THE SPARROW THAT FALLS

I've been a little sad lately because of my little sparrows.  Things have been tough for them this summer.  I haven't seen as many this year as in previous years, and I've had lots of time to observe them due to the coronavirus lockdown.  My wife and I usually are up before the sun, and we sit out on our screened porch to read our bibles before she heads off to work.  Except for our water feature, it is almost deafeningly quiet. The truth is, we don't hear the sparrows like we have in the past.  We've had an unusually hot, but humid July without any appreciable rainfall.  Things are crispy outside.  Trees are dropping leaves, and my wife's beautiful annuals are wilting despite being watered. It makes me wonder if the sparrows have moved somewhere where it is better suited to them, or if they are dying off?   All I know is that I don't hear their usual chatter in the morning, and I don't see them on the wires outside my yard.  While I'm saddened, by the silence, it doesn't affect me personally.  I could become dramatic and make it tragic, but that would be a lie. Am I affected by a lack of sparrows this year?  Does it matter enough to me for me to go out and make it a national issue?   Am I going to cry myself to sleep at night because thousands of sparrows are dying off due to an unusually hot summer?  Do I care?  I know that God does.  The scripture that this blog is based upon is Matthew 10: 29-31.  Jesus was trying to make the disciples understand how much God cared for them, and He pulled His example from the sparrows which were in abundance.  There is one truth in the scripture that gets overlooked, and that is that the sparrows fall to the ground. God doesn't rescue the poor sparrow, but knows when it falls to the ground.  The course of life is death, and every day thousands of people will pass this vale in utter anonymity, without notice, and without fanfare.  One of the things that the coronavirus has done to me, is to cause me to be ambivalent about the sorrow all around me.  Mostly because it doesn't affect me.  This entire year has been a set of circumstances that don't affect me personally in any great way, but the effects are felt by me, and I'm sure billions of others.  

The course of nature often appears cruel, and heartless.  You can try to frame it in your human terms, or you can just accept the fact that life isn't always easy.  There is a virus out there that is sniping away at people my age and older.  It is cruel and indiscriminate, but it is an act of nature.  I don't believe that God is using this virus to pass judgement on mankind.  I don't believe Satan created this virus. What makes this virus unique is how WE are handling it.  We haven't handled it well.  Maybe it is because it is something that kills the weakest among us, and we don't have the means to do anything about it.  For all our scientific prowess, our understanding of genetics, and our ability to create medicines, we seem helpless in the face of this faceless killer.  More than anything, I believe people are truly afraid.  Will they be the one that is struck down?  To make it more personal, will I be struck down?  Will my fetching bride of 46 years be struck down?  Will my parents who are in their middle eighties be struck down?  The raging fear of the unknown has revealed our true hopeless nature.  That is why I say we haven't handled this virus well.  If you want to prove it, just look at the WORLD'S reaction to mask wearing.  It is amazing to me that we are focused on a little piece of cloth to protect us from this virus, and how each of us view it.  The mask isn't an immunity from the virus, it is to protect others from us if WE have it.  I don't know how many times I've heard someone say; "I don't know how they got it, they were wearing a mask."   

That is where a trust in God comes in.  I don't believe in immunity from life's tragedies just because of my faith in God.  I don't believe I have a ledger that I can point to and convince God of my worth.  A matter of fact, the opposite is true.  He tells me in that lovely passage in Matthew, that I am worth more than a flock of sparrows, and that He knows when I am going to pass this vale.  I came to the knowledge that I am on a sure path to death many years ago.  The moment I was born, I was dying.  BUT, I am more than this shell I walk in.  This physical body is only a vessel, a tent, a garment, that I put on to walk this vale.  David Bragg is somewhere beyond the eyes that peer out at this life with wonder and awe.  The coronavirus can't take that away.  I am going to die, case closed.  This year my body began to betray me in ways that I haven't experienced before.  I've abused it for most of my adult life, and now it is telling me that it is time to pay the piper.  If I should succumb to the virus, it is well with me.  This world hasn't been my home for over 55 years, and another few years won't make it any more so. I have a home prepared for me.  

For all of those of you who are living in fear, I hurt for you.  I am in deep sorrow because you don't know the peace that passes understanding.  I can't make you believe in Christ Jesus, and many people will die of this virus without coming to a saving knowledge of Jesus.  That breaks my heart, and I'm sure it breaks God's heart.  You see, He does know the sparrows that fall to the ground, and He does know those who have died, and will die due to coronavirus.  They are worth everything to Him.  Still, they will fall.  

