It is still winter as I write this. A couple of days before, we had a high temperature of 83 degrees. As warm as that was, it wasn't a record. It only took a couple of days and here we are back again at 32 degrees. Every once in a while I spy a big, bushy, grey squirrel bounding from limb to limb of the trees along our fence line. Every so often I'll hear a sparrow chirp, or see one flitter down from the telephone wires. I have slowed down enough in my life that I can spend time appreciating the wonder of life all around me. The beauty of it all takes my breath away.
From the time I was a child I've loved the way things work. Shopping cart wheels were mysteries to me as a toddler. The ocean, cars, sunsets, and almost everything about life amazed me. When my mother bought me a set of encyclopedias at six years old, I spent hours looking at the pictures, and then spent even more hours reading them once I could read. Nothing was safe from my wonder! Cereal boxes, peanut butter jar labels, magazines, artwork, photographs, sculpture, a thousand other things that I can't even begin to list. The wonder of chemistry, particle physics, combustion engines, cranes, watches, filled my moments with a hunger for the next discovery. How does it work, what makes it move, why does it melt, why does it burn? Every question pushed me deeper and deeper into wonder. When I turned 13 we got a horse, and I used to sit for hours watching it move around in the corral.
Still, of all of this that we have before us, the wonder of God abides longer, and to this day, He still causes my heart to race when I sit in wonder of all that I know He has done. Because of my love of science, I've had moments where I questioned, and even doubted His existence. I would be a liar if I didn't admit it. Then I would read an article about how fragile this little planet is, or how precarious our existence upon it is, and realize that this mortal plane wasn't an accident. Whether you are an 'old earther' or 'young earther,' the same truth is that God molded, shaped, and formed this planet to sustain us. There is a Jewish statement that goes something like; This world was made for me. From the smallest speck of single cell life, to the giant blue whales swimming in the ocean, this world exists because of His design.
Whenever I see pictures of the far-flung galaxies, and the brilliance of their fine balance, I can only sit quietly in wonder. Pictures from the Hubble Space Telescope don't dissuade me of God's handwork, instead I find myself in breathless wonder as I see the beauty spread out before me. BUT, more than that, I sit in wonder of the human minds that dreamed of that beautiful gleaming instrument and launched it into orbit. Did they expect to see what they saw? Then when they found out it had a flaw in it, they were able to repair it while it orbited our tiny blue planet spinning gracefully in orbit around the sun. No other species on this planet has done this. Ever!!!!! I actually get angry at these shows that try and prove aliens gave us the technology we have. As if an alien species who could travel across the vastness of outer space would not set up shop and live here. Please!!!! WE WOULD!
I sit in wonder when I hear a musical instrument played with the skill and precision only a master musician can produce. I can still be moved to tears by philharmonic orchestras, and be swept away by a good choir. I can be brought to joyous celebration by the masterful music of a good rock band. Don't even get me talking about Celtic music sung by an amazing soprano, or tenor.
I sit in wonder as I sit alongside a babbling brook, or the whoosh of a waterfall. The things and places I've been in my life are memories I can visit anytime I want to.
As I close in on the exit door of my life, I am thankful for the wonder that God has allowed me to enjoy. Nothing can compare to the feeling of holding my wife's hand as we walk from the car to wherever we are going. That one simple act has the power to calm my spirit, and make my heart race at the same time. Cuddling up to her on a cold winter night and hearing her breathing slow as she falls to sleep is still amazing to me.
Throughout my time in the Air Force I never grew tired of seeing huge aircraft lifting off from the runway into the clear blue sky. I've watched rockets and missiles launched into space, seen huge cargo ships making way through ports as I wondered how all this metal stayed afloat.
I sit in wonder at how my hands type these words from my brain to this computer monitor, and from that to a piece of paper. I am amazed at how these words mean something to someone else who may read them.
You see, I believe in God. I sit in wonder at all He has created. Every dance of color, every hope, every dream, every imagination is formed in me because of his creative power.
