Living Large

Missing People

2017-12-22T09:31:00.000-08:00

It's a tough Christmas for many of us this year. We miss our loved ones who have gone to be with the Lord. It's selfish of course because we know that they are in paradise and they are in union with the Lord and in reunion with others there, so many others there!

I have been surprised by my grief, which is usual for me. I didn't expect it to be such a problem celebrating Christmas, but since my mom passed (August 7, 2017), it's just my brother and I left of the "original Smiths" from ages ago. They're all gone. They're all together though! Ta Ta and Jackie (my grandparents), Mom & Dad, and Cheri (my sis) along with her husband Bruce and their little boy, Christopher.
I just finished reading Revelations 7, so I know what they're all doing up there. It says:

“Therefore they are before the throne of God, and serve Him day and night in His temple. And He who sits on the throne will dwell among them.“They shall neither hunger anymore nor thirst anymore; the sun shall not strike them, nor any heat; “for the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne will shepherd them and lead them to living fountains of waters. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” - Rev. 7:15-17 (NKJV)

Sounds pretty good! It's up to us to stay here for now and keep Christ, so Merry Christmas to you all.

I found some photos of my grandfather, whom we called Jackie, while going through my folks stuff recently; so I thought that I would share them with you, along with a poem that I wrote about him after he died. He's been gone since 1987 and a day hasn't gone by since then that I haven't thought about him and missed him. Here's some pictures of him in his prime and a few from his latter days.

Here's one more of me "helping" him clean up around the summer cabin in Prescott AZ.

Jackie

He use to call me Colorado as I bounced upon his knee

He told me tales of things that were and things that ought to be.

The lessons he taught weren't from books,

They came from work and loss and strife.

He showed me strength and how to use it.

To always share it not abuse it.

He taught me to love this world, this life.

Now he's gone to see the Lord, but never a day goes by,

That I don't hear the words he spoke,

Or see the twinkle in his eye.

Should We Celebrate Christmas? I say yes.

2017-12-04T11:07:00.002-08:00

I wrote this some years ago. My sister (Cheri) was gravely ill. They amputated her leg a few days before Christmas and the doctors at Mayo Hospital were fighting a raging infection in her hip that would eventually require a hip replacement. I thought to myself how can we possibly celebrate Christmas with her lying in that hospital bed? How can we find any cheer in this season with so much misery in our lives at that moment? Then I remembered the story of the soldiers during World War I and how for a few hours on that cold starry Christmas Eve in 1914, they stopped killing each other and met in the no man's land between the front lines and there they celebrated Christmas together. Only their common faith in Christ and their common longing for home could suspend the hatred and violence of that war, if only temporarily. It made me realize and remember that Christ came into such a horribly damaged world, a world...a creation that had once been perfect was now decaying and filled with so much evil and so much ugliness and despair. That's why He came. It wasn't all that jolly in Bethlehem, certainly not for Mary and Joseph. Christmas is about healing and restoring and saving after all. What better time to remember the coming of the Christ child than when we are suffering? Christ is the cure for our suffering, for all suffering. So Merry Christmas! Worship Him and rejoice, even through pain and tears. Don't be afraid! Rejoice in His salvation! He will heal you. He has promised that He will.

THEY CAN’T STOP CHRISTMAS FROM COMING

There seems to be a lot of worry lately about Christmas being under attack. Newspapers are full of stories this time of year…Nativity Scenes being ordered removed from town squares, children not being allowed to sing Christmas carols in school programs. Why should this surprise us or worry us?

Even from within the Christian community there is disagreement and controversy about whether or not to keep Christmas. In fact keeping Christmas has always been controversial, ever since the Roman emperor Constantine replaced the pagan winter festivals with holy days commemorating the birth of Christ, around 320 AD. Because of this, many sects or groups within Christendom have, over the centuries, objected to celebrating Christmas, and many still do today. The Puritans certainly tried to keep Christmas from coming. They banned the observance of Christmas outright in the colony of Massachusetts, from 1659 until 1681:

“For preventing disorders, arising in several places within this jurisdiction by reason of some still observing such festivals as were superstitiously kept in other communities, to the great dishonor of God and offense of others: it is therefore ordered by this court and the authority thereof that whosoever shall be found observing any such day as Christmas or the like, either by forbearing of labor, feasting, or any other way, upon any such account as aforesaid, every such person so offending shall pay for every such offence five shilling as a fine to the county.”

From the records of the general Court,

Massachusetts Bay Colony

May 11, 1659

Certainly, an argument can and should be made, that excessive revelry and merriment should be avoided at any time of the year, as well as at Christmastime. We should honor Christ by keeping his commandments always. Statistics plainly tell us that all of the crimes of human weakness and all the measurements of human misery increase during the season of Christmas, because we live in a world that is in rebellion against God. People feel the pinch of sin in their lives at Christmas, if they have not reconciled their lives to God through Christian obedience. The Christ child reminds them how far away from home they are, how far removed from God they are.

Christians should share the Puritan’s concern regarding human avarice, vice and wickedness. We should be careful how we keep Christmas. We should not allow ourselves to be dazzled or distracted by worldly splendors, so that we forget the lowly estate of the baby born in a stable, and we should never forget the poor and the poor of spirit who are always with us.

As to the concerns that all of the symbols of Christmas are pagan, I would say this:

The lifeless gods of paganism never held any power. They were hollow manifestations of false gods, created by Satan, to deceive and mock mankind. If a decorated evergreen tree was a pagan symbol for fertility and regeneration, so what? Did not my God create the evergreen tree? Does this history so corrupt the evergreen that I am now forbidden to decorate a Christmas tree? Did he not also create the holly and mistletoe? If the Germanic people of northern Europe, and the druid Celts of the British Isles utilized these as symbols in their animism and nature worship, may I not assign new meaning to these as symbols of the passion of Christ and life everlasting through him? Did not the apostle Paul tell us that all things are now clean, regardless of their former affiliation with idols (Romans 14:14)? God declared to Peter, “What God has cleansed, no longer consider unholy" (Acts 11:9-NASB). We should be careful about making declarations that disagree with God’s declarations.

Some have objected to the celebration of Christmas, because we are not directed to observe it by Jesus himself, or by any gospel writer. It is true that we are not commanded to observe or remember the coming of Christ, as we are his death, burial, and resurrection, through the Lords Supper (Luke 22:19). Does this mean that we are not permitted to rejoice at the coming of the Christ Child? Would God deny us celebration for the coming of light into this dark world? If so, why did he deliver to us his Word, with multiple accounts of Christ’s birth that fill our hearts with joy and rapture? Centuries before Christ came into this world, the prophets proclaimed his coming. The world had been waiting a long time. Surely we should rejoice at his coming.

Does it matter to God on what date we celebrate the birthday of his son? I think it would please him if we celebrated his coming every day. Whether we celebrate in the winter or spring, summer or fall, every season is God’s season. Every day in our lives should be Gods’ day. What better time to celebrate the coming of Christ, than in the dark days of the dead, cold, silent winter? What better time to remember the words of the prophet Isaiah?

“The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light. They that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them have the light shined.”

“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”

Isaiah 9:2, 9:6

Don’t worry about Christmas coming. If Satan couldn’t stop it from coming, then the world can’t stop it either. No politician or Grinch can keep it from coming. No school board, or city council, or cranky neighbor, or miserable, wretched creature can keep it from coming. Nor can sickness, or financial ruin, or catastrophe, or decree.

Christmas will come because He came. Christmas will come because God loved us enough to send his only son into this world as a little baby. Christmas will come because Christ chose to empty himself of all of his heavenly glory, and abide with us. He chose to walk among us so that we could know him, so that we could know that he understands what it means to suffer, and work, and live in this world. He came here so that he could save us, by paying our debt, a debt that could be paid only by him, a gift to the world from that little baby, born in Bethlehem. He came here to lead us home, to the light of the home fire and hearth of that heavenly place that awaits us at the end of our long cold journey, through the winter of life. That is why we should remember his coming. That is why we should keep Christmas.

Christmas will come again this year, despite wars - pray for peace, despite famine - pray for plenty, despite sickness – pray for healing, despite hatred – pray for forgiveness, despite our woes and fears - pray for his strength, and wait. It will come, because He has come!

M.J. Smith

12/21/04

Remember Me - A Devotion

2017-08-01T12:32:00.001-07:00

“Remember me”, Jesus’ command to his disciples before he went to the cross, His command to us! Remember me.

Remember my power when I calmed the seas, when I healed the crippled, when I raised the dead.

Remember me when you see the majesty of my sunrise and my creation.

Remember me when you walk thru this world that I made for you.

Remember me when you are afraid, when you are heartbroken, when you are in pain.

Remember me in your joy and in your laughter and in your abundance.

Remember me… and my Spirit will stir within you and I will fill you with my power and with my peace.

Remember my love…as I prayed over you and wept over you and taught you…to love.

Remember my cross and my suffering and my sacrifice, my abandonment by Father God, my taking of shame and sin, of your sin.

As we remember Jesus today, let’s take up Paul’s blessing and prayer to the Philippians, and let’s apply it to Jesus.

“I thank my God upon every remembrance of you”. I thank my God every time I remember you Jesus.

Let’s remember Him now. Let’s thank Him now.

The Resurrection

2017-04-13T20:28:00.002-07:00

1 Corinthians 15:14

“…If Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless, and so is your faith.”

The Resurrection - the single most important event in human history, without a doubt the most incredible event in human history.

Consider the evidence, the historical evidence and the evidence of logic that support it.

Because if it doesn’t hold up under careful scrutiny, if the evidence doesn’t support it, then our faith is useless. Our hope is buried with him. Our salvation is lost. Kinda important stuff, wouldn’t you agree?

Jesus was born of a virgin. He came from heaven. He laid aside his glory and took upon himself the form of flesh.

I know that sounds incredible. It is incredible! But it really happened. The Word of God records it.

Being God, he became a man and walked among us. He taught and he healed and he calmed the seas and he raised the dead.

He did things that no mere man could have done, because He was the Messiah. He is the Messiah. The Chosen One, the Son of God.

He was rejected by his own people, and was flogged and spit upon, and stretched out on a cross and crucified. For us. For you. For me.

He died for us.

He took our sins upon himself and he bore the penalty for them. He paid a ransom for us.

And they laid him in a borrowed tomb. He didn’t need it for very long. Only three days.

He was dead. The Romans knew how to kill people.

They were experts at it. They were professionals.

The military unit who took him out there to that place and nailed him to that cross had executed many such condemned men.

They didn’t make mistakes. He wasn’t mostly dead… He was ALL dead! He was completely dead.

On the third day, on Sunday, the women came to the tomb. It was empty. He wasn’t there.

He rose from the grave. He really did! He is alive!

Jesus the Christ, the Son of God, our Lord and Savior. He lives.

He showed himself to his disciples. He showed them his wounds. He counseled and comforted them. He ate with them. Once He appeared to over 500 people at once.

Finally, after forty days, he took his disciples out to the Mount of Olives and he told them what they needed to do.

Make disciples, baptize them, teach them what I have taught you, to believe, to love, to be disciples who make disciples. He promised that he would be with them and with us always.

And then he ascended back to heaven, where he sits at the right hand of God, until he returns again one day.

These events occurred. It really happened. It has been studied and analyzed and attacked and deconstructed and still it stands as the most significant event in history. It cannot be explained away. I invite you to examine the historical evidence.

To deny the Resurrection of Christ is like trying to deny an atomic explosion.

The impact of the resurrection of Christ is just as evident in history, as are the rippling impact waves, and the fiery cloud that rises from the center of a nuclear explosion.

There is no other way to explain the sudden, immediate, and continued rising of Christian faith in history, the ripples of transformed lives, the shock waves that emanated outward from Calvary, overthrowing kingdoms and liberating the lost, the least and the last of every race and culture, ever since… not with force, not with the sword, but with love. The love of Christ, what an amazing gift.

Jesus who did this amazing thing for us.

There’s no way to explain the explosion of Christianity without the Resurrection.

Consider this. Consider this one fact:

All of his disciples, all of the men who became apostles for Christ… they all died proclaiming the gospel facts… that Jesus was the Son of God and that he was crucified, and rose from the grave and ascended into heaven, before their very eyes.

All of his disciples, except John, were murdered for their belief in Christ.

James, the son of Zebedee was beheaded in Jerusalem in 44 AD, the first of the disciples to be martyred.

Andrew was crucified on an X shaped cross.

Phillip was crucified in AD 54.

Matthew was killed by an axe in 60 AD.

Peter was crucified upside down outside of Rome in 64 AD.

Bartholomew was skinned alive and then beheaded near the Caspian Sea.

Thomas was killed by spear in Madras, India in 72 AD.

James, son of Alphaeus was stoned, and then clubbed to death at age 90.

Jude was crucified.

Simon the zealot was crucified in AD 74.

Matthias, the replacement of Judas Iscariot, was stoned and beheaded.

Now I want you to think about something.

Men will lie about a lot of things. They will lie for many reasons.

And men will die for a few things. But men don’t die for lies.

