On Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday in my building we have a coffee shop. Coffee and a pastry of some type. All free, but they take donations. Lots of talking (mostly women, so there you go) and a fair amount of laughing. Tuesday morning I was sitting next to Mary Lou. Since there were about seven conversations going on, I was just sitting and drinking my coffee and letting the noise run in one ear and out the other. Then Mary Lou turned to me and said, "I better watch what I say. You're a religious person." That immediately made me wonder what she had said, but then I began to think of the word 'religious.' 

What does 'religious' mean exactly? We assume it is related to 'religion,' right? Practically the same word. Most of us have a definition in mind that concerns going to church. But what about when someone says something like, "I eat breakfast religiously." Does that mean they eat breakfast in church. No, it means they eat breakfast daily at the same time. And then there was my roommate in Christian college who told me he dated religiously. What did that mean? That he dated regularly or was it that he only dated the young lady in church? I don't know. But back to Mary Lou.

Mary Lou is a Catholic, so I looked up the meaning of a religious person in the Catholic church. "A member of a religious order who is bound by vows of poverty, chastity and obedience." Maybe she meant it like that, but it doesn't apply to me. I am not a member of a religious order, I have taken no vow of poverty. I suppose I am chaste, but that is unavoidable. And as for obedience, that would depend on who I am obedient too. I give my obedience to God and God alone. Still, I imagine Mary Lou was using the word in the way most people use it, that being someone who walks the path of holiness and righteousness and who is above even hearing unclean things. That is not me, either. Any holiness or righteousness in me comes from Jesus, not me. And if I was above hearing and seeing unclean things, well, I would never turn on my computer, radio or television and I would never go outside.  You cannot get away from worldliness, but you don't have to participate. 

So, am I a religious person? No, not at all. I am a Christian. A believer. I have sinned in the past and I will sin again. I have chosen to accept Christ as Savior and He has accepted me, as He promised He would. DO NOT try to be religious. Never. Just be the best child of God you can be.  

Blessings.

"It just isn't fair! I worked all my life and now this! I can't even walk without a walker or cane because of the pain!" 

Ah, yes, one of those times when you keep your mouth shut and listen. There is nothing you can say that will help the frustration and there are a lot of things you can say that will just add to the frustration. So, you listen. A person, still very independent, but now feeling the struggles of growing older.

You could talk about your own experiences, but they don't want to hear about your pain. You could say it will all be OK, but that isn't true. You could get philosophical and say that this must come to pass, but that might get you slapped. Nothing you can say. Of course, I am a pastor, so I have all the answers straight from the Word, except that I don't have all the answers and what I do have is not comforting.

People during the time of Christ live maybe 45-50 years. By the time you hit 40 (if you hadn't already been made a partaker of one of the unpleasant ways to die) you were getting old. Try and comfort someone with that information. So, you listen. Except that in this case the question came, "Doesn't your Bible say something about God being fair to us when we live a good life?" 

First, that is an indication that the person doesn't read their own Bible. The Bible says we will suffer, we will struggle, we will face dark days. 'Fairness' is not a huge issue in the Bible. When we sin, we are shaming our Savior. He paid a huge sacrifice, of which only His horrible death was just a part. He who knew no sin became sin for us. If God were fair, we would die when we sinned our first sin after our salvation. And yet, we live on. 

But what does the Bible say about fairness?

Very, very little, actually. 

Colossians 4:1 is just about the only place we find 'fairness.' It may be inferred elsewhere, but when we infer something in the Bible, we are on shaky ground. The verse says, Masters, treat your bondservants justly and fairly, knowing that you also have a Master in heaven. Yeah, well, that really doesn't help the lady in question. But, maybe, if you turn it and shape it a little, it can work. Maybe...... Except the rest of the paragraph says this, Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with prayer and thanksgiving. At the same time, pray also for us, that God may open to us a door for the Word, to declare the mystery of Christ, on account of which I am in prison.

You see, God isn't talking His fairness toward us, but rather the wealthy toward those who work for them. And Paul is also giving them an extra burden. Does that seem, well, fair? Not really, at least in the way we understand 'fairness.' So maybe God's understanding differs from our understanding. And God's understanding would have to be right.

This begs the question then; what about our sufferings, pain and frustrations? Well, pray about it. We are supposed to pray about everything. But then Paul says this in Philippians 4:10-13; I rejoiced in the Lord greatly that now at length you have revived your concern for me. You were indeed concerned for me, but you had no opportunity. Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned, in whatever situation I am, to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. Paul is not saying that God will be 'fair' to the faithful. Who could be more faithful than Paul? But Paul is saying that through Christ, he can do all things in spite of the circumstance.

Now, let's review. The Bible does not say that God will pave the way for the faithful through this earth. We are going to be hit with everything, and often more, than the worldly person. The difference is that we have the strength to overcome even though we are beset with all sorts of problems. And when we do overcome, we are lifting the name of Jesus.

So, what is fair? Depends. Do we want God's strength to overcome, or do we want our strength to fail? Shouldn't be a hard choice. 

There were those who were saying that this week's eclipse signaled the end of the world. One of the cohosts of the television show 'The View' said the eclipse and the recent earthquake in New Jersey and this year's rise in cicadas are all because of climate change. Others gushed that this was a once in a lifetime event and they bought special glasses for which to watch it.

While certainly unusual, it does happen at least two times a year in some part of the world. Some years have had five eclipses. Those who felt this marked the end of the world probably also thought the change of the millennium was the end of the world. There is a church in my area where the pastor is going to have to come up with some kind of explanation as to why Jesus didn't appear in the clouds. The woman who blamed climate change for eclipse and earthquake and cicadas apparently never had a single day of school. The ideal cohost for 'The View.' And those who insisted on watching it, you had a much better view watching the video on TV with no danger of frying your eyeballs.

There was an 'Eclipse Party' in the building where I live. Around noon I was getting off the elevator on the second floor where I live. and a lady was standing there with a cart filled with finger foods and bakery waiting to get on to go downstairs to get ready. "Are you coming down later?" "No. I'm going to pass on this one." That got me a dirty look. I don't go to events where there is alcohol and I don't go to bingo and things like that, and that and really bothers this woman. She has said to at least one other person that I must think I am too good for them, which is silly. This event had no drinking, as far as I know, but I just had no interest. My window by my computer overlooks the courtyard where the party was held and I could hear all the laughter and it sounded like a good time, but large groups like that bother me. And then came the big moment. The eclipse. I heard a few exclamations and then someone said, "What, that's it? I missed my nap for that?" I had to laugh. Climate change is so weird.

The thing I got out of this is that these events are so regular and so precise that they can be predicted centuries in advance, and you can follow the same formula and go back in time and see where it has happened before. Nature is like that in every respect. And for something to be so perfect, there must be a plan. 

