budgets. Not only the party, but we incurred expenses in follow-ups. It was really a good situation.

    And then came the year.

    Everything cooked right along. It was a snowy night, so the little rugrats showed up in droves. The Youth did a great job (especially mine) and the candy flowed like water. It was the first time we actually ran out of candy. Several hundred kids had stuck around for the drawings, which meant they also listened to the Gospel message. While we were doing all of that on the south end of the huge room, the parents of the little darlings were at the north end chowing down on free cookies and swilling hot chocolate like it was going to be outlawed the next day. When the message was over and the drawings done, the little ones ran to get their parents. One little guy, about nine, came to me and told me he had accepted Christ. Then he turned and ran to the parents.

    Suddenly there was a massive eruption. "WHAT! WHO?" I looked in time to see a very large woman, cookies in hand, stomping across the floor toward me. Her face had gone beet red as she hustled over, still chomping on cookies.

    "YOU!" she screamed. I knew what was coming. I pointed to myself and sweetly said, "Me?" "YES YOU, YOU #%^^@! WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO TELL MY SON THAT LOAD OF #%^#?"  "Why you did, ma'am. There are all kids of signs and it was explained that there would be a Gospel story." "NO ONE SAID YOU WOULD BE FILLING HIS MIND WITH %#$^%&&! THERE  IS SUCH A THING AS CHURCH AND STATE! I AM GONNA HAVE ALL YOU it$##$%^ ARRESTED! WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT?" "Well, actually, ma'am, the Community Center is a not for profit organization run by a board of directors. It is privately owned and there is no government organization involved. So, no division of church and state."  "WHAT!? THIS IS ILLEGAL! BOARD OF DIRECTORS? WHO IS IN CHARGE OF THIS BOARD OF DIRECTORS? I WANT TO TALK TO'EM!" Of course, the building was quiet now as a graveyard. "Well, ma'am, as it happens, I am currently the president of the board. Would you like to talk?" Her face went purple. "YOU!!?" You could see the wheels whirring in her hear. Or maybe that was her ears spinning. "LOOK YOU LITTLE @$@#%$#! THE FOOD PANTRY RUNS OUT OF HERE AND THEY ARE BIG IN THIS TOWN. I'M GONNA TALK TO THE HEAD OF THAT!" "Well, ma'am, that would be fine. The Food Pantry is run by the churches in town and I am also the president of that board. When would you like to meet?" 

    She was ready to stroke out. Just then, one of the local cops put his hand on her shoulder to talk to her and calm her down. He was volunteering his time that night. A young man and a member of one of the churches, he was there to be a presence. He never expected to run into a crazy woman. She exploded all over him. He escorted her out. I never tried to find out what happened.

    The pastor who had organized it walked up to me. "Same time next year, buddy?" "Oh, I wouldn't miss it."

    Hey folks! Don't just give candy! Give the Gospel.                                                                                          

Most of you who know me know that I am not a big backer of Mr. Trump. However, he has been called, several times by people who have no real concept of what they are saying, a fascist, like Hitler. Now, I was going to post this on Facebook, but I knew they would clamp down and delete this and put me in FB jail. I have been there before and it is no big deal, but I wish to get this out.

Before we really get started, here is a definition right out of the World Wide Web dictionary.--- Fascism is a political philosophy and movement characterized by centralized autocratic government, nationalism, severe economic and social regimentation, and forcible suppression of opposition. It is led by a dictator who controls all aspects of society, suppresses dissent, and often promotes racism.--- So, let's examine who the fascists really are.

First, centralized autocratic government; Democrats. They want DC in charge of everything behind one leader who, if you oppose him/her, you are racist, sexist, homophobic or whatever. To them, it is never about the issues but always about your personal intolerance.

Second, nationalism; Democrats again, but only if the nationalism is like they want it. Like it or leave it.

Third, severe economic and social regimentation; once again, Democrats. They want to tax the economy to death, stifle business and govern and clamp down on media and social media and cause them to follow their vision.

Fourth, forcible suppression of the opposition; well, again, Democrats are guilty. How many lawsuits against Mr. Trump? How many assassination attempts? How many illegal aliens were allowed to sign up to vote until somebody hit them with the law?