At the end, they tell the truth. They only die for what they believe to be true.

Every one of the twelve apostles died professing the facts of Jesus… that they had seen, and that they had lived.

Their lives were given for this truth. Their lives were spent preaching this truth. Because it is true!

The word, Martyr comes from the Greek word Martys, which means witness.

They died because they were witnesses of the events of Jesus’ life and death and resurrection!

He made us and he bought us. We belong to him, whether we like it or not. We belong to him.

But he has left us the decision, whether to accept his gift of life, whether or not to accept his Lordship.

The bible says that one day, “every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess, that Jesus Christ is Lord”, but for some who bow on that day, it will be too late to claim the inheritance.

So we have to decide what we’re going to do about this truth.

We are responsible before God, now that we know these things.

Believers or those who don’t.

Claimers of our inheritance or those who reject it.

We have to choose which side of that fence we are going to stand on.

That’s why we are here, and that’s what this whole deal is about.

He is Risen…you’re move.

MJS

A Physician Analyzes the Crucifixion

2017-04-10T13:19:00.002-07:00

Dr. Truman Davis was one of our family physicians when I was growing up and he was also a friend of my father's. I heard him present this information in sermons twice, the first time at Central Christian Church in Mesa when I was a little boy, the second at Camelback Christian Church some years later.

It isn't pleasant to read about human suffering, but I think that it is important that we hear about the crucifixion of Christ from a clinical viewpoint. It is important for at least two reasons; first, so that we will truly understand the amount of pain and suffering that Christ endured for us on the cross; second, we can see the science behind the descriptions of Jesus' crucifixion, when a physician interprets the information presented in the gospel accounts and correlates it with actual medical conditions.

A Physician Analyzes the Crucifixion

From New Wine Magazine, April 1982.
Originally published in Arizona Medicine, March 1965,
Arizona Medical Association.

A medical explanation of what Jesus endured on the day He died
by Dr. C. Truman Davis Dr. C. Truman Davis is a graduate of the University of Tennessee College of Medicine. He is a practicing ophthalmologist, a pastor, and author of a book about medicine and the Bible.

Several years ago I became interested in the physical aspects of the passion, or suffering, of Jesus Christ when I read an account of the crucifixion in Jim Bishop's book, The Day Christ Died. I suddenly realized that I had taken the crucifixion more or less for granted all these years - that I had grown callous to its horror by a too-easy familiarity with the grim details. It finally occurred to me that, as a physician, I did not even know the actual immediate cause of Christ's death. The gospel writers do not help much on this point. Since crucifixion and scourging were so common during their lifetimes, they undoubtedly considered a detailed description superfluous. For that reason we have only the concise words of the evangelists: "Pilate, having scourged Jesus, delivered Him to them to be crucified ... and they crucified Him."

Despite the gospel accounts' silence on the details of Christ's crucifixion, many have looked into this subject in the past. In my personal study of the event from a medical viewpoint, I am indebted especially to Dr. Pierre Barbet, a French surgeon who did exhaustive historical and experimental research and wrote extensively on the topic.

An attempt to examine the infinite psychic and spiritual suffering of the Incarnate God in atonement for the sins of fallen man is beyond the scope of this article. However, the physiological and anatomical aspects of our Lord's passion we can examine in some detail. What did the body of Jesus of Nazareth actually endure during those hours of torture?

Gethsemane

The physical passion of Christ began in Gethsemane. Of the many aspects of His initial suffering, the one which is of particular physiological interest is the bloody sweat. Interestingly enough, the physician, St. Luke, is the only evangelist to mention this occurrence. He says, "And being in an agony, he prayed the longer. And his sweat became as drops of blood, trickling down upon the ground" (Luke 22:44 KJV).

Every attempt imaginable has been used by modern scholars to explain away the phenomenon of bloody sweat, apparently under the mistaken impression that it simply does not occur. A great deal of effort could be saved by consulting the medical literature. Though very rare, the phenomenon of hematidrosis, or bloody sweat, is well documented. Under great emotional stress, tiny capillaries in the sweat glands can break, thus mixing blood with sweat. This process alone could have produced marked weakness and possible shock.

Although Jesus' betrayal and arrest are important portions of the passion story, the next event in the account which is significant from a medical perspective is His trial before the Sanhedrin and Caiaphas, the High Priest. Here the first physical trauma was inflicted. A soldier struck Jesus across the face for remaining silent when questioned by Caiaphas. The palace guards then blindfolded Him, mockingly taunted Him to identify them as each passed by, spat on Him, and struck Him in the face.

Before Pilate

In the early morning, battered and bruised, dehydrated, and worn out from a sleepless night, Jesus was taken across Jerusalem to the Praetorium of the Fortress Antonia, the seat of government of the Procurator of Judea, Pontius Pilate. We are familiar with Pilate's action in attempting to shift responsibility to Herod Antipas, the Tetrarch of Judea. Jesus apparently suffered no physical mistreatment at the hands of Herod and was returned to Pilate. It was then, in response to the outcry of the mob, that Pilate ordered Barabbas released and condemned Jesus to scourging and crucifixion.

Preparations for Jesus' scourging were carried out at Caesar's orders. The prisoner was stripped of His clothing and His hands tied to a post above His head. The Roman legionnaire stepped forward with the flagrum, or flagellum, in his hand. This was a short whip consisting of several heavy, leather thongs with two small balls of lead attached near the ends of each. The heavy whip was brought down with full force again and again across Jesus' shoulders, back, and legs. At first the weighted thongs cut through the skin only. Then, as the blows continued, they cut deeper into the subcutaneous tissues, producing first an oozing of blood from the capillaries and veins of the skin and finally spurting arterial bleeding from vessels in the underlying muscles.

The small balls of lead first produced large deep bruises that were broken open by subsequent blows. Finally, the skin of the back was hanging in long ribbons, and the entire area was an unrecognizable mass of torn, bleeding tissue. When it was determined by the centurion in charge that the prisoner was near death, the beating was finally stopped.

Mockery

The half-fainting Jesus was then untied and allowed to slump to the stone pavement, wet with his own blood. The Roman soldiers saw a great joke in this provincial Jew claiming to be a king. They threw a robe across His shoulders and placed a stick in His hand for a scepter. They still needed a crown to make their travesty complete. Small flexible branches covered with long thorns, commonly used for kindling fires in the charcoal braziers in the courtyard, were plaited into the shape of a crude crown. The crown was pressed into his scalp and again there was copious bleeding as the thorns pierced the very vascular tissue. After mocking Him and striking Him across the face, the soldiers took the stick from His hand and struck Him across the head, driving the thorns deeper into His scalp. Finally, they tired of their sadistic sport and tore the robe from His back. The robe had already become adherent to the clots of blood and serum in the wounds, and its removal, just as in the careless removal of a surgical bandage, caused excruciating pain. The wounds again began to bleed.

Golgotha

In deference to Jewish custom, the Romans apparently returned His garments. The heavy patibulum of the cross was tied across His shoulders. The procession of the condemned Christ, two thieves, and the execution detail of Roman soldiers headed by a centurion began its slow journey along the route which we know today as the Via Dolorosa.

In spite of Jesus' efforts to walk erect, the weight of the heavy wooden beam, together with the shock produced by copious loss of blood, was too much. He stumbled and fell. The rough wood of the beam gouged into the lacerated skin and muscles of the shoulders. He tried to rise, but human muscles had been pushed beyond their endurance. The centurion, anxious to proceed with the crucifixion, selected a stalwart North African onlooker, Simon of Cyrene, to carry the cross. Jesus followed, still bleeding and sweating the cold, clammy sweat of shock. The 650-yard journey from the Fortress Antonia to Golgotha was finally completed. The prisoner was again stripped of His clothing except for a loincloth which was allowed the Jews.

The crucifixion began. Jesus was offered wine mixed with myrrh, a mild analgesic, pain-reliving mixture. He refused the drink. Simon was ordered to place the patibulum on the ground, and Jesus was quickly thrown backward, with His shoulders against the wood. The legionnaire felt for the depression at the front of the wrist. He drove a heavy, square wrought-iron nail through the wrist and deep into the wood. Quickly, he moved to the other side and repeated the action, being careful not to pull the arms too tightly, but to allow some flexion and movement. The patibulum was then lifted into place at the top of the stipes, and the titulus reading "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews" was nailed into place.

The left foot was pressed backward against the right foot. With both feet extended, toes down, a nail was driven through the arch of each, leaving the knees moderately flexed. The victim was now crucified.

On the Cross

As Jesus slowly sagged down with more weight on the nails in the wrists, excruciating, fiery pain shot along the fingers and up the arms to explode in the brain. The nails in the wrists were putting pressure on the median nerve, large nerve trunks which traverse the mid-wrist and hand. As He pushed himself upward to avoid this stretching torment, He placed His full weight on the nail through His feet. Again there was searing agony as the nail tore through the nerves between the metatarsal bones of this feet.

At this point, another phenomenon occurred. As the arms fatigued, great waves of cramps swept over the muscles, knotting them in deep relentless, throbbing pain. With these cramps came the inability to push Himself upward. Hanging by the arm, the pectoral muscles, the large muscles of the chest, were paralyzed and the intercostal muscles, the small muscles between the ribs, were unable to act. Air could be drawn into the lungs, but could not be exhaled. Jesus fought to raise Himself in order to get even one short breath. Finally, the carbon dioxide level increased in the lungs and in the blood stream, and the cramps partially subsided.

The Last Words

Spasmodically, He was able to push Himself upward to exhale and bring in life-giving oxygen. It was undoubtedly during these periods that He uttered the seven short sentences that are recorded.

The first - looking down at the Roman soldiers throwing dice for His seamless garment: "Father, forgive them for they do not know what they do."

The second - to the penitent thief: "Today, thou shalt be with me in Paradise."

The third - looking down at Mary His mother, He said: "Woman, behold your son." Then turning to the terrified, grief-stricken adolescent John, the beloved apostle, He said: "Behold your mother."

The fourth cry is from the beginning of Psalm 22: "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?"

He suffered hours of limitless pain, cycles of twisting, joint-rending cramps, intermittent partial asphyxiation, and searing pain as tissue was torn from His lacerated back from His movement up and down against the rough timbers of the cross. Then another agony began: a deep crushing pain in the chest as the pericardium, the sac surrounding the heart, slowly filled with serum and began to compress the heart.

The prophecy in Psalm 22:14 was being fulfilled: "I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint, my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels."

The end was rapidly approaching. The loss of tissue fluids had reached a critical level; the compressed heart was struggling to pump heavy, thick, sluggish blood to the tissues, and the tortured lungs were making a frantic effort to inhale small gulps of air. The markedly dehydrated tissues sent their flood of stimuli to the brain. Jesus gasped His fifth cry: "I thirst." Again we read in the prophetic psalm: "My strength is dried up like a potsherd; my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou has brought me into the dust of death" (Psalm 22:15 KJV).

A sponge soaked in posca, the cheap, sour wine that was the staple drink of the Roman legionnaires, was lifted to Jesus' lips. His body was now in extremis, and He could feel the chill of death creeping through His tissues. This realization brought forth His sixth word, possibly little more than a tortured whisper: "It is finished." His mission of atonement had been completed. Finally, He could allow His body to die. With one last surge of strength, He once again pressed His torn feet against the nail, straightened His legs, took a deeper breath, and uttered His seventh and last cry: "Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit."

Death

The common method of ending a crucifixion was by crurifracture, the breaking of the bones of the leg. This prevented the victim from pushing himself upward; the tension could not be relieved from the muscles of the chest, and rapid suffocation occurred. The legs of the two thieves were broken, but when the soldiers approached Jesus, they saw that this was unnecessary.

Apparently, to make doubly sure of death, the legionnaire drove his lance between the ribs, upward through the pericardium and into the heart. John 19:34 states, "And immediately there came out blood and water." Thus there was an escape of watery fluid from the sac surrounding the heart and the blood of the interior of the heart. This is rather conclusive post-mortem evidence that Jesus died, not the usual crucifixion death by suffocation, but of heart failure due to shock and constriction of the heart by fluid in the pericardium.

Resurrection

In these events, we have seen a glimpse of the epitome of evil that man can exhibit toward his fellowman and toward God. This is an ugly sight and is likely to leave us despondent and depressed.

But the crucifixion was not the end of the story. How grateful we can be that we have a sequel: a glimpse of the infinite mercy of God toward man--the gift of atonement, the miracle of the resurrection, and the expectation of Easter morning.

On Memorial Day

2016-05-30T17:32:00.000-07:00

On this Memorial Day, for those who have laid a costly sacrifice at the altar of freedom.

A Price So Dear

Where are you going, little boy fair?

With dancing eyes and flaxen hair.

You've games to play, and rhymes to say,

With never a worry, or shadow, or care.

The brook and meadow calls to you.

Birds are singing, wild voices ringing,

As pirate ships collide,

Or kings with knights in armor stem the tide.

You've games to play and rhymes to say,

With never a worry or care.

