I guess I am confused. Concerning the discussion of whether or not the church should call a Youth Pastor (with extended responsibilities), I have gotten some strange feedback. It is the nature of the feedback that has me confused.

        This was never intended to be divisive. Yet, in the last few days I have encountered heat. I have been told we are trying to push this down the throats of the congregation. I just sat and viewed again the video of the Business Meeting from August 21, and I see absolutely nothing that is adversarial. Things that were presented that no one wants to hear, but it was not adversarial in nature. It was made very clear that this was a proposal. A thought out and prayerfully arrived at proposal, but still a proposal. Unlike government, we have no Executive Orders that we can issue, and we wouldn't do so if that authority existed. The members of the congregation will vote on September 11, and the result of that vote will be final. That hardly seems to be worthy of anger. Yet, there seems to be anger. If you feel anger about this, please call me. I promise, I will not be angry with you.

        The other thing that bothers me is that I have been told twice now that we are not going to vote for any student pastor to come in here and mess things up. The first time I heard this I assumed that it was confusion on the part of the person I was talking too. But when I heard it a second time it made me think that someone is sharing this bit of information. At no point has that ever been brought up. Not in the feasibility committee, not in a Board meeting and not at the Business Meeting. About three years ago I did contact Huntington University with the idea of having a student come and work with our Youth, sort of like an internship. I did this with the knowledge of the Board. The idea was we would pay for their gas and a small stipend, but that was all. That went nowhere. According to the lady who arranged that sort of thing, Urbana was so far away from Huntington that no one wanted to come out here. Anyway, it ended there. That avenue was not followed. We live in an era of 'fake news,' and perhaps it has filtered down to us. Keep in mind, 'fake news' is another word for a lie.

        At the Business Meeting, Barry intended to give a visual presentation of what the feasibility committee was putting forth. Because of a technical glitch, that did not happen. So, he just delivered it verbally. However, last Sunday he announced that he had made copies of what would have been his presentation and they were in the back of the sanctuary. Very few were taken. Personally, I am all for people talking out an issue. But when you choose to do so without the facts in hand, you are doing a disservice to the people you are talking to as well as to yourself. 

        I don't recall the voting process being passed along to the congregation. But so that you will know, the Board, at the suggestion of the feasibility committee, has decided an 85% 'yes' will be needed to continue on along the path of calling an individual. It was thought that an 85% 'yes' is needed to call a pastor, so we would apply that to this situation. Our Constitution does not cover this as yet. A simple majority will not do it. If a majority was all that was needed, that would be 'pushing it down the throat' of the rest of the congregation.

        We all realize that there is opposition to this plan. Perhaps you are one of the ones opposed. That is fine. we are a congregationally led church. However, if you are opposed, what other option do you have? And, perhaps more importantly, how much of your time and effort are you willing to put out to go along with that option? Being opposed is fine. Being opposed and not being willing to do something is a problem.

        Back in June I wrote a blog on this subject. I presented four options as we saw them. First, do nothing, let the church die and do not worry about the future. That isn't being harsh. Based on the record of the last ten years and the aging of the church, that is about to happen. Second, get someone from the congregation or hire a part timer to generate something for the young people. We have tried that a couple of times since I have been here. Didn't work. Third, dismiss the Pastor and call a new Pastor who will work with the Youth as well as Pastor. Since my primary concern in life is Urbana Yoke Parish and what is good for the Yoke, I would accept that dismissal. However, it is important to note, I have been doing this for 47 years and I have only ever known one pastor who pulled that off successfully, and that was me. We often think that calling a young pastor will draw young people and that never works. You had a young pastor before me, and it didn't work then. Fourth, call someone who is prepared by Spiritual calling, education and experience to fill this role.

        If the vote is 'no' on September 11, then please contact our Board president with options, because the first option will happen. 

        When it is all said and done, there must be no hard feelings.      

