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. 

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.

It is an angry world I wake up to every morning.  As with all things human, I'm sure it is no more angry now than at any other time in history. We just have the ability to express that anger to a wider audience.  Our computers, our smartphones, and tablets become the vehicle of our anger, giving it greater distance than ever before.  The plumber who used to gripe to one or two people, go home, and live in relative anonymity can take their 140 character rants to a far ranging public and at least feel significant.  Instead of being some kind of cathartic release, though, it becomes the fuel for an ever increasing fire.  No one is spared the righteous indignation, nor is any fire too small to fan into a raging inferno. 
I've been writing these blogs as a release for my own need to be significant and relevant to a world that seems to be spinning out of control into chaos.  Finding the peace of God in the midst of an angry world is simply a matter of turning off the noise.  I no longer watch broadcast news of any persuasion. I did this a few years ago, and found my attitude became much better.  As an admitted christian conservative I found myself grinding my teeth, yelling at the TV, and despising people I didn't even know.  I could pick and choose what I wanted to read, or watch through the internet, so I became very selective.  Then came the 2016 elections!    I had to stop reading everything.   Then the campaigns found Facebook.  There was no place safe from the vitriol coming from both parties of our government.  So, two weeks ago I completely closed down my Facebook account. 
That doesn't stop me from being concerned about the direction our nation is headed.  While the 'left' would have us believe that there is a 'white supremacist' behind every corner, I see more evidence for an energized Anti-fa than I do for a sleeping KKK. 
Probably the greatest sorrow I feel is for the educators in our colleges, universities, and even high schools.  For being so highly educated, they have forgotten what happened to the educators in Russia, and China during their respective purges.  I mean, it's only minor history.  Something like the teachers being the first ones to be killed.  Anarchy is a monster that devours its own.  So, I pray.  I pray for love and compassion to once again rule the hearts and lives of Americans.  Will I see it?  I don't know.  Right now, as I'm writing this, I can see a squirrel scampering across the top of our fence toward a tree.  He is carrying a huge walnut in his mouth and looking for rival squirrels.  He isn't feeling the love at the moment.  This is the attitude I'm afraid will lead our young people to greater anger.  I can only pray I will be found worthy of the truth within me when the time comes. 

OPEN WINDOW, OPEN HEART

I've been busy!  Our 'new to us' house is livable, and we are moved in.  This makes my days longer and even more blurry than they were before.  It's not a complaint, just a fact.  The journey from our old home out in the country to our home in the city is in its eighteenth month.  I won't call the project complete until the outside is trimmed out and the house is painted.  Then it will be maintenance.  I'm saying all of this because I just opened a window in my office to let the cool early morning air in.   It's a cool Sunday morning, and I can hear numerous dogs barking in the distance.  The sound of traffic is something I will have to get accustomed to.  It doesn't keep me up at night, but it is louder than our old house in the country.  It reminds me of my old office at the church.  Which brings me to the title of this post.
A lot has happened since my last post.  We have a new President of our nation.  We have riots, protests, and hate mongers everywhere.  I'm not sure, but I don't think there has ever been a President who elicited death threats or violence if you admitted to voting for him.  We have angry hateful people calling other people hateful, and those people being labeled as being hateful are becoming less tolerant.  I never thought I'd see the day when colleges and universities would forbid anyone to speak. I never thought I'd see sexual rights (which aren't guaranteed) replace religious freedom (which is guaranteed).  Everyone is hunkered down in their dogmatic foxhole lobbing vitriolic mortars at one another.  If you stick your head up, you risk being sniped.  The 'left' screams resist and the 'right' screams back.  As a christian conservative, I've never felt more uneasy than I do right now. Everything I cherish and hold true is being challenged and turned on its head.  Even as I write this, I realize all it would take is someone reporting my blog as 'hate speech' and Google would close me down, but I digress.
The problem is air conditioning.  We keep our homes locked up solid all year long.  The windows are for looking through not listening. We condition our air, and end up conditioning our lives.  God forbid we should be uncomfortable. We've lost the ability to listen to one another.  When I was a young boy growing up in El Paso, Texas, we didn't have air conditioning.  We had swamp coolers, and you had to have a window open to allow the chilled air to pass through.  That window was usually in my room.  I could hear the neighbors TV sets, their fights with children and one another.  I could hear the street traffic, the sound of dogs barking, and crickets.  When neighbors met during the day, the most common question was; "did you hear 'that' last night?"  (Whatever 'that' was, was usually a neighbor forgetting everyone had a window open.)  Then, everyone started getting air conditioning.  The windows started closing, and amazingly people stopped meeting each other on the street. Chain link fences went up, and eventually bars over the windows.  I saw a picture of our old house not long ago, and it truly looks like a prison with ten foot high chain link fence and concertina wire atop it.  I can remember laying out on the grass in our front yard staring at the stars.  Now there is not grass.  It looks like a prison yard. I used to live in a neighborhood where all the kids knew each other and were free to play outside until nine at night.
Now, my neighborhood is digital.  Facebook, instagram, and snapchat have replaced meeting people face to face.  Husbands and wives text each other in the same room instead of talking.  Children don't even text their parents.  This is not the kind of relationships I want in the city.
Sometime soon, I'm going to put a birdbath outside the window to my home office.  I'm going to put a green table close to the fence and sit at it while my neighbors do their thing.  We are going to invite people over for Sunday dinner.  We'll sit down and discuss the disgust we see around us.  We'll open our windows and hopefully hear the occasional sounds of life beyond the TV set.  I'll be glad to hear the sparrows skittering and splashing in their bath.  I will open my window and open my heart, which is pretty amazing for me considering I'm an introvert.  

