SUFFERING WITH OTHERS

As a handyman, I'm often called out to inspect damage, and give estimates for fixing the situation.  Most of the time, I'm satisfied that what I tell the prospective customer is valid and affordable.  I tend to lean more toward the affordable solution than one that is costly.  I know what it is like to have something break down or stop working without having the funds to fix it.  So, I tend to be just a little sensitive to people's financial needs.  Sometimes I will have a customer tell me that money is not an issue, but you know it is. 
There are times I go out to look at a job and find myself wishing I'd never gone out to look at it.  Such was the case for me this last week.  I was asked to go make a bid for putting a deck up around a double wide modular home way out in the country.  The couple had bought the home and were in the process of getting it moved when the husband died from a massive heart attack.  AS anyone knows who's gone through the death of a loved one, it can take well over a year before you get your feet back on the ground.  Such was the case with this customer.  When I drove out to the location of the home, I discovered that the two halves of the home were never fully joined together and that the ridge cap on the roof was never installed.  In simple terms, the home had sat open to the elements for over a year.  The movers had brought over the decking and materials only to throw them in heaps. 
I grew up in the mobile home industry from the time I was six or seven years old, and I can tell you that double-wides left open to the elements rarely go back together well.  As I looked at the home in shambles, my heart broke for the woman who'd called me out to look at it.   I had nothing but bad news to give her, and she didn't have a husband to help her bear the brunt of the bad news.  Even putting up the deck would be a disaster, and cost much more than I'd 'primed' her for before I went out. 
So, you might be wondering what if anything this has to do with the Sparrow's Perch and the peace of God.  Let me tell you.
The peace of God is ours even in the midst of tragedy.  As this week has unfolded, I've watched with great sorrow the slow and methodical approach of hurricane Florence.  As I write this, I know it will slam North Carolina like a freight train.  It will be a miracle if no one is killed, and an even greater miracle if there is no great property damage.  Just the predicted rain amounts alone are catastrophic.  Sometime this week, someone will be faced with death and destruction.  What do you say to console, or offer comfort?  What do you do? 
This brought the situation with my customer into even greater focus.  I'm on point with the customer.  They are part of my faith family, and someone I want to bless.  Sadly, I don't have the means to bless them.  I will continue to worship with her, and will shake her hand every time she comes to church, but I'll also know that I could not do anything to change her situation.  It is in God's hands. 
And that is the purpose of this blog.  Being in God's hands means that we can face the discouragements and the joys with the same trust in God.  There is an old Hebrew tradition called two pockets.  In one pocket you carry a note that says: "The Universe was created for me."  In the other is the statement; "I am but dust."  It is the essence of finding peace in God.  I know that God's peace is found both in the joys and the sorrows of this life. 
There is another Hebrew story that says King Solomon was tasked to provide a statement that would be applicable in all situations of life.  Solomon had his craftsman forge a ring with the inscription "and this too shall pass away."  Whether we are overcome with great joy, giddy happiness, pride from great achievements, or just the fruits of our labors, we know that it will pass amidst the inevitability of death, sickness, disaster, and even failure.  What is true of these things is that the terrors that beset us by night will soon fade and pass away into greater joy, happiness, and yes, peace. 
The sparrows have already begun to sing outside in my front yard.  The majestic silver maple that had been their perch for many years was cut down last week because the ants had devoured it from the inside out.  They have now taken up residence in the smaller pin oak on the corner of my lot.  They didn't lose faith in God because the maple was gone, no, they moved on to another tree.  I felt sorry for them when I had to cut the tree down, but soon realized that they weren't destroyed by the situation. 
I grieved all last week for my beloved sister in the Lord because I knew that I didn't have a solution for her.  I wanted to make it better for her, but it isn't in my power to do so.  Just the materials alone are beyond my financial ability to repair her home.  Could she sue the people who left her home open to the elements?  I don't know.  Would that even help?   What is the answer?  I know I'm not.  I grieve with her, and feel compassion for her.  I was ready to try and get the men of our fellowship to help me put the house right, but it would be a process that would take weeks.  I cried when I told her how much I thought it would cost to fix the home.  She doesn't have it.  What will be the story after Florence hits North Carolina?  Will someone like me have to tell a customer that their home of many years is destroyed beyond repair.  Do we miss the entire point to this? 
At least you are alive to be told the bad news.  The good news is that this too shall pass. 

Oh For Grace To Trust Him More

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you already know the quiet hours of the morning are my favorite time to read the Bible and pray. Right now, my office at the church is probably an oven, so I don't even bother going there. During the cold of winter, and the dead of summer, I have to avoid my office, mainly because it costs so much to heat and cool the church just for me to sit in an office. Putting in a window air conditioner works against the beauty of opening the window and hearing the sparrows as they flutter just outside of it. So, I'm writing this from the confines of my office at home.  I can't see or hear the sparrows, but I know they are still trusting God for their daily provision.  