Fifth, it is led by a dictator who controls all aspects of society, suppresses dissent, and often promotes racism. Mr. Obama sat in the Oval Office for eight years. During that time he made the effort to control society. He wanted to disarm the nation, he wanted to force the citizens to get abortions and pay for the health care of others, even it they chose not work or contribute. That list goes on and on. Conservative radio, television and media people were mocked. And promoting racism? Our first African-American president made you feel racist if you voted for the white guys. And when he was leaving office, his heir-apparent branded those who opposed her agenda as deplorables. Mr. Obama and Mrs. Clinton were US Senators before stepping into the big ring. But what did they do before that? I doubt nine out of ten even know.

Mr. Trump is a bag of wind, to be sure. I wish the Republicans would have put someone else up. But, a fascist? One thing I have learned over the decades working with people is if someone accuses another, it is because the accuser is actually guilty of what they are accusing the other person about.

And this ends my once in a lifetime political rant.

    She was tired. The struggle was overwhelming. Still, she managed a smile and a weak laugh. Cancer kills in a nasty way, and brain cancer is among the nastiest. A dear saint of God, a true believer, winding down to the end of this earthly existence and looking forward to the next step.

    I had known Marian and Tom a little bit while I was pastoring in Geneva, Ohio. They went to a different church, so it was just a passing acquaintance. However, they both retired and their long time home became too much to handle, especially once Tom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. They searched around for an apartment that would be nice and where Marian could devote herself to her husband. As it worked out, they moved into the seniors' apartment facility where I live, and Marian started attending the worship service I started. A nice little happenstance.

    And then...brain cancer.

    Day by day, the struggle increases. Her son and daughter are working their time out so that one or the other can be at the apartment. Time is drawing short. Mom is getting sicker and sicker, daughter and son are becoming exhausted and Dad stares at the TV, whether it is on or off. This scenario plays out all over the world in one manner or another. Most families have such a story within the last three generations. Still, in apartment number 119, it seems unique because it is personal.

    Last Sunday, after our worship service, I walked down to 119 to spend some time. The daughter was there and I spoke with her when she answered the door. I took Tom's outstretched hand and asked him if he was going to watch the Browns. He smiled and rolled his eyes. I don't think he knew me, but he still remembered the woeful Browns. Then I sat down next to the hospital bed and took Marian's hand, and we talked for a bit. She is ready to go, to meet Jesus. Her fears are calmed. She can no longer express her love to her family with a hug or a wonderful meal or a joke, but she rests easy because they express their love to her by seeing to her needs. We talked a little of people we both know, and we talked of that which is coming very soon. But she was tired. After a time, I prayed with her and then rose to go. She held onto my hand and said something in a fading voice. I leaned over to hear better and she spoke it again. "You are a good man!" I thanked her, said my goodbyes and I left the apartment.

    I pondered her final words as I walked along. You are a good man! Interesting. I know my own faults and failures. I do not see the 'good man' part. What I see is a man with faults who has just tried to serve the Lord. I thought about the beginning of this journey and the high goals and how those goals went by the wayside as I looked to follow the Lord. We never know where the Lord will take us. 

    I got on the elevator and looked across the hall before the door closed. There were the windows that look into the community room where we have our worship service. I smiled a little. It was meant to be a worship service. A little singing, a little prayer, a little preaching. Somehow, some way, I have reverted to being the pastor. Illnesses, concerns for adult children, worries about increasing rent and the costs of living. People will see me in the hallway and we will wind up talking of needs and concerns. A pastor always.

    And I don't care that I never pastored that mega-church or wrote books or whatever. My heart is breaking for an adult son and daughter who are facing a death of one parent and the slow and crippling passing of the other. I hurt for that husband who is soon to be without his anchor. The sadness of apartment 119 is heavy on me. But this is my path, and I am grateful the Lord is letting me to continue along the way.

    I sometimes wonder about my classmates from college and seminary who had their futures worked out in their minds. What happened to them when the Lord's reality struck? The path can be wearisome, but it is good.

    Rejoice in the Lord alway, and again I say rejoice!