But always at days end, to home,

And empty pockets of treasures borne,

To sleep the rest of youthful bliss.

We mark these days, and passing, mourn.

O' where are you going soldier blue?

The fife and drum are calling you.

You've left your boyhood games behind.

No more playing, no more rhymes.

It's war you'll see, and death, and blood.

A sergeant's call, "to the line!"

No glory there, only carnage and mud.

Now where do they carry my boy so frail?

With hollow face, so still, so pale.

A flag is draped upon his bier.

A bugle calls for all to hear.

A life is taken.

A son is taken.

A price so dear.

A stillness lies,

An empty chair,

Silence now upon the stair.

Silent now, the brook and meadow,

Setting sun, and growing shadow,

A vision clear,

In my minds eye and ear,

His face, his voice, his mirth,

Memories dear.

Where are you going, little boy fair?

With dancing eyes and flaxen hair.

You've games to play, and rhymes to say,

With never a worry, or shadow or care.

MJS

9/03

The Resurrection

2016-03-27T09:37:00.000-07:00

Jesus was born of a virgin. He came from heaven. He laid aside his glory and took upon himself the form of flesh.

I know that sounds incredible. It is incredible! But it really happened.

Being God, he became a man and walked among us. He taught and he healed and he raised the dead.

He did things that no mere man could have done, because He was the Messiah. He is the Messiah. The Chosen One, the Son of God.

He was rejected by his own people, and was flogged and spit upon, and stretched out on a cross and crucified. For us. For you. For me.

He died for us.

He took our sins and he bore the penalty for then. He paid a ransom for us.

And they laid him in a borrowed tomb. He didn’t need it for very long. Only three days.

He was dead. The Romans knew how to kill people. They were experts at it. They were professionals. The military unit who took him out there to that place and nailed him to that cross had executed many such condemned men. They didn’t make mistakes. He wasn’t mostly dead… He was ALL dead! He was completely dead.

On the third day, on Sunday, the women came to the tomb. It was empty. He wasn’t there.

He rose from the grave. He really did! He is alive! Jesus the Christ, the Son of God, our Lord and Savior. He lives.

He showed himself to his disciples. He showed them his wounds. He counseled and comforted them. He ate with them. Once He appeared to over 500 people at once.

Finally, he took his disciples out to the Mount of Olives and he told them what they needed to do. Make disciples, teach them what I have taught you, to believe, to love, to be His disciples. He promised that he would be with them, and with us always.

And then he ascended back to heaven, where he sits at the right hand of God in heaven, until he returns again one day.

To deny the Resurrection of Christ is like trying to deny an atomic explosion.

The impact of the resurrection of Christ is just as evident in history, as are the rippling impact waves, and the fiery cloud that rises from the center of a nuclear explosion.

There’s no way to explain the explosion of Christianity without the Resurrection.

Consider this. Consider this one fact. All of his disciples, all of the men who became apostles for Christ… they all died proclaiming the gospel facts… that Jesus was the Son of God and that he was crucified, and rose from the grave and ascended into heaven, before their very eyes.

All of his disciples, except John, were murdered for their belief in Christ.

James, the son of Zebedee was beheaded in Jerusalem in 44 AD, the first of the disciples to be martyred. Andrew was crucified on an X shaped cross. Phillip was crucified in AD 54. Matthew was killed by an axe in 60 AD. Peter was crucified upside down outside of Rome in 64 AD. Bartholomew was skinned alive and then beheaded near the Caspian Sea. Thomas was killed by spear in Madras, India in 72 AD. James, son of Alphaeus was stoned, and then clubbed to death at age 90. Jude was crucified. Simon the zealot was crucified in AD 74. Matthias, the replacement of Judas Iscariot, was stoned and beheaded.

Now I want you to think about something.

Men will lie about a lot of things. They will lie for many reasons.

And men will die for a few things. But men don’t die for lies.

At the end, they tell the truth. They only die for what they believe to be true.

Every one of the twelve apostles died professing the facts of Jesus… that they had seen, and that they had lived. Their lives were given for this truth. Their lives were spent preaching this truth. Because it is true!

He made us and he bought us. We belong to him, whether we like it or not. We belong to him.

But he has left us the decision, whether to accept His gift of life.

Whether or not to accept His Lordship.

The bible says that one day, “every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess, that Jesus Christ is Lord”, but for some who bow on that day, it will be too late to claim the inheritance.

So we have to decide what we’re going to do about this truth.

We are responsible before God, now that we know these things.

Believers or those who don’t.

Claimers of our inheritance or those who reject it.

Eternity with our Lord in the New Jerusalem, or eternity without God, completely removed from His presence and His Grace.

We have to choose which side of that fence we are going to stand on.

That’s why we are here, and that’s what this whole deal is about.

MJS

Christmas Glories

2015-12-09T13:03:00.000-08:00

I've been going through my dad's old files lately. It's hard to believe that it's been nearly a year since his passing. I ran across this article of his, which was published in the December 1965 edition of "The Stetho Scoop", newsletter for Mesa Lutheran Hospital (now closed). I was touched by the elegance of my father's words, and was also amazed at how well these sentiments still translate to our world today. In 1965 the world was war torn and sin torn and rife with every form of hatred and violence... political, ethnic, and religious. Fast forward to 2015 and nothing much has changed, the same strife, just different names and entities. But this war torn, sin torn, fallen world will one day be altogether changed. It will be wiped clean, and made new.

Christmas reminds us that one thing will never change. God doesn't change. His faithfulness is changeless. His Glory is everlasting. Our hope is real and our reward is sure. The victory is already won. Praise God for the coming of His Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ.

I wonder what the "Christmas Glories" look like in heaven, something more than tinsel and glitter and five watt bulbs, I'll bet. Merry Christmas dad.

CHRISTMAS GLORIES

An old colored gentleman who shines shoes remarked the other day that the workmen around the shopping center were putting up the Christmas "glories." It was a striking word to use for the tinsel and the glitter of the yuletide decorations, reflecting the sensitivity and perception of his race. It is fascinating in a country so surfeited with the application of cardboard and color as is ours that the use of tinfoil and five watt lamps can with justice be associated with the word glory. But it is so! There is a halo of glory surrounding Christmas that illumines even little pine trees and dime-store decorations.

Several times this fall the urge has come to send Christmas cards to treasured non-Christian friends in far-away lands. It is acutely painful to realize that they would appreciate the greeting, but they could not share the glory. Over-commercialized though it may be, the glory of Christmas shines in the eyes of little children and the hearts of the aged. It is reflected from Bethlehem's star. It comes from the Christ-child in His manger-crib. it is mediated by the Spirit of God.

Half the world will fear the other half this Christmas night. They have no Christmas glories. They have dipped the stars in blood.

But Bethlehem's star is beyond their reach, and they cannot jam the angels' song: "Glory to God in the highest, and peace and good will to men." Christmas will always have its glories. They live in the hearts of men. They come from the heart of God.

Joe C. Smith

Eyes To The Sky

2015-06-26T14:23:00.000-07:00

Do you long for His appearing?The Apostle Paul did. He was nearly used up by the time he writes to Timothy from Roman prison. He was looking for the coming of the Lord's Day, or union with Christ immediately after his own death, whichever came first (2 Timothy 4:8). For Paul we know that it was the latter. He will be among the dead who will be resurrected on that glorious day. But for some, there will be no death. There will be the sound of trumpets and the shouts of angels and the glorious and terrible sight of the coming of the Lord. Eyes to the skies brothers and sisters. Look for Him! The bible describes that day very well. You can read about it yourself. I would advise that you do so ( Daniel 7:13, Matthew 24:30, 26:64, Mark 13:26, 14:62, 1 Corinthians 15:52, 1 Thessalonians 4:17, Revelation 1;17). As for me, the older I get the more that I long for His appearing.

One more sunrise,

One more moon,

One more morning,

One more noon,

One more song,

One more tune,

I sure hope He gets here soon.

One more hope,

One more fear,

One more river,

One more tear

One more waking,

One more wait,

One more struggle with love or hate.

One more longing,

One more pain,

One more loss,

One more gain.

One more whisper,

One more wink,

One more meal,

One more drink.

One more hug,

One more kiss,

One more thought for those we miss.

One more day,

One more living,

One more prayer of praise and thanksgiving.

One more mile,

One more wave,

One more smile,

One more face.

One more victory,

Once more His strength,

One more failure,

Once more His grace.

One more sunrise,

One more moon,

One more morning,

One more noon,

One more song,

One more tune,

I sure hope He gets here soon.

Patterns To Follow

2015-01-07T14:42:00.001-08:00

Making Friends

I’ve been thinking about examples in my life. Specifically, I have been thinking about my grand father and my father and how and why they built relationships with people. I see a pattern in their lives and I think I know the origins of that pattern.

Let’s start with my grandfather. My grandfather was Jack Smith. We called him Jackie… we always called him Jackie. I don’t really know why. The grandkids named him that, the name stuck and eventually, many of his friends and family also called him that. Jackie didn’t know any strangers. If you had any dealings with him, or if you got anywhere near him for any length of time, if chance brought you together with him, even under the most peculiar or unlikely circumstances, chances are you became his friend, possibly a confidant, probably a good friend, and in many cases, your life was altered forever after for the better. I know that sounds like hyperbole, but believe me it’s not. Let me tell you a story as an example of this phenomenon. Jackie was a highway patrolman, among many other endeavors. In fact, he was one of the original fourteen Arizona highway patrolmen. They worked alone much of the time, since there was only one assigned to each county. They patrolled the state highways, providing law enforcement and assistance to the public. One day, as Jackie sat in his patrol car along side a highway, along came a motorist in a big shiny convertible. The driver was alone in the car and he was speeding. He wasn’t just speeding a little; he was driving dangerously fast, like the proverbial bat outa hell! Jackie pulled out behind him and accelerated and in a mile or two he turned on his lights, signaling the motorist to pull over. Well, the immediate reaction from the guy was to push the pedal to the floor and go even faster. Now my grandfather was a cool head. He had as cool a head as anybody that I have ever known. He stayed with the runaway, pacing him and after a car chase lasting for some miles, Jackie found a straight stretch of road and maneuvered his police cruiser in front of the rogue motorist and managed to head him to the side of the road. He approached the driver on foot, and when he got a few feet away, he just stood there and stared the man down with a very disgusted look on his face. You would have had to have known my grandfather, and have been the recipient of the gaze of those steely, pale blue eyes to really appreciate the effect. After a few moments, he walked around to the passenger side, opened the door and got in, and began to lecture the driver on traffic laws and the need for abiding by said laws for his own safety, as well as the safety of others with whom he shared the highway. After a while, the lecture ended, but the talk continued and they talked about their lives and many other things. He spent two hours sitting in his car, first lecturing and then counselling this man. When the time ended, Jackie got in his patrol car and he drove away. He didn’t take the rogue driver into custody; he didn’t even write him a traffic ticket. He just left the man sitting there by the side of the road, pondering the events. How do I know all of this? Because that man spent the rest of his life telling that story to people, including my own family members. The man’s name was Frank Bentley. Ironically, he owned an insurance agency, and sold home, life and auto insurance. Not only did he become my grandfather’s insurance agent, he became his life long friend. His life was certainly changed that day. Not only did he not die from a car wreck on that highway, as a result of his agitated emotional state, neither did he become a convicted felon for public endangerment, resisting arrest, or worse yet manslaughter, had he killed someone else on that road. Instead, he received much needed counsel and advice from a man who would become his mentor for the rest of his life. That was quite a turn of events for him. How would you have handled that situation? How would I? Probably not the way that Jackie did. But then, we’re not Jackie. There was only one Jackie.

My grandfather had just one child, my father, Joe Carson Smith. So is it surprising that he studied this gift of relationship and friendship building that his father displayed in his life? I know he did. He talked about it frequently, and he used these stories to teach his own children life lessons about relationships and friendship.