            I received a note from an old high school classmate the other day. Donna. She lives about twenty-five miles from the old hometown and I live about six hundred miles from the old hometown, so we never see each other. But we do keep in touch. In the note she expressed some of her deep awe towards God. It was a very nice note, even inspiring. As I sat back and started thinking about those days so long ago, I started counting in my mind all the kids from high school who are now believers in Jesus. If we had a reunion of the believers, it would almost be our whole class. How did that happen, I wondered.

        It sure didn't start that way. As we started high school, I doubt there were a half a dozen of us that even went to church. Some of those were religious nuts. Namely David and Diana. They went to different churches, but they went every Sunday and acted like they wanted to go. That was enough to make them religious nuts. For the most part, the rest of us didn't go to church and those who did go occasionally were dragged there by their parents. It was 1970 and weird things were happening everywhere in the country and there were more important things to think about

        That year, my freshman year in high school, our high school got a new varsity football coach. Tom Duff. I wound up on the JV and the varsity teams, which was cool, but I hated Coach Duff. I wasn't alone. The man was crazy. At one point during the summer two-a-day practices, all the seniors walked off of the practice field in protest. Coach Duff never blinked an eye. When the seniors realized he was willing to play with just underclassmen, they began to straggle back. In previous years, if you were a senior, you started. Not under Coach Duff. Not many seniors started that year. His practices were brutal. At least once a week we started practice by running the cross country course in full pads. He devised ways to make us suffer while pushing us to our absolute limits. And we hit, and we hit, and we hit. I hated that man. To that point our school had been the patsy in our league for years. Coach had signed a five year contract that stipulated a league championship somewhere in that five years.

        We hadn't won more than three games in a single season for several years previous. That first year we went 4-6. Imagine people going crazy with joy over a losing season. When the season was over, the players started bragging about how hard the crazy coach was on them. We started calling him Tough Duff. One day there was a PA announcement for all the guys who were going to be playing the next season to report to the gym. We all wandered in and were met with our wild eyed coach. "TOUGH DUFF? YOU CALL ME TOUGH DUFF? HOW ABOUT THIS, GIRLS. FROM NOW ON I AM 'NOT TOUGH ENOUGH DUFF.' GOT IT? THE FIRST YEAR WAS EASY, GIRLS. THIS NEXT YEAR WILL BE YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE! 

        And it was, too. And we went 7-3. Coach had put fear in all of us, but he also gave us a feeling of confidence and pride for playing on a winning team.

        Coach never swore and he didn't tolerate it among his players. He would have moments of extreme gentleness and, in the right mood, could have you doubled of in laughter. He was a very tough football coach, but he was a caring and compassionate man. Before practices and games, he would have a short devotional from the Scriptures if you wanted to attend. To some, it seemed totally out of character. But to those of us who knew him, it seemed right in line with his character. Hardly any of us knew what being 'born again' meant, but we began to see a Christian man in Coach.

        Just before school started my junior year, Coach asked about five of us to stay after practice so he could talk with us about something. He told us that once school was going, he was going to start a Fellowship of Christian Athletes chapter for our school. Weekly meetings, first one at his home. If the five of us would commit to go every Thursday night, others would come, too. One of the guys, a senior, laughed and said, "Coach, you need to get some other guys other than this group!" Coach shook his head. No, this was the group he wanted to commit to this. He was serious. No ramifications to the ones who said 'NO,' but he seriously wanted this to happen. One by one we committed to the Fellowship of Christian Athletes.

        And that started a transformation in the whole school. Coach was a tough coach in football, and that spread through all the sports. We began to win one league championship after another in all the sports. Our little school went from being the laughingstock to being the dreaded foe on the other teams' schedules. Yet, that isn't what I remember so well. I remember the twenty or so students who gathered at Coach Duff's home that first night and heard for the first about Jesus. It was a new concept. Everyone felt uncomfortable with it. As I said, it was a weird time, and we had a hard time relating to events from 2,000 years before in Israel. But Coach just led us along, never pressuring or pushing. He was still the same demanding coach, but he was also the one carrying the light of Christ in our school.