Oh Yeah, I was talking about bible reading and prayer time. I thank God for His word, and the presence of His Holy Spirit. Without them, I don't know if I would be able to be writing this right now. It's been a tumultuous couple of months. Actually it's been a trying, and painful, and painful, and . . . well painful couple of months. It's alright for a Christian to say that. I don't know how it became unfashionable to admit to being in adverse situations, but I do know most Christians today feel as if it is sinful to admit you're in a trial. I've been in a trial for the last two months. If that's sinful, then, I've sinned. Actually, I've longed for the sparrow's perch, if for no other reason than to find those moments of peace I find there. All around me things have sped out of control. These last two months have been the leanest for work that I've had since I began being a handyman. The biggest struggle I have with that, is not being able to support the ministries I've made pledges to. If one more person tells me to have faith, I think I'm going to scream. I've been living by faith for the last eight years. Every job I get is the provision of God. Not just in some obscure way, but purely by the direction of the Holy Spirit. I don't advertise. The signs on my truck are the only advertisement I have. So, when the phone rings, I know it is a direct result of the Holy Spirit prompting someone's heart. Before the end of May, I had work scheduled through the beginning of August. Then came the cancellations. I went around shaking my head in disbelief. If the phone rang, I hesitated to answer it for fear it was another cancellation. I have to admit, my trust, and faith were tested. I was ready to go back into the job market, but I kept getting just enough work to keep afloat, even being able to go to Corpus Christi for our family reunion.

During this last two months, I've also had to endure some things I'd rather not ever deal with. Just the fact that I'm able to type once again is exciting to me. While working on a roof about two weeks ago, I tripped on my own two feet and fell while holding my tape measure. The belt clip sliced through my ring finger on my right hand. NOT FUNNY. Thankfully, I didn't fall off the roof. If I had, Glenda would have killed me. I'm only now getting full movement back in my pinky and ring finger. Praise God. It could have been worse. I thought of Psalm 91 as I climbed down the ladder.

I think the thing that rocked me the most was losing a long time friend this week to a tragic car accident. He was a loving, caring, and generous man, who I will miss greatly. He helped me to get my feet on the ground in the handyman business. The circumstances of his death were senseless. It sucked my breath away when I heard about it. There are very few men I will drop what I'm doing and go help them out, but Terry Stambaugh was one of those men. When I was starting out, and I would wonder where my next job was going to come from, Terry would call. I knew he was listening to the Holy Spirit. I look forward to meeting him on the other side of this vale.

Then to add insult to injury, one of the young ladies of our church family was in a terrible car accident yesterday morning. She survived, but with terrible injuries. To make matters worse, I have no way to go visit the family. Her father is the reason I launched out into being God-employed. Her surgery went well, and I believe God for her full recovery. Still, my prayers are with her and the family.

Then I get a phone call from Glenda telling me her dad fell last night. He's going blind, and he needs to come home with her. LONG PAUSE! Our home is not blind friendly. We have numerous steps into the house, in the house, and we live in the country. Panic!!!!!! For about five minutes. Then it happened. God's grace came over me. I won't bore you with every thing the Holy Spirit spoke into my heart, but I will share with you my Sparrow moment. Without adversity, trial, or conflict, grace can't be released into our lives. There can't be a miracle without something that demands a miracle be done. There can't be peace without a trial to make it's presence known, and we can't know trust if we don't have a reason to trust. Happiness can come from anything, but joy is the triumphant exultation of faith over the adverse circumstances of life. When grace is released into our lives, we no longer care about what brought us there, but only about Christ being THERE with us.

I don't know if tomorrow I will have another job, I don't even have the promise of tomorrow, but I do know in whom I believe, and I am persuaded that He is able to keep everything I've given to him. (Dave's paraphrase.) The big question is: What have I given him? I believe He will see me through anything that I trust him with. Nearly eight years ago, I gave him my income. My livelihood is in his hands. My health is in his hands. My dreams for tomorrow are in his hands. My father-in-law is in his hands. Like the old hymn says, “Oh for grace to trust him more.” Thank you sweet Holy Spirit for your abiding presence.   