My father applied this model in his own relationship building, as a part of his ministry and life, which were really a single integrated entity. His ministry was his life and his life was ministry. No compartments… another tough act to follow, at least for me. Most people know of my father as a biblical scholar, or a preacher and teacher of some note, or maybe just as a name within the brotherhood, usually synonymous with rabble-rouser or some other pejorative term. What many don’t know about my father is how much of his time was spent in relationships with people, all kinds of people. To say that his office door was always open is not a cliché, but is the actual truth and the norm. He literally never closed his door, unless he was counseling someone. If he was in his office, his door was open. If someone wandered in, whoever that someone might be, my father stopped whatever he was doing and focused his full and complete attention on that person. I can’t tell you how many people have told me stories about my dad spending time with them in his office, discussing whatever was on their mind, for as long as they wished to stay and talk to him. This applied as much to the janitor as to a church member, or even to me, his youngest son, who wandered in and sat down and wanted to talk to his dad about something. He was never too busy for people. He recognized the importance of listening to and building trust with the people with whom God brought him into contact. He understood the priority of relationships and friendships with his flock, and as far as my dad was concerned, pretty much everybody was a member of his flock. He was, first and foremost, a shepherd. Don’t get me wrong. He was a notable theologian and was by many accounts an excellent college professor and I know he was a good teacher, because I learned much under his tutelage and instruction. He was also an excellent preacher. But if you spent some time with him and closely observed his day to day work in ministry, you would realize that what he did first and foremost was shepherd his people and encourage them and counsel them and be a friend to them. That’s what he considered the highest priority in his ministry. He didn’t just sit around in his office and wait for people to walk in though. He was out in the highways and hedges constantly, visiting people in hospitals, nursing homes, jails, you name it, stopping by their homes to check on shut-ins, taking communion to many, many countless saints who couldn’t come to the table on the Lord’s Day. I followed him around often, first just as a preacher’s kid, then as a deacon. When I became an elder and began the work of a shepherd myself, I would go to see folks, and wherever I went, I would hear the same thing. “Oh Mike, good to see you, your dad was here earlier”. As hard as I tried, I could never get ahead of him when it came to calling on his people, until the day that he retired. Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Well he was getting paid to call on people after all. It was just part of his job as a paid minister”. Well that’s true. He was getting paid, at least most of the time. Unless the church was having trouble meeting the weekly budget, then his paycheck was the first budget item to get deferred. He didn’t do it for the money. He did it because he loved God and His people. He would still have done it, even if he had taken all of his education and gone to some university and made a whole lot more money amidst the ivory towers of academia.

We hear the word, “intentional” a lot these days, within the context of evangelism and discipleship, along with being “missional”. Sometimes those terms bother me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for seeking and reaching the lost. I’m also dedicated to making disciples of Christ. The Lord has commanded us to do both things, after all (Matt. 28). What bothers me is the motive behind these terms (intentional & missional). I mean, insurance salesmen are “intentional” when they contact you to buy life insurance, but their motive is profit, not friendship. I got news for you; call girls are not looking for relationships. They are completely focused on their mission, which is your money. They are purely missional! Maybe purely is a poor choice of words. If our intent is to win people to Christ, then we must first begin by loving them, no strings, no motives, just love. That should be the intent. That should be the mission.

We need to build relationships with people and be friends to them because if we are there along side them, not as salesmen, but as friends, who just happen to be in Christ, then people will see Christ in us and we will then make them His disciples too. I think maybe, that’s what Christ meant about loving our neighbor. I think that’s what my grandfather and my father figured out. They followed the pattern of Jesus Christ, in his long walks with his disciples down those dusty roads of Galilee and Judea, person to person. The way to impact the world for Christ is one at a time, person to person, through hours and days and months and years of relationship building and friendship giving, until everybody that we know comes to Christ, because they see Him in us. It’s a lot more time consuming than going out and “doing evangelism”. It’s a lot less efficient, in terms of numbers, than utilizing emerging technologies and methodologies in missiology. It requires a high degree of personal investment and sometimes it gets messy, because people’s lives are messy. Sheep are stinky, so if you can’t stand the smell then don’t be a shepherd.

The world is full of people. There is no shortage. Most of them don’t have any relationship with Christ. Many of them don’t have any relationship with anyone who knows Christ. Some of them don’t have any friends or family. Let’s not pretend that there are no opportunities for us to make an impact, to make a difference in people’s lives. It doesn’t take any training. You don’t need to be an evangelist to bring people to Christ. You just need to be their friend. That’s how Jack Smith did it. You don’t need to be a biblical scholar to win people for the Lord. My father was both an evangelist and a biblical scholar, but he won more people for the Lord by friendship than he did any other way. He won them by showing them Christ. That was his intention. That was his mission. Along the way he made a whole lot of friends. That was the earthly reward for his 50+ years in ministry. He was a rich man.

Go Ahead and Cry!

2015-01-06T06:41:00.000-08:00

I have a confession to make. I haven't cried much in the last couple of weeks. I guess that will shock many of you, since many are aware that my father passed from this life and went to be with the Lord on December 23rd. I'm feeling guilty about my lack of tears. I'm wondering what's wrong with me. Maybe I'm just sort of dried up and don't have any tears left. Lord knows I've shed my share of tears. In fact, I carry the crying gene that was passed down to me from my father. We Smiths are famous for crying! So why can't I cry now?
I have felt the prayers of so many friends and family in the past weeks. I appreciate those prayers so much. I need your help now... please pray for me... pray for me to cry. I realize that's a pretty strange prayer request, but it's what I need most of all right now, I think.
I know what some of you are thinking. You're thinking, "Christians shouldn't cry about losing loved ones who are in Christ anyway. Why shed tears, when we know that our loved ones are with the Lord?" Well, I respectfully disagree. I wrote a piece about this very thing a few years ago. I still believe it, but now I need to live it. Thanks for your help on this. I'll get back to you.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Go Ahead And Cry

Christians are often questioned for crying during times of loss and grief, like when a loved one dies. We are told by well meaning, but misguided well-wishers that we should not be sad. We should not weep for those who have died, because our loved ones are now with the Lord in heaven. Certainly this should comfort us and console us greatly, but I do not agree with brethren who say that we should not weep and cry at such a time. Here’s why I believe differently.

Death is not natural. It is unnatural. God created man for eternity. He was not appointed to die. It was not until man and creation fell into sin that death entered God’s creation (Genesis 2:17). Death stalks mankind throughout our lives. Death separates us from those that we love, not forever but for now. It is only natural then that our reaction to the separation and horror that is death is to weep.

The Bible is full of examples of God’s faithful servants who mourn for their dead. Genesis 50:1 shows us Joseph weeping for his dead father, Jacob. Deuteronomy 34:8 shows us the children of Israel weeping for Moses after his death. But the most important example is Jesus himself. Luke 19:41-42 shows us Jesus weeping for the city of Jerusalem. It says, “And when he was come near, he beheld the city, and wept over it, Saying, If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! But now they are hid from thine eyes.” He goes on to prophesy about the destruction of this city, and the deaths of many of its inhabitants, at the hands of the Roman legions. He saw the deaths of many in his mind’s eye, and he wept, as a father weeps for his children.

The most significant, and poignant example of Jesus weeping for the dead is the story of Lazarus. I always think of Lazarus as a young man, although scripture doesn’t tell us his age. He was known and loved by Jesus (Jn. 11:3). Jesus knew and loved this whole family (Jn. 11:5). He had been a guest in their home many times. Perhaps he had watched Lazarus grow up, during his travels and ministry. When Jesus saw Mary and Martha in grief, weeping for their lost brother, he wept also. He joined them in their grief. Why did he weep? He knew that he was going to raise Lazarus from his grave. The Gospel of John tells us that Jesus had intentionally waited for Lazarus to die, before coming to Bethany (Jn. 11:4, 11:11). He knew that he was going to raise him from the dead, as a demonstration of his power and identity as the Son of God, the Messiah. So why did he now weep? I think he wept because he was not only God. He was also man. He wept, because men and women weep when their hearts are overcome with grief. They weep when they share in the grief of others whom they love. We weep because God has created us with the capacity to Love. Our weeping is a physical manifestation (flesh) of the sorrow that we feel in our hearts (spirit) when we lose Love. In other words, we weep because we Love. If we did not love, then for what would we weep? For whom would we weep? Perhaps Jesus wept for another reason also. Perhaps he wept because he knew that Lazarus would also die again someday. His raising of Lazarus was only temporary, after all. Someday, he would have to die all over again. He would have to suffer all over again. Maybe Jesus also wept for him because his need for a demonstration of God’s power would cost Lazarus another death. We can only guess why Jesus wept. But he did. Jesus wept (Jn 11:35). Since he wept, we may be assured that weeping is not weakness, it is not sin, it is Christ like.

So go ahead and cry. There is no blame in it. There is no weakness in it. It is just a part of life and of humanity, as long as we do not hide in it, as long as we do not replace our faith with grief. The book of Ecclesiastes tells us that there is a time for everything (Ecc. 3), “A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;” Let’s not be afraid to weep, when we should weep. Let’s not forget to dance, when it is time to dance with delight before the Lord. Let’s not be afraid to embrace each other, when we should embrace. Let’s not miss a chance to Love, ever, in our lives. Every chance to Love comes just once. Only regret will abide with us, if we do not Love at every chance.

M.J. Smith

April 4, 2008

Who is God and what does he do?

2014-12-19T05:36:00.000-08:00

We had dinner with some dear friends last night. Leave it to kids to ask the most profound questions. Addie is four years old. She's very bright and very curious. She asked her mommy this question, "Who is God and what does he do?" Her mom asked for my help in answering Addie and I'm not sure that I was able to sufficiently answer. I'm not sure that anyone is quite able to sufficiently answer Addie's question, but I went to bed last night and woke up still trying. So here's my answer after considerable pillow time, and some more time scratching with pen and paper.

Thanks for asking Addie. I think I needed to spend a little time pondering. Sometimes God uses children to wake us up and make us think about the important stuff.

This is for you Addie, and for Kenzie too!

WHO IS GOD AND WHAT DOES HE DO?

He always was.

He always will be.

He made the whole world,

And he made you and me.

He’s very busy cause he keeps the world turning.

He keeps the stars shining and everything working.

But he never gets tired and he never sleeps.

He watches and guards and safely keeps,

Every mommy and daddy and little child.

He’s strong but gentle.

He’s wise and fair.

He’s brave as brave.

He knows and he cares.

And He wants us to know Him,

And be His best friend.

But the best thing about Him,

Is how much He Loves!

He loves everybody, the large and the small.

He loves so much and He loves so well.

Love is the thing that He does best of all!

He loves us so much He’d do anything for us,

Like our own moms and dads.

You know they adore us!

He loves everybody who ever was.

He loves everybody who ever will be.

He especially loves you,

And He even loves me.

MJS 12/19/14

Remembering our heritage as we approach July 4, 2014

2014-07-02T09:06:00.003-07:00

Our Heritage

Heritage – “the status acquired by a person through birth; a birthright.”

(American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language)

Whoever we are, wherever we are from, whether we acknowledge it or not, we are heirs to a rich heritage, passed to us thru family, and country, and God.

Family Heritage

We are shaped and formed by our family heritage, maybe more so than we know or care to acknowledge.

Our former first lady, Hillary Rodham Clinton, wrote a book titled, “It Takes A Village To Raise A Child”, and like so many other things, she got it about half right. Now I don’t know about your village, but I’d rather not have some of the folks in my village raising my kids. No, it takes a family to raise a child. God invented families. He invented them to raise children. And like so many things that God created with perfection, human weakness, and sin have made imperfect. But God uses all things to good, even these.

We are not all born to perfect homes. My mother certainly was not. Her father died when she was twelve, leaving her and her sister with a mother who was incapable of raising children on her own. She was raised by two aunts. But she survived adversity, and found God, and he provided her with everything that she needed.

My father was born out of wedlock, to an Irish Catholic girl who was unable to be his mother. But God provided him with parents, and to a young couple, desperate for a child of their own, a son was given. Together, they made a Christian home.

It soon became apparent to them that this child would not be a farmer, due to severe hay fever, and allergies, but he excelled in his studies. They aspired for him to be a doctor, or lawyer, perhaps a political leader. But God had different plans for him. They were not altogether happy the day he announced that he was determined to become a preacher of the Gospel. I’m sure that they wished for him to have all of the best and finest things in life. But he chose the path of God over worldly gain. Eternity will judge whether he chose well. I think he did.

Being preacher’s kids, my brother and sister and I were raised in the church. As a preacher’s kid, I have had sort of a love/hate relationship with the church. My experience would lead me to believe that preacher’s kids require more instruction and discipline than average. I would also have to say, at least in my case, that their wild reputation is well earned.

I am fortunate indeed, to have benefited from the mentoring and training which I received in the church, from many Christian saints, both men and women.

I won’t name them. They know who they are, and so does God. I thank God for them, as I sit in church and reflect upon all of the blessings that I have received in my life.

Any child, raised in the church or not, must one day finally decide for himself, if he believes. In spite of the finest examples of living Christian saints, in spite of all of the instruction by parents and dedicated Bible teachers, we must finally decide for ourselves if we believe. Some fall away, some find their faith in the church, and some find their faith in spite of the church.

The church, of course, is an extension of the family. It is the family of God. Through it, we all share in a rich heritage.

The problem with the church, like the family, is it’s full of people. Because of this fact, it’s far from perfect. But God uses the church to train us. He uses it to teach us tolerance, and forgiveness. He uses it to teach us how to love one another, even when we’re not very lovely, even when it’s hard. He uses the church to teach us to serve one another, and to learn humility.

Despite all of the flaws and failures of our families, and church families, we should thank God for them; for the blessings which we have received from them, for the lessons we have learned, for the sustenance we have received, for the love and discipline we have received, for the sacrifices that have been made for us. This is our heritage.

American Heritage

We should also thank God for our national heritage, for our American heritage, for the liberty, which we enjoy in this great nation. We should remember the price of this liberty, paid for with the blood of our finest young men and women, on so many shores, in so many places across the centuries.