Wednesday, February 5, 2020
Friday, January 17, 2020
YOU ARE NOT FORGOTTEN
There are times when I sit down to write this blog, and I wonder why I do. What force drives me to cough up a couple of hours to say things that maybe two other people read.
Writing is my voice.
I don't have a natural charisma like my younger brothers, and I don't come across well in conversations. I'm not physically attractive, so there is no reason for anyone to believe I have anything valuable to say. I'm kind of like those sparrows who keep calling out in vain for someone to pay attention to them. However, as I sit at my computer, I can imagine people nodding in approval as they read my words. I probably will never hear someone say; "Yes, David is a wise, educated man, worthy of honors far above his station in life." Nah, I don't think so.
From the time I was in the sixth grade, writing has been my release. When I was a youngster it was a release from the hurt, and anger I felt toward the mean kids who teased me day in, and day out. You would not like to read those words today. I don't even like to think that I wrote them. If I were a student today, they would have me locked away. Still, that time helped me to lay hold of my feelings, and process them. I could do all the damage I wanted in my 'fantasy' life without really hurting anyone.
Eventually, I came to accept my 'uniqueness' and find peace with the God who put that weight upon me. Yes, I blamed Him. I talked about it to Him all the time! I raged, I cried, I screamed, but most of all I wrote. Till one day, people began to read my stuff, and they liked it. WOW! What a rush! I discovered that words were powerful things. From that time forward, I've written almost every day of my life. I looked for avenues to release the words within me. I have computer files that are almost thirty years old. Now, I write out of an inner compulsion I can't explain. My time on this vale is drawing to a close. I can see the end now. It doesn't bother me other than the fear I think all of us dread which is; I don't want to be forgotten.
As part of my nature, I also like to do genealogy. There is something exciting to finding the people who made me...me. As I find a new relative in the obscurity of the past, I reach up, place my finger on their name and say; "You are not forgotten." It means something for me to do that. I have a relative from the early 1700's that no one can agree on her name. They can't find a birth date, nor any of our family tree agree on even her first name. The census taker who wrote it down, didn't have very good penmanship. Every time I stop on her name I feel a sorrow for her. She was someone's daughter, a father's joy, a mother's hope, and most of all she had dreams, and a life well lived. She bore ten children into this world, and they carried her forward with them. Yet, less than 300 years later, I can't find out with confidence who she was. She didn't write blogs, she wasn't a journalist, and she didn't do anything I know of that was of any historic value, other than making ten children. I want to be able to put my finger on her name and say; "you are not forgotten." BUT, she is. I would like to know if she was a great pie maker as many of the women are in her lineage. I would like to know if she loved her husband, my fourth great grandfather. Did she go to church on Sunday? Was she kind, and tender like my grandmother was? Did she have hopes and dreams beyond being a wife, and a mother?
There is one thing I know. Jesus said that not one sparrow falls to the ground that God doesn't know about. We can know one thing above all else, and that is if God cares for sparrows so much that He knows when they die, then if no one else remembers me, God does. He'll be there when I pass through the veil of this life into eternity, and he'll tell me; "You are not forgotten."
Writing is my voice.
I don't have a natural charisma like my younger brothers, and I don't come across well in conversations. I'm not physically attractive, so there is no reason for anyone to believe I have anything valuable to say. I'm kind of like those sparrows who keep calling out in vain for someone to pay attention to them. However, as I sit at my computer, I can imagine people nodding in approval as they read my words. I probably will never hear someone say; "Yes, David is a wise, educated man, worthy of honors far above his station in life." Nah, I don't think so.
From the time I was in the sixth grade, writing has been my release. When I was a youngster it was a release from the hurt, and anger I felt toward the mean kids who teased me day in, and day out. You would not like to read those words today. I don't even like to think that I wrote them. If I were a student today, they would have me locked away. Still, that time helped me to lay hold of my feelings, and process them. I could do all the damage I wanted in my 'fantasy' life without really hurting anyone.