RELIGIOUS SPARROWS

It's early Sunday morning the week after 'Easter.'  I'll call it Easter, because like it or not, Christians co-opted the holiday long ago and just like Christmas, we kind of own it now.  Dawn is about an hour away, and I have a sparrow beginning to sing outside on the telephone wires outside.  I still haven't figured out why sparrows aren't religious observers of the Lord's day. Does it irritate God that they refuse to observe His day?  Why aren't there religious sparrows?  Don't they know that there is a pandemic happening?  Sparrows don't appear to be observing social distancing, nor have I seen one of them wearing a mask.  Would they still congregate at our little church?  Maybe they just didn't listen to the major news outlets, or the daily briefings from our Governor.  Then again if they won't be quiet on Sundays in observance of the Lord's day, what makes us think they would care what our government is saying.  'Hey, let's all fly up to the telephone wire and wait for the sun to come out and make us warm for the day.'  Despite the song of the non-religious sparrows, it is as remarkably quiet as it was last Sunday.  It rained last night, and the air has that fresh scent of Spring, even as I'm writing this, there is a gentle mist falling outside. I'm still awestruck by the absence of vehicular noise. 
Throughout my life, I've always heard 'car' noises as a background to my life experience.  When my family moved to El Paso, Texas in 1960, our little trailer was parked on the corner of a busy intersection at the edge of Fort Bliss.  Less than a hundred feet away was a bar where I remember hearing the blare of the Jukebox and the occasional gunshot.  I don't remember sparrows singing.
The sounds of modern life were written into my memories long before I even understood what they meant.  Unlike my Grandmother who used to boast that she'd seen us (mankind) go from horse and buggy, to the moon, I have only known the drone of cars, planes, trains, and the busy sounds of modern life.  I've never known a living room without a TV, or a telephone for that matter.  When we first moved to El Paso, we lived about a mile beyond the runway at Biggs Air Force Base, which was still home to B-52's.  Every morning they would take off at 5 am and they became my 5 o'clock alarm clock.  To this day, I still wake up naturally at 5 in the morning.  Why am I saying all of this?  Because, it is almost disconcerting to me to not hear the constant steady drone of cars in the distance, even on a Sunday.  Yes, there was a time when we lived out beyond the city, but we were close enough to a major thoroughfare that the sound of cars, the local wood mill, and a fashion box company were easily heard in the early morning hours.
Now that I live in the city, it is mind boggling to not hear one vehicle in the distance.  I'm sure it will begin again in about an hour or two, but for right now, silence is a sound I'm not accustomed to.  What is amazing to me is that even on Sundays this city is a busy place.  Even more amazing to me is the knowledge that it took a small insignificant virus to do this.  Something we can't see with our naked eye did what massive armies have never done before, and brought the world to its knees.  Perhaps, we should have gone to our knees sooner, to ask God for help against this unseen foe, but I'm not going to be religious about it. In the thirty minutes it has taken me to get this far in the blog, (I'm very careful about the words I use) there is a slight blue tinge in the eastern sky.  I can hear more birds beginning to chirp in the distance even as a light mist falls.  Ahhhh, the sound of life.  Finally, one of my neighbors fired up their truck, and must be headed off to work somewhere...on a Sunday.  Life still happens, even on a Sunday morning.  Life still happens on Sabbath days, Holy days, and every day we human beings have marked as being sacred.
Life goes on, and that is the lesson we should be learning from this pandemic.  In the United States, approximately six thousand people die everyday.  That was before the Coronavirus pandemic.  (The number is actually a little higher, but is actually not a known number.)  Death, although tragic, is still the end result of life. My little sparrow friends live about 3 years, and they don't worry about M-95 masks or other things that we humans obsess over.  They just live.  That is why I worry about them being non-religious.  How can they sing so brightly every day when their lives are so short?  Why don't they build huge edifices to congregate in and sing worshipful songs to God?  I truly don't think there are any religious sparrows!  I don't understand why God still cares about them, but Jesus told us that God sees every one of them that falls to the ground.  You'd think that sparrows would be the most religious beings on this planet.  God said He cares about them, that should be earth shattering news to them.  You'd think they would be motivated to find ways to prolong their short lives.  They don't seem to care!  They don't build cities, drive cars, or do great things beyond sing a lot.  Other than pooping seeds everywhere, what good do they serve?  I just don't understand why God cares about sparrows so much. Why does He provide plants, that provide seeds, that draw insects, that...oh, well I think you get the point.  I read an article by an agnostic who said she doesn't believe in a God who would allow the Coronavirus to kill so many people.  I say I don't believe in people!  If people are so good, why don't we stop killing people?  If that logic holds true, then why would we continue to reproduce if we know that the ultimate end to our lives is death?  Selfish, unthinking PEOPLE!!  I think I'd rather trust God.
So, unlike the sparrows who don't build great cathedrals, the agnostics who worship their own logic, I'll choose to drive to our small church, social distance myself, (because I don't have Facebook to watch the live stream,) and be a part of about 10 people who worship together.  Not because I'm religious, but because like the sparrow, I just HAVE to be in church.  It's in my DNA, my raising, or whatever drives me to worship the Creator.  Like my little irreligious sparrow friends, my soul has to sing, "because I know, oh yes, I know he watches over me."https://youtu.be/d4mvCKlov4Q
I'm ready for my life to get back to normal.  The Wuhan Chinese Coronavirus has caused me to go stir crazy, but I know He watches over me.