A Special Woman

Now that I have honored God for giving me a spectacular birthday, I'd like to give honor to my wife for her part in all of it.  Anyone who reads my blog knows how much I value her, and love her.  She has taught me how to be a better man, and made my days full.  This year we will celebrate our fortieth anniversary, which is an amazing thing in itself.

She arranged the steak dinner with my parents, baked my favorite cake, and saw to it that I was treated like a king.  I wasn't aware of her doing this at any time.  She surprised the socks off of me.  Anyone who knows my wife knows that when she decides to bless you, you are going to be blessed.  She's good at it.  Very good at it.

At Christmas she bought me a Keurig coffee maker which is something I'd been wanting for a long time.  When she asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I told her i wanted one of those K-cup carousels.  Typical Glenda style, I had two, I also get a big box of coffee to go with it.  Not one of those measly 8 or 12 packs, 42!!!!!   Is that cool?  

Then she gave me something totally unexpected.  A Silver Dollar City season pass.  Yep, that's what we'll be doing this year.

I have a Proverbs 31 kind of woman.  

I bless God for her every day.  Her children bless her,  Her grandchildren adore her.

So, thank you Lord for giving me such a wonderful woman, you have shown me your favor.

I will have fun this year!!!!!!!

My Birthday

I’ve been away from the sparrows perch for quite a while.  I’d become convinced my words were useless, my thoughts unimportant, and my dreams unobtainable.  Then I remembered why I even began writing this blog.  Why does anyone keep a blog?  For me it was simple; I’ve always enjoyed writing.  From the time I was in middle school, I’ve always enjoyed expressing my thoughts through the written word.  They may not move you, bring you to believe what I believe, but at least they will be written down for those who love me to remember who I was.  As anyone who’s followed me in the past knows, I’m keenly aware of my mortality.  Not that it makes a difference how old you are.  Death comes at any age, and we aren’t guaranteed today, let alone tomorrow. 

I turned 61 yesterday.  Unlike past birthdays where I was content to make it just another day, God was intent on making it a special day.  I say God because it came at me from every direction imaginable.  I’m always happy just to have my children call me, text me, or even drop in.  I especially like it when my Mother remembers how much pain I caused her, and then how happy she was for that pain.  I love it when my wife suddenly remembers she is slightly more than a year younger than me, and she will be in my shoes sooner than she thinks.  This year, God orchestrated the most wonderful birthday I’ve had in my adult life.  The gifts that spoke to me would not mean a thing to anyone else.  From the men’s group I was blessed with numerous gift cards to my favorite Mexican food restaurant.  It shows they know me well enough to buy me what would please me.  Then the Bible with the simple engraving “Teacher” on it.  It’s what I do, it’s who I am.  It rests on the center of my Desk,  amidst the piles of papers, cards, and other business stuff of my life.  I put my hand upon the engraving and soak in the meaning of it.  These men who are much better men than myself, allow me the privilege of pulling from heaven what they need for the week.  I’ve begun to look at myself as a water bearer.  I’m here to pull down the rain of revelation, and to draw up from the well of God’s Word.  This alone gives me purpose, and makes my days valid.  I’m not more knowledgeable, more spiritual, or even more gifted than my brothers.  Any man in our group can step into the name ‘teacher’ and do it better than me.  It doesn’t bother me to say that.  A matter of fact I’m proud to say it.  It means we’ve moved beyond the traditions of men and stepped into the spiritual aspect of teaching.  Still, resting my hand upon that simple word engraved on a lovely bible draws me to a higher calling.  I can’t let these men down. 

You might still be wondering how I can give God credit for orchestrating my birthday celebration, so let me give you a Holy Ghost moment.   My Mom and Dad had invited Glenda and I over for grilled steaks.  We’d had a wonderful evening and it was time for the birthday cake.  As I was lighting the candles, my son, Anthony calls me up.  I put him on speakerphone so he could be a part of singing Happy Birthday to me.  The moment was so beautiful and tender.  Having my son be a part of my birthday wish was beyond coincidence.  He was waiting outside the door of a maternity room where his brother and sister-in-law were welcoming their little girl into this life.  The joyous celebration of life continues regardless of the terrors around us.  Sixty one years ago, I was born into a troubled time.  1955 was a traumatic year and I’ve lived much longer than I thought I ever would.  Still, while lighting the candles on my cake, my son who lives nearly 600 miles away, was celebrating another life joining the parade of hope. 

That was the gift God gave me yesterday.  He gave me hope.  Like Job, I know I will see God in the land of the living.  I will see hope realized. 

As a final word, I’ve been watching a movie by Darren Wilson called “Holy Ghost.”  I highly recommend this movie for anyone, whether you are a believer or not, it will challenge you.  Miracles will never convince you to believe in God, but they will force you to decide what you believe.  You can dismiss what you see, or you can embrace the love of God as revealed through the work of His Holy Spirit.  You see, Saturday a brother in the Lord challenged me with seeing it because the Holy Spirit told him to mention it to me.  He hadn’t seen it himself, but God was telling him I needed to see it. I bought it online, and watched it with silent hope.  Sunday, I knew we were in for a treat.  Holy Spirit stepped up, healed, restored, and encouraged.  He does that you know!!!!!   Anyway, that is why I knew my birthday was a gift from God.  This simple thought sprung up in my heart as I put my head upon my pillow last night, “I was thrilled the moment you were born, I’d been waiting for you from eternity, and will love you through eternity.”   I’d almost fallen asleep in that warm glow when my oldest daughter called.  

YEP!!!!!

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.