I once pried the back off my father's wind-up pocket watch. I examined all the gears and springs. I took it apart to see the connections. (And no, I could not put it back together and yes, I was punished severely. I didn't always deserve the punishments I received, but I did that time.) I think now about that watch and the craftsmanship that went into its creation, and I am amazed. But all of the earth and the solar system and the whole galaxy all works in predictable union, crafted by the hand of God. That is just amazing beyond words.

Besides, I am still waiting for that once in a lifetime event that will likely never happen.....the Cleveland Browns winning a Super Bowl.

Blessings!    

Yes, I know I am a day late on this blog. But there is a reason, which I will get to in a bit.

If you think everything is going to remain the same, you are fooling yourself. A baby is born. You don't expect the little critter to stay little forever, do you? No. They pass through stages. Little grunt to rug rat to WHAT ARE YOU DOING to heartbreaker to adult. Everything just moves along. You buy a house and in a few years you are replacing the hot water heater and then the siding and then the stove and on and on. Everything just moves along. Of course, there are memories along the way. But time always wins.

In 1975 I was called to a church as minister of music and Youth. Oh, yeah! I had arrived. Or so I thought. But everything just moved along. In time I became a pastor of a small country church, then a home missions pastor, then pastor of a city church, then a pastor of a larger church in another city, then a pastor in a small town. All along the way I did other things to help pay the bills, but the ministry was a constant. I spoke at conferences, wrote for a couple of Christian magazines and got a killer education, both scholastic and experiential.  

And even though it was good and fulfilling and I never wanted it to stop, the truth remains; Everything just moves along.

I retired. I could no longer be the pastor I needed to be. I wanted to be that pastor. Desperately. But I was sick and weak and worn out. Tired. It had all gotten away from me.

Retired. No way I could retire. NO!

I retired and got really sick. Had surgery. Very weak. Finally, coming up on Christmas, I was feeling good again. And on Christmas day, I began to experience the effects of COVID.

Even though I have had a difficult retirement so far, I keep in mind that everything just moves along. For me, someone who gave his life to the Lord over fifty years ago, everything moves along as He wills, in His time. And, about five weeks ago, the time arrived.

I was granted permission to start a worship service here at my apartment complex. It is a retirement complex. Getting out on Sunday morning to go to their own churches, some many miles away, is hard for folks, and they still want to worship. It starts this Sunday, April 7, 2024. I cannot wait.

I have to keep telling people that it is not church. This area is strongly Catholic and Lutheran and Methodist with various European faiths thrown in. There are some Baptists and Episcopalians and some non-denominational types in the mix. All of these have different denominational beliefs and traditions, so if it is a church, many would be turned away. In my mind, it will be better than a church---it will be a worship service, based on Biblical principles.

Imagine......no Board meetings, no committee meetings, no concern for a Youth program, no denominational meetings, no squabbles about lighting or carpeting or drapes. No annual reports. No finance committees (because there will be no offerings).....Nothing but the Word of God.

So that is why this blog is late. Dozens of little details. But it is going to be great. And I can be a real pastor again! When someone gets sick, I can just walk down to their room. I don't have to drive in the dark and then walk over uneven ground. I don't have to fear falling. I am stronger than I have been in years. And, as a benefit, the ladies here make really good cookies.

I have been attending a couple of great churches, and I hate to leave that behind. But at 10:00 on Sunday morning, this old retired guy starts a new chapter. I keep you folks in prayer, now I ask you to keep me and this worship service in prayer.

Blessings.  

The disciples were pretty much confused, I think. Jesus was telling them what was going to happen, but they had always been told that Messiah would come as a conqueror. They expected Jesus to raise an army, but He was saying other things. The mother of James and John even asked Him to put her boys in the prime spots of His kingdom. There may have been a feeling of disillusionment, as well. Judas Iscariot had betrayed Him. It would be just a short time and Thomas would be expressing his doubts. The disciples were heavy with grief.

Of all people, you would have thought Mary would be on top of it. The angel had come to her to announce the birth, she had spent decades with Him, she had given Him motherly direction, as when He turned the water into wine. She may have understood more than most, but she was still a little in the dark.

The cheering crowds of a few days before really had no clue, and neither did those who had condemned Him. They cursed Him, they mocked Him, they called for His death. The guards at the tomb should have expected something great, but when the angel appeared, they fell to the ground in a faint. It was all a spectacle. Something to do and to see before the heat of summer set in. Stonings and executions always drew a big crowd. Say what you wanted to about the Romans, but they always put on a great show. 

There were those who stayed true. Those who risked their own lives to prepare His body. Those who had loved Him and had come to the cross to grieve. But still, there wasn't real understanding. The women who went to the tomb to anoint His body went early on Sunday in accordance with the law, not to witness the Resurrection.

All of these people were Jews! They had heard the words of the various prophets! They had heard Isaiah's words about the horror of His death! They had the information! But traditions and reasonings had swayed them all.

And, of course, there are those today who, even with the whole story, still follow the traditions and reasonings rather than feel the power. The new dress and the sharp necktie and the easter egg hunt and the easter basket with candy takes on as much significance, and perhaps greater significance, than the Word of God. And the true meaning become murky.

But in that moment before the light of the rising sun, something began to happen. The earth began to shake. A sound, a grinding noise was heard in that cemetery as the stone rolled away. A white light with the image of a man in it began to descend from heaven. The guards saw it and collapsed from fear. As the morning mist began to thin, women approached the tomb with their burial oils. There they saw the gleaming figure sitting atop the stone. Fear came upon them. And then the angel said, Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus, Who was crucified. He is not here, for He has risen, as He said. Come, see the place where He lay!

What more do we need? At Christmas we have an amazing story, yet we seek to dress it up in pretty wrappings. Why? And now, as we look at the greatest moment in all of history, we attach other worldly things to it, even calling it by a name that is an insult.  The greatest words in history are the words of Jesus as He gave up His life; It is finished! And as the women approached the tomb and the angel said, Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus, Who was crucified. He is not here, for He has risen, as He said. Come, see the place where He lay!

And just like that, the world changed. He is risen from the dead! Make the Resurrection count for something great this year. Don't worry about your church. Focus on the job He gave you and the church will take care of itself.

Blessings. 

Oh, my! Do you love the election cycles as much as I do? All the information and insight we receive thanks to the media and the campaigns of various candidates! Truely, we live in inspired times! 

My usual thing I do leading up to an election, in my case that would be the primary election in Ohio on March 19, is to do some research on the various candidates and issues on the ballot. But, more and more, I wonder why I bother to research at all. I mean, all the information you might need is on the commercials. 