CHRISTMAS, SPARROWS, AND FRENCH FRIES

It's not quite winter yet, but here in Northwest Arkansas, we've already had a fairly cold, and wet November.  The first week of December hasn't been much better.  The trees have dropped their leaves, the grass is dry, and yellow, and the sparrows aren't hanging around in my front yard.  It feels like winter, but it isn't.  It used to be a time of wonder, and mystery to me.  With the Nativity, the choirs, the lights on houses and downtown, all we need is a snow for the season to be special.  We haven't had a snow at Christmas time since 2012.  We've had snow in early December, mid-December,  and after Christmas, but somehow we've escaped a white Christmas.  The older you get the more you hope it doesn't happen.  As I sit at my computer writing this, it is a nice sunny day and 48 degrees.  I have the front door open and the sunshine is pouring in through the glass storm door, making my home office nice and toasty warm.  All is good, except...there aren't any sparrows.  My little buddies seem to have found better places to be.  Next year, I'm going to put up a bird bath in the front yard so I can watch them from my office doorway.  I'd put up a bird feeder, but the squirrels would hog it all.  I haven't seen a bird feeder yet that could keep out squirrels.  Still, I know God cares for the little sparrows, and as ironic as it may seem, we are part of His love and care. 
Yesterday, I went to Sonic for lunch, and watched as a bunch of sparrows fought over a bunch of spilled french fries, and a bun from a dropped hamburger.  It was quite comical as one particularly large sparrow tried to heft the bun.  I'm sure the bun weighed more than he did, but he was determined to make a getaway with it.  The more he worked at it, the more attention he drew from his companions.  Soon there were about five or six sparrows tearing chunks from the bun and flying off in victory.
Not far from the bun was one sparrow who'd discovered a french fry.  He grabbed it up in his beak and made off like a bandit. It is just like God to use us messy humans to provide food for a group of sparrows.  It made me wonder if the sparrows got together and decided to go to Sonic for a holiday feast, knowing full well that there would be 'droppings' for them to eat. 
I've said it before in this blog and I'll say it again, the knowledge that God cares for us more than He does the sparrows, makes this season special to me.  In that statement made by Christ, is a truth that should encourage every sparrow.  Jesus didn't say that God didn't care about sparrows, He said that he cares more about us. It is knowing that God loved...me, and everyone enough to give us His Son as a way to have eternal life, that makes Christmas a mystery.  Perhaps, the sparrows are smarter than we are.  I don't think sparrows wonder if we love them, or that we deliberately drop food for them.  They just enjoy the feast we provide.  If only our faith was that simple.  If only we could jealously guard the salvation given to us by our loving heavenly Father.  No questions, no worries, no moments of doubt. Somewhere within the angelic choir singing praise to God in the highest, is an angel who's duty it is to make sure that someone drops a bun, or spills some fries.  That angel will make sure that a Tyson feed truck hits a bump and drops scoops of chicken feed along the road.  What's good for the chicken is even better for the sparrow.  If He does this for Sparrows, think of what He does for us.  Somewhere, someplace will do an act of kindness and wonder why they did it.  Someone will be given a thought to give a blanket to the homeless shelter, or work in a soup kitchen, or even give coins in a Salvation Army kettle.  It may seem like only a french fry or a scrap to the one giving it, but to the one receiving, it is love.
I know my sparrows will be back.  I know they will have somehow made it through the winter with or without my help because they have a God who cares for them.