Eventually, I came to accept my 'uniqueness' and find peace with the God who put that weight upon me. Yes, I blamed Him. I talked about it to Him all the time! I raged, I cried, I screamed, but most of all I wrote. Till one day, people began to read my stuff, and they liked it. WOW! What a rush! I discovered that words were powerful things. From that time forward, I've written almost every day of my life. I looked for avenues to release the words within me. I have computer files that are almost thirty years old. Now, I write out of an inner compulsion I can't explain. My time on this vale is drawing to a close. I can see the end now. It doesn't bother me other than the fear I think all of us dread which is; I don't want to be forgotten.
As part of my nature, I also like to do genealogy. There is something exciting to finding the people who made me...me. As I find a new relative in the obscurity of the past, I reach up, place my finger on their name and say; "You are not forgotten." It means something for me to do that. I have a relative from the early 1700's that no one can agree on her name. They can't find a birth date, nor any of our family tree agree on even her first name. The census taker who wrote it down, didn't have very good penmanship. Every time I stop on her name I feel a sorrow for her. She was someone's daughter, a father's joy, a mother's hope, and most of all she had dreams, and a life well lived. She bore ten children into this world, and they carried her forward with them. Yet, less than 300 years later, I can't find out with confidence who she was. She didn't write blogs, she wasn't a journalist, and she didn't do anything I know of that was of any historic value, other than making ten children. I want to be able to put my finger on her name and say; "you are not forgotten." BUT, she is. I would like to know if she was a great pie maker as many of the women are in her lineage. I would like to know if she loved her husband, my fourth great grandfather. Did she go to church on Sunday? Was she kind, and tender like my grandmother was? Did she have hopes and dreams beyond being a wife, and a mother?
There is one thing I know. Jesus said that not one sparrow falls to the ground that God doesn't know about. We can know one thing above all else, and that is if God cares for sparrows so much that He knows when they die, then if no one else remembers me, God does. He'll be there when I pass through the veil of this life into eternity, and he'll tell me; "You are not forgotten."
Sunday, December 29, 2019
HUMBLE BEGINNINGS FOR DIVINE APPOINTMENTS
I'm sure that almost everyone of us received that most ubiquitous of modern Christmas gifts; the GIFT CARD. I only got one this year, and what a wonderful gift it was! Little did I know that it would be more than a simple gift, but it would be used to fulfill a divine appointment. I know people give gift cards because they THINK they are safer than cash, but actually they aren't, as proven by a recent apprehension of a porch pirate who had numerous gift cards in his wallet at his arrest. Still, they are something more than just sticking cash in a card and mailing it off.
The day after Christmas I took my card down to our nearest home improvement store in the hopes of buying a tool. Yep, that's what I do. Nope, I couldn't find anything that appealed to me. I walked around the store for at least an hour, but every time I reached for something I couldn't make myself buy it. So, I decided to ask the fetching Mrs. Bragg if she wanted to go to Branson, Missouri to eat at my favorite burger joint, and shop at one of our favorite stores. She said that would be great because she wanted to go to the big bookstore in town and look for a book she'd heard about on the radio. (She didn't know that I'd already ordered it online.) So, off we went. Nothing spectacularly eventful, no words from Holy Spirit saying; "GO TO BRANSON! I have a divine appointment for you!" We were just going to fill our bellies, and spend a few dollars.