On election day I was on the road and was listening to the channel I get the traffic information on. An ad came on the radio. It started by saying a candidate's name. The announcer let disgust drip off every syllable of the man's name. He went on to trash the candidate for crimes he had been charged with in a different state as well questionable political failures. I was a little alarmed to hear these things. My research had turned up some personal mistakes from decades ago, but he had been acquitted. This was new information and I was so glad to have found out before I cast my vote. Next was a commercial for a tire company and then an announcer began to extoll the virtues of a candidate. Without mentioning his name, the announcer told us how wonderful he was, a loving husband and father, a man who truly deserved our vote. The peaceful music in the background made you know this was a quality man. As the ad ended, the announcer said, "Good for Ohio, good for America." I was filled with pride! And then he finally spoke the candidate's name. It was the same name as the previous commercial! WHAT! How could this be?

Politics as usual. Every two years we are caught up in it. Every four years we have the presidential election. And every election, whether for city council or county commissioner or various national offices, are said to be the most consequential election of our time. Only doom and gloom results if you don't vote as I say.

Politics has always been around. Even in the days of absolute rule by a king there were politics. Behind the scenes there was scheming going on just to gain the king's ear. The book of Esther is full of political intrigue. The pages of the Bible and all history drip with political desire. We look at our time now and think that the world has never seen such turmoil. Why, our politics pale when compared to the Roman Empire and even, if you read your American history, our own past. The Burr-Hamilton duel in 1804 comes to mind. Our politics? Child's play. It is always ugly. 

Let's look at the first century Israel. The Pharisees, arch conservatives, facing off against the Sadducees, the liberals. The Scribes, who tended to go whichever way best suited them. Then you had the splinter groups; the Zealots and the Essenes. The Zealots were even more conservative than the Pharisees. They were militant. The Essenes felt they were above it all and went away to copy Scripture (it is to these folks we owe thanks to for the Dead Sea Scrolls). There was constant conflicts between them all. 

And then Jesus came along and all these groups joined together. Not to praise Jesus, but to hate Him. With a mere parable, He was able to cut to the core of their politics. Though they all hated each other, they were all fearful of Jesus. And so, they all formed a common bond. They met, they schemed, they weighed their options. And the more people began to follow Jesus, the more their options focused down. Finally, there was just one answer; Jesus had to die.

And He did and all those backroom deals paid off. Now they could get back to what they were good at; hating one another.

Except, the grave could not hold Him. Jesus arose! Hundreds of people saw Him! The leaders came up with lies (they were, after all, political animals). But it was too late to put the cork back in the bottle. 

We need Jesus again today in our politics. Not as someone to scorn and hate, but as One we can praise and worship. However, when Christians get just as political as the non-believers, do we gain? We often say, "He has good Christians values" but is that really enough? Do they really believe? 

Of course, go vote. But also pray. Turn that hate you might feel into love for these people. Then, and only then, will it be the most important election ever.

Blessings.

I am usually more careful. I really am. No one likes to feel like that, but......

I am allergic to pork. It didn't start affecting me until I was a middle aged adult. It started slow. At some point I realized that I got sick whenever I ate ham.  In time, maybe ten years or so, the only pork I could eat was bacon, which was fine. After all, what is life without bacon? After moving to Indiana, I found out what life without bacon was like. Imagine, no bacon! Well, there is turkey bacon, but really?

The last real bout of pork sickness came at Wabash hospital in Indiana, where I was a patient for a few days. I was feeling pretty good and I ordered potato soup for lunch. I asked the lady on the ordering phone if there was bacon in the soup and I was assured there was not. And it was good! Very good! And a few hours later I got sick. Sicker than I ever remember being. Everyone was alarmed. They kept me an extra day, I suppose because they thought I was going to die. The next day I was still sick and in so much pain I could hardly move. An aid came in and suggested I eat some soup, and then the light came on. I asked if the potato soup had bacon. She pulled out a list that had all the ingredients to the food in the kitchen. Bacon wasn't listed. At that moment a nurse came in to do vitals. She was drawn into the conversation, and she left for the kitchen. There she found the box of mix for the soup and right on the list on the box it said bacon. That is how I am affected.

So, I check labels. Pepperoni has pork in it, so only vegetable pizza. No eggs cooked in bacon grease. No little bits of bacon in a salad. I never want to be that sick again.

Saturday a lunch companion and I went to a Chinese buffet restaurant neither of us had been to. I happen to love egg rolls and so I took two. I have eaten at two such buffets since returning to Ohio and have had no problems. I never thought about it. I was halfway through my second roll when my friend said, "I thought you couldn't eat pork." "I can't. No pork on this plate." "You didn't see the sign above the rolls? 'PORK FRIED EGG ROLLS.' Go look."

A couple of hours later I started getting sick. By 9PM I was buried under covers. Sunday morning, I hurt so bad I didn't want to move. It lasted till around Monday noon.

While I was agonizing, my brain still functioned. Mostly it was saying 'YOU IDIOT YOU IDIOT YOU IDIOT YOU IDIOT!' But there were a few normal thoughts, as well. I knew I would survive, so at one point the thought came; 'This is how we enter into sin. Satan puts sin in front of us and we avoid it. But then he puts it in something that is pleasurable. Cheating a few dollars on our taxes, feeling flattered when someone from the opposite sex compliments us, breaking the speed limit on that lonely stretch of road, losing our temper because we were provoked. Then, once we have sinned, we realize it and feel badly. But then, we get over it and we find out that it did feel good!' And sin has entered into our lives and has gained a foothold. 

Hebrews 12:1---Wherefore, seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight that so easily besets us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us.

Even a tiny sin is sin. Set it aside.

As the betrayal of Jesus was at hand, He took Peter and James and John with Him and went to pray. Matthew 26:36-40 records the event; Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane, and He said to His disciples, “Sit here, while I go over there and pray.” And taking with Him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, He began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then He said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch with Me.” And going a little farther He fell on His face and prayed, saying, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will.” And He came to the disciples and found them sleeping. And He said to Peter, “So, could you not watch with Me one hour?

This is a sad moment in the Bible. Jesus tells them His heart is aching. He asks them to 'watch' with Him. The word 'watch' simply means to stay awake. It was night, the men were tired and, although we only have a short snippet of His prayer, He chides Peter for not being able to make the hour. So, Jesus is in emotional agony and is praying alone for at least an hour, and all He wanted His friends to do was wait for Him, maybe stand guard, and they couldn't do it. Mercy, there are several sermons right there! But that is not the point to this blog.

Jesus was in so much grief it was about to kill Him. He asks His Father to remove the cup from Him. He goes on and assures His Father that He will do the will of His Father. The troubled soul of our Savior is on full display. But what was troubling Him so?

The easy answer, and perhaps the most considered, is that Jesus was both God and man. Because of this, He fully knew of the suffering that awaited Him. He fully knew that at some point He was going to take on the sins of the world. He knew that at some point He would cease to be covered by hand of God. (Remember, He called out asking His Father why He had been forsaken.) He knew the pain that was coming. This is what we usually see.