FAITH

I've been watching the commercial space program with keen interest as visionaries like Elon Musk, and Jeff Bezos shape the future of space flight.  Space flight is unlike any form of transportation mankind has embarked upon in our long rise from the dust. I don't know why it terrifies us more than any other means of getting from point A to point B, but it does.  I guess I don't fear space travel because I was born during the birth of the space age.  I was born in 1955 and have seen the explosive journey to space through eyes of childhood wonder, and a growing sense of awe.  Seeing rocket boosters fly to the upper reaches of the stratosphere and return to land on wisps of fire and smoke is something I used to dream of as I watched old 'B' Sci Fi movies as a child.  At 64 years of age, I wonder how much more progress I will get to see.  I would love to see humans land on Mars before I pass this vale. 
You see, I'm a devout Christian who isn't afraid of science.  A matter of fact I embrace science as a reflection of the beauty of the Creator.  I never missed a shuttle launch, and as a child I watched every rocket launch of the Gemini, and Apollo Programs.  Then we stopped.  It was stupid!  So many of the good technological things we enjoy today were developed because of the space programs.  We lost faith in ourselves, and our technical prowess.  I know what caused us to lose faith, and it wasn't to do with rockets blowing up or near disasters in space. 
I'm going to shamelessly put a plug in for a trilogy I've written about the future in space, and you can read it chapter by chapter on my blog RaderWriter.  At the same time I want to speak about faith.  I want to specifically talk about Space X and their awesome push toward their dream.  What they are doing requires not only immense technical skill, vast financial resources, but it requires a vast faith in the vision that drives them. 
I know many of the scientists, and engineers would disagree with me about the source of their faith, but it is a gift of God.  We are a species who do more than hope!  Hope is great, but it doesn't launch rockets.  Knowledge is great, but it doesn't vision rockets.  Skill is great, but it doesn't propel rockets.  Faith does all that and more.  My marriage of faith and science is unique to me.  I had to create it at the young age of 13 as I contemplated using Schroedinger's wave law equation to discover the mass of a Neutrino.  At 13 I didn't even know what the wave law equation was.  My Uncle Jerry, a graduate of MIT used it in his Doctorate Paper to propose finding oil deep within the earth.  I just figured it would be a good tool to use.  I wanted to go to New Mexico State University on a weekend science symposium.  To go, you had to write a science paper and my paper was on Neutrinos.  I studied them till I was blue in the face, wrote my paper suggesting that we could place detectors in the Antarctic.  It was only eight pages long, and poorly typewritten.  When I got selected to go I was in shock.  To this day whenever I see the word Neutrino I have to stop and read the article.  Why am I saying all of this?
Because I believe that there is a huge disconnect between science and faith that doesn't need to exist.  It's the same disconnect I see happening as we become more angry at one another because of race, sex, or gender.  Religions separate us, cultures push us away from one another, and even issues of life separate us.  I believe in life, and I believe in each person's liberty.  These things shouldn't separate us, but they do.  I ache with sorrow because of the separation.  We can be so much more together than we are right now.  Sadly, I don't see it getting any better before it gets worse.  My world view is framed by a book called the Bible.  It is more than a history, more than a guidebook, it is a revelation of wonder. 
I've often wondered how the world is going to react when they discover microbes on our nearest neighbor Mars.  It would not surprise me.  Why?  Because I know our planet has been slammed by huge space rocks that sent much of our planet heaving into space.  I know they will find microbes just like those on earth, because they came from earth.  It is the same way I knew that a Neutrino had mass at 13 years old.  Some things are intuitive, and that too is a gift from God. 
I wish with all of my heart that I could visit Mars and look upon the soil of a distant neighbor. I also wish I had a physical image of a Neutrino instead of the indicators of its passing.  The same is true of my desire to see God face to face.  I long to see more than just the indicators of His passing.  I see His hand in the simple things just as surely as my Uncle could see oil as he measured sound waves passing through the earth. Finding microbial life on Mars doesn't shake my faith in God any more than finding microbes on our planet.  We're an arrogant species, filled with ourselves, and unable to even deal with one another let alone, God. 
I am optimistic, but realistic at the same time.  I want to see the day when we finally break the barriers that divide us as peoples.  I'm one of the privileged white males that seem to be at the center of every bad thing going on today.  In every generation, as mankind is ready to step beyond the limits of their frail existence and explore new possibilities we also demonstrate the need to blame others for our woeful shortsightedness.  I pray we'll live beyond this time in history where the fabric of our existence is being threatened.  As a Christian I know how this will end, but as a child of God I want a better ending.  There is a growing sorrow about what I see happening around me.  I'm old enough to let go of this life should I be threatened.  On the other hand, I have children, and grandchildren whom I wish to see live in peace and hope.  As long as the strident voices of anger and hate are given media attention this world is in peril.  This isn't a future I wish to see.  I want to  see Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos duke it out peacefully and develop the means to escape this world.  I hope to see the day when all of mankind realizes they are the DNA of God instead of the garbage of hate.  Our species must have peace with itself if we are to go beyond ourselves.  I know this thought violates the revelations of our Bible, but like Abraham I am begging God to hold back the judgement prophesied against us.  I am willing to grow old and die to see Him, while at the same time asking that no one experience His wrath for our wanton desire to kill each other. 
As I write this, I have my front door open and I'm watching the little sparrows combing through the dew laden grass for something to eat.  I don't know if they have wars, nor do I know if they have hope or faith.  Do they live angrily?  Do they do battle with each other?  Are we better being than they are?  Dear God in heaven, I don't know.  I hope we are.  Sadly, my passion for science is tempered by the knowledge that with every new scientific discovery, we discover a more terrifying way to destroy each other.  Science isn't the panacea for our worst inclinations.  Love is!!!   Still I hope for the joy of science while being realistic about what I've seen us do with it.  I hope we can move away from the precipice of prejudice, greed, and fear that envelopes us at this point in life.  Is my faith enough to say LOVE? Do sparrows love?  The Apostle Paul when describing the summation of his existence in Christ, wrote that three things abide.  That means they will go on beyond us.  Those three things are; Faith, hope, and love.  And, the greatest of these is love.

TRUST

Spring is in full bloom now.  My roses are beginning to be heavy with flowers, and most of the early bulbs and lilies are finished.  The trees are almost fully leafed out.  I have a tulip tree that still has blossoms all over it, and the sparrows are going crazy feasting on whatever feasts on the tulip tree blossoms.  We've had a wonderful mid-April through early May rain season as well as wonderful temperatures. Spring is already my favorite season of the year (my wife loves Fall more), but this year Spring has been a joy.  Every year I look forward to it, but sometimes winter hangs on too long and we end up with no fruit on the trees or the vines.  So, I am always grateful for this kind of Spring. 
Who am I grateful to?   God, of course!!  I trust He knows what we need, even if sometimes His plan doesn't quite fulfill my idea of what He should do.  As someone who grew up in the southwestern city of El Paso, Texas, I appreciate the full on green of Harrison, Arkansas.  Everything, everyone, and yes, even everyplace, has good things about them, and bad.  Growing up in El Paso, the daily paper kept a small little corner of the front page reserved for the "Sunshine Report".   The report simply kept a tabulation of how many days the sun shined over the city.  It didn't matter if the sun only came out for just a few minutes, it was still enough to add to the total.  I don't remember what year it was, but I do remember reading on one particular day that the sun had shone for 3,242 days.  I remember it because that day I went to school and wrote it on the chalkboard.  It impressed me that in just under ten years, the sun had shone that many days in a row.  During the day, my remark got the most remarks I'd ever got from anything I'd ever wrote. (My English teacher gave me a small corner in which to write my musings, and poetry.  Blame her for this blog.) The remarks went from "understated wow!", to "The sun is always shining, dummy!"   Reading those remarks left me a little hurt.  Was I truly the only one who thought it was amazing that this city had been blessed with a glimpse of the sun every day for over nine years?  It wasn't miraculous, nor was it even momentous, it was simply noteworthy. 
Since that time, I've lived in different parts of the country where the weather can hide the sun for as long as fourteen days in a row. (Talk about cabin fever.)  I remember a winter in Mtn Home, Idaho where thanks to the ash from Mt. St. Helens, we had a winter with so much snow that I had to cross country ski to work for a week.  Which even as bad as that was, is not as bad as I've heard about in different areas of the country.  One thing I've learned as I've grown up, is that even as dark or stormy as the weather may be, I have to trust that somewhere above the storm, the sun is shining.  So, my High School critic was really correct, just insensitive. 
I trust God, that this lovely blue marble is still spinning as it should, and that it is still orbiting the sun as it should.  I have to trust that even though I may not see it happening visibly with my eyes, I know it is happening.
The march of seasons is what allows this planet to support the mass of human beings living on its surface.  I know from what I've seen in the historical record, that there have been times on this planet where seasons weren't that pronounced.  There may come a day when through some amazing event, we may not see the sun, and this world will be thrown into chaos.  If that day were to come, I would still trust God's plan because I know Him.  I trust Him to continue to guide this amazing planet in its path through the solar system.  The only other alternative is to live in fear. 
As I watch the little sparrows going about their daily life, I wonder if they even have a clue as to how precarious the perch is that we all share on this amazing course through space?   Do they have an innate knowledge of God's provision?  Do they even care?  Do they trust?  These question often come to me while I watch their antics.  My heart tells me they don't, but then I wonder how I do? 
Lucky sparrows. 