        That summer, between our Junior and Senior years, a couple of us attended a Fellowship of Christian Athletes camp. Both of us accepted Christ and our enthusiasm at the first Fellowship of Christian Athletes meeting of the new school year spread to others. Kids began to accept Christ. Every week one or two kids were being saved. It was amazing.

        After his initial five year contract was up, Coach signed another contract. But by this time there were parents who were very upset over his 'religious teaching' in the school. About three years into that contract, he got fired. I was in college in Tennessee at the time, and when I came home on a break, I caught up with him. I expected to see a sad, even angry man, but he fooled me. "Larry, the Lord's been leading me to the ministry for a couple of years. Now I'm going for it!" He pastored in Canada for several years and then he took a little church in Taccoa Falls, Georgia. There was a Christian high school there and he wound up as their head football coach, where he won two state championships. Yay Coach!

        So, when Donna and I connect, we can both talk about the Lord. Same with Gary and Dave and Barry and Cindy and Dollie and Deven and I could go on. A year ago this past June, when I spent some time with my best friend from childhood at the Cleveland Clinic, he told me he wasn't afraid to die because he was a believer. At his funeral a few weeks later I related that story, and I could see Karen and Kevin and Jerry and Barb and Bucky and others nodding their heads. And then there is Greg and Marvin and a few others who have already passed who were introduced to Jesus.

        One man. Not a great man in the eyes of the world. But he brought Jesus to a little school and changed a lot of lives. And those lives have changed other lives. I worked with Youth for well over three decades. I am the result of a Godly man's passion and I have passed it on. One man, folks. It only takes one man to change a lot of kids.  

My first exposure to an unforgettable musical program came in January 1975.

I had spent the first six months after high school graduation working to put together the money to go off to Bible college. In January of 1975 I first stepped onto the campus in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Visions of preaching in front of thousands, having a world wide radio broadcast and writing books were in my mind. Of course, none of that happened, but at the time I was surely excited. The possibilities were endless.

There was a church on campus. All first year students had to attend that church. After the first year you could attend a school approved church in the Chattanooga area or you could serve a school approved church somewhere. My first Sunday in the campus church was eye opening. Around 5,000 in the main sanctuary and around 2,500 in the rest of the building. Some were students, but mostly town folk and their children. I looked around and thought, WOW, this is what church is supposed to be!

Things proceeded pretty much like the church back home (a sorry excuse for a church with only around a thousand on Sunday morning) and, right on cue, the time came for special music. You weren't supposed to talk during church, but everyone started whispering to their neighbors. "Yes! It is them! They are going to sing!!!" People were really excited. A middle aged man and woman came to the pulpit. I assume they were both middle age. The man was, but the woman had so much make-up on, you could not tell her age. This was prior to Tammy Faye Bakker and I had never seen so much make-up. My mother and two sisters would not have worn that much make-up combined in a month. I would have laughed out loud, but everyone around me seemed to think the show was about to become mind blowing. I don't hear music like others do and I had never enjoyed it, but I thought maybe this time I would hear something amazing.

And it was amazing.

The introduction played and I knew it was going to be a regular hymn. I would tell you what hymn it was, but what happened when they started to sing made me forget everything else.

Imagine a hymn like "The Old Rugged Cross" being delivered in operatic style. And not even good opera. Whatever the hymn was, they hit all the high notes and held them for what seemed to be minutes. I imagined all the dogs in Chattanooga starting to howl and all the cats diving under beds and sofas. I closed my eyes and blocked my ears. I looked around thinking I would see fellow sufferers all around, but everyone seemed to have a look of pure rapture on their faces. Then the singers started to do the motions with the song. I would have laughed, but the music was so awful. As I watched, the woman's face began to change. It took me a minute to realize that her make-up was running. It was the weirdest performance I had ever seen. When it was over there were shouts of AMEN and cries for an encore, which the couple did, singing the chorus once more. I found out later that this was a husband and wife and they were the favorite singers of the chancellor of the school, who was also the pastor of the church. My roommate had explained these facts to me and then he got into one of his drawers and produced a big bag of ear plugs. "Whenever they are going to sing, wear the plugs and act like you love it. Always remember at this school you are being watched." Just horrible

What brought that little memory to mind? This Sunday, starting at 10 AM, we are having a ladies trio singing for us at the annual Church in the Grove. Word has it that they are pretty good. I am 99.98% certain they will not be singing opera. Come join us for worship.