Updating the Sparrow

I am in the process of updating my blogs, and it seems only fitting that I begin with this blog. From the very beginning, the Sparrow’s Perch was intended to be a deeply personal blog about my faith life. I wanted the opportunity to share those wonderful moments of divine peace that can only be found in the Presence of God. The Sparrow’s Perch is a wonderful outlet for me, but I find myself wishing for more time to complete other endeavors. For a long time, I've been promising to let you know how the idea for the Sparrow's Perch came about. So, here it is. The idea for the Sparrow’s Perch came to me as I began to think about the end of my days upon this mortal vale, and whether I’d done anything to advance the Kingdom of God. Writing the blog has allowed me to empty myself of regrets, share experiences that might help someone else, and to declare the awesomeness of God. Most of all I wanted to impart the knowledge that there is a place in Christ where we can live in peace with this life, and the life to come. The title is based upon Psalms 91. Our Pastor encouraged us to read the Psalm as part of our daily bible reading as an encouragement to live in the peace of God. I haven’t always lived in the peace of God, and I haven’t always liked Psalms 91. As time went by, I actually began to despise the Psalm because it didn’t ring true with me. The promises seemed empty, and hollow against the harsh realities of my life. I watched in horror as people who I knew loved the Lord, suffered, became deathly ill, were left destitute, and saw their mortal tent swept away by unending storms. I became completely disheartened, refusing to read it anymore when a dear brother in the Lord fell victim to a brain tumor. I wanted to believe the promises, but battled with the reality. Then…I went to Nicaragua, and everything changed. It would take a book to explain what happened to me in Nicaragua. Suffice it to say, I was overcome with love, passion, and a sense of helplessness in the face of so much need. The circumstances in my life hadn’t changed. A matter of fact, when I came back, I came back to a home that was falling down around me, with little chance of ever having the money to repair, or build another one, but I didn’t care, because I’d seen people living in conditions much worse than mine. I came home to my wife’s vehicle refusing to start no matter what we did, with no financial means to repair, or buy another one. I wanted to be upset, but there were pastors in Nicaragua who didn’t have a vehicle at all. I also came home to a mass of credit card debt so daunting, I didn’t know if I could ever pay it off. The stuff I owned felt like chains to me, especially in light of what I saw in Nicaragua. In Nicaragua, many pastors live day to day, without many of the things I’d sold my soul to buy. It was in this moment of profound internal conflict, that I saw my own life measured in the mirror of those whose lives seem less encumbered. I had a realization of what I’d been missing for so long. I went into my office at the church, opened the window, and heard the song of the sparrows as they danced in the water on the flat roof. The undeniable truth was, I’d chosen the comfort of this life over the presence of God. It was in this moment I cried out, “God either kill me, or let me feel you once more as a raging fire in my life.” Instead, He did something I was unprepared for. He filled me with the most amazing peace I’ve ever known. The struggle was over. The sparrow had meaning to me. I understood Psalm 91 better than I ever had. So, without going verse by verse and boring you to tears, let me say this. Just imagine Moses sitting outside the Tabernacle watching the procession of offerings, which are the business of forgiveness, and spying a tiny sparrow flying into the Holy of Holies. Within the courtyard of the tabernacle, it has no fear of the fowler, it has no fear of the arrow, it has no fear of disease, or pestilence. The presence of God is not a place, it is a mindset. We can go there no matter where we are. The world may be falling down around us, our bodies may be racked with pain, wars may rage, evil may abound, but there is a place of refuge, a tent for shelter, and a fortress from the storms of life. There is a place we can live in peace with everything around us, and that place is called the Presence of God. I don’t care how long you’ve lived for Christ, or how much you think you know, if you’ve not found the place in your heart where the Presence of God is, then you are missing out on the best promises of God. Since that first trip to Nicaragua, God has continued to provide in miraculous ways. I still have a home that is falling down around my ears, my wife has a vehicle that barely runs, but we did manage to pay off all of our debt. I’ve made four trips to Nicaragua, and my wife has made two. Last year, in a moment of weakness, I questioned the need to go again. The money it takes to go is substantial in ways that I don’t want to address in this blog. As I drove home one afternoon, shortly before our last trip, I was grousing about a sudden drop off in my business. “I’ll just stop going.” I muttered. “It’s just becoming too hard.” The reply leapt into my spirit, “NO, I’ve propelled you to love, don’t shrink back.” There are so many wonderful people there, who mean so much to me. There is still work to be done, and I believe that we are still going to be a part of the work there. So, I’ll continue to go, until God impresses on me that I no longer need to go. I will run this race until my legs can’t run any longer. Now it is important to me to finish stronger than I began. There are people who need the love God has given me. There are people who need to know the meaning of the Sparrow’s Perch. At the end of our days, all that we have earned, and everything we valued is left behind. It is only what we have inside of us that will go with us through the veil. You see, that is what Moses saw, the little Sparrow could go boldly before the throne of grace, flying easily into the presence of God. The Sparrow’s Prayer; May you know the presence of God, and the joy of grace as I know it. May you know the full salvation of Christ Jesus, and live in the light of His love, free from the cares of this world. May you live in the Presence of God, and know His tender heart as I do.

Do You Not Care That We Perish?

As I'm writing this, storm clouds are brewing, the wind is whipping, and my weather radar is showing a broad band of thunderstorms racing across the state. It reminded me of one of my favorite stories in the bible. In Matthew chapter eight, and verse 25, Jesus had finished teaching, and needed to get away.  What better place than to hop in a boat, and cast off.  The rocking of the waves, the warm sun, and suddenly your asleep.  While the Son of God slept within the fragile bowels of a tiny boat, a fierce storm comes up, and before you know it, the boat is about to sink.  I love the reaction of the disciples, "Master, Master, we perish."   Jesus slams them for their lack of faith, and calms the storm.  End of story, Jesus is God, rules the sea, and commands the winds.  What I love about the story is the unsaid dialogue.

Jesus never invited, nor demanded the disciples to get in the boat with Him, they followed Him.  We who follow Christ, seek always to be in His presence, that is why we FOLLOW Him.  I love the Presence of God.  He is everything I long for.  What we often don't take into consideration is the price of following Him.

I've heard many sermons on this passage, most dealing with the issue of faith. That would be my logical choice for teaching about faith.  I've heard it taught, He was rebuking them for not rebuking the storm themselves.  I've heard it taught, He was rebuking them for waking Him.  I've heard it taught, He was rebuking them for not having faith in Him.

It's hard for us from our vantage point to see the unsaid language that was happening.