When we were about halfway there, one of Glenda's co-workers called and said that they'd just transported her husband to the hospital in Branson for a Cath on his heart. Her co-worker also explained that her husband would be transferred to the hospital in Springfield the next day. I WASN'T PRIVY TO THIS INFORMATION TILL LATER. Glenda and I went to a couple of places to shop and had a great hamburger. It was dark now, and being 64 years old, with aging vision, I don't like to travel the road from Branson to Harrison at night due to all the deer. I can't see them quick enough to react. Still, Glenda wanted to go to the bookstore, so I obliged even though I'd already bought her the book she was wanting. She didn't know that, and I was disappointed that it wouldn't be a surprise. After about ten minutes of searching, she found it. At that point I told her I'd already bought it. How was I to know a secular bookstore would have a truly inspiring commentary on the book of Genesis? Then she turned to me and said she wanted to buy a bible for her co-worker to read while staying at the hospital. (Sounded good to me.) She found the perfect bible, went up front and found out it was half price. YAY!!!!! This was turning out to be an awesome night. By this time I knew I was going to be going to the hospital to visit her co-worker. I've only met her a couple of times, so being the introvert that I am, I am as nervous as a cat...well you know. Anyway, we go up to the room and find her husband sitting up, but looking frightened. I look over at the heart monitor and can tell he's in A-Fib. I know what it looks like because I sometimes go into A-Fib and have since I was a young man. They'd just told him before we'd come in the door that if he didn't come out of A-Fib that they were going to have to shock him. (You know the paddle things where everyone yells 'clear!' I don't care who you are, just the thought of someone juicing you with electricity makes your skin crawl.
We visit and make niceties, and soon it's time to go. Glenda asks the husband if she can pray for him. He says yes and we're off to the races. This is why I believe my fetching bride works in a hospital in the first place. Not only does she care about people, but she is able to be Holy Spirit's vessel for touching people's lives when they need Him the most.
After we pray, we quickly depart and head home. As we are about to get back to town Glenda's friend texts her to let her know that after we left, her husband's A-Fib stopped and he was able to relax. They wouldn't have to jolt him. Which is exactly what Glenda prayed for.
Often times we find God moving through us when we didn't even expect it. Like Moses tending his father-in-law's sheep, we can meet God at times when we least expect Him. A trip to the store, a restaurant, or even to another town can be an adventure of faith. Sometimes we want God to speak to us audibly before we step out the door, but He's just glad we stepped out the door. Humble, even common everyday occurrences can be the springboard for divine appointments. The signs were there for me to read all day. Everything pointed to something happening beyond myself including the inability to spend the money I'd received, the desire to travel to another town to eat, and most of all the desire to do what my wife wanted instead of what I wanted. If Glenda hadn't wanted that book, we probably wouldn't have gone at all. She'd worked all day, and really didn't feel like going. She had no deep spiritual plan for the evening, but God did.
This is how God takes care of us. This is how He shows us we are more valuable than sparrows. Yes, He cares for the sparrows, but he cares more for us. He saw a scared woman and her husband in a hospital room contemplating a bleak future and spoke peace into the situation through people who din't even know He was going to use them for that. HOW COOL IS THAT? Like the song says; If his eye is on the sparrow, I KNOW his eye is on me.
The day after Christmas I took my card down to our nearest home improvement store in the hopes of buying a tool. Yep, that's what I do. Nope, I couldn't find anything that appealed to me. I walked around the store for at least an hour, but every time I reached for something I couldn't make myself buy it. So, I decided to ask the fetching Mrs. Bragg if she wanted to go to Branson, Missouri to eat at my favorite burger joint, and shop at one of our favorite stores. She said that would be great because she wanted to go to the big bookstore in town and look for a book she'd heard about on the radio. (She didn't know that I'd already ordered it online.) So, off we went. Nothing spectacularly eventful, no words from Holy Spirit saying; "GO TO BRANSON! I have a divine appointment for you!" We were just going to fill our bellies, and spend a few dollars.