The Secret to Happiness

There is a secret to being happy.    It isn't free health care, free college, free lunches, free houses, or anything politicians try to tell you will make you happy.  The secret to happiness isn't in money, things, or even in great power.  The secret to happiness is being content.  Personally, I believe if more of us subscribed to contentment, it cold help improve the lives of people everywhere.  Happiness isn't found just in Christianity, although I believe it goes a long way to making a difference. 
Though I profess Christ, and live for my faith,  the happiness that comes from contentment isn't in Christ either. I've seen too many people live happily without a faith in Christ to make it a prerequisite for happiness. At the same time I've seen far too many Christians living lives devoid of contentment, and wracked with despair.  So, why am I writing about the secret to happiness in a blog dedicated to a profession in Jesus Christ?
The answer to that question is simple; I don't want to see my brothers and sisters in Christ looking for happiness in places that will not bring them any joy. 
If you use a clinical description of happiness, you will discover it is fleeting in it's duration, but so powerful in it's force, that it makes everyone of us seek to be happy for but just a moment.  Happiness is such a powerful emotion we look for ways to induce it.  Within this need for happiness is the root of almost all of our addictions.  Our bodies betray us because the 'high' from being happy is like nothing else we experience. The need to be happy whether through artificial means, or through natural means, can lead us into the depths of despair if we aren't careful.  That doesn't mean our need for happiness is completely destructive.  The 'arts' are born out of happiness.  Games, comedies, jokes, hobbies, and yes, even storytelling in its many varied forms are a means to happiness.  Sadly, the flood of hormones that accompanies true happiness is limited in its ability to be sustained for long periods of time. The greatest sorrow is when we live our lives in search of happiness instead of yielding to the joy found in every moment.  When jobs, marriages, homes, cars, and the accessories of life become the driving force for satisfaction we miss the moments within ourselves that bring true happiness.  This opens the door for disappointment, sorrow, and grief, which are far more easily sustained. Somehow, in the rush for a new 'happy' high, we leave the real source of happiness behind.  This is true whether we are rich or poor, Christian or non-Christian.  When contentment eludes us, happiness quickly flees. 
Over my lifetime I've seen great men and women of God become lost and empty vessels devoid of joy, peace or happiness.  Christians can easily be fooled into believing that a ministry, study, or even a cause will bring them happiness.  Ministries can push you beyond your purpose in Christ into fears of failure fueled by the minister's comparison of their life with those of more successful ministries. People who feel bible study, or the search for spiritual truth can bring  happiness often fail to discover that happiness, allowing the study itself to rob them of the joy found in living in the joy of the moment.  Probably the worst thief of happiness among Christians is the need to defend their faith or advance that faith into secular causes.  I've seen too many good Christians become enslaved to the angrier side of their passions to the point they hate the very people God has called us to reach.
Happiness is found in being content with forgiveness, and forgiving.  This is the simple power we all carry within us, but it is the springboard for more joy than you can contain.  So much of what I'm seeing in the news media today is driven by a failure to forgive, and let go.  Then again, I know we can become consumed by our passions to the point where happiness is driven far from us.  Political, cultural, religious, and ethnic diversity are important things when it comes to aligning ourselves in tribes. Belonging to a tribe can be a great source of joy and happiness, but if we allow them to exclude us from tolerance, and contentment,  they can suck the happiness out of our lives.  You hear a lot these days about 'diversity' but it seems the more diverse we attempt to be as a nation, the more unhappy we become.  Diversity robs us of happiness by building walls of 'difference,' and before you know it, you don't have the happiness that comes from tolerating people who are different from you.  "Intersectionality" is a word you hear a lot about lately because of the 'diversity' craze.  It's the moment when the goals of one 'diverse' group conflicts with the goals of another.  Someday, when the dust settles from this crazy need to be unique, we'll wonder how we allowed ourselves to be so overcome with the celebration of diversity. Instead of celebrating our humanity, we become obsessed with defending our uniqueness.  At one point or another 'diversity' will bring you into conflict with another diverse person.  This is why I said that many Christians aren't happy.  Tolerance, which is simply forgiving another person for being different from you, is rarely practiced among denominations.  It's the result of hundreds of years of conditioning, and is often based on tribalism, and in that alone, the fear of losing a unique identity. 
Contentment speaks of true faith.  I've seen it in the lives of those in foreign countries less prosperous than the United States.  I've seen happiness in children's laughter everywhere I've been.  That is why I can say that happiness isn't found in things, money, or power.  Happiness is found in any moment you choose to savor and enjoy.   I see it in my simple enjoyment of the sparrows that are carrying on outside my front door.  I don't know why it brings me so much joy to look out my storm door and watch the antics of these tiny little creatures who inhabit my front yard.  All I know is that they bring a smile to my face, which is usually a clue that I'm happy.  It won't last for long, I'll have to close the door because it's getting colder, and they'll have to carry on without my observing them, but they will carry on.  That brings another smile to my face. 