Jesus got in the boat to be alone, to get away.
The storm arose while He was sleeping.
HE WAS IN THE SAME BOAT, THEY WERE IN!!!!!!!!
He was sleeping through the storm, but it was such a fierce storm, seasoned fishermen feared for their lives.
They had to wake HIM in order to save themselves.

In the midst of our storms, there is a tendency to forget that Jesus is in our tiny ship.  He is inside of us.  The storms that buffet us, buffet Him.  Still, the overriding point is; Jesus is in the midst of the storm with us.  We are going to be in storms in our lives.  These mortal frames, temporary tents, tiny ships, are subject to the storms around us.  Still, in the midst of them, we can have the peace of God.  Why?   Because, we have the Presence of God, His precious Spirit abiding in us.  It is our natural tendency to find a reason for the things that happen in our lives.  As Christians we especially want to make our trials, and tribulations have some kind of purpose.  We'll evaluate the storm, look at what came out of it, and then proclaim the lesson we learned.

LIFE ISN'T ALWAYS ABOUT LESSONS!  Sometimes it's jumping in a boat, and following this guy named Jesus even when it takes us to the point of physical death.  We miss the entire point of the voyage, we wanted to be with Jesus, so we followed Him.  Death is death, financial ruin is financial ruin, illness is illness, life is life.  The only difference between how a Christian goes through it, is that Christians have Jesus in the boat. What you do with that knowledge is what determines what your life will feel like.

The Presence of God is all that I long for, so I would jump in the boat with him, I'd probably be just like the disciples when the storm came, except hind sight being 20/20, I'd have at least stood upon the prow of the ship, raised one arm toward the storm, pointed toward the bowels of the ship with the other, and yelled out: "Hey, shut up you silly storm, don't you know the Master is trying to sleep."

Of Skunks, Shields, and Beatrice Bandersnatch

Have I mentioned yet, I hate skunks.  I know, I’ll probably get nasty terse comments from those of you who have had your pet skunk neutralized, sanitized, and , made house compatible, but it won’t change my opinion one bit.  I live out in rural northwest Arkansas, amidst cow pastures, deer runs, squirrels, armadillos, roadrunners, ground hogs, and other wildlife.  I enjoy them all, except for the skunks. 

When we first moved here in 1995, I didn’t know how prolific, nor did I have a clue as to how determined the little creatures are to take up residence underneath your home.  After about the twelfth ‘skunking’ in less than a year, I finally succeeded in securing my home from their attacks.  These attacks usually came on Saturday nights just before church, so I began calling them the skunks from hell.  Every once in a while, I’ll let down my defenses, and one of the little buggers will slip in through some impossible hole.  This has gone on for nearly eighteen years now, until Beatrice Bandersnatch came along.

Beatrice Bandersnatch is a jet black miniature . . . .something.  We were told she is a ‘pidoodle’ but I don’t know what that is.  All I do know is that when she first came to our home as a small puppy, she left her pidoodle puddles everywhere.  This tendency forced me to put her out on our enclosed patio on the back of our home.  We put her out at night, and leave her there during the day while we are at work.  One of the unintended benefits of her being on the patio is a rapid decline in skunk attacks.  “Bea”, as we call her, is a yapper.  Her sense of smell is terrible, but she can hear birds in the back yard, squirrels in the pecan tree, and . . . other dogs barking everywhere.  SHE IS TERRITORIAL!  She loves people, but can’t stand critters, especially birds.  (This is one of the reasons I go to the Church office to enjoy the sparrows.)  Did I mention that Bea is not my dog?  She belongs to my wife, but that is another story. 

Anyway, for the last four years, we’ve enjoyed relative freedom from skunks, until two nights ago. After four years of potty training, and battling with her to keep her off of our bed, I finally relented to allowing Bea into the house on cold nights.  The first two nights went remarkably good, she slept in her bed, didn’t yap, and she didn’t leave any surprises.  Sunday night, the temperature was surprisingly warm for December, so Bea wanted to stay out on the patio.  Out she went.

Then it happened. 

I have a few questions for the Lord when we get to heaven, and one of them will be about skunks.  The unmistakable aroma of skunk began to waft through our bedroom, and Glenda moaned “There’s skunks under the house.”  

“There can’t be.”  I replied while desperately hoping it was all a bad dream.  Then I heard Bea barking her head off.  I got up, turned on the porch light, and looked out the back door.   The door to the patio was closed, I opened the door just a crack , and was assaulted by the most violent odor on earth.  In all my time on this earth, I’ve never smelled such a high concentration of skunk smell.  I quickly closed the door, and retreated into our ‘stinky’ house.  Bea continued to do her territorial bark for nearly two hours, while I tossed and turned in the pit of skunk hell. 

Discovering what happened would have to wait till that afternoon, as my wife, and I both leave before daybreak for work. 

When I got home yesterday evening, I began my walk around the usual places where the skunks have gone in before.  Everything was good.  Then I came around the backyard.  Needless to say, it was not good.  The smell was deadly to say the least.  There, at the bottom of the glass door leading to our patio was this dinner plate sized greasy splotch of skunk spray.  The picture of what happened, became  clear to me in an instant.  Bea, who’d been in the house for the last few days, had ‘surprised’ a skunk as it made its way around our home.  In terror at the sight of this ferocious black creature barking at it, the skunk let go.  SPLAT all over the glass.  