When we were about halfway there, one of Glenda's co-workers called and said that they'd just transported her husband to the hospital in Branson for a Cath on his heart. Her co-worker also explained that her husband would be transferred to the hospital in Springfield the next day. I WASN'T PRIVY TO THIS INFORMATION TILL LATER. Glenda and I went to a couple of places to shop and had a great hamburger. It was dark now, and being 64 years old, with aging vision, I don't like to travel the road from Branson to Harrison at night due to all the deer. I can't see them quick enough to react. Still, Glenda wanted to go to the bookstore, so I obliged even though I'd already bought her the book she was wanting. She didn't know that, and I was disappointed that it wouldn't be a surprise. After about ten minutes of searching, she found it. At that point I told her I'd already bought it. How was I to know a secular bookstore would have a truly inspiring commentary on the book of Genesis? Then she turned to me and said she wanted to buy a bible for her co-worker to read while staying at the hospital. (Sounded good to me.) She found the perfect bible, went up front and found out it was half price. YAY!!!!! This was turning out to be an awesome night. By this time I knew I was going to be going to the hospital to visit her co-worker. I've only met her a couple of times, so being the introvert that I am, I am as nervous as a cat...well you know. Anyway, we go up to the room and find her husband sitting up, but looking frightened. I look over at the heart monitor and can tell he's in A-Fib. I know what it looks like because I sometimes go into A-Fib and have since I was a young man. They'd just told him before we'd come in the door that if he didn't come out of A-Fib that they were going to have to shock him. (You know the paddle things where everyone yells 'clear!' I don't care who you are, just the thought of someone juicing you with electricity makes your skin crawl.
We visit and make niceties, and soon it's time to go. Glenda asks the husband if she can pray for him. He says yes and we're off to the races. This is why I believe my fetching bride works in a hospital in the first place. Not only does she care about people, but she is able to be Holy Spirit's vessel for touching people's lives when they need Him the most.
After we pray, we quickly depart and head home. As we are about to get back to town Glenda's friend texts her to let her know that after we left, her husband's A-Fib stopped and he was able to relax. They wouldn't have to jolt him. Which is exactly what Glenda prayed for.
Often times we find God moving through us when we didn't even expect it. Like Moses tending his father-in-law's sheep, we can meet God at times when we least expect Him. A trip to the store, a restaurant, or even to another town can be an adventure of faith. Sometimes we want God to speak to us audibly before we step out the door, but He's just glad we stepped out the door. Humble, even common everyday occurrences can be the springboard for divine appointments. The signs were there for me to read all day. Everything pointed to something happening beyond myself including the inability to spend the money I'd received, the desire to travel to another town to eat, and most of all the desire to do what my wife wanted instead of what I wanted. If Glenda hadn't wanted that book, we probably wouldn't have gone at all. She'd worked all day, and really didn't feel like going. She had no deep spiritual plan for the evening, but God did.
This is how God takes care of us. This is how He shows us we are more valuable than sparrows. Yes, He cares for the sparrows, but he cares more for us. He saw a scared woman and her husband in a hospital room contemplating a bleak future and spoke peace into the situation through people who din't even know He was going to use them for that. HOW COOL IS THAT? Like the song says; If his eye is on the sparrow, I KNOW his eye is on me.
Wednesday, December 25, 2019
Peace On Earth
Merry Christmas
This is the first time in my memory that my wife and I have spent Christmas alone without any of the kids, or my mother and father to enjoy it with. Being a bonafide introvert, I'm not affected by being alone, however I know my wife would be happy with a houseful of kids and grandkids. To me it is another day. There is a certain amount of sadness about not being able to see the grandkids open their presents, and to some degree I miss the sound of my kids voices in the house. As I write this, my lovely bride is getting a well deserved rest. We both still work, and she works at the hospital, so I don't mind letting her sleep away. To kind of add to the absence of the Christmas spirit, we don't have snow on the ground, and it is unseasonably warm.
Outside, the sky is just beginning to turn a soft deep blue, and I can hear dogs barking down the street. There isn't the sound of one car anywhere within earshot of my home. I don't have any sparrows in the yard, so everything is peaceful. It is as God means it to be. Peaceful. I know it isn't that way all over the world, which makes me feel sad. For just one day, I would love to know that there wasn't fighting, or killing going on anywhere on this planet. Just one day where men had goodwill toward one another. What a joy it would be to experience one day where everyone set aside their hatred, their greed, and their politics.