NEW YEAR, NEW THOUGHTS

The holidays are over and I'm wondering what the new year is going to bring.  I've never been big on new year resolutions because they infer knowing that we have more than today.  None of us know how long we have left in this life.  I'm not morbid, or fatalistic, but there are some things that are simply the truth.  I don't care who you are, how rich, powerful, strong, or healthy you are, you have no promise of tomorrow.  So, New Years resolutions are a waste of energy. 
What is the promise of New Years day?  Why is it different than any other day?  I think we make a big deal about it because we as human beings like to believe there is hope for something better.  I used to view my days on this earth in terms of how old I am, and how many days I think I have left.  With this new year has come new thoughts.
All I have is the next heartbeat, the next breath, the next thought.  Everything I've framed my life in since I can remember has been focused on 'time.'  Even my relationship with Jesus Christ is focused on time.  Who I am is determined by time.  To wax biblical, my days on this earth are marked by my white hair, and the wrinkles upon my face, but they don't define who I am inside.  Still if someone were to see me, they would say I was 'old.'  For a vertically challenged person like me, looking old was all I wanted to do.  There was a day when it didn't matter how old I was, I was often viewed as being younger than 18.  So, being old isn't something I'm worried about.  Being at peace with God, myself, and others is.
Through faith in Christ, being at peace with God came a long time ago.  Through that faith in Christ I have been able to live at peace with almost everyone around me.  However, being at peace with myself is something that is a recent development.  Even within that peace, I've been going through a major conflict in my life that has challenged me in every aspect of my life, even in my faith.  I've alluded to it over the last few posts, but it seems to have come to a place where I don't think it will turn out the way I'd hoped.  Time moves on, putting it's stamp upon every millisecond, minute, hour without seeing the resolution I'd hoped for.  I wanted nothing but good in this situation, but it hasn't happened.  For a long time I was walking around gritting my teeth, feeling helpless, and wishing for love to rule the day.  Now I know I can only hope for this minute, this instant, this moment.  I can't change others around me.  I can only change me. 
The first time I mentioned this in my blog I said it would be something I would look back on with an assurance that God has been with me throughout the whole thing. Even then I knew I would be at peace with the situation, but I wanted to be honest with my feelings as I went 'through' it. 
It is time to reveal what I felt:  First and foremost is a sense of deep disappointment with people I thought I knew as well as I know myself.  I didn't feel betrayed, just disappointed.  It's hard to judge someone when they disappoint you, because I know I've disappointed so many people in my life.  I can't even be angry, just disappointed. Almost 60 years ago, someone I love made a fateful decision that has changed my life today.  Nothing can alter the consequences of that decision, but I am determined to live every moment celebrating the love those consequences has brought into my life. 
The other day I was discussing this with someone who is on the other side of the consequences, and they said something very profound that I'm going to hold onto for the rest of my moments.  "Fear destroys Peace."  I refuse to let fear, or disappointment control my life.  Love is the best thing I can do, and I am determined to let love rule my life. Why?  Because I don't have enough time to do anything else, I only have the next moment. 