I began to laugh as I realized how remarkably funny this must have been.  If it hadn’t been for the glass door, Bea would be a stinky ball of fur in a kitchen sink being washed with tomato juice.  She had a shield, but she didn’t know it.  For her, the glass is a boundary to her freedom.  It keeps her from running the yard as she likes to do.  (She has never run away in the four years we’ve owned her.)  We actually keep her in the patio to protect her from the many coyotes that infest the area.  She isn’t afraid of anything except for my brother’s white Labrador that passed away just recently.  Without fear, we knew she was no match for the pack of coyotes that roam the area.  Therefore, she is in her glass cage, free to bark, free to live, but not free to run at night.  It was at this moment that I had a Spiritual insight.

Christ is our shield.  He is there, transparent, but strong.  From the outside, to those looking in, it may appear as if Christians are imprisoned within a glass cage of silly rules that have no apparent purpose.  Beyond our transparent shield, there are so many harmless pleasures that can be enjoyed.  Outside of the confines of the ‘patio’ is a world just waiting to be discovered.  To outsiders, the patio of our faith must appear to be a cruel, rigid prison.  The glass ‘rules’ of kindness, compassion, love, and forgiveness, are not conducive to success in this modern world.  The posts of prayer and bible study are a waste of time to those who’ve never experienced the strength they provide in times of trial.  The shield of faith goes unseen, until the enemy comes at us.  Then we realize how valuable it is.  Those things that would destroy us, splatter harmlessly against it, while we continue to yap at the enemy from the other side.  We find shelter in the Lord of Hosts.  We still see the evil around us, but it doesn’t come nigh our tent.  Does the stench of sin still waft all around us?  Yes, but we are untouched by it.  Does the enemy still prowl around at night seeking to devour?  Yes, but he is repelled by the power of Christ’s love for us. 

As my days on this earth become fewer, I’ve learned to trust the shield of faith.  Psalm 91 has become a mantra for me.  I’m like the little sparrow that nests within the framework of the tabernacle, my shield, my fortress, my residence is within the presence of God.  I only keep my eyes open to see the surprise on the face of the wicked when their best efforts splatter against the shield of faith.  I meditate upon the transparent glass of faith, able to see out, but not desiring to ‘be’ out.  That is the new creation I’ve become in Christ Jesus. 

It cost me a night of sleep, but it was a good lesson.  

Awe and Wonder

I can still remember that magical (yes, it was magical) moment when I experienced awe, and wonder for the first time.  It was a mild fall evening in El Paso, Texas, in 1966.  I was lying on the grass looking at the moon through a 20x telescope I’d received as a gift that year.  For an eleven-year-old boy, that telescope was the invitation to worlds unknown.  Never mind that it wasn’t any better than a good pair of binoculars, or that it was almost impossible to hold it still without a tripod.  It was my ticket to the stars.  On that fateful October evening, my arms grew tired, forcing me to lay the telescope down to let the blood return to my arms once more.  The moon was just a sliver in the crisp desert night sky, and there were more stars that night than I’d ever seen before.  As I stared into the depths of space, I wondered where it all ended?  Where was the end to the vast field of stars that beckoned me?  What was beyond the end of the universe?. 

I couldn’t imagine an end.

As I peered upward, and outward, I experienced awe for the first time in my life. My heart rate went up, and seemed to suddenly stop.  The air left my lungs in a long slow breath as my infantile, finite mind tried to cope with the infinite.  The harder I tried to comprehend the vastness of the universe, the more awestruck I became.  In that instant, I became fascinated with all things ‘space’.  It was a good time for it.  The ‘space race’ was at its peak, and it seemed every day was a new leap forward to the cosmos.  I had tons of questions, and an insatiable curiosity.  Even as I became enthralled with science, astronomy, and rockets, I was also coming to know the creator of the universe in a much smaller space, my heart.  At first, the two seemed to be worlds apart.  It seemed as if science was trying to dispel the notion of God, while at the same time, religion as I experienced it, was at odds with science.  I wrestled many long nights with doubt, and disbelief. I knew within my heart, and spirit, that I was experiencing the presence of God through faith in Christ, but at the same time I knew what I was learning in the classroom didn’t allow for the idea of God.  The awe, and wonder of that magical fall evening slipped into a dull ache for the truth.  For a few years, I enjoyed the rapture of science as I became increasingly interested in visiting worlds beyond this rock we call home.  Science Fiction novels were a daily diet. Scientific American magazines littered my room.  My favorite atomic particle was the neutrino, and a paper I wrote in the 9^th grade on it, won me a trip to a science symposium at the University of New Mexico.  This was heady stuff for a wide-eyed teenager.  The tug of war between science, and faith went back and forth  throughout my school years.

I couldn’t imagine an end to the conflict. 