But we are just human. We look at things only as we see them. I have never understood how a woman can have a baby and go through that intense pain and agony and then want another. They know the pain because they have experienced it, yet they want to go through it again. It is because they have never known such love as when they hold that newborn in their arms. Jesus, the great God/man, fully understood what He would experience. However, He also knew what was on the other side of that torment. Reunion with His Father. The beauty of His home, heaven. Hearing the angel chorus. All the pleasure of being in His realm again. I had always wondered about the agony in the Garden.

And I believe there is another explanation.

Jesus was close with His disciples. He loved them. He called them friends. And He would have understood exactly what was about to happen to them. I think (and this is just me, if you feel different, I am not saying you are wrong) that the agony was for His disciples first and also for those who would be real followers later. 

There is a whole branch of Christianity that says if you really believe, your life will be one of joy and wealth. Just so you know, Biblically speaking, that is Satanic. Who in the Bible, those men and women of great faith, does that apply too? Paul, Peter, Daniel? No, suffering is a part of Christian life just as it is in worldly life. Grow up.

I think Jesus knew what was to happen to His friends. He was God, after all. And He knew that what was to happen to them was because of their extreme faith and obedience to Him. I think that His agony was for all the true faithful and the trials they would face. Being human, those faithful could never really understand the reward because they had never experienced it, yet they would be faithful.

I believe Jesus was grieved because Judas was a betrayer. I believe He knew Peter would deny Him and would later deeply regret that denial. I believe His heart was breaking because He knew James would be horribly killed for his faith. This we know from the Bible, but the deaths of the other disciples we know from records. We know that John, the favorite of Jesus' disciple band, died a relatively peaceful death, but before that he was placed in a vat of boiling oil and lived. The Romans, impressed because he lived, then sentenced him to exile on an island. Think of the burns and then the scars. Did his ears and nose burn away? Was he blind? I read one writer who detailed the result of the botched execution, and then said that John's writing of the Book of the Revelation was after that and therefore should be considered to be the writing of a crazy man. But he didn't seem crazy in the Book of John or in First and Second and Third John, and he wrote them during the same period. Jesus would have known of the coming suffering of John. Jesus would have known that Peter and Nathaniel and Phillip and Andrew would all be crucified, and He would have known that before he was crucified, Nathanel would have skinned alive. He would have known that Thomas would be sold into slavery, been faithful in his witness and would have died in India, of all places. Jesus would have had on His heart the knowledge that Matthew would be stabbed to death in the house of worship he started in Ethiopia. Jesus would have been able to see in His mind that the other Judas and Simon Zeolotes would be beaten to death by angry crowds, Judas in Edessa and Simon in Babylon. And He would have seen each stone hurled at James the Lesser as he was stoned to death on a street in Jerusalem. And for Jesus, it would not have stopped there. All those that were to put Him first, He would know their sufferings. And He would also know and see those who would back down in the face of persecution. 

And so, Jesus said to His friends, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death;" And He says that to us now. Watch and pray and be strong.

Blessings.      

  

There are holes in the Bible. 

Easy there. I don't mean about the Gospel or about creation or anything like that. The really important stuff is all there and is firmly established. But there are other things we do not know. In my years in the ministry I have probably been asked all of them. Where was Joseph during the ministry of Jesus? Was he dead? When Paul said he had a thorn in the flesh, what did he mean? Was Daniel able to pet the lions or did they just stay on their side of the pit? What happened to the dinosaurs? How many times have you said, "When I get to heaven, I am going to find out"? As Richard Monce once told me, when we get to heaven we won't think to ask. Which is probably true.

But I wonder about these things sometimes. One of the things that bounces around in my head is what was Mary thinking as she watched her Son grow up and then begin His ministry. What did she really know?

The angel came to her and explained the pregnancy and birth, but that was all we have recorded. A few years ago I read an attack on the song "Mary Did You Know?" The writer said that the song intended to cut down the power of God. Of course Mary knew these things! An angel came to her! God's purpose was knowledge to her! Only, that is not what the Bible says. The whole conversation between Mary and the angel was short. She was told what she needed to know. He was to be the Messiah. The Bible says she hid these things in her heart. But how did that affect her?

Mary would have probably known the prophecies of His purpose, but she would probably have known of the prophesies of His coming rejection and death, as well. Was she confused as Jesus learned carpentry? Did she feel inadequate about His simple life she and Joseph were giving Him? Once He started His ministry, was she frustrated because people rejected Him? The Jews had developed a certain way of thinking about the Messiah, and Jesus went against that. Was Mary questioning what she thought she knew? Perhaps the only thing Mary was sure of was that she loved her Son.

Which brings me to the last week of her Son's life. We don't know if she was there when Lazarus was raised from the dead, but she was in the area. A few days later she was at the cross, so she was at least nearby. Was she there for the triumphful entry into Jerusalem? Again, we don't know. She may have been in the crowds that were following Jesus, or she may have gone on ahead with her other children to prepare for Passover. But she would have heard of raising of Lazarus and the entry, at the very least. Perhaps she started to feel the joy. Her Son was finally fulfilling the promise! Now all those naysayers would see!

But then came the arrest. The trial. The sentence. The beating and humiliation. How could this happen? Did Mary's faith in her Son waver? Or did Jesus Himself, at some time, set her down and explain what was to come? We just don't know. All that is not important to the greater story. Still, I would like to know. What we do know is that, even if she was knowing as to what would happen, she had to be in agony to see her Son so horribly treated and killed. 

Wavering faith or not, she became a believer. In his personal notes, Luke recalls how he went and sat with Mary as she told him the story, which wound up in the Book of Luke. In the early church, she was highly respected. Mary saw, firsthand, how joy came into the world, how hope was shattered and then how joy and love won the day. 

However, I still wonder about Mary. I wonder what went through her mind. One day, when I walk the streets of Glory, I intend to look her up and ask her. 

Unless Rich Monce is right and it doesn't matter anymore. We will see, Rich, we will see.                             

It is a little town in south central Kentucky. Russell Springs. Both of my parents were born and raised there. You didn't stray far from Russell Springs. Of course, the kids went to school, but most dropped out after the eighth grade because in Kentucky you could do that, back in the day. There was farming to do, or other jobs related to farming. And there was moonshine to be made, animals to be hunted and fish to be caught. My father had seven brothers and sisters and my mother had ten, so I had a lot of cousins. My father's siblings dispersed some from where they grew up (WWII was mostly the cause of that), but my mother's family mostly stayed close to home. A couple of adventurist types wound up in Ohio and Indiana, but as a rule, they stayed in the hills. When I was a child and we traveled to Kentucky, it seemed my folks knew everyone. Every hill had a story, every creek held a memory, every old barn had some event tied to it.