And, just in case I am wrong, come see me. I have ear plugs.   

Before I start, I want to tell you that this is in no way an attempt to pat myself on the back. I don't do that and I don't need to have any false gratification. I believe that if you take this in that vein then it is because you feel conviction. If you don't appreciate this, please come to the office and we will talk.

I need to set the stage. Twenty five years ago I had so much energy I would have tired Ed Fitch out. Of course, twenty five years ago we all had more energy. But I was kind of a freak with it. I pastored a church in Geneva, Ohio called Park Street Church. When we went to the church, there was not a Youth group and nothing for the younger kids. Challenge! We started a Youth group called NYPC (Not Your Parents' Church, 7th grade through graduation)) and a weekly kids' group called Bible University, or just Bible U. K-6th grade. In the letter below, she is referring to Bible U. We had a very good Youth group, but Bible U was almost overwhelming. Parents loved getting rid of their kids for a couple of hours on Tuesday night. We were always packed out. Little kids would run up to us in the grocery store; "Pastor Wade! Miss Marsha!" And hugs and then telling us what had happened to them that week. Many of these kids came to worship on Sunday, often on their own (the church was in town). And I remember them. On the night of 9/11 we opened our church and many of the town folk came in, but so, too, did many of the kids. Marsha and I took the kids and we divided the adults up with our Elders. Those kids were terrified.

One such little girl was a girl named Nikki. (Actually, Nicole.) Nikki was wired. Mind racing, never walking, finishing her snacks in mere seconds. And always close by to me. Like many of those kids, her home life left much to be desired. Eventually, her parents began to keep her out of church as a punishment for little infractions and eventually, she was gone. I talked with her folks, but it was one of those situations. I would see her sometimes at ball games, but that was all.

This note came to me out of the blue this year via Facebook Messenger; 

 Hello, 

I am trying to get in touch with Pastor Wade. 

My name is Nicole Judd. My maiden name was Menser. I attended Park Street Church in Geneva, Ohio when I was younger. I just wanted Pastor Wade to know these things.

You gave me a Bible in 1998. I was 9 years old then. I still have that Bible and use it. You led a Bible Study of some sort with us and I just wanted you to know that you have had more of an impact on my walk with Christ than I had even realized until the other day. You always called all the kids up to the front of the church at some point during the service, and that made me feel complete, like you cared about the children in your congregation as much as you did the adults. As an adult I have never found a Pastor who does that to this day and I wish my children had that now. Many of my fondest memories from that time of my life came from that church and from you. Thank you for being the kind, caring man you are.

I hope you are well.

Nicole Judd 

Obviously, I got back to her. She had Googled Pastor Wade and got a bunch of them. She sent to all and here we are. I had led her to the Lord, later she introduced her boyfriend to Jesus and after they got married and had three kids, they all go to church together. Nikki has sent me videos of the oldest, ten years old, singing in church and I would love to go get her for a Sunday here. That daughter looks just like her mother did at that age. But the second child, also a girl, has her mother's personality. Nikki reminded me that I once told her that I hoped she had a child just like her. Payback! The third is their son, six years old and all boy. We have gone back and forth quite a bit. What a pleasant thing this has been.

But here is the thing. We here at the Yoke are dying on the vine. You cannot sugar coat it. You cannot explain it away. It has nothing to do with going down to one building. It has nothing to do with the people who have left because of denominational conflict or the going down to one building. It has nothing to do with the changing demographics of the area. It has to do with something else. We have a strong core right now. In five years that core will be weakened. In ten years that core will be gone. We have to seize the day now.

If the church does not add Youth and young adults in the next three-four years, it will be to late. If you were a young adult with children, you would not come to the Yoke. You would go where there is a program for your kids. Yes, it was done in the past with people from the church. But no one in the church feels they can do it now. Society has changed and technology has changed and someone has to lead who knows all about those things. 