 A great sadness followed me for many years as I wrestled with my faith in God, and my love of science.  After High School, I became less concerned with science, and followed my faith.  When I was amongst Christians, I would never discuss science for fear of being revealed as a closet scientist.  I wouldn’t talk with anyone about the way I’d come to peace with both aspects of my being.  I didn’t want to be labeled a heretic, or unbeliever, when actually the opposite was the truth.  I’d raged war with myself, the tough stuff was over, and I was  believer in more than a savior.  I’d fallen in love with more than a cold, judgmental God.  I’d pushed past the dogma of both science, and faith,  into an intensely personal relationship with the One I know created the infinite.  It didn’t matter what others thought about my beliefs, I knew I loved the savior of my soul, His creation, and even the people on both sides who demanded absolute obeisance to their dogma.  I could talk with, walk with, touch, and feel the creator of this physical vale. 

I couldn’t imagine an end to this relationship with the Creator. 

Fast forward forty-seven years to a cold October morning where I came face to face with that same feeling of awe and wonder, and it came from the strangest of places.  I was reading an article on the internet concerning the Higgs-Boson, and its implications for the universe.  The article was this vast exploration of the different theories surrounding this elusive particle.  Almost every model created for studying the existence of the Higgs, ended in a catastrophic end to the universe.  The vast reaches of the universe had an end to it.  The Big Bang would end in a big entropic collapse.  Bummer!  Most particle physicists, and those who report on them embrace the end of the universe with the same religious fervor of fundamentalist Christians.  It becomes all they can talk about.  Particle physics becomes like the book of Revelation, a foretelling of impending doom.  Unified theories are just as elusive as proof of God’s existence.  String theory, superstrings, dark matter, gravity lensing,  everything we can think of comes to an eventual end.  Suddenly as I thought of all the struggle these scientists were facing in dealing with ‘how’ this universe works, I came face to face with my own struggle once more.  The men and women who obsess over what makes this universe work, and those who obsess over the One who makes it work, all have bills to pay, families to support, spouses to love, and children to nurture.  This universe goes on as it has for eons, and will go on for more time than we will live.  The profound things of the spiritual, or scientific are only profound to those who share in its intricacies.  At either end of the spectrum of faith, the zealots will beat their drums, and call for the death of the non-believers.  Somewhere in the middle of this silly debate, people like me, see the beauty of the Creator written in a little child’s giggle, or in the dance of sunbeams over orange, and fire laced clouds.  Life is more than what you can see in an equation, or in a spiritual icon.  This moment, this instant is infinitely more precious than infinity.   Whether you believe in God, or not, the question isn’t ‘what’ you loved, but ‘who’ you loved.  Throughout the world, cemeteries are filled with heretics, agnostics, fanatics, and scientists.  Parked next door to them are evangelists, pastors, prophets, and lay people of all creeds.  These things seem to get lost when the fires of passion rage among the faithful in either camp.  As I sat there considering the forecasted lifespan of our universe, it happened again, nearly forty-seven years after that fateful October night, I had another moment where my heart took off like a rocket, and my lungs emptied themselves in a slow exhale.  I know the answer to the problem, but it isn’t something I can put to numbers.  In the word of God, it says that in the end, God will roll up the universe like a scroll.  The prophets are right, and the scientists are right.  Both sides say it will all end, someday.  

Problem is, I still can’t imagine an end.   Therefore, I lean back in my chair, close my eyes, put my hands behind my head, and smile smugly. I experience the awe, and wonder once more, feeling the familiar presence of God more than ever before.  

The Illusion of Power

Let me preface this blog, by saying that I've been studying Psalms 37 for inclusion into our Men's study on Sundays.  For over a month, I've been reading it, and rehearsing it.  I know it well, because many years ago, (too many) I put it to song as a lullaby for my children. Those many years ago, I didn't know what I know now.  Yet, it is nice to have the melody to rehearse the passage.  

I hope my Christian friends, and family will take the time to read this blog, and understand where I'm coming from, because in this present day, I sense hopelessness within the Church. I am not speaking to the wicked, because that is the job of the Holy Spirit.  I'm not warning the evildoers, for they have already been warned.  I want to talk to my Christian brothers, and sisters.  We have to be very careful about how we (Christians) carry ourselves in the face of dissent, and even outright aggression.  It is too easy to allow the hostility towards all things Christian to be viewed as criticism of ourselves.  God's admonishment through the Psalmist David is just as true today, as it was then.  Power is an illusion.  

The wicked, and the evildoer expend their energy, and resources on those things that will fade upon their deaths.  Even if they try to leave an inheritance to their children, it is quickly consumed, or stolen. If we take a stroll through history, we find those who had real power, never took it's mantle upon them. Real power is not measured in what you can take to yourself, but in what you can give away.  If at the end of this life you are empty of all that you possessed, you've exercised ultimate power.  The promise of Psalms 37 is implied and hidden within the obvious.  The wicked, and evildoers are grass, and herbs.  They get mowed down and wither.  There is another scripture, Isaiah 61:3 that tells us that those who trust in God shall be 'trees of righteousness.'  It is a vivid comparison.  The wicked may have their day in the sun, the powerful may breathe their hatred for life, but the righteous will endure.  Our greatest concern for the wicked, and the powerful should be prayerful concern.  Our greatest evil toward them should be to love their souls while they are yet breathing, and able to repent.  

