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.