BUT, that is not what really troubles me. In twenty four or twenty five years from now there will be a young woman. A young woman who grew up in a troubled home. A young woman with three kids and a husband, and they all drive her crazy. She will not have a Bible that some kind and caring man gave her twenty five years earlier, she will not have a desire to be in church with her family because she never went when she was a kid, she will not have a special church in her mind that makes her smile and she will not have a Savior to bring her peace and comfort.

I do not have the deep history many of you have with this church. I didn't grow up here. It would be very, very painful for me to hear this church closed. But I would get over it. However, the thought of all the young people who had a chance, except the church died would be a terrible burden. 

I know we can say that we cannot afford such a thing. The truth is, we cannot afford it. It is beyond our means. But it is not beyond what the Lord can do. To Him, it is pocket change. It can be done.

When we made the decision to go down to one worship center, to renovate Grace Church, to tear down St. Peters, we looked carefully at the money. Everything was weighed out. And we did it. Hard steps, yes, but it was done. But it was not a step of faith. It was a calculated operation. Now, it is time to trust God, to take that step, to do all we can do to save the church and, far more importantly, give a little nine year old girl or boy a foundation that will carry them through their lives.    

    They were not friends in the traditional sense. They were shipmates. An odd thing, that. John Porter liked nothing more than to get off the ship, the USS Douglas, on those rare occasions when she was in port. It wasn't a successful liberty until John and the other sailors he ran with had busted up a few bars, got in a couple of fights, drank more beer (or what passed for beer in the South Pacific) than a human being should be allowed and got arrested by the shore patrol. Now that was a fun liberty. Eddie Rowland liked to get off the ship, too, but he spent his time wandering the streets of whatever port they were in. He looked at the buildings, listened to the languages and watched the interactions between the people. After a liberty, John felt like he had died but didn't have the good sense to fall down. After his liberty, Eddie felt refreshed and alive.      

    But that didn't really matter at this point of the war. The Americans were pushing ahead and driving the Japanese back, closer and closer to their Home Islands. It had been six months since they had been in port. Refueling and resupplying at sea. Life on a destroyer was never comfortable, but given the pace they were moving now, it was unbearable. Always at battle stations, or so it seemed, the sailors stayed wet and miserable in the rough seas. Air attacks were common and the anti-aircraft guns seemed to always be firing or, when things had calmed down, being maintained. And this was where John and Eddie came together.

     They both served on a 75 caliber anti-aircraft gun. The rounds they fired were explosive shells and could really do a number on an incoming plane. But neither John nor Eddie ever sat in the gunner's seat. They were part of the fifteen man crew each of those guns required. John and Eddie were both loaders and therefore they worked closely together. It was here that they really got to know one another. John, the foul mouthed and vulgar stereotypical sailor and Eddie, the calm and easy going farm boy who never uttered a bad word. When under attack, the two men performed perfectly. When down time came and they were working on their gun, Eddie had a slow sense of humor that would get the entire gun crew laughing. Eddie's peaceful bearing began to rub off on the others. In a time of craziness, their gun was order and calm.

    And then came the Philippines and the Battle of Leyte Gulf. All the typical sailor knew was that they were going to the Philippines to drive the Japanese invaders out. It was looking like just another round against the enemy. The Douglas was part of an aircraft carrier task force and so their primary function was to protect the carrier. That is what the sailor knew. They didn't know they were sailing into the biggest naval battle in history. They didn't know the sprawling battle would actually be made up of four separate battles. They didn't know that this battle would involve over 200,000 men. The men of that gun crew knew only that their gun needed to fire and they needed to protect their carrier.

    Another thing they didn't know before the battle began was that this was the first time that the Japanese made use of suicide planes. Loaded with explosives, the planes would fly directly into American ships. The nasty war was about to get even nastier.