Sadly, it is all too easy to become impassioned at the things we see the wicked getting by with.  We can be tricked into feeling that God doesn't see the things they do, nor is He just in letting them prosper while we suffer. We can be trapped into breathing out hatred, slander, and innuendo, which have nothing to do with being Christ like at all.  Do the powerful do dumb things?  YES!  Do the wicked live out lives of happiness while here on this earth?  YES!  Do the evildoers escape temporal judgement?  YES!  

BUT, they don't escape eternal judgment.  Eternity awaits!  

King David is remembered far more than the evil kings who surrounded him.  He has left an eternal mark upon the history of mankind.  Even more, he has left his mark upon the eternal course of life through his Son Jesus.

Psalms 37:3 puts it in the same light as Jesus did Matthew chapter six.  All of the sermon on the mount is about trusting God even in the midst of powerlessness.  It is about believing and trusting in what God said.  Then comes the admonishment:  "and do good."   It is that simple.  Trust God, and do good.  Jesus said that we have to 'do the things He said.'   If in our moral, or righteous indignation, we begin to hate, we are no better than the powerful who rely on themselves.  Our fire, and desire for judgment become a trap.  I don't agree with all that is done in government, business, and in society as a whole, but if I wish evil upon those who I perceive as wicked, I become trapped in wickedness myself.  I prefer to let God be the judge.  I prefer Him, because I know He is more merciful than I could ever be.  I prefer God to judge because I know he judged me worthy of His Son, and made a way for me to be redeemed when I was more wicked than any of those I judge.  

This last week, our church packed over 900 boxes for Operation Christmas Child, in a small corner of those boxes, in some small way, my heart will be carried to a small child who has never known the love of Christ. I believe in the small things.  I believe in the tender touches that have no way to be returned.  I believe in doing things for which there is no way for me to realize monetary gain, or to be applauded for what I did.  I prefer for my left hand not to know what the right hand is doing, lest my mind begin to be puffed up.  Somewhere in this world a little child will open a shoebox filled with love, and I will have realized the greatest power of all, the power to make a child smile.  That is the power of love.

Power is an illusion, LOVE is real.    

Selling Jesus

I've only been a salesman once in my life.  I'm not knocking it for those who do it.  Back in 1976, I did a short stint selling Harley Davidson Motorcycles, (Actually bowling pin motorcycles, as they were owned by AMF at the time.)  I grew up around Harleys, and I believed in them, so, selling them wasn't hard for me.  I actually enjoyed selling them, because I enjoyed selling people something I enjoyed myself.  There was a day when being a 'peddler,' or 'merchant' was a noble profession.  I can still remember the Fuller Brush salesman who knew my mother by name, or the milkman who delivered the milk to my grandmother many years ago.  Avon, Mary Kay, Tupperware, and on, and on, and. . . .Well you get the picture.  Men, are more industrial in their acceptance of sales people.  I myself tend to despise the salesman who tells me I have to have his product.  I especially despise the salesman who calls me without having tried to meet me first.  I despise gimmicks   Sell me the product, not the peanut brittle you have in your hand.  AND, when you leave, leave the peanut brittle.  If you are the manager of any sort, you know what I mean.  

What concerns me is the selling of Jesus.  I'm not talking about the shameless hucksterism that has always been a part of the Christian experience.  From the birth of Christianity, there were always those who saw a quick buck to be made in selling Jesus.  The Apostle Paul bemoaned their existence, but looked at them as one more way that people came to a knowledge of Jesus Christ.  He didn't care how Christ was glorified, but was overjoyed that Christ was preached.

I don't know if I'm as tolerant as Paul.  As the pendulum of public approval for Christians begins to swing back toward antagonism, I wonder if the hucksters aren't doing us more damage than good. I don't think you can 'sell' the relationship that is derived from the presence of God being in your life. I'm not talking about those people who offer you dancing angel mirror balls for your generous love offering.  These people are like the money changers in the Temple court.  They are obvious, and at the same time oblivious to what they are doing.  What I'm talking about are the people who promise you that a life with Christ will be a bed of roses, a walk in the park, tea at tea time, and a host of other platitudes that are far from truthful.  This thinking is clearly seen when you start pushing against them with even a hint of persecution, or let discomfort, or trials enter into their life.  BUT, I thought. . .  You said . . . .I spoke. . . I claimed. . . .WHY!!!!!!???????  Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.  I don't want to be different.

The real Presence of God will make you different.  The Presence of God will raise the hackles on the back of the 'world.'  The Presence of God casts it's light into the dark corners of men's lives, and makes them uncomfortable.  The purveyors of the pasty, wimpy, and murdered Jesus, don't want you to realize the power of the resurrected, living Jesus.  Jesus on the cross is acceptable, Jesus in the tomb is preferred, but Jesus cooking fish by the seashore is offensive.  The Presence of God burns away the desires for the things of this world and leaves you a smoking offering of love to a dying world.  COMFORT?   I don't think so.  You can sell a hundred thousand crosses, but few people want to carry their own.  Those who sell a 'feel good' Jesus don't really believe in what they are 'selling.'  They aren't familiar with the product.