In Luke 2 verse 14 when the angels proclaim the birth of Jesus, we are given the words that have been the core of the Christmas message "Peace on earth, and goodwill toward men." Don't get me wrong, I know the angels were talking about us having peace with God. The infant savior was the promise of a final and lasting way for man to be at peace with his maker. Different translations give their proclamation different meanings, but the one I like most is "Peace toward men of good will." God's peace is extended toward those who have good will toward one another. Sadly we seem to be further away from that peace than at any time I can remember. I am not hopeful for a peaceful solution. Even my little sparrows fight with one another for a morsel of food. Maybe this comes with being an old man? I don't know. Maybe you get weary of knowing that your grandchildren will be caught up in some future conflict over something that some wicked man concocted in their imagination. The greatest gift I could get this Christmas is the declaration that no one died today at the hand of someone else, or that all little children awoke to the glee of finding presents under a tree.
So to anyone who may stumble upon this blog, may God's peace find you, and may you enjoy the calm before the storm of bright paper, empty boxes, and dashed hopes. Somewhere in that excitement there will be peace that all is well with you and your family. Someday, all men will enjoy the peace of God. Then again, I am old, and I am just one man among billions. I'll lay my head down some night and never awaken again to this angry world. At least then, I will sleep in peace.
This is the first time in my memory that my wife and I have spent Christmas alone without any of the kids, or my mother and father to enjoy it with. Being a bonafide introvert, I'm not affected by being alone, however I know my wife would be happy with a houseful of kids and grandkids. To me it is another day. There is a certain amount of sadness about not being able to see the grandkids open their presents, and to some degree I miss the sound of my kids voices in the house. As I write this, my lovely bride is getting a well deserved rest. We both still work, and she works at the hospital, so I don't mind letting her sleep away. To kind of add to the absence of the Christmas spirit, we don't have snow on the ground, and it is unseasonably warm.
Outside, the sky is just beginning to turn a soft deep blue, and I can hear dogs barking down the street. There isn't the sound of one car anywhere within earshot of my home. I don't have any sparrows in the yard, so everything is peaceful. It is as God means it to be. Peaceful. I know it isn't that way all over the world, which makes me feel sad. For just one day, I would love to know that there wasn't fighting, or killing going on anywhere on this planet. Just one day where men had goodwill toward one another. What a joy it would be to experience one day where everyone set aside their hatred, their greed, and their politics.
In Luke 2 verse 14 when the angels proclaim the birth of Jesus, we are given the words that have been the core of the Christmas message "Peace on earth, and goodwill toward men." Don't get me wrong, I know the angels were talking about us having peace with God. The infant savior was the promise of a final and lasting way for man to be at peace with his maker. Different translations give their proclamation different meanings, but the one I like most is "Peace toward men of good will." God's peace is extended toward those who have good will toward one another. Sadly we seem to be further away from that peace than at any time I can remember. I am not hopeful for a peaceful solution. Even my little sparrows fight with one another for a morsel of food. Maybe this comes with being an old man? I don't know. Maybe you get weary of knowing that your grandchildren will be caught up in some future conflict over something that some wicked man concocted in their imagination. The greatest gift I could get this Christmas is the declaration that no one died today at the hand of someone else, or that all little children awoke to the glee of finding presents under a tree.
So to anyone who may stumble upon this blog, may God's peace find you, and may you enjoy the calm before the storm of bright paper, empty boxes, and dashed hopes. Somewhere in that excitement there will be peace that all is well with you and your family. Someday, all men will enjoy the peace of God. Then again, I am old, and I am just one man among billions. I'll lay my head down some night and never awaken again to this angry world. At least then, I will sleep in peace.
Sunday, December 15, 2019
WILL THERE BE SPARROWS IN HEAVEN
As a handyman, I often get into theological discussions with my customers in large part due to the fact that I'm very open about my faith. Some customers are of like faith as me, and others well...let's just say they tolerate me. This last week I had a whimsical discussion with a customer that I do a lot of work for. We'll call him Jim. Because we are both over sixty, we found ourselves quickly discussing what heaven was going to be like. I was telling him about all the people in my life who've passed away and how I longed to see them again. Jim smiled and told me that in the church he goes to, they have a couple of ladies who've declared that if their dogs won't be in heaven, they don't want to be there. Jim suddenly got a serious look on his face as asked me if I thought dogs would be in heaven.