    As the battle progressed, the Douglas was strafed and, once, bombed. Debris was everywhere. Men were dead and dying. Still, the little ship was under power. Half the gun crew was dead or wounded and John and Eddie were working harder than ever. The gunner kept up a steady rate of fire in spite of vicious cut across his chest. Training was all that kept the gun alive.

    And then, John was thrown to the deck of the gun turret. He watched as a solid wall of fire raced just over him without touching. He saw the gunner not moving on the deck beside him and the gun itself twisted and broken. And there was Eddie, a look of surprise on his face, eyes wide open, but seeing nothing. Eddie would never see anything again. 

    The Douglas had been hit by a suicide plane. Damaged but still afloat, she drifted slowly out of the battle. Finally, a corpsman got to John and set about saving his life. It turned out that John was the only survivor of that gun crew. John was terribly injured and burned. The next day he was transferred to a supply ship to be evacuated. Eventually, after a couple of stops, the supply ship steamed into Pearl Harbor, where the injured could be properly cared for. It was at Pearl that John found out that his war was over. They found work for him to do, but he would never see combat again. Through some connections, he got the addresses of each of his gun crew and he wrote letters to the families telling them how brave their beloved ones had been.

    He mailed them all off, but he couldn't shake the thought of Eddie's family. The Rowland family had a farm in Illinois. Eddie talked of them all the time. John was from Pittsburgh and the idea of life on a farm seemed really nice. But now it was more than that. For some reason the thought of Eddie's parents, grieving for their son, tore at his heart. He just couldn't shake it.

    Because of his injuries, he was among the first discharged after the Japanese surrender. Back to Pittsburgh, he had to come to grips with the fact that he couldn't work in the steel mills. So, he decided to go to school. However, the idea of the Rowlands stayed in his mind.

    And so it was, in July 1947, he was driving an old, prewar Chevy across the flat lands of Illinois. Using the map, he located the nearest town to the Rowland farm and from there he got directions. His plan was to just go up to the door, quickly tell the Mom and Dad what a great guy Eddie had been and then get back in the clunker and drive away. He pulled into the drive and got out of the car, cane in hand. He was heading up the walk when the screen door slammed.

    He looked up. In the waning light he saw a tall, thin man coming down the porch steps. In that light he first thought it was Eddie, but no. This man was much older. A smile graced his weather beaten face. Behind him, still on the porch stood a tallish woman, somewhat plump, drying her hands on her apron. She, too, was smiling. The man came up to John, looked him in the eye and then wrapped him up in a hug. Then he turn to the woman, who was hurrying down the steps. "Look here, dear, its John!" She rushed to him and threw her arms about him. Then the two older folks hustled him into the kitchen and sat him down at the table.

    "Just in time for supper! How about that?" She set about getting everything ready. Mr. Rowland sat down and just stared at him, tears in his eyes. John finally found his voice. "Uh, how did you know it was me. I didn't send a picture." Mrs. Rowland came in with food and sat down.

    "Johnny, we have been praying you would come. We knew you would be here soon. Pa even said this morning it would be today." John was confused. Yes, Eddie was a little different. Occasionally, when everything was quiet, he would have that little Gideon New Testament that they had all received, and he would be reading it. But John never figured him for some kind of religious nut.

    Mr. Rowland laughed. "It's true, Johnny. We knew you would come. See, Eddie sent us a letter about three and half years ago. In it he told us that they were going where the fighting was. He said that if he died, it was OK. He knew he was going to heaven. But he asked us to pray for a shipmate named John Porter. He said you didn't know Jesus and if you died, well, you would go from a shooting war to Hell. From that point on, me and Martha added you to our prayer time. Every morning and every evening we prayed for you. When we got word Eddie had died, we felt you were still alive. See, boy, we know we'll see Eddie again in Glory, but we know we needed to see you here in the flesh." John wasn't following well, so he said, "Why did you need to see me in the flesh?" Mrs. Rowland laughed. "Johnny, you kept me from going crazy with grief. We both knew we had a mission to finish, and that was to tell you about Jesus."