So on Memorial Day, or Independence Day, we celebrate our heritage, and we sing again the old patriotic hymns. My favorite is “America The Beautiful”. It is difficult for me to sing it without choking back tears. The words are so fraught with meaning:

“O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife. Who more than self the country loved, and mercy more than life! America! America! May God thy gold refine, till all success be nobleness, and every gain divine!

O beautiful for patriot dream that sees beyond the years. Thine alabaster cities gleam, undimmed by human tears! America! America! God shed his grace on thee, and crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea!”

Our heritage has been insured by the courage, and sacrifice, of uncounted heroes.

Gary Hildreth’s essay on the fate of the signers of the Declaration of Independence reminds us of the debt that we owe to our forefathers.

He writes:

“Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence? Five signers were captured by the British as traitors and executed. Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned. Two lost their sons in the Revolutionary Army, another had two sons captured. Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or the hardships of the Revolutionary War. They signed and pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor.

What kind of men were they? Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists. Eleven were merchants; nine were farmers and large plantation owners, men of means, well educated. But they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death if they were captured. Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British navy. He sold his home and his properties to pay his debts, and died in rags. Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in Congress without pay, and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him and poverty was his reward. Vandals or soldiers, or both, looted the properties of Ellery, Clymer, Hall, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton. At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr. noted that the British General Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson home for his headquarters. The owner quietly urged General Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed, and Nelson died bankrupt. Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed. The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months. John Hart was driven from his wife’s bedside as she lay dying. Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to waste. For more than a year he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished. A few weeks later he died from exhaustion and a broken heart. Norris and Livingston suffered similar fates.

Such are the stories and sacrifices of the American Revolution. These were not wild-eyed, rabble-rousing ruffians. They were soft-spoken men of means and education. They had security, but they valued liberty more.

Standing tall, straight, and unwavering, they pledged: “For the support of this declaration, with the firm reliance on the protection of the Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other, our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.” This is our heritage.

Heritage In Christ

We should not, however, confuse Liberty with Freedom.

We should remember in our prayers, our brothers and sisters in Christ around the world, without liberty, suffering persecution and bondage, but still they are free. That cannot be taken away from them. Kings, and despots, and goverments have the power to bestow liberty, and to take it away, but freedom comes only from God. He bestows it, a gift, through Jesus Christ.

We can read of our heritage in Christ in the twenty-second chapter of Genesis. There we find God declaring our birthright through Abraham.

“And it came to pass after these things that God did tempt Abraham, and said unto him, Abraham: and he said, Behold, here I am. And he said, Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of.

And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and saddled his ass, and took two of his young men with him, and Isaac his son, and clave the wood for the burnt offering, and rose up, and went unto the place of which God had told him. Then on the third day Abraham lifted up his eyes, and saw the place afar off. And Abraham said unto his young men, Abide ye here with the ass; and I and the lad will go yonder and worship, and come again to you.

And Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering, and laid it upon Isaac his son; and he took the fire in his hand, and a knife; and they went both of them together. And Isaac spake unto Abraham his father, and said, My father: and he said, Here am I, my son. And he said, Behold the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb for a burnt offering? And Abraham said, My son, God will provide himself a lamb for a burnt offering: so they went both of them together. And they came to the place, which God had told him of; and Abraham built an altar there, and laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood. And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son. And the angel of the Lord called unto him out of heaven, and said, Abraham, Abraham: and he said, Here am I. And he said, Lay not thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou any thing unto him: for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me. And Abraham lifted up his eyes, and looked, and behold behind him a ram caught in a thicket by his horns: and Abraham went and took the ram, and offered him up for a burnt offering in the stead of his son. And Abraham called the name of that place Jehovahjireh: as it is said to this day, In the mount of the Lord it shall be seen.

And the angel of he Lord called unto Abraham out of heaven the second time, And said, By myself have I sworn, saith the Lord, for because thou hast done this thing, and hast not withheld thy son, thine only son: That in blessing I will bless thee, and in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the stars of heaven, and as the sand which is upon the sea shore; and thy seed shall possess the gate of his enemies; And in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed; because thou hast obeyed my voice.” (Genesis 22:1-18)

This is our heritage, our birthright under the covenant that God made with Abraham.

It is the covenant that was fulfilled by God, who did not withhold his only son, but sacrificed him upon that terrible cross, that we might be redeemed from sin and from death. This covenant is fulfilled, and a new covenant is offered to us in Christ. It is the covenant spoken of by Jesus in the upper room, when he instituted the Lord’s supper (read Matthew 26:28). It is our heritage, our inheritance, which is spoken of by Paul in Romans 8:14-18, and in Galatians 3:26, and 4:4-7.

Jesus himself describes our heritage, our birth right in his parable of the Prodigal Son.

“And he said, A certain man had two sons: And the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living. And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living. And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land; and he began to be in want. And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat: and no man gave unto him.

And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father’s have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, And am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants.

And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called they son. But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet: And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry: For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found…” (Luke 15: 11-24)

We stand before God, as the prodigal stood before his father, having squandered our birthright in sin, but in Christ our birthright is restored. In Christ our heritage is assured.

Christ receives us back with open arms. All accounts are settled. All debts are paid.

He paid them with his blood. For you and for me.

So I am reminded of the story of the little boy and his boat. Of all of the stories that I have heard my father tell from the pulpit, across the many years, this is my favorite, because of its simple, beautiful message:

There once was a little boy. He was a bright lad and good with his hands. One day, he went into his father’s workshop and he built a toy boat, crafting it from wood, and string, and glue and paint. And when he was done, he had built a beautiful sailboat.

He took it down to the shore, and he set it in the water. He stood there watching, first with wonder, and then with dismay! A breeze filled the sails, and carried it out into the lake, and it sailed away. It was gone!

Weeks later, as he walked through town, the boy stopped in front of a shop window. There, displayed in the window, was his sailboat.

He went into the shop, and he bought the boat from the shopkeeper. He didn’t say a word. He just paid for it, and he left. As he was leaving, grasping the boat in his arms, he was heard to say, “You are mine! I made you, and I bought you! Now you are mine!”

That’s exactly where we stand with Jesus. He made us. If you don’t believe me, go back and read Genesis again. You will find him there, at the creation. He bought us, with that long journey from Heaven to Calvary. With his blood, he bought us, at that terrible place called Golgotha. We belong to him. Whether we acknowledge him as Lord, or not, whether we believe, or not, we belong to him.

This is our heritage!

You are a Child of the King. Won’t you claim your inheritance?

How, you ask, do you claim your birthright? By confessing before men that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God, by repentance, which is a conscientious attempt to reform and turn away from sin, by obedience in Christian baptism, through which you will receive the Holy Spirit, and by continuing steadfast in your faith and fellowship with the body of Christ, which is his Church. If you do these things you will claim your inheritance in Christ, and receive your crown of glory, and eternal life.

It sounds so easy, but what I have just described entails a very long journey. It entails a lifelong struggle, with every ounce of courage and strength that you possess. It may require you to suffer. It may require you to give up what you have, your most loved possession. This journey may take you far from home, along dangerous, dark, narrow passages, up steep, winding, rocky paths, towards a lone cross. It may mean giving up your life.

It won’t be all gloom, darkness and struggle. There will be light, and beauty, and laughter, too. Along the way will be rest when you need it, and love, faith, and fellowship with other pilgrims who are on the same road as you. And in the end, the struggle will be forgotten. It will be left behind. It will be sloughed off, like an old garment, as we put on the raiment’s of heaven, and are made new.

This is our Heritage, from our Heavenly Father, thru Jesus Christ.

Special Moments

2014-06-15T15:45:00.002-07:00

Happy Father's Day to all of you dads out there, and to my dad too.

___________________________________________________________________________________

OK guys, this one is for you. I mean all of you Dads out there. I have a news flash for you. We should spend more time with our children. I believe that is a true statement. I also believe that we don’t have a clue about how to go about it. I come to this conclusion based upon the desperate pursuit of happiness and frantic pursuit of indulgence, which is displayed in our culture. I’ll tell you what it’s about, and what it’s not about. It’s not about spending our money on our kids. It’s not about taking them to amusement parks or exotic, far away places to purchase their affection. It's not about buying them every toy or gadget or thing that goes vrroooom. It’s about finding time and spending that on our kids. It’s about sharing ourselves with them. It’s about simple pleasures and sudden magical moments that cannot be contrived or designed, or purchased with a ticket, or started with a key.

Think back to your own childhood. Do you have any “special moments” that come to mind? I’ll bet that you do, if you will just allow yourself to think for a moment, back to those simpler, innocent times of childhood.

I will share one of mine with you, to help you get started. It is one of my earliest recollections. I must have been about four years old. I know I was not yet five, because I hadn’t started school. I remember my father taking me to Helsing’s coffee shop in Scottsdale for breakfast. It was just he and I. Everybody else had gone off to their daily routine of work or school. We would sit in a booth and he would have a bear claw and coffee. I would have a single scoop of chocolate ice cream in a fancy dish. I don’t remember what we talked about. I suppose we talked about whatever came into the mind of a four year old boy. I don’t remember the waitress, or much about the surroundings of the coffee shop. What I remember is feeling good because my father, a very important man, wanted to spend this time with me. For that moment, he was all mine. There was no one else competing for his attention…siblings, work, friends, they were all removed. We were all alone in the universe, a father and his youngest child. I don’t know what the tab for that meal totaled… maybe five or six bucks? It was a priceless investment, nevertheless. I’m sure that my father had no notion of the importance of this moment to me, that it would be such a significant and formative memory for me later. He was just doing what dads are supposed to do. He was just loving me.

Let’s admit it men, we are not exactly tuned into our relationships. We know so little of the effects that we have on the lives of those around us, especially our children. We must remind ourselves occasionally to do a “status check” on our relationships.

Have you forgotten to love your children lately? It’s never too late, as long as you are alive. It doesn’t cost much, just a little of your time. Don’t worry about how to go about it. It will take care of itself. Just turn the TV off, get up and go do something with your child. Take a walk, go throw a Frisbee in the park, play a board game, get in the car and drive… when your kid asks you, “Where are we are going dad?” just say, “I don’t know, let’s see where the road takes us.” Whether you’re skipping rocks on a pond, or sitting on a bench at the mall eating ice cream, it doesn’t matter. The important thing is being there together, spending your real treasure on them... your time and attention.

Some day they will thank you for it. Even if they don’t, they will remember, and by remembering, they will know that you loved them, and that for one special moment, there was just the two of you, alone in the universe.

Lest We Forget

2014-05-24T12:33:00.000-07:00

The world is full of memorials, memorials for those who are dead. The Hispanic culture has a holiday dedicated to remembering dead loved ones. They call it Day of the Dead, Dia de Muertos. The idea is not only to honor dead loved ones, but to actually commune with them, to communicate with their spirits.

Many of the world’s religions revere and worship dead ancestors, believing that their spirits are still with us and can interact in our lives. This is more than just memorializing. This is now a form of worship and a form of spiritual divination, which is forbidden by the Word of God.

We need to be careful about our memorials, about who we are memorializing and why. We need to be careful that our memorials not become idolatry.

Satan would have our memorials become idolatry. He is always working to turn our worship away from God and towards something else... anything else.

But we like to remember loved ones, what they meant to us, what they did for us, how much we loved them, how thankful we are for their lives and what they meant to us, and this is good and appropriate. We mark the graves of loved ones with headstones, markers with all sorts of sentiments written on them. We plant flowers and tend gardens at the graves of our loved ones past. Some of us visit them regularly. There’s nothing wrong with that.

We have a national holiday dedicated to remembering our fallen heroes who died in wars. We call it Memorial Day. It’s Memorial Day Weekend. For those who are working or going to school it means a three day break. For many it will be spent on picnics, eating hot dogs… they’re always on sale on Memorial Day! Time spent with friends and family, maybe getting out of town for a camping trip.

Will we take time to remember our fallen heroes, I wonder? We’ll get back to that idea in a minute. First, let me give you a little history on the holiday that we call Memorial Day and now observe on the last Monday in May.

Our Memorial Day started after the civil war to honor those who fell in battle. There are varying accounts as to who originated the observance and where it was first observed. I did a little research on the origins of the national holiday that we now call Memorial Day. Here is what I found:

On May 5, 1868, in his capacity as commander-in-chief of the Grand Army of the Republic - the organization for Union Civil War veterans - General John A. Logan issued a proclamation that "Decoration Day" should be observed nationwide and annually.^[16] It was observed for the first time on May 30 of the same year; according to folklore, the date was chosen because it was not the anniversary of a battle.^[17] According to the White House, the May 30 date was chosen as the optimal date for flowers to be in bloom.^[18

Events were held in 183 cemeteries in 27 states in 1868, and 336 in 1869. The northern states quickly adopted the holiday; Michigan made "Decoration Day" an official state holiday in 1871 and by 1890, every northern state followed suit. The ceremonies were sponsored by the Women's Relief Corps, which had 100,000 members. By 1870, the remains of nearly 300,000 Union dead had been re-buried in 73 national cemeteries, located near the battlefields and therefore mostly in the South. The most famous are Gettysburg National Cemetery in Pennsylvania and Arlington National Cemetery, near Washington.