OKAY, in my nearly 65 years on this earth, that is the first time someone has asked me if dogs would be in heaven.
I don't know. I can conjecture about it, but I don't know. Will our beloved pets be raised from the dead? Will heaven have all new marvelous creatures for us to befriend? These are questions I don't have answers for. Will there be sparrows in heaven? Personally, I don't think there will be, but I also know people for whom the thought of heaven without pets would cause them to break out in tears.
I actually think it speaks to the wonderful gift of love that God has placed within us. His breath is in us, and it causes us to love just like He loves. We can express our love to something that can't communicate it back. Then again, if the animals on this planet are an expression of God's creative spirit, wouldn't it make sense for them to be replicated in heaven? What intrigues me is how much we get attached to animals who are unable to communicate with us, and what that says about our capacity to love. It isn't trite or silly that a couple of sweet ladies would desire that their beloved pets join them in heaven.
So, for now, as this Holiday season is fast coming upon us, I want to believe that everything the Father has created is redeemable and repeatable. I want to believe that there will be beautiful creatures beyond my imagination, as well as familiar little sparrows.
Will there be sparrows in heaven? I hope so.
OKAY, in my nearly 65 years on this earth, that is the first time someone has asked me if dogs would be in heaven.
I don't know. I can conjecture about it, but I don't know. Will our beloved pets be raised from the dead? Will heaven have all new marvelous creatures for us to befriend? These are questions I don't have answers for. Will there be sparrows in heaven? Personally, I don't think there will be, but I also know people for whom the thought of heaven without pets would cause them to break out in tears.
I actually think it speaks to the wonderful gift of love that God has placed within us. His breath is in us, and it causes us to love just like He loves. We can express our love to something that can't communicate it back. Then again, if the animals on this planet are an expression of God's creative spirit, wouldn't it make sense for them to be replicated in heaven? What intrigues me is how much we get attached to animals who are unable to communicate with us, and what that says about our capacity to love. It isn't trite or silly that a couple of sweet ladies would desire that their beloved pets join them in heaven.
So, for now, as this Holiday season is fast coming upon us, I want to believe that everything the Father has created is redeemable and repeatable. I want to believe that there will be beautiful creatures beyond my imagination, as well as familiar little sparrows.
Will there be sparrows in heaven? I hope so.
Saturday, December 7, 2019
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.
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.
Thursday, June 13, 2019
THINGS BREAK
I'm a fixer by trade. I can't remember a time in my life when I haven't been fixing things. From the time I was a youngster till now, I've only had two jobs where I didn't have to pick up a hand tool and repair something. One of those two jobs was construction work, so even then I had to use tools. Most of my life has revolved around a basic truth; things break. How people react to something breaking speaks volumes about who they are, and their approach to life.
Because my trade is fixing broken things, I make a living off of other peoples...problems. Auto mechanics do the same thing. Actually if you think about it, doctors do the same thing. Very little of medicine is preventative. This amazing biological machine we call a body wears out and needs to be repaired once in a while. Because...things break.
There was a time when if my car broke down, or an appliance stopped working, I would begin looking for some spiritual reason why the tragedy was happening to me. Then I figured out that things break. How I reacted to it was affecting my family. Grow up time!! Instead of flinging things across the room, shouting, and kicking things that were in my way, I learned to simply get out my tool bag and fix it. Simple. No blaming God, no blaming me, no blame period. Things break.
Everything that is made by man has a point where it will break. Metal can only be stressed so much before the molecular bonds begin to break down. Plastics release their molecular bonds becoming either crystalline or liquid again. Woods break down at the cellular level, giving way to one form of decay or another. Things break.
Even our amazing universe is breaking. Galaxies are speeding away from each other in great clusters to the point where someday we may not even be able to see their light. Besides, whether science wants to admit it or not, we're told in the Bible that the heavens would be rolled up like a scroll. It won't be needed. Things break.