I used envy those memories. I didn't have my cousins close by. That part of family was missing. I couldn't go down to the swimming hole with my friends (my mother was terrified of water). We weren't hauled off to church every week to hear a rip snorting hell fire and brimstone message. We farmed, but it was never a 'real' farm like a Kentucky farm. What I wanted most in life was to marry a local girl and settle down in my hometown, where I knew everyone and where I 'belonged.'

That didn't happen, of course. The Lord intervened. Following His leading, I have lived in Tennessee, Florida, Alabama, Indiana and Ohio. But the Lord has given me experiences and memories to carry me through to the day I die. And most of you are part of those memories. Good memories, too. You are all so precious to me.

I took a drive in the country the other day and saw a cemetery that sparked a memory. Having pastored churches and having worked with a funeral home, I have a lot of cemetery memories, some good, some not so good. Funerals done in all the states listed above, and some other states, as well. Beautiful days and nasty days. On hilltops and on flat ground. Bees, oh my! And a couple of times cicadas swarming those gathered. The extremely old and the extremely young and every age in between. The sadness of feeling the deceased was lost to the Lord and the joy of knowing the deceased was walking the streets of glory. And most of all these deceased buried in a cemetery.

I love to walk cemeteries. To see the headstones and imagine the stories. There are several places purported to be the tomb of Jesus. I would like to go back in time and walk the cemetery where Jesus was truly buried. I like to walk a cemetery before daylight, so I would like to walk that cemetery Early in the morning, on the first day of the week, walking along and admiring the tombs. Then, the earth shakes. Not all that unusual, for the area, but the air feels different. There are sounds of fear. Rushing toward the sounds I find men, guards, lying on the ground. A stone has been rolled away and.....well, you know the rest of the story. But wouldn't that be a great memory? A story to tell! 

My memories of cemeteries are not that awesome. But each of those in those graves I have stood over will one day stand before the Lord. It doesn't matter if you are buried in Arlington National Cemetery or in a cemetery attached to a little church in Russell Springs, Kentucky, you will stand before the Lord. And what will the Lord say to you?

Special Ash Wednesday Blog!

Today, in addition to being Valentine's Day, is Ash Wednesday. This day commences Lent and follows Fat Tuesday. (I feel right at home on Fat Tuesday.) Lent leads us right up to Easter, which is the culmination of our Lord's life. It should be the holiest day of the year, but traditions of candy, eggs and ham for dinner intrude on what should be a sacred day. (Really? Jesus was a true Jew. If He had eaten pork, they would have killed Him for that. So, to celebrate His death, burial and Resurrection, we eat pork?)

When I was growing up, we observed the secular parts of Lent and Easter. Easter was all about Easter baskets and egg hunts and ham for dinner. When I was little, we attended a church and on Easter my sisters got new dresses. I had to wear a tie, which I hated. But that only lasted about three years. Interestingly enough, I do not remember being told of the Resurrection of our Lord until I was a senior in high school. Easter, in our home, was never about that.  

After I had accepted Christ as Savior, I became interested in the details of our little traditions. It was becoming more and more clear to me that the Resurrection and Easter eggs came from two different sources. As I began to study these traditions, it became apparent that the Bible story all by itself was moving and powerful and all the traditions originated from the Catholic church. That seemed inexplicable, so I dug farther.

I have talked of this before, so this will be short. (hahahahahaha) The Roman Empire, from emperor Constantine onward, would defeat a country and then force them to accept Christianity. However, if you discarded the traditions of those countries, the people would rise up in attempted insurrection. It was easier to allow them to keep their traditions but change the wording a little. Ash Wednesday came from such tradition. A particular country honored the local god of fire by sprinkling ashes on the heads of the people. The Roman Catholic church adopted this as a show of penance for their sin. In time it evolved from ashes dumped on the head to ashes on the forehead in the sign of the cross. The entire season of Lent evolved from a pagan system of worship. The church simply moved the 40 days of remembrance to a different 40 days on the calendar to coincide with Easter. Easter itself was a period of celebration in the Spring to honor Estre, the goddess of fertility. This worship of Estre included eggs and rabbits. The practice of giving something up for Lent in order to show God your seriousness, goes back to Pope Gregory (590 AD to 604 AD). The Council of Nicea proclaimed a period of prayer and fasting for 40 days before Easter. Gregory came along 250 years later and changed that a bit. He didn't like the fasting part of it, even though it was daylight fasting. (You fasted during the daylight hours and ate only after dark or before the sun came up.) He made the period 46 days before Easter and excluded Sundays. To this day, Sundays during Lent are not actually a part of Lent. Anyway, instead of fasting, it was decreed that you would just have to eliminate something during Lent to satisfy the church. It was for a long while the absence of meat (except on Sundays, which were not part of Lent), and then it became meatless Fridays and you gave up something else. (Meatless Fridays is where eating fish on Friday originated because fish was not considered real meat. I love a good Friday fish fry, but it has nothing to do with tradition.) Once people began giving up something else to satisfy the Lord, (usually some form of alcohol) the concept of Fat Tuesday took hold, the day before the start of Lent, and was a day of guiltless indulgence. 

I went to get a cup of coffee on Tuesday morning at the coffee bar in my building. Along with coffee, there were several boxes of paczky. For those of you not familiar with Polish traditions, paczky is like a creme filled donut, only it is filled with fruit. Not bad, really. They were giving them away in honor of Fat Tuesday. One final indulgence. "So, what are you giving up for Lent?" "Me? Not a thing." "What? You are a minister and you are not giving something up for Lent? Are you retired from being religious?" "Never was religious. Just a believer of Scripture over traditions. But I will take a paczky, since they're free." 

John 19:28-30---28 After this, Jesus, knowing that all was now finished, said (to fulfill the Scripture), “I thirst.” 29 A jar full of sour wine stood there, so they put a sponge full of the sour wine on a hyssop branch and held it to His mouth. 30 When Jesus had received the sour wine, He said, “It is finished,” and He bowed His head and gave up His spirit.  

Do we really need to embellish the greatest act of compassion and grace that ever happened? We tend to cringe at extreme cruelty, so I have always given the Roman Catholic church the benefit of the doubt and have said they were just taking the edge off the horror of that day. But maybe we should be fully aware of what Jesus went through for each of us. Chocolate rabbits and candy filled eggs were not there. The people who witnessed the death of Jesus did not go home to a fine ham. No one breathed a sigh of relief because their six weeks of refusing some pleasure was over. Instead, there were mocking crowds, beatings, gambling soldiers and those who relished torturing Him as He died on the cross. There was a grieving mother watching her Son die the most horrible death possible, a frightened disciple who, despite his fear, stood next to that grieving mother and accepted her as his own, others who had believed His message, now watching as hope seemed to die before them. And there was the God-man, One who had never sinned in word or deed, realizing even in the fog of pain, that all was fulfilled, muttered the words, "It is finished."