    John wound up spending the night, although there wasn't much sleeping. For the first time he heard of the grace of Jesus, he understood how Eddie had been so calm and collected and, about two o'clock in the morning, he learned what it meant to be freed from sin. In the morning, after a massive breakfast and a crushing hug from Mrs. Rowland and a firm handshake from Eddie's Dad (and promises to return to visit), John climbed into his old car and headed back to Pittsburgh. A new man.  

          Revelation 22:20, the second to last verse in the Bible, says; He who testifies to these things saith, says, I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. 

         Do you ever feel like that? Does it ever feel like the world has gotten so stupid that we would be better off if the march of time just ended? Being ready to die, even looking forward to it, is one thing. But thinking that it would be better if the Lord just came back now and stopped the nonsense is another thing.

         Last week a young man walked into the mall in Greenwood with a backpack on. Nothing unusual there. But in the backpack, he had a disassembled rifle. In a pocket he had a pistol. He went into a stall and assembled the gun. He was in the restroom for an hour and two minutes, supposedly getting himself psyched to do what he planned to do. Finally, he emerged onto the food court and began to fire his weapon. Another young man was in that area with his girlfriend. This young man had a conceal/carry permit and a registered handgun on his person. He pulled his weapon and shot the assailant dead. Some innocent lives were snuffed out by the assailant and two were injured, but there were two lessons that were taught on that food court. First, not all people who carry guns are dangerous and two, our state allows private citizens to carry concealed firearms. So, if you decide you are going to shoot a place up to gain fame, you will probably wind up dead. Whatever the assailant was thinking, whatever his motive, he was stupid. However, the ‘stupid’ didn’t end on the food court. A police spokesman called the young man who was defending himself, his girlfriend and lots of others, a good Samaritan. Those who oppose the conceal/carry laws could not condemn the young hero because he had saved lives. But they were appalled that he was called a good Samaritan. Why, they said, the story of the Good Samaritan was in the Bible and therefore should not be used to praise the young hero. I doubt that these people ever actually read their Bibles, or else they would know that the Good Samaritan was saving the life of someone who had been terribly injured by robbers who had beat him. (Very few things set me off like people who use the Bible to put forth their silly agendas.) And the ‘stupid’ continues. This week there was a protest outside the Supreme Court, protesting the decision to knock down Roe vs Wade. There is nothing wrong with this, even though I disagree with their thinking. It is a Constitutional right for American citizens to peacefully protest something they feel is wrong. However, this group began to block traffic, causing a bigger headache than normal for the terribly congested streets in DC. The Capitol police warned the protestors three times to get off the street. There was plenty of room off the street. Finally, the Capitol police had no choice but to start arresting violators. Sixteen of those arrested were United States Congressmen and women. Of course, on Twitter they claimed they were arrested because of the abortion protest. Some of them, when the cameras turned their way, put their hands behind their backs as though they were cuffed and being led away. The ‘stupid’ comes in when these Congressmen and women actually believe that this will win them votes and increase their prestige. Americans are not, as a whole, stupid, unless they want to be. Here are people who swore to uphold the Constitution and who were then doing so with a peaceful protest, but who began to break the law for no other reason other than for dubious political gain. Can Americans respect adults who play in traffic?

         Ah, but the ‘stupid’ does not end there. It is possible this year that the NCAA will name a transgender athlete as Female Athlete of the Year. I guess that makes sense in a society that allows a person to use whichever restroom they wish, so long as they identify with that sex that day. Then, there is the well known celebrity who was changed his gender from a man to a woman but still prefers women as sex partners. It is unreal.

         Here is something for those who were offended because someone desecrated the Bible by invoking the phrase ‘Good Samaritan.’ Isaiah 5:20-21-- Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter! Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes, and shrewd in their own sight! Of course, I do not need to point out to Bible scholars such as these what ‘Woe’ means in the Scripture. Someone who is twisting good for evil and who thinks that their foolishness is intelligence is in for some real trouble.