There is some evidence that General Logan adopted his Decoration Day from the pre-existing annual Confederate Memorial Day custom that had already been in place in the South since 1866.^[20]

The preferred name for the holiday gradually changed from "Decoration Day" to "Memorial Day", which was first used in 1882.^[32] It did not become common until after World War II, and was not declared the official name by Federal law until 1967.^[33] On June 28, 1968, the Congress passed the Uniform Monday Holiday Act, which moved four holidays, including Memorial Day, from their traditional dates to a specified Monday in order to create a convenient three-day weekend.^[34] The change moved Memorial Day from its traditional May 30 date to the last Monday in May. The law took effect at the federal level in 1971.^[34] After some initial confusion and unwillingness to comply, all 50 states adopted Congress's change of date within a few years. - Wikipedia

So there you go, probably more than you wanted to know about the history of this holiday. Hopefully we will attend a parade or ceremony remembering those who have died defending freedom this weekend, or at least spend a few moments in thankful reflection remembering them… because that’s the point. That’s what it’s really about, isn’t it? Remembering those whom we loved, remembering those who died for us?

I visited France in June 2012. Among the places that we visited was the beautiful region of Normandy. The people of Normandy still remember the sacrifice of blood and of lives that was given by our young men in liberating them from the yoke of Nazi slavery.

Everywhere you go, in every little square in every village there are markers, plaques, memorials to those who fought and many who died there. Many of these local memorials are dedicated to a single soldier or platoon that died there in that particular village.

We visited Omaha Beach, where so many American and allied soldiers died on D-Day. We also visited the American cemetery at Colville Saint Laurent. The cemetery sits on the heights above the Normandy beaches. It is a beautiful place, a beautiful memorial garden where lie the remains of American soldiers that died liberating France. I wrote a piece about my experience there. You can read it here:

http://bigmike57-livinglarge.blogspot.com/2012_09_01_archive.html

It is altogether fitting to observe memorials of loved ones. It is more important, ever so more important, to observe memorials dedicated to God. The Word of God is full of memorials. God commands his people to remembrance… to remember him… to remember who he is and what he has done for us.

In Deuteronomy Moses prepares the children of Israel to enter the promised land that God would give to them. He delivers to them God’s commandments, among them are these words.

Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. 5 Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. 6 These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. 7 Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. 8 Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. 9 Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.

10 When the LORD your God brings you into the land he swore to your fathers, to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to give you—a land with large, flourishing cities you did not build, 11 houses filled with all kinds of good things you did not provide, wells you did not dig, and vineyards and olive groves you did not plant—then when you eat and are satisfied, 12 be careful that you do not forget the LORD, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery. - Deuteronomy 6:4-12

Lest we forget.

God instituted other memorial observances thru Moses so that the children of Israel would not forget what he had done for them… so they would not forget the wonders and miracles that he had accomplished in their deliverance from bondage in Egypt.

The feast of Passover called them to remember how they were passed over by the death angel. They marked their doorposts with the blood of a lamb and so were passed over by the death angel, which killed the first born of every Egyptian.

The feast of Weeks, or Pentecost reminded God’s people of their liberation from Egypt and of thanksgiving for receiving the bounty of harvest in the Promised Land.

The feast of Rosh Hashanah or the festival of blowing trumpets celebrates the day of creation and points to the coming of the Lord’s Day when trumpets will sound at His return.

Yom Kippur or the Day of Atonement is a memorial to God’s forgiveness of sin and a day of repentance.

The festival of booths or tabernacles is a remembrance of the time spent wandering in the desert by the children of Israel where they sojourned under God’s wing.

God made and commanded all of these observances, all of these Memorial Days for his people in OT times. As with all of the Old Testament, these memorials not only demonstrate God’s faithfulness and love for his people, they also point forwards in time to the coming of Christ.

The blood of the lamb in Passover.

The first fruits of Jesus resurrection on Pentecost.

Jesus Christ’s coming on the Lord’s Day, when the trumpets sound on Rosh Hashanah.

Christ’s death on the cross was the real Day of Atonement foreshadowed by Yom Kippur.

All of these were memorial days for the children of God in OT times and are memorial days for Christians today in Christ.

Today is Sunday. Today is a memorial day for the body of Christ. Every Sunday is Memorial Day for Christians… is it not? Because Jesus commanded us to remember him. Remember what he did for us. Remember how he loved us. Remember that he died for us.

How can we forget? But we do. Sometimes we do, when we get caught up in the wonders of the world, in the worries of the world. We forget. We forget that God is there, waiting… waiting for us to remember him.

God forgive us for forgetting Him. God forgive us for not remembering Him every day. God forgive us for not taking a part of Him with us wherever we go. God forgive us for not living our lives for Him, and in honor of Him. God forgive us for taking for granted our liberty, our freedom which we have because of Him. God forgive us.

Jesus said “remember me”. Don’t forget me. I’m going to go and die for you. I’m going to lay down my life for you.

I love you that much. Now you love one another, just like that.

Love one another, little children. In so doing, we are loving Christ! That’s a mystery, but it is true! The word of God proves this.

The Apostle Paul wrote to the church at Philippi… “I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.” That’s a pretty nice thing to say, isn’t it?

I thank God every time that I think of you. That’s love. That’s loving like Christ. The Apostle John wrote to the church, “We know love by this that he laid down his life for us and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren.” Then he said, “This is his commandment that we believe in the name of his son Jesus Christ, and love one another just as He commanded us.” 1 John 3

Remember to love. Remember him by loving one another. That’s our Memorial Day observance. That’s the Memorial Day custom of the church of Christ, to love one another. They will know we are Christians by our love. It’s supposed to show, isn’t it? It’s supposed to show when we are in Christ, when we are loving like Christ!

Let’s remember him today, by loving one another. Let’s obey Christ’s commandment… “Remember Me”. Remember me every day, in everything you that you do. Love me with all of your heart and all of your mind and all of your soul.

This is our memorial day, as Christians, as the body of Christ. Go and be a part of His church today, and remember him, because our Memorial Day is not just a day to remember someone who is dead. It’s a memorial to One who lives!

It is the only Memorial Day that remembers one who has died, and now lives again. It is a memorial day to remember the promise for us to live again after death. Jesus died for us. Then he defeated death for us. And he lives and reigns at the right hand of God!

Let’s remember, lest we forget.

Lest I forget Gethsemane.

Lest I forget thine agony.

Lest I forget Thy Love for me.

Lead me to Calvary.

The Song Bird

2014-05-11T08:09:00.002-07:00

It's Mother's Day and so we remember all of the blessings that we have received from our loving moms today. One of the many blessings that I received from my mom was her wonderful capacity to focus all of her attention on her child and listen to all of the questions, concerns, fears, hurts, fantasies, and absurdities of a child's heart. She has always there to listen and to respond with care, compassion and a dose of good advice. My mother also taught me a very important skill, that is to listen not only with our ears, but with our hearts... listen for God. Thanks mom. I'm still trying to be a good listener, not easy for me though.

THE SONG BIRD

I once made a pilgrimage to the Holy Lands, according to the custom of Christians across the ages. We saw many wonderful sights, straight from the pages of the Bible. We visited the Sea of Galilee, Bethlehem, Nazareth, Jericho, the Dead Sea, Jerusalem, and many other places. I had so many wonderful experiences, that it would be difficult to describe them all to you.

Perhaps my most notable experience was strolling through the streets of the Arab quarter of Old Jerusalem. Given my stature, and girth, I was soon surrounded by young Palestinian children, running on ahead of me, shouting as they ran, American Goliath! American Goliath! Or maybe it was standing atop of Herod’s Dead Sea fortress at Masada, not noticing the glares and stares directed at me by machine gun-toting Israeli soldiers. I had inadvertently worn a blue and white-checkered headdress, which I had purchased from a street vendor. I did not realize, until told so by my Palestinian tour guide, that wearing the colors of an Arab in this national shrine of Israel, was considered an offense. This place is after all, a symbol of Israel’s survival and resistance to aggression. Never again, they swear, will Masada fall. Despite my cultural ignorance and ineptitude, the Lord protected me, a humble pilgrim on my journey. I met so many people, experienced many adventures, saw many sights worth seeing. We shared many wonderful moments with friends and family, which I will not recount for you here.

No, I will not bore you with a travelogue of my journey. I will let you make your own journeys. I would like, however, to tell you of an incredible event that I experienced there in that land. I would like to tell you of the time that I felt the Lord’s touch, first in a garden, and later again on a mountain.

Of all the holy sites that we were shown, all of the gilded shrines and altars, all of the dimly lit, incense laden churches, containing the bones of dead saints… of all of these places, the only place where I truly felt the presence of God, was at a place called The Garden Tomb. Gordon’s Calvary, as it is also known, is named for a British General, Charles Gordon, who made a great contribution to the world, through his campaigns in China, and in Sudan. He freed many from tyranny and slavery during his service to the British crown. He finally gave his life in that service, and for that cause. How appropriate it is, in my mind, that this place was “discovered” by him, and bears his name.

Great controversy surrounds the sites, purported to be the places where events in the life of Jesus occurred. None is more controversial than the much-disputed location of his crucifixion and burial. Some say that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is the one true holy site. Some say that it occurred on the Mount of Olives, others say it is here, at Gordon’s Calvary. It is not important to me, whether or not this is the place where they laid Jesus after his death; after all, he only stayed for three days. No, this place is important to me for a different reason. It is the place where I felt God’s touch.

We arrived there on a tour bus, as do thousands of pilgrims every year. We were escorted into the garden, and shown the tomb hewn from the rock. We viewed the promontory rock face on the hillside, eerily shaped like the face of a skull, and we remembered the Gospels description of Golgotha, “the place of the skull”.

The grounds of this place are beautifully maintained. It is a peaceful oasis, amidst the hustle and bustle of Jerusalem, lying just Northwest of the Damascus Gate. Arrangements had been made for our tour group to hold a private communion service, so we were escorted to a secluded area of the garden grounds.

As I sat and listened to scriptures being read, and the prayers of the elders, I reflected upon the beauty of this place. Suddenly, the world around me dimmed, as I heard the song of a single bird, joyously trilling his beautiful melody towards heaven. I can’t explain to you why this seemingly inconsequential event struck me with such force. I can only describe to you its effect on me. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stiffen, and goose bumps rising on my skin. My heart fluttered, and thumped in my chest. I knew, as surely as if I had been struck by lightning, that God was there with me. It was as if he had spoken my name aloud. I glanced around at the others. No one else had noticed. No one else had heard it. I was alone in the moment.

Now I am not a seeker of signs. I seek my God through prayer, and his counsel from his Word. Neither am I a person who believes much in the supernatural. I consider myself to be a fairly level headed, rational person. But I will tell you this. I felt God with me there in that garden. He made his presence known to me there. He spoke to me, with the song of that little bird.

I know what you are thinking. That’s sounds pretty fuzzy doesn’t it, maybe even a little nutty? Certainly, it would be difficult to prove such an event with hard, empirical evidence in a court of law.

“Mr. Smith, could you describe for the court, how you were able to identify this presence that you felt? How can you be so sure that it was God? Isn’t it possible, Mr. Smith, that what you actually experienced was a random series of events, which you construed to be of a spiritual nature, given your heightened emotional state? Isn’t it much more likely that it was a mere coincidence that caused that bird to begin singing at that moment? In fact, Mr. Smith isn’t it possible that it wasn’t really a bird singing at all? Isn’t it possible that you were listening to a soundtrack, which was being broadcast through hidden speakers, to enhance the spiritual mood at this so called, Garden Tomb attraction, which you were attending?”

It would be very difficult to prove indeed, but the story doesn’t end there.

We bid farewell to Israel and traveled to Europe, where our journey eventually culminated, high in the Bavarian Alps, at a village named Oberammergau. We were there to attend their world famous passion play. This play has occurred every ten years, with very few interruptions, since the 14^th century.

During the terrible Black Plague, which swept through Europe killing many millions of people, the townsfolk of this village called an urgent meeting. At this meeting they prayed to God to save them. They prayed that if he would spare their tiny village of this dread malady, they would commemorate the life, death, and resurrection of his son, with a passion play. According to the legend, not a single man, woman, or child from the village was lost to the plague. It was truly a Passover for the people of Oberammergau. The people of this village were spared by God, and in grateful obedience, they kept their promise. So began the tradition of the Passion Play of Oberammergau. The play is produced once, every ten years. It is produced completely, and exclusively by the residents of this village. It is a great honor to be selected for the cast of this production, and cast members spend years in preparation for their portrayal of their character.

An impressive theater has been constructed for this enterprise, surrounded by the natural wonder and beauty of the mountains. The amphitheater is covered by a roof, except for the stage, which is in the open air.

The play portrays the life of Christ, through several acts, each ending in a vignette, a living portrait. Each vignette creates a living picture, as if painted by a great master, depicting some Bible scene.

Dialogue for the passion play is in German, but is easily followed by reading from a printed version, in English, French, or Italian. This is truly an international event.