Then true name of the day is Resurrection Day, not Easter. Grow in Spirit and in grace and in power, so that when Resurrection finally arrives, you can truly thank Him for finishing the greatest of all gifts.

Blessings.  

 

This past Friday, Miss Mary posted a blog from 2014. She explained why. Nothing was coming to her, her mind was drawing a blank, blah, blah, blah. So, she researched her past blogs and found one that was perfect, so she said. It was so good she has decided to post a month of old blogs. Now, come on! What's the deal?!!? I mean, February 2014 was a long time ago. Very likely none of us ever read it. But still, A RE-BLOG! What is the big deal about writing an article? Sheesh!!!

Actually, it is a big deal. You try writing something relevant and inspiring every week for the last 900+ weeks. Looking for inspiration when the only one whispering ideas into your mind is a stuffed frog. Putting words down in one coherent sentence after another. Checking spelling, checking grammar and trying not to put to many 'buts' in the same paragraph. And then someone helpfully points out that there should be a comma in a certain point. I am thinking most people might have two or three articles in them, and then they would tail off. Each of us should be thanking Mary for being so diligent in her writing. 

Yes, it is hard to come up with something new and fresh. So, what about your pastor. Not only does he come up a sermon every week, he also delivers that sermon. Ah, you say, if he is being led by the Holy Spirit they all should be new and fresh. Only it doesn't work that way. Your pastor is human. He has headaches, backaches, a lawn to mow, a family to tend too, people bringing big problems and small problems and feeling better when they leave while he has to wrestle with those issues. Sunday comes racing along and Satan throws everything at the pastor he can to cause that pastor to veer off, yet everyone expects him to step up on Sunday and be Billy Graham. Does the pastor reuse old sermons? You bet he does! He doesn't want to use an old sermon, but sometimes it is all he has. He reworks it and goes with it.

And then there is the fact that you can use the same passage of Scripture multiple times and preach a completely different message each time, but some wise guy (or wise gal) will catch you after church and proudly say, "I know what you did! You reused an old sermon! In my Bible I mark a passage when you preach and you used an old sermon!" And this is usually said by someone who has no idea what goes into the planning, preparation and presentation of a sermon. 

When I started out in ministry, it was common to have Sunday morning and Sunday evening services as well as a mid-week Bible study and teach a Sunday School class. For two and a half years I pastored two churches on either side of the city. I figured I would just preach the same sermon at both churches. It didn't work that way because some of the people at Church A would jump into their cars and race along behind me to Church B to hear me preach again. (I never understood this, except they had no lives of their own.) Four Sunday services, two mid-week studies and one Sunday School class. One year I spoke at Kent State University five days in a row during Easter week as well as the regular schedule. And everyone wanted new and fresh. Forty eight years in the ministry, forty of those years as a pastor. I think I may have used one or two sermons over.

So, Miss Mary, re-blog and don't feel bad about it. And those of you who walk into the church on Sunday and you 'catch' pastor using an old sermon, give him a break. D.L. Moody, the great 19th century evangelist and the founder of the Moody Bible Institute, preached revivals about forty weeks a year. Six or seven sermons a week for forty weeks for dozens of years. He wrote toward the end of his life that he only preached a couple of hundred different sermons during his life, but he preached them over and over. Amazing that the Lord was able to use that slacker as much as He did.

So here is what I want you to do. If you know Miss Mary, give her a hug and thank her for being awesome. Go to your pastor and offer a firm handshake and throw in some respect. And finally, with everything you have going on in your life, take a month and write an article once a week and see what that takes out of you. Then, send those articles to Miss Mary or me so we can re-use them!  

Blessings.

   

 

A friend shared with me a moment of conflict between her pastor and a group of church folks. Part of the conversation involved the denomination this church is a part of and the fact (and it is a fact) that the denomination is embracing the 'woke' agenda. If you don't know what 'woke' is, go to search in your computer and type in "what does woke mean in politics" and you will get your answer. Anyway, the pastor angrily responded, "Oh, now you're getting political! There's no politics in the Bible!" And that.....is just stupid.

Politics caused David's sin with Bathsheba and politics just made it worse and worse. Abraham made alliances with local war-lords. Politics. God raised up special people to rule Israel during the time of the Judges and they often made alliances. Politics. Jesus was killed by politics. Paul was captured because he was being political. The anti-Christ is all about politics. You can hardly read the Word and not run into politics. Which may be this pastor's problem; he doesn't read the Word. Their politics were different from ours. We don't have a king. Our president doesn't have absolute power. We elect our 'leaders' while their leaders were appointed. Different, but still politics.

A true anarchist is someone who wants all politics to cease and all order to be erased. These people organize in groups to have more power and they appoint or elect a leader. Which is, of course, politics. Politics is hardwired into our very being and we can't get away from it.

So, what brings these musings about?  

Very recently I heard about someone who said, "If Jesus were here today, He would be a registered Republican!" The political season doesn't begin with the primaries. It begins when we hear people saying Jesus would have been a Republican or a Democrat. The political season really gets underway when we see the politicians start exhibiting Christian-like characteristics that are contrary to what we saw just a couple of weeks before. And the political season goes into full swing when preachers start praising their politicians from the pulpit.

It is our civic responsibility to be involved. I would even go as far as to say it is our Christian obligation to get involved. After all, it was Peter's refusal to buck the political fervor that led to his denial of Christ. BUT, it is also our Christian obligation to go forward into this dark realm acting like Christians. Conducting ourselves as Christ would have us act. Remembering that first and foremost, we owe our undying loyalty to Jesus.

The political season is upon us. We will hear lies and accusations and wild stories. Buckle up. But always remember, if Jesus were here right now, He would not be a Democrat or a Republican. He would be Jesus. The Almighty. The Creator. The Hope.

Blessings.  

   

Chardon, Ohio is probably the snow capital of Northeast Ohio. As I heard one Chardon citizen say on a radio call-in show about weather conditions in the area, "Well, it's coming down pretty good right now, but we don't really worry until it gets to three or four feet in one storm." And no one laughed because the man was serious. Chardon is 1,243 feet above sea level and Lake Erie is close, so the elevation and the lake affect snows make it ideal for big snows. Remember the blizzard of 1978? That is Chardon several times a year. I have been in Chardon several times when the snow on the side of the road was much higher than the top of the car. Once was for a track meet. Seemed kind of stupid having the kids out there running, but the track was clear and it was just a normal day in Chardon.