We don't have to sell Jesus.  All we have to do is give away what he gave us to give.  Therein lies the problem.  He gave us the power to Heal, Save, and Deliver men, and women.  He left His Spirit here for us to know He was still here.  You can't sell these things.  I can't sell you something you can't see, taste, or touch.  What I can do, is be Him for you.  THAT'S THE HARD PART.  That is how you will know He is real.  I know this much, I can't live without him.  I want you to feel the same way.  That is my heart set before all men.  I love this man named Jesus Christ, even though I've never seen him.  My life with HIM is not the same as it was without him.  I've been sick, injured, addicted, persecuted, beat down, destitute, and looked death in the eye, but in all of this I've never felt alone.  That, my friends, is the testament to His Presence.  He said he would not leave us as orphans.  He will not abandon us, even if we abandon Him.

oooooppppps!  I'm selling Jesus.

Try Him, I think you'll like Him.

THERE IS A WIND BLOWING

It's an unusual morning in the Sparrow's Perch, and my feelings are all over the place. Somewhere below me in the park around the lake, a dog is barking as if it is trying to get someone's attention. It hasn't stopped barking since I arrived nearly twenty minutes ago. It's unusual, because this is the first time I've heard a dog barking from my window above the park. I assume it belongs to someone who's gone running on this unusually warm fall morning. It feels as if there is a storm coming. The wind is gusting, and it brings back memories of my childhood in El Paso, Texas.

I like the wind.

Growing up on the northeast side of the Franklin Mountains, my life was measured in the cycles of the wind. From late February till the middle of April, you could count on the wind blowing a steady gale from sunrise to sunset. I grew up with the familiar sight of blown down billboards, store signs, and broken storefront glass. I've seen the wind walk mobile homes off their cinderblock piers, turn over tractor trailer rigs as if they were leaves, and blow this little boy home on his bicycle at speeds that would have caused his mother to have a heart attack. Tornadoes are frightening, hurricanes monstrous, but unrelenting straight line winds of 80 mph can hollow out your soul. The desert sand would blow into places you would never think sand could be found. I was convinced that much of the crime that was committed in that city, was done by people with sand in their underwear. Yet, despite all this, I always enjoy a good windstorm.

As I left the house this morning, I found myself grinning as the wind whipped through the Crepe Myrtle in our front yard. Not all wind is destructive. I also have good memories of the wind. For me, the wind is always symbolic of the presence of God. Many of the mightiest moves of God I've experienced were preceded by a wind out of nowhere. I could share them with you, but like all personal experiences, something always gets lost in the telling. Two instances in particular, were life changing for me, but I'm sure they meant nothing to anyone else. That is often the case with God's presence. What moves me to press in deeper, will cause someone else to stand back and shake their head in disbelief.

There is a wind blowing in Harrison, Arkansas.

The marvel of our technological age, is that we have the ability to record, report, and enjoy what God is doing. For all the bad rap it gets, Facebook is an amazing place to let people know what God is doing. Among my list of friends, are the pastors and members of other fellowships in Harrison. This affords me the opportunity to see what God is doing, while still being faithful to my fellowship. AND, God is doing some serious stuff.

There is a wind blowing in Harrison, Arkansas.

While I believe the word 'revival' is seriously over used, and misused, there is a move of God happening in this sleepy little hamlet. The faithful, and hungry are seeing great moves of God's Spirit throughout the entire spectrum of denominational, and non-denominational fellowships. I don't care how you define revival, it is here.

There is a wind blowing in Harrison, Arkansas.

The question I have is; will people enjoy this move of God, or will we let it blow by us?

What came to my heart as I was driving into town this morning was the story of Moses, and how he had a tent built called the 'Tent of the Meeting.' We are told that Moses' relationship with God was one of friendship, and profound intimacy. It is said that Moses talked with God face to face, as one speaks to a friend. What is amazing to me about this story, is that the Tent was made so that the Children of Israel could come before their God and MEET with him. The invitation was open, but they were satisfied to stand at the doors to their own tents while Moses and Joshua soaked in the glory of God. “You go talk with Him.” they said. We can only guess at their reason for not going forward. What we do know, is that long after Moses had returned to his own tent, Joshua had decided to stay in the Presence of God, often spending the night there. Is it any wonder, that when the time came for Moses to die, God chose Joshua. He chose him, not because of his great leadership skills, nor because he was a great communicator, or because of his knowledge of the Law of God. He chose Joshua, because Joshua knew God's voice. He'd met with Him in the tent of the meeting. Once more, the wind blew, and the Spirit of God did mighty things.

There is a wind blowing in Harrison, Arkansas.

So, to all my friends, and those who just happened onto this blog, I am touching my finger to my tongue and holding it up to the wind.

Yes, there is a wind blowing in Harrison, Arkansas.

Soon you will hear of great, and mighty deeds done in the power of Jesus name. Soon, you will see the lame walk, the deaf hear, and the dead rise again. You see, I believe that the very same Spirit that empowered Jesus and His disciples, is doing the same here in Harrison. I am not satisfied to let these things be ancient fables. I am not satisfied to let someone else go into the tent, when I can have full access by the blood of Jesus. I am not satisfied to walk out of the 'Tent' the same person I came in as. I'm going to get on my spiritual bicycle and head for home. (Someday I'll tell the story.) I'm going to let the Wind of God blast me into the maelstrom of His love, until I'm going so fast I'll never stop.

There is a wind blowing in Harrison, Arkansas.

PS;  THE DOG IS STILL BARKING