The day of the play arrived, bleak, damp, and gray. Clouds shrouded the mountains surrounding this nestled village. I considered staying in my room. I was suffering greatly from traveler’s misery. The cuisine from our last tour stop in Greece had done me in. It was probably the mousaka, or maybe it was the ouzo. Anyway, I wasn’t feeling very much like sitting through a six-hour play. My mother insisted that I go, and she pulled from her magic bag, a small bottle of pills. She told me to take one, and my trotting would cease. I looked at the tiny yellow pill in the palm of my hand. I thought to myself, “I’m a pretty big guy. I’d better take two.” Well, let me tell you, I didn’t need to worry about that function for a while. In fact, I didn’t need to worry about indoor plumbing for the rest of the trip!

The play was all that it was suppose to be, and more. It was truly a captivating experience. Even though it was many hours long, I found myself lost in time, as I was drawn into the story that was portrayed, so dramatically, with such pageantry, and surrounded by a setting of such natural beauty.

Finally, the scene of the crucifixion was portrayed. Jesus, hanging upon the cross, issued his cry of anguish, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” There was not a sound to be heard in the amphitheater. At that moment, a shaft of pale sunlight broke through the clouds, and was cast upon the stage. That’s when I heard it. That same songbird that I had heard at the Garden Tomb, I heard it again! It was the same song. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck becoming stiff, and the goose bumps on my arms rising, just like in the garden. I had felt his touch again, just like in the garden. How could I hear the same bird now, thousands of miles away?

Now I don’t know much about birds. I am not familiar with the migration patterns of songbirds. Could a certain songbird migrate from the deserts of Israel to the Bavarian Alps in a matter of days? I suppose it’s possible, but not likely. Maybe it was a coincidence, but I don’t think so. No, I believe that God wanted me to know that he was there with me. I like to think that he was honoring my journey, my pilgrimage, by reaching out to me, and caressing me. Only God knows why he reached out to me. Only God knows why he sent this little bird on an errand, first to a desert garden, and then into a mountain valley to carry a message to me, gently whispering, through the song of this little bird. I don’t know why, but I thank him for it.

I don’t know why he sent his only son into the world on his errand of tender mercy. But he did. Neither do I know why he loves me, especially me. But he does, I know that he does. I will accept his will in this matter, and in all other matters.

I believe that God is with us always, but hidden from us. Sometimes, I think he slips down, close by, and whispers to us, very softly, like a father would steal a precious moment with his sleeping child, brushing a wisp of hair away from the face, lightly caressing the cheek, before slipping silently away in the darkness, leaving behind only his fragrance. I believe that my Father caressed my cheek that day in the garden, and on the mountain.

I believe that God sends us messages, according to his will, and in his own way. Don’t be surprised if God caresses your cheek with his gentle touch some day. Listen for him, watch for him. His touch is gentle, his fragrance sweet. I will also listen for his call, and wait for his touch, but whether in the garden, or on the mountain, I will never hear a songbird in the same way.

POSTSCRIPT:

I later learned from my mother, that she also heard the songbird in the garden, and on the mountain. She recognized the significance of this event, and concluded as I have, that it was a gift from God, for a mother and her child.

So I dedicate this story to my mother, who heard the songbird, and who taught me how to listen, not just with my ears, but also with my heart.

M. J. Smith

March 14, 2005

The Songbird

I sat alone in a garden,

On a misty morning of glistening dew.

Not a breath of wind stirred,

Not a voice was heard,

The world was silent, subdued.

Suddenly the stillness was broken,

By a joyful, melodious song!

A songbird was singing his greeting,

To the world, and the sky, and the dawn.

A question I bore, along with my wonder.

To whom does the songbird sing?

If my hearing, per chance did not hear him,

To whose ear would this joy, he bring?

If he were to sing, with no one near him,

Then whom would this song be for?

Who listens to this minstrel,

As he beckons to the empty wood?

Is this needless beauty wasted?

Or is there some purpose, some good,

Which drives this feathered messenger,

To deliver his greeting each morn.

What master does he serve?

As his clarion call is born.

He is heedless of the acts of men.

Proclaiming his message above the din.

Only for the moment halting his song,

Persistent, continuing after the throng,

Has died, and all again is silent.

Then begins his solo anew.

To whom is this glory directed?

If not to God, then who?

It is God for whom the bird sings.

No audience of man required.

But he shares this wonder with us,

That we might be inspired.

So thank God for the little songbird,

Who each day does his duty,

Thank God for His creation,

Filled with such delicate beauty.

MJS 3/10/05

Chocolate Gravy

2014-05-01T08:45:00.001-07:00

My Life Group (Chandler Christian Church) has just finished up a 12 week bible study on the book of Acts. The series was titled, "Unleashed - Acts That Changed The World". The theme of being unleashed for Christ was taken from Acts 8:4, "Those who had been scattered preached the word wherever they went". We learned how important it is to share our story with others.... our stories of God's power in our lives; and how important it is to share The Story... the story of Christ and his death, burial and resurrection. We practiced these principles by sharing our own stories with one another in our Life Group. I shared this story (Chocolate Gravy). It is not a story that I have told to many others, but I am going to put my money where my mouth is in being unleashed for Christ, and share it with the world. So here it is.

CHOCOLATE GRAVY

Have you ever eaten chocolate gravy? Maybe you have never even heard of chocolate gravy, much less tasted it! I hadn’t either before I married my wife. Her family is from Texas and Oklahoma. Apparently, chocolate gravy is a peculiar regional delicacy, known only to that part of the country. Chocolate gravy is served warm, over biscuits, with a pat of butter on top. It’s really a thin chocolate pudding, but because it is traditionally served on biscuits, it is called chocolate gravy. Whenever my wife’s aunt Carol came to visit, she would always make chocolate gravy for the whole family. I can still see Carol and Dean (Donna’s mom, Claudean), fussing in the kitchen, while Donna’s dad sits at the counter, giving them all kinds of unwanted advice, the kids waiting patiently in the other room for the feast to begin. If Donna’s grandmother (Mrs. Owen) made the biscuits, they were a treat all by themselves. If you have never had the opportunity to enjoy chocolate gravy and biscuits, my advice to you is to find some sweet elderly lady from Texas or Oklahoma, and ask her please, if she would make you some. You will be richly rewarded with this ultimate comfort food.

My childhood, while not overly privileged, or uncommon, was nonetheless quite idyllic. I never really wanted for anything, and in so many respects, I suffered none of the misfortunes of my friends, such as broken homes from divorce, domestic violence, or discord. But as I grew into manhood, my expectations for happiness in my life began to wane. I despaired that I would not measure up to expectations, both my own, and those of my family. By the time that I was in my mid twenties, I also began to doubt whether God was very concerned about me, or that perhaps he wasn’t there at all. I never enjoyed dating very much. I liked girls well enough, but I didn’t enjoy the games and charades involved in dating. I also began to think that I would probably never find someone to love and someone to love me back.

My grandmother died in August of 1981. She was the first loved one that I lost to the enemy… death. It was a difficult time for me. I had failed repeatedly in college, my own fault, and no one else’s. I had worked in a series of unfulfilling jobs, and I didn’t see my prospects being very bright for the future. I had a real maturity problem, and was mired in a serious pity party. What I am describing is a failure of my faith. I had begun to deny every lesson that I had been taught in Sunday school, about trusting God, and believing that he knows our needs, and is faithful to provide for us. I suffered this failure of faith alone, and in silence. I still went to church. I still sang the hymns, and helped out when asked to serve in any way. In fact, I had been appointed as a deacon. Here I was, appointed to serve the church, and to minister to the needs of the flock, and my faith was drying up inside of me like a cornhusk. I realize now that there are many in the church like I was then. Sitting in church, mouthing the words of prayers and hymns of praise, while inside, their souls are a barren wasteland, a desert of spiritual desolation. How easy it is for us to hide our spiritual poverty from one another, but not from God. He is there. We can’t see him. He has not allowed us to. But he is there. I know. I know he is there, because he answered my desperate prayer.

I sat in my bedroom one night, and I handled an old .38 revolver, and I wondered if I would not be better off just being dead. Finally, I did the thing that I should have done all along, the thing that I knew that I should do, but because of pride, and spiritual immaturity, the one thing that I had failed to do. I got down on my knees beside my bed, like I use to do each night when I was a little child, and I prayed. I prayed like a child prays, with simple urgency. I asked God to help me. I prayed for him to find a place for me in this world. I prayed for him to send someone to help me find my place in what had up to now, been a very lonely place.

A month later, my whole world changed. I met the girl who is now my wife. I knew the moment that I met her that she was the girl that I had been waiting for. I knew it as sure as I knew that the sun would come up again the next morning. I knew that God had sent her to find me, and to love me, and to save me. She stood there in front of me, a young beautiful woman, looking back at me with a rather doubtful expression. It was a strange moment. I knew, but she didn’t. I’m pretty sure that she didn’t know about God’s plans, or mine. It took a few days of desperate courting, and charming, and cajoling, for her to warm up to me, but I was sure of it from the start. I was looking at the angel that God had given to me. I was willing to do whatever was necessary to bring God’s plan, and mine, to fruition. I have often asked her if it was love at first sight for her. She answers with a good-natured deference, but I know the truth. I had to win her. God might have brought us together, but it was still up to me to win her, and win her I did. For me there was no doubt. I saw my future as clearly as a person sees a vast and distant vista after he climbs to the top of a mountain and gazes into the lands beyond. All I had to do was go forth into this new land and plant my flag, and claim it for my own, like Joshua and the children of Israel headed for the Promised Land.

I have learned to trust God finally. I have learned to wait on him. I have been tempered and tried, and refined by fire and water, hot and cold, agony and ecstasy. Some might argue about the refined part, but the process continues. I am changed, made and re-made into what God would have me be, or at least, what I have allowed him to make of me. Imagine what we could be if we could just yield to his will completely in our lives! Our resistance to his will is the only limiting factor in our lives. I still resist. I still stumble and fall along the way. I still get impatient, and mad, when I don’t get my way, like an impetuous child. But I will never deny my God again. I will never turn away from him again, and I know that he will never turn away from me.

I never expected to have as much joy and happiness as God has given to me. I didn’t expect it, because I failed to trust him. He has surprised and amazed me with the abundance of his generosity. We should not be surprised when God answers our prayers. We should not be surprised when he keeps his promises. But we are. We ask for a little, and he blows us away, with abundance, and joy, and wealth beyond measure. He heaps it upon us, “My Cup Runneth Over”. Imagine what we would receive if we asked for a lot! (Mark 11:23, Matthew 7:7-8)

If I die tomorrow, I have lived richer, and have received blessings ten times more than I could ever have imagined. Every day that I awake, and greet another day is like being in the bonus round. Paul said, “For me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” (Philippians 1:21). Someday, I am sure that I will be ready to give up this body, and this life, and gain what awaits me in heaven, but for now, every day is like chocolate gravy, sweet and rich, an unexpected delight. And despite the burdens and trials that I face in this world, I’m ready for another helping every day. Life is an indescribable delight, a rare delicacy. Don’t despair, just Trust God and taste it. Life is good. God makes it so.

I hope that there is a kitchen in heaven. I can’t imagine a home without a kitchen. I hope Aunt Carol, and Dean are stirring a pan of chocolate gravy for me when I get there. I hope they let Mrs. Owen make the biscuits. There won’t be any heart disease in heaven. Pass the butter!

Waiting On God

2013-12-24T09:38:00.001-08:00

Waiting

I have a problem with patience. It’s not my strong suit. I hate waiting in lines. I hate waiting on anything. I’m sometimes guilty of finishing people’s sentence when they are slow talkers. Patience is definitely not my thing. Nor does my patience seem to improve with age, in fact quite the opposite. The older I get, the more I struggle with waiting. The Lord still has some refining to do on me in that area. I’m no better at waiting on the Lord than I am anything else. His word is quite clear on this subject. He instructs us over and over to wait on him, to be patient and wait on his answers and his solutions. The Psalms are full of his instruction. Psalms 27:14 says, “Wait for the Lord...” plain and simple. In Psalms 130: 6 the psalmist says he waits for the Lord, “more than the watchman for the morning”. Psalms 147:11 says the Lord favors those who, “… wait for His lovingkindness”. God expects us to wait. He expects us to be patient. He will reward us if we are faithful and faith includes waiting for him… waiting for him to answer or to act in our lives. Isaiah 40 proclaims the coming of the Messiah (Holy One, vs.25) and ends with these words of comfort, “Yet those who wait for the Lord will gain new strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles, they will run and not get tired, they will walk and not become weary”.

That’s what it’s really all about, isn’t it? We want God to answer when we call, and he did. He sent his son to save us. The world waited for the coming of the Messiah, and in the fullness of time, God sent him. He sent him when the time was right, when everything was set. When all of the other pieces of the puzzle were in place, then he placed the missing piece and revealed his Son, Jesus the Christ.