Last week, as the big storm was making its way through Indiana toward Ohio, I had a doctor's appointment in Chardon. It was the day before it was to hit (and for Northeast Ohio, it was a dud) and I was thankful to be able to get this appointment out of the way before the storm. As I neared Chardon, I was startled to see the roads were all white. No snow in the air, but white roads. And then, stopping at a red light, I saw why. The roads had been covered with a brine solution and then covered heavily with road salt. This is expensive, but Chardon can do this because one of the world's largest road salt mines is about twelve miles away. 2,000 feet below Lake Erie and several miles out under the Lake, this mine produces a tremendous amount of salt that is shipped around the world. But Chardon and surrounding communities just drive their plow trucks over every morning and fill up. (This salt mine is amazing, but scary. It is a four minute, fast elevator ride to the mine. Then there is the knowledge that above you is Lake Erie. And then there are occasional earthquakes in the area. Not big, but the ground shakes. I worked there for a while, but I was mostly above ground. It takes a special person to go down every day. Anyway.....) Still, it does cost a fair amount. Chardon, however, does this to make the community as safe as it can be. The salt melts the snow for the first foot or so and then they salt again. It is how they protect the community.

It made me think of how the Lord protects His own. There is a price to pay for salting roads like that. Aside from the expense, it affects cars and trucks, makes for a mess in the Spring and eats away at shoes and clothes. But lives are saved. Luke 12:6-7 tells us that God knows each sparrow; He surely knows us. Even to the point of numbering our hairs. And because God knows, we are shielded. It may not seem like it at the time, but the Lord watches after His own. When we put our faith in Him, it will work out. Maybe not as we would like it, but it will be for the best.

Romans 8:18 says, For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. He will not leave us or forsake us or ever let us go.

How cool is that!!???!?

    We will call this one "A Tale of Two Bibles." Kind of catchy, if I do say so myself.

    A Bible is a treasure. It doesn't just contain the Word of God. It is the Word of God. There are those who say that the various translations dilute the Word, there are those who say the language is archaic, there are those who say it is too hard to understand. All that is somewhat true. There are some versions that omit verses, those who say the language is archaic really prefer to read text like messages rather than actual sentences, and the Bible can be hard to understand if you only read it when the world looks like the end is coming. When reading the Word, you will find little golden nuggets scattered throughout. Don't grab a verse here and there. The Bible was never meant to be read that way. To many good people get dragged down the wrong path by doing that. When it is read earnestly, it is the perfect Book.

    I love the Bible with a passion. I really like the fact that I can read the same passage over fifty times in ten years and get something new each time.

    I found early on in my Christian walk that the Word can explain itself better than I can explain the Word. With that in mind, I started giving Bibles away to people. I would buy them by the case and keep them on a bookshelf in my office. Someone would come in for counseling or someone I had shown the way to Christ or a Youth who was searching or whoever, and they would leave my office with a Bible and a list of passages that pertained to their need. How many did I give away? I pastored a church for eleven years that gave me $1,000 a year for books. I usually bought some books for my need and the then the rest went for Bibles. I didn't give really nice Bibles from that, but usually around $10.00 a piece (a $10.00 Bible then was much nicer than a $10.00 Bible now). I would buy them by the case and thus get a better deal. I would spend around $800 a year, so that meant eighty Bibles a year. Times eleven years. That is eight hundred eighty Bibles in just that eleven year period. And there were times I bought really nice Bibles for some, though not as often. When I left that church, I had three Bibles left. At the church prior to that church, I gave many Bibles away, but that money came out of my pocket.

    Bibles contain the basis for our faith. But this is a tale of just two Bibles.

    The first is one I have written about before. My Bible. I read it every day from January 1976 to the end of 2006. At that point I looked at that battered old Bible and decided to retire it. I bought a new one and put the old one away. Yet, it kept showing up in my hands somehow. Even now, it still turns up. Pages are worn, leather is cracked, there is a stain on the back. Some pages are loose. It deserves a quiet retirement. But it keeps coming back for more. In January of 1976, a lady in the town where I served, a lady who went to a completely different church, came to me with an old Bible box. Inside was the Bible, wrapped in oiled paper to keep the leather pliable. She explained to me that when WWII ended, along with all the celebrations, she felt led of God to buy the best Bible she could afford and then give it to the person whom the Holy Spirit directed her to give it too. It took thirty one years for the Spirit to move her to give it away, and I was the recipient. It has been my closest companion over the years. Obviously, it has great importance to me.

    The other Bible in this "Tale of Two Bibles" is a Bible that had not entered my mind in decades. When I was growing up, Keith was my best friend. I would have done anything for Keith, even protecting him a few times. Keith had a little sister, Karen, who a royal PAIN! Two years younger than us, she wanted to do everything we did. I met Karen when I was three and she was one. But somewhere along the way, Karen became different. She became a friend. Our paths separated when I left for college, but we were still close. As we got older it seemed the only times we got together was for funerals. First her Dad then her Mom and then, the hardest for me, Keith. But we did stay in touch occasionally. When we exchanged letters or cards or emails, I was always reminded just how much her life impacted me as we grew up. 

    Karen has had COVID for the last week or so. We have texted back and forth because I am concerned and because she has been so sick she needed her oldest friend to be concerned. At one point on Friday evening, she texted me a picture of an old, slightly tattered white Bible. Another picture with the note that came with the Bible. The caption under the two pictures said, "My prized possession."  It took me a minute or so to realize that the Bible was the one I had given her almost fifty years ago. All those Bibles that had passed from my hands to so many others, at least a thousand, this was the first. And she has read it. She has sought solace in its pages. Courage, answers, direction. And she still has it.

    I cannot explain the emotions that swept over me. I am sure a lot of those Bibles I gave out never left their boxes. Others got left behind. Some were read until the crisis passed. But some were read. Some were treasured. Some became important.

    Many say they cannot witness their faith. Give a Bible to someone. The Holy Spirit will direct their reading. What can you give that is more precious than God's very Words?   

Alaska!

That was where we wanted to go. The wilderness. The isolation. The need for churches. We were in school, so Marsha and I both began to take some classes that would prepare us for missionary work. People said we were crazy, and we probably were. But it was what we wanted.

Funny thing about being in the ministry and personally wanting something. If you listen, you can almost hear God chuckle.

We applied for home mission work. The denomination had a plan for us, and part of that plan did involve mission work, so we seemed to be lining up for the denominational plan. The only thing was, we had no intention of leaving Alaska once we got there.

And then we got our assignment. Northeast Ohio. WHAT? THAT'S WHERE WE GREW UP! WE DON'T WANT TO GO HOME!

And it wasn't home. Masury, Ohio. Seventy five miles from home, right on the Pennsylvania line, but still Northeast Ohio. OK, that was fine. A few years there and then we would go to Alaska. They needed churches.