I said all of this because I happened upon a tree limb which had fallen during a thunderstorm the night before. In the fork of the limb was a bird nest with only one egg still inside. The rest of the eggs were laying shattered on the ground just outside of the nest. I felt sad as I looked at the hope of life spilled out on the dirt beneath the nest. The limb broke, the eggs broke, things break.
I don't know what kind of bird laid the eggs, and I'm sure that the remaining egg would soon disappear as a meal for...something. Still, it bothered me, because of my love for sparrows. Do they know things break? How do they handle grief? Would they mourn?
Life is an amazing thing, and lately the discussion of when it begins has become a national issue. I tend to be simplistic in my thinking. Life begins at conception. I've held this belief since I could first understand how babies came into this world. Once I figured out that I was the product of a happy moment between two people, I looked at all human life as being special. It was my own moment, influenced by scripture, and knowing how I felt about my own existence.
Why the argument has become about choice is beyond me. The choice is simple, don't play around with reproduction unless you are willing to have life inside you. That is the choice. Yes, I'm aware of rape and incest. These things happen, and they are terrible. If you don't want what was created, then give the child up for adoption so that a couple somewhere who can't have a child, can. Instead of making it easier to abort, why don't we make it easier to adopt? The hoops you have to jump through for adoption don't exist for couples who simply have sex and pop out a baby. Every argument against easy adoption is as empty to me as the arguments for abortion.
Because my trade is fixing broken things, I make a living off of other peoples...problems. Auto mechanics do the same thing. Actually if you think about it, doctors do the same thing. Very little of medicine is preventative. This amazing biological machine we call a body wears out and needs to be repaired once in a while. Because...things break.
There was a time when if my car broke down, or an appliance stopped working, I would begin looking for some spiritual reason why the tragedy was happening to me. Then I figured out that things break. How I reacted to it was affecting my family. Grow up time!! Instead of flinging things across the room, shouting, and kicking things that were in my way, I learned to simply get out my tool bag and fix it. Simple. No blaming God, no blaming me, no blame period. Things break.
Everything that is made by man has a point where it will break. Metal can only be stressed so much before the molecular bonds begin to break down. Plastics release their molecular bonds becoming either crystalline or liquid again. Woods break down at the cellular level, giving way to one form of decay or another. Things break.
Even our amazing universe is breaking. Galaxies are speeding away from each other in great clusters to the point where someday we may not even be able to see their light. Besides, whether science wants to admit it or not, we're told in the Bible that the heavens would be rolled up like a scroll. It won't be needed. Things break.
I said all of this because I happened upon a tree limb which had fallen during a thunderstorm the night before. In the fork of the limb was a bird nest with only one egg still inside. The rest of the eggs were laying shattered on the ground just outside of the nest. I felt sad as I looked at the hope of life spilled out on the dirt beneath the nest. The limb broke, the eggs broke, things break.
I don't know what kind of bird laid the eggs, and I'm sure that the remaining egg would soon disappear as a meal for...something. Still, it bothered me, because of my love for sparrows. Do they know things break? How do they handle grief? Would they mourn?
Life is an amazing thing, and lately the discussion of when it begins has become a national issue. I tend to be simplistic in my thinking. Life begins at conception. I've held this belief since I could first understand how babies came into this world. Once I figured out that I was the product of a happy moment between two people, I looked at all human life as being special. It was my own moment, influenced by scripture, and knowing how I felt about my own existence.
Why the argument has become about choice is beyond me. The choice is simple, don't play around with reproduction unless you are willing to have life inside you. That is the choice. Yes, I'm aware of rape and incest. These things happen, and they are terrible. If you don't want what was created, then give the child up for adoption so that a couple somewhere who can't have a child, can. Instead of making it easier to abort, why don't we make it easier to adopt? The hoops you have to jump through for adoption don't exist for couples who simply have sex and pop out a baby. Every argument against easy adoption is as empty to me as the arguments for abortion.
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