         Ninth floor of the Cleveland Clinic. One of my people was in with emergency surgery. It was night and it was pouring rain. I went to an observation room on the ninth floor, just to look out at the city for a bit. When I got there, there was a smallish man in a threadbare suit looking out the big window. I knew when I saw him that he was a pastor. I went up to him and we began to talk. He was from West Virginia and was there for a family in his church. He was almost never in a big city and just thought he would look for a bit. We stood there and talked for a while, this unassuming man and myself. I didn’t want to end the conversation, but we both needed to get back. However. I knew that I would probably never stand with such a man of God again. You could feel the Godliness in the man. A smallish man in a threadbare suit on the ninth floor of a hospital. Yet, he was God’s man.

         Why do we call political people our ‘leaders?’ They are supposed to work for us. And why do millions of people follow them when there are smallish men out there, wearing threadbare suits who are giants?                                        

          Miss Mary’s blog on Friday inspired me. Well, it got me to thinking. The power of words. I don’t like texting. Abbreviations like Idk and lol and fyi…that is not talking. It may be communicating on a low level. But it says “I don’t have time to really communicate, so here you go.” I suppose that is OK because you are not really communicating, anyway. Verbal communication or, at the very least, written communication, is the way to express yourself. Texting and e-mail abbreviations make me nuts. And to convey real feeling, one can resort to emojis. The first written language consisted of pictures that represented something. This evolved into the diverse and complete communication we can have today. Yet, we have fallen back into the primitive. We call it emoji.

          Miss Mary talked about the word ‘love’ and said it is something we throw around lightly. Its meaning is diluted. It doesn’t carry the weight it should. As I thought about it I realized that I have come to use the word almost not at all. I might say I love dogs or I love a good Subway sandwich, but used in that way, one understands. (Although, for future references, on my birthday I really do enjoy Subway gift cards. Just sayin’…) But I don’t use it toward people. Some years ago one of our Youth, whom I had watched grow up, said or did something that was funny. I was next to her and I put my arm around her shoulder and laughed and said, “Girl, I love you!” She took that the completely wrong way. She went and told one of our ladies, who quietly explained how I was using the word. Yes, words do have power.

          Many of us are familiar with the four Greek words for love found in the New Testament. In the language there are actually seven words, but only four used in the Bible. Agape is often said to be God’s love toward us. This is true, but it also occurs between two people. It is the highest and most noblest form of love, so it is possible between two people. To put its usage into perspective, it is the most common word for ‘love’ in the New Testament, but it is the least used in all other Greek writing. Then we have Phileo, which we tend to say means ‘brotherly love.’ And it can mean that, but there is another word just for that. This word means extreme fondness and is sometimes used in conjunction with Agape. The next word is Storge and this more refers to family type love. To denote a favored family member, it is coupled with Phileo, as in philostorgos. And the last word is Eros and refers to ‘sexual passion. These are the four words of the New Testament. If you said “I love you” to someone in Greece, they would know exactly what you mean. Now, if we say “I love you” to someone in English, it can be misinterpreted. English is a great language for things technical and practical, but not so much about expressing one’s self.

          As I thought on these things, I thought about the Hebrew. It did not come to my mind what the word for ‘love’ was in the Hebrew, but Hebrew is a very expressive language. The words for ‘love’ would likely be beautiful. So I got my smart references out (this is where I go when I want to appear smart, so don’t be fooled) and began to look. It turns out that there are places in the English Bible where the word ‘love’ is used but this is often used to convey a feeling that we have no real word for, or at least didn’t have in the 15^th and 16^th centuries when the first English translations were being made. But there is a single word for ‘love’ in Hebrew and, oddly enough, it is pronounced as luv. I find that interesting. This word means ‘loyalty.’ Jacob loved Rachel (was loyal to her) so much he worked for her for seven years. And when he was tricked, he worked another seven years.

          This is what I think. I think I will Agape God and luv in other instances. I just really like the idea of love meaning loyalty. In the Old Testament, loyalty was in short supply. Food was scarce, clothing hard to come by, life was hard. To say you would be loyal to someone said a lot.

          Wow, Miss Mary! Words do have power! You can’t express that with an emoji!