That was thirty nine years ago. In the last thirty nine years, I have done ministry in Indiana for seven years and Northeast Ohio thirty two years. Never got to Alaska.

We never wanted to go home, but the Lord's intention did become clear. It seems there are people who need Jesus here, as well as in Alaska. Not only that, but as you folks know, I am extremely level headed and grounded (hahahaha) and there are some real goofballs in Ohio I needed to help.

First week of June, but still a steamy hot day in Ohio. I was filling my gas tank at a local convenience type store when I noticed in the corner of the parking lot a lady and two teenagers, a boy and a girl that were probably her children, standing around a car staring solemnly at a flat tire on the front of the car. I went in to pay for my gas and when I came back out, they had gotten the spare tire from the trunk of their car, but they were still standing around staring at the flat tire looking as if they had just discovered an alien spacecraft. I drove my car over and asked if they needed help just as the boy turned and headed for the store. The woman said yes, they did need help, so I set about changing their tire.

Now understand the situation; As usual, I was in a hurry to get somewhere, but I couldn't very well leave these people in the lurch. After all, it was hot and they were going somewhere, too. The kids were high school age and school had another week, so I was thinking they should be in school, but perhaps they had a doctor's appointment or some such errand. I was in a suit and really did not want to get sweaty, but this was something I could do fairly quickly and still get to where I had to go on time. Changing a tire for someone is something I have done many times.

Just as I was getting the lug nuts off the old tire the boy returned and began speaking in a very agitated manner to the lady. "No luck! They wouldn't even let me have just a little! We have to get going right now! I...I...I'm telling you, I just can't wait anymore!" Being human, I became interested. What was it this teenager needed so badly? If he needed it so badly, why didn't the folks in the store help him out? The woman said, "I think you can make it. This guy is just about done with the tire. We can leave in a few minutes." The words did not seem to assure the boy and he began to pace.

By this time I had wrestled the old tire off and was in the process of lifting the spare up to the hub and trying to line up the lugs with the holes. The boy squatted next to me and filled me in on his dilemma. "You know what? If I had another dollar I could buy a pack of cigarettes! I tried to get them to give me part of a pack in the store but those %^&$#& wouldn't break up a pack!" He looked at me with a hopeful look, obviously thinking that after hearing such a sad story I might just reach into my pocket and give him a dollar. I just stared at him for a second. It crossed my mind to hand him the spare and get in my car and drive away, but I really couldn't bring myself to do such a thing. So, I just went ahead with what I was doing. He stood up and went over to his sister and began to complain about me. The woman just laughed and shook her head. It made me think that if that situation had occurred when I was a teenager and I had said that to someone kind enough to change my mother's tire, my mom would have straightened me right out. Then, when we would have gotten home and she had told my father, he would have bent the tire iron over my head (not really, but you understand what I mean). And I would have deserved it.

So, yes, there are people here who need my clear and calm thinking. But still...Alaska and moose steaks on the grill. Now, doesn't that sound good?                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Before I start, I want to thank all of you who sent me text messages and phone calls and e-mails wishing me well during this last period of time I have had a cold or COVID or something. For the most part, I have not responded. One, I have really been sick and haven't done much of anything other than taking Marsha to the doctor. She has been as sick as I. Second, I dropped my phone about six months ago onto a marble floor and shattered the faceplate. Since then, it has gradually lost various functions. I know what you are thinking. Why don't I get a new one? Well, folks, I am very, very cheap. However, now that I am feeling some better, I guess I have to bite the bullet. But, really, thank you all. ON TO THE BLOG!  

This will surprise many of you, but I took a writing course in seminary. Really. No joke. It wasn't required, but it was one of those things that was strongly suggested. The thinking was that most of us would embarrass ourselves and the ministry if we were to ever be called upon to write a news article or an obituary or a church newsletter. I took the course because I liked to write, but I never knew so much was involved. 

The first thing we were taught was to write in such a way so that a third grader could understand. Maybe it is just me, but that seems kind of stupid. Most third graders can blow me away with their vocabulary. In the class they talked about writing down from our intellect. HA HA HA!!!!! I usually try writing up to third grade level. We were told not to use common vulgarity. That doesn't mean no swearing. This was seminary, after all. The smart place. 'Vulgar' is from the Latin 'vulgus', which means from the common people. So, we were not to write in the common language and idiom. What this means is we were taught not to use common phrases, such as 'once in a blue moon' or, as I used above, 'blow me away'. Also, you are not to use contractions, such as 'wasn't' instead of 'was not'. If it is a news article there are only supposed to be no more than two sentences in each paragraph and in any article or blog (actually, the word 'blog' did not yet exist) there are to be no more than 800 words. And, most important of all, HAVE A PLAN!!! That is right. Know what you are going to write, follow a path and come to a conclusion. 

This course lasted a full year, half as long as my preaching course, and that didn't stick with me, either.

So why all this about writing? First, to demonstrate just how smart I really am. Having failed at that, the second reason springs to mind. The second reason is to show that with man's intervention, we can really mess things up.

The Bible was written by 35 writers, not counting the different authors in the Books of Psalms and Proverbs. The whole Book is inspired by the Holy Spirit, but the writing styles of the individual authors is evident. Not so much in the newer English translations, but truly evident in the original languages. Isaiah was of royal birth, probably a first cousin of the kingly line. His writings show learning and skill. Much of the Book of Isaiah is written in poetic form. The prophet Amos, probably a contemporary of Isaiah, was a mostly uneducated itinerant farmer who wrote in the way he talked. The Apostles Paul and Peter knew each other well, but Paul was very well educated while Peter had just enough to get by, and they both wrote differently. One set of rules does not go for Biblical writers, so why should it go for us?

This line of thought was triggered by my old buddy, Miss Mary. Miss Mary posts a weekly blog at mary-marysmoments.blogspot.com  I encourage you to read her blog. This last week's blog referenced a Christmas Eve service where the person lighting the Christ candle on the Advent ring could not get the candle to light. She refrained from mentioning that the failed lighter was actually me. Anyway, in an e-mail communication this week, she referenced her blog for this Friday. She said something like, "looking forward to seeing how it turns out." For Miss Mary, as well as for myself and for many others, that is how writing goes. Led by the Spirit, we start with one goal and finish somewhere else. It may sound haphazard, but it is really part of His plan.

We are all different. We approach everything in life differently. We see things just a bit differently, we pray differently, we listen and comprehend differently, we approach problems differently. We all know this is true. But what about our witnessing for Christ? "Oh, pastor, I try to witness, but I just can't do it like Rick Warren said. I get so frustrated!" Who said Rick Warren, or any of the other so-called 'big names' has the only way to witness? You are to share your witness as the Spirit leads. Do that and the Kingdom will grow.

Be blessed and shine your light in the way He leads.