AT PEACE WITH YOURSELF

I read a lot.  Not as much as I used to, (As a child, I used to read cereal boxes in the morning before heading out for the day).  Now, I read enough to stay current, and informed.  Being a reader makes it hard for me to take the time to write, even though I love to write.  I don't write as much as I used to, because my work schedule is not suited to it right now.  Now, if someone wanted to pay me to write....but, that could get old quick.
For those who've taken the time to read my past blogs, you know this blog is all about being at peace with God, others, and yourself.  Being at peace is something people have a hard time with right now.  Politically, socially, and even spiritually, people seem to be in turmoil.  People seem to be conflicted about their culture, gender, socio-economic status, sexual orientation, and a thousand things to which the media is able to spin you up about.  Some things make me snicker when I read them, and others make me shake my head in disbelief.  For example, I still haven't figured out what cultural appropriation is all about. I have a good friend whose home is decorated in minimalist Japanese style. Her husband was stationed in Japan during the late fifties and sixties, and she fell in love with the culture.  After her husband died, she decided to keep her home as it was in honor of his memory.  Why is that 'wrong'?  I also have another 'white' friend who loves blues music from the 20's and 30's.  Is it wrong to enjoy, collect, and submerge yourself in another culture?  Do you have to denounce your 'ethnicity' to enjoy the expressions of another race's culture?  Why is it offensive for 'white' people to enjoy the clothing, foods, and cultural trapping of another culture? These are questions I've been asking every time I read an article about 'white privilege.'  So, added to the many things we are in turmoil about, white people must now experience the angst of being 'white.'
I was saddened the other day by a headline in my news feed titled "Amy Schumer apologizes for being white."  Although the headline was misleading, (She actually was saying her last movie role would have been better suited to a woman of color), it is interesting that the subject was even broached.  It speaks to a deeper issue dealing with being comfortable in your own skin.  Now, of course this is easier said by a white male. 
Still, without being glib in any way, what are you going to do about who you are? 
YOU ARE WHAT YOU ARE.  No matter what others might think of you, or what you think about yourself, you are what you see in the mirror. Actually, it is sad to think that the only way we can make ourselves feel important is by demeaning someone else.  It is equally sad to think that race or culture can be used to crush, subjugate, or hold back those who are different.  However, the dialogue doesn't begin by denouncing your genetics. 
This thought was driven home to me as I read an article about Christianity being a 'white' religion.  It seems as if our universities and high schools are on a crusade to begin purging the world of 'white heterosexual, males, and more specifically Christian males.'  If Amy Schumer can feel guilty about her role not going to a woman of color, think about the implication for white males. 
This problem of dissatisfaction with who you are is not bound up in education, the media, or any other manifestation of our cultural dis-functionalism, it is because we have lost touch with the creator who made us.  It is God who gives us our real identity, and it isn't just 'white.'  Real Christians realize this.  Is there a problem here?  Yes, we have many people who call themselves Christians who have hijacked the faith and used it for their hateful spiteful purposes. When you are a real christian you won't have to apologize for who or what you are.  You also won't feel superior about who you are.  A life changing faith in Jesus Christ makes it impossible to judge yourself as greater than anyone else.
Sadly, many universities and high schools are beginning to teach racism, and cultural elitism in an effort to lift minority peoples up to some invisible bar of equality. 
THERE IS NO EQUALITY!  As a vertically challenged, elderly, white male, I am here to tell you there is no equality without pulling exceptional people down.  My genetics made me a male, Caucasian, of less than average height.  It would be foolish of me to demand equality.  What part of my genetics am I going to change?  No matter how much I could protest, lobby, or push for equality, someone somewhere is going to be born taller, faster, stronger, smarter, quicker, or anything else better than I am by genetics. That is the greatest quality about true Christianity, you can be the image of God no matter your race, culture, gender, or even religion.  This one truth about the the Judaeo-Christian value system is twisted and turned around by those who don't know the Word of God.  God made us all, filled us with the breath we breathe, and gave us one simple command; Love God, and love others. If you do this with all your heart, you won't have room for privilege, hatred, or any other expression of superiority. 
At the same time, I won't feel guilty about being white, nor will I be or feel privileged for it.  I won't curse my parents for 'knowing' each other at the right time or temperature to make me male.  I also won't curse them for passing on my mother's family genome of being short. 
Like the little sparrows who are busy enjoying this lovely spring weather, I will simply rest in the knowledge that I am infinitely loved by an infinite creator who loves everyone with an undying love.  I'm truly saddened for those who don't know this.  Find God, and you will find peace.

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.   

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.

A WEEK OF TECHNOLOGICAL TRIUMPHS

For those who won't read earlier blogs, the reason I call this blog the Sparrow's Perch, is because of Psalm 84:3 and Psalm 91. I can imagine the Psalmist going to the Tabernacle, and wishing he could flit in and out of the Holy Place like the sparrows. The tender reference to being under HIS wing, and the thought of God as a refuge, ring out from the Psalms. So, it is when I sit up here in my office. The sparrows, pigeons, and crows don't usually wake up until I'm almost ready to leave. It is mid-fall, and the sun doesn't break over the horizon until almost 7:30. During the height of the summer, the birds are carrying on by at least 5:30 in the morning. I miss their chatter, and bathing in the puddles on the flat roof just outside my window. I've often thought about putting a bird bath out there, but they have a lake, Ha :) just across the street. It wouldn't be for them as much as for me.

This week in Science has been an exciting time. The Mars Rover Curiosity found a cool unexpected rock, and Felix Baumgartner became the first man to freefall faster than the speed of sound. These feats are amazing! These technological feats make it is easy for us 'human beings' to think we have it all going on. We THINK, and that makes us special. Yet, in many ways, we have sold our birthright for a pot of boiled meat. We no longer depend upon the Lord for our daily bread. We have our brains, and our hands to feed ourselves. Who needs God? It is why we spend billions of dollars going to a planet we know is hostile to us, hoping for that one glimpse of a microbe that would prove God isn't the creator of the universe. It is why we spend billions of dollars looking out to the Stars hoping to find the one conclusive piece of evidence that will prove once and for all that WE are right, and God is wrong. Those who deny God will be able to point out how “knowledge” has shred the last vestige of religion, and dissuade even the most ardent believer. The purist scientist will finally be able to declare that we were an inevitable process of the universe, formed of a primordial stew that is possible anywhere within any trillion of star systems in the millions of galaxies that populate our universe. (LONG SENTENCE ON PURPOSE TO PROVE HOW KNOWLEDGE IS WONDERFUL)

Freed from the chains of religion, what is man capable of?

NOTHING MORE than he has done throughout the history of his miserable existence outside of God.

So, while an amazing piece of technology creeps along on a distant planet, and a man leaps from the edge of space, the sparrows come to my window sill and amuse me. They know their provider is good, and so do I. They know the one who brings rain and withholds it all at the same time. They aren't concerned with the scientific process, because knowing is only knowing. It doesn't change anything. As someone who has always had a love of science, science fiction, and astronomy, I am always brokenhearted at the 'reason' for discovery. What a shame. So, let me offer this to those who might be sitting on the fence of doubt and faith. Faith costs you nothing, doubt steals everything. In the end, when this tent is rolled up and placed into the soil from which it came, my spirit will explore those worlds that loom just beyond my touch. Eternity will not be spent in useless nothingness. For even as science is beginning to discover, this universe is made up of stuff we can't see or explain. We know it is there, we think we know how it should behave, but every day we realize we had it wrong. We spend so much time, and energy exploring the universe around us, but so little time growing the eternal love that is within us.  Is eternity one of those things we want to get wrong?

I guess it depends upon your perspective. A little sparrow has just cocked his head and danced away.  His perspective is the one I like.  

STOPPING TO BELIEVE

If you’ve been following this blog for any length of time, you know by now that the place I call my sanctuary of peace and intimacy with the Spirit of God, is my office at the Church where I serve as the Men’s pastor.   My office sits just atop a long flight of stairs, and to the right of the landing.  I like it up here, because the window in my office overlooks the bottled up waters of  Crooked Creek,  which the locals affectionately call Lake Harrison. 

My daily routine, is to come in sometime around 5 or 5:30 in the morning, turn on the computer, open the window, and make coffee.   Once the coffee is brewing, I will sit down and read our daily bible reading, and pray.  

This morning, something happened to cause me to stop and question what I believe.  Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t monumental, tragic, or even noteworthy except for the fact that it caused me to pause for a moment, and question what I believe. 

The morning started off like any other, I was awakened by the alarm on my cell phone, went in and turned on the water to brush my teeth. Later, after I finished dressing, and the coffee pot I’d programmed the night before had dutifully produced my anticipated 1^st cup of coffee, I sat down a while to watch my lovely bride of over thirty-six years nap before facing her upcoming day.  After she left for work, I went out to my truck, put the key in the ignition and turned the key.  The truck started, I put it in gear and drove to the church.  Without even thinking about it, I turned the key to the side door, and found myself walking down the familiar hallway and up the stairs in the half-light from the streetlight outside.  I flipped the switch inside my door, and the light came on as usual.  I turned on the computer, made another pot of coffee, and sat down to read our daily reading. 

Something had changed. 

The computer hadn’t come on. 

DARN! 

We do so many things based on faith. 

My belief system was shaken.  You turn a key, flip a switch, press a button, program a timer, turn a wheel, and something happens.  This is the way of our modern world.  Without question, signals pour out of little thin wires, and we can know what is happening across the world.  I don’t claim to know the intricacies of electricity, but I do know the switch isn’t where the power comes from.  At the same time, if it doesn’t work the first time I flip the switch, I will usually bump it up and down at least three or four times, until I become convinced that something other than the switch is broken.  You see, I base my daily routine upon a myriad of things that I can’t see, but ultimately affect my life.  I still stand in awe of the cell phone, the internet, broadcast TV, water lines, and other modern conveniences that await my beck and call.  They work without question, and often without my knowing their source.  I have a plastic card that allows me to draw unseen money from an electronic depository  that is supposed to be the money in my bank account.  I’ve never seen all of my money in the bank, but a piece of paper every month says I have it.  When people pay me for fixing things in their home, they pay me with a piece of paper that is supposed to be the same as cash.  All of this requires faith.  When it doesn’t work, there is usually a good reason.  That reason is usually outside of our control. 

It was at that moment when my computer didn’t come on, that I stopped to believe.  Since I was ten years old, I’ve known there is a God.  There is electricity, there is God.  There is water, there is God.  There is air, there is God.  As long as I can remember, I’ve known there is a God.  If I ever doubted for one moment, my mother would remind me, there is a God.  He became the fabric of my life, without my even knowing how he became the fabric of my life. Even when I’ve  done all the right spiritual things, made all the right spiritual moves, and not seen the spiritual results I wanted, I’ve always known there was a God.  It’s in my being. 

Then this morning happened.

I frantically jabbed at the button to the computer, looked up at the light (which was on, but for some reason I looked anyway,) and then looked down at the surge protector beside my desk. 

The switch was off. 

In closing my window yesterday, I’d accidentally turned it off

I reached down and jabbed at the green switch, and obediently the computer sprang to life.  I found myself laughing at the irritation I’d felt earlier.  My initial reaction was that I’d blown another computer due to a power surge or excessive heat.  As I heard the fan motors whir, and the lights flash green, I stopped to believe once more in the mystery that is electricity. 

I do so much out of simple routine, and am rarely concerned about whether it works or not.  I never question whether the power will be there.  I never doubt that water will spill from my tap, and I very rarely doubt the hundreds of other things I rely on every day.  I often do the same thing with my relationship to the creator of the universe.  Most of the time, He goes unheeded, moving quietly in the background of my life, with little thought or appreciation on my part until something doesn’t work in my life.  It’s when everything is good and right, that I tend to forget he is there. His Spirit flows unseen through the walls and floors of my life only to exit at whatever ornate faucet I choose to let him spring from.  Even then, the water tap is usually opened only when I need something for myself.  More often than not, his power in my life serves me only.  When I do move beyond my own comfort zone, and make an attempt at being selfless, his power seems to do far more for others than he does for me.  This alone causes me stand in awe of Him. 

Yet, most of the time I’m oblivious of Him until I ask him for something I want, and don’t get it right away. Even then, I’ve discovered  it’s because I’ve done something to turn off the surge protector in my Spiritual walk, that prevents me from getting what I ask for.  Today, I willfully made a commitment to believe in him as much or more than I do the electric company, the water department, or any of the other far less faithful services in my life. 

Today, I stopped to believe. 

Sparrows must believe.