I’ve been reading the Christmas story again in scripture. I love to read it again and again and look for new layers of wisdom as God tells me the story, as a father tells a child an old favorite story. In Luke 1 we read the story of the birth of John the Baptist, who would announce the coming of Christ. Luke tells us that his father and mother were righteous and faithful to God (vs. 6). His name was Zacharias and he was a Levite. She was also from the tribe of Levi and was from the lineage of Aaron (vs. 5). Luke tells us the story of God’s revelation to Zacharias. While he was performing his duties in the temple, burning incense, the angel Gabriel appeared to him and told him that God had heard his prayers, and he would have a son. Now Zacharias was old, as was his wife Elizabeth. They were well beyond the normal age for bearing children (vs. 7). How long do you suppose it had been since Zacharias had prayed for a son? If you were a man, who was married and wished to have children, you would of course pray for children, if you were a man of God. How long and how often would you pray for this… every day? How many years would you pray? I’m sure that both Zacharias and Elizabeth had prayed many hundreds of times, maybe thousands of times for many years, but now they are old, and they no longer expect to have children. They must have assumed that God didn’t want them to have children. Perhaps he was punishing them for some failure or sin in their lives. I’m fairly certain that this idea had been suggested and discussed by their friends, family and neighbors, perhaps behind their backs, perhaps to their faces. Being barren and childless would have carried with it a stigma in the society that they lived in. There was disgrace associated with being childless according to Luke (1:25), and I think we can assume that both Zacharias and Elizabeth had stopped waiting on the Lord to hear that prayer. They had given up on God in that respect, and even though they remained faithful, they no longer expected God to answer that prayer. So what a shock and surprise it must have been when God announced to them that He had heard their prayers, prayers long forgotten, but not forgotten by God. He had answered their prayers in his own good time, when the time was right, and now they would be parents. Not only would they be parents, but their son would be a prophet, and the prophet who would announce the coming of the Messiah, in the spirit of Elijah (vs. 17).

We can’t really blame poor Zacharias for his failure of belief, for which he was temporarily struck dumb by Gabriel (vs. 20). Haven’t we done the same thing? Haven’t we doubted God? Now, I realize that angels probably haven’t made any announcements to you lately, nor have they visited me. But we are still guilty of giving up on God at times. Not only have we stopped praying, like Zacharias, sometimes we have even forgotten what it was that we had prayed for. But God does not forget. Nothing slips his mind. He hears our prayers, and he will answer them, in his own good time, in the fullness of time, when the time is right.

What are you praying for these days? What did you use to pray for? What did you pray for when you were young, and life was full of promise, and everything seemed possible? What did you pray for then, but you don’t now? Now that you are old, and maybe a little disappointed in the way that things turned out. Maybe you never met that Mr./Ms. Wonderful. Maybe you didn’t make it to the pros. Maybe you didn’t earn your first million before you were thirty. Maybe you haven’t earned your first million at all, and it doesn’t look likely, unless that lottery ticket pays out. Have you given up on God? Did your particular wish get lost in the shuffle? Did God forget? Worse yet, maybe he just doesn’t care.

Please, please don’t give up on God. Just you wait. He cares. He cared enough to send his Son to save us. “But when the fullness of time came, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman…”- Galatians 4:4. “”And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth”- John 1:14. He doesn’t forget, even if we do. He remembers every prayer that we have ever prayed, and he keeps them all. He wants us to have every good thing that we need. He will not fail us or forget us or accidently leave us behind, or leave us out. He can make anything happen that he wants to happen, and he wants good things to happen for us.

Luke 1 has another very important lesson to teach us on this subject. The angel Gabriel also appears to Mary, and tells her that she will conceive (miraculously) and give birth to a child, and her child will be the Messiah (vs. 28-35). Gabriel then informs Mary that even her cousin Elizabeth is pregnant (vs. 36). Her cousin Elizabeth, who was too old to have a baby, was also going to have a baby because of God’s power, and then God (thru Gabriel) tells Mary something very, very important. He says, “For nothing will be impossible with God” (vs. 37). Nothing is impossible with God! Mary needed to hear those words, and so do we. God is good and faithful and he loves us and he doesn’t forget and he can do anything. Nothing is impossible with God. We need to write those words on our hearts. We need to get up every day and say them to ourselves and to those around us, because they are true, and we need to live our lives like we believe that they are true.

We need to know him (thru his Word and Spirit). We need to follow him (thru his Son). We need to obey him. We need to trust him, and finally, the hardest part… at least for me, we need to wait for him. We need to wait for him in our lives and in our faith and in our prayers.

He’s waiting for us too… imagine that! God is waiting for you and for me. He’s standing close by, waiting. The words of the old hymn tell us this.

Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling,
Calling for you and for me;
See, on the portals He’s waiting and watching,
Watching for you and for me.

Come home, come home,
You who are weary, come home;
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!

You see, God has given us a choice. He wants us to choose him. He wants us to choose to love him and obey him. He won’t act in our lives unless we first choose him. If we don’t want him to be in our lives, then he won’t force it. He will allow us to be on our own. But the invitation stands, as long as we live and breath, God is waiting and watching for us.

The bible tells us that God is waiting for us too. Revelation 3:20 says, “Behold I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears my voice and opens the door; I will come into him, and will dine with him, and he with me”.

The bible says, in Zechariah 10:8, “I will whistle for them to gather them together, For I have redeemed them”. Like a shepherd whistles for his sheep in the darkness. He’s calling us. He’s waiting for you and for me, to answer his call. He wants to be with us. He wants to know us. He came a long way to find us in the darkness. We don’t have to wait anymore. We just have to open the door. We just have to answer his call. He’s waiting.

Intersections

2013-01-09T08:09:00.003-08:00

I believe that you can make a good case for the following proposition: God uses people in his plans and purposes. If this proposition is true, then we should be prepared for whatever God would have us do, and whatever he has planned for us.

I believe that he brings certain people together at certain times, in certain places, and he works through them. Now I don’t mean that these events are necessarily world-shaking events, but neither do I think that we are in a very good position to judge the significance of these events when they occur. We should treat every intersection, every chance meeting, every seemingly mundane event as if it is an opportunity, because it is. Every time we are brought together with other people, every time we meet a stranger, every time we meet a friend, or loved one, we have an opportunity to affect them for good. We have an opportunity to fill a need, to encourage, to lend, to love. We have an opportunity for God to work through us, if we will let him.

It sort of boggles the mind to think of all of the billions of people in the world, milling about, bumping into each other, and heedlessly going about their business like a bunch of ants. But we are not ants. We are created in his image. He is seeking our participation in his purpose, and in his will. He is not in time, as we are. We live in a linear reality. If you think about it, all of our analogies about life involve moving forward along a straight line. Life is like a road, or a train. We are constantly moving forward; looking back at the past, and trying to peer forward into the future, and always stuck right in the middle, in the present, in the moment. But God sees it all at once, the whole parade of human history. He knows where we are headed, even if we don’t. He knows we are going to stub our toe on the dresser, in the dark, next Thursday. He knew it a millennium before we were born.

God works his will in the world in three dimensions: people, place, and time. He creates a time, in a place, with a group of people that he has brought together, to accomplish some work, or to move his purpose in a certain direction, or sometimes…just for pleasure, just for fun! Who says God is not concerned with pleasure and with fun? Who says that pleasure and fun are not legitimate reasons for God’s concern, and are not important in God’s creation?

I call this convergence of people, time, and place, an Intersection. Can you think of any intersections in your life? Can you think of any such convergence of certain people, in a certain place, at a certain time, coming together, according to God’s purpose? The Bible is full of examples of these intersections. Human history in general is full of these intersections, but the purest examples of intersections that come to my mind are the family, and the church.

Who doesn’t believe that God had a hand in bringing them together with their true love? I know this in my own heart, as well as I know anything. There is no doubt in my mind, that God answered my prayers, and the prayers of my wife. In the fullness of time, when we were both prepared for it, he brought us together. Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to imply that we are not capable of steering the wrong way at these intersections. God allows us to exert our own wills, in all matters of the world. So his purpose is not always served when an intersection occurs. Often a wreck occurs instead! God could make us do his will, of course. But he doesn’t. He allows us to choose, and sometimes our choices negate his will and purpose, often resulting in unrequited love, or wars, or other similar human tragedies.

The church is a perfect example of an intersection, if ever there was one. What a wonder and a joy it is to watch God bring people together, in a place of his choosing, at a time of his choosing, knowing that the seeds have been planted for the harvest of the gospel to grow! What a powerful force is the will of God, when people all work and pray in harmony to achieve it! And what a fragile force is the will of man, when we take our eyes off the cross and begin to seek our own.

What an opportunity we have when God brings us to an intersection! What an exciting thing it is, to realize the potential for affecting the lives of others for Christ. What an honor and a privilege it is to be an instrument in the hand of God, in the building of his Kingdom.

We can prepare for these intersections. We can prepare ourselves by praying for God to use us, by praying for his will to be done in our lives. We can prepare ourselves by studying his Word, to be used as a beacon, a lamp for those that we meet at that intersection. We can prepare ourselves by acquiring a loving heart, a God seeking heart, a need seeking heart, a serving heart. We can prepare ourselves by seeking his will, and watching for the next intersection. It’s up ahead, just around the next bend. Who will you meet there? Jesus will be there, and you. God only knows who else will be there, and only God knows where it will lead, or what you will be called to do. Prepare yourself.

M.J. Smith

My Home Town

2012-12-25T07:21:00.003-08:00

Well, it's Christmas Day. We have finally tied up all of the packages with bows and finished the baking and all of the other making and it's time to settle down and just look and listen, maybe read the paper, call some friends and family in far away places, watch the kids or grand kids playing with their new toys, maybe have one more piece of that fudge or fruit-cake.

What a crazy ride it is every year, just getting to this day, and then it is all over, and we put away the ornaments and take down the lights and forget about the baby Jesus until next year. I hope that's not the case with you. I hope that you will keep Jesus in your life through the winter and spring and through summer and fall. I hope that you will follow him all the way down the dusty road... through the Judean hills into Galilee and back again to Judea and then finally up to Jerusalem for Passover and out there to that lonely hill called Golgotha. I hope you will wait for him outside of that borrowed tomb and rejoice in his Resurrection! You can follow him through God's Word. If you read a few chapters every day you can read through the whole bible in a year. You can follow him in the Holy Spirit if you will believe in him and be obedient in christian baptism.You can follow him through Faith and fellowship with the body of Christ. You can follow him all of the way home, if you just choose to stay with him and follow him wherever he leads you, because if you follow him, he will lead you home... to the only true home that we have.

I wrote this poem one day after reading another poem, a much greater poem by a much greater poet. My humble poem was inspired by G.K. Chesterton's "House Of Christmas" (You can read his wonderful poem on my 12/9/12 post on this same blog). Christmas is about going home isn't it? Christmas isn't very joyful without home and hearth and loved ones near. Christmas is about being home. Ultimately, that's what this whole life that we live is about... finding a home. Chesterton says it so well:

To an open house in the evening,

Home shall all men come,

To an older place than Eden,

And a taller town than Rome.

To the end of the way of the wandering star,

To the things that cannot be and that are,

To the place where God was homeless,

And all men are at home.

The trick is figuring out how to get home again... how to find our way back home, to our "home town". The answer of course is simple, just follow Jesus. Simple, but not so easy... huh? Merry Chrstmas, y'all. Here's hoping and praying you find your way home thru the darkness. You're gonna need a light.

The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: They that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined. - Isaiah 9:2

MY HOME TOWN

In my hometown nobody’s homeless.

There’s rooms galore, everybody’s got jobs.

No orphans, no lonely, no mobs.

In my hometown no one goes hungry.

There’s feasts everyday, and sweets a plenty.

Nobody is in pain and nobody lies.

Nobody is bewildered and nobody cries.

There are no cops, cause there’s no robbers.

There’s no regulators, cause there’s no need.

Everyone lives in harmony,

No hatred, no lawsuits, no greed.

I aint never been there. I aint never seen it.

But I know there’s a place for me there.

My future is won, see I know the boss’s son.

His Word and his promise I bear.

Sounds pretty good, now don’t it?

Why don’t you come along?

I’ve got his word on it,

And he’ll never steer you wrong.

Don’t waste your time looking for it,

Because it’s a place beyond time and space.

It’s on a distant shore, in another land,

A place of majesty, grand.

There’s just one way to get there,

And it’s a long hard journey.

You can’t buy a ticket,

Nor can you work your way,

And even if you sold all you had,

The fare’s too much to pay.

The road is narrow and steep,

Rocky and rough, thru mists dark and deep.

A rough wooden cross marks the way.

It shows us the toll’s been paid.

There is no win without cost,

Our victory’s won thru his sacrifice made.

And we are to follow and bear our own crosses,

Planting them where we are told.

Helping our fellow along the way,

The weary, the young, and the old.

The fork to the left looks easier, straighter.

The fork to the right, less dangerous, lighter.

But keep to the narrow way,

Enter friend by the straight gate,

And you will win your prize one day.

One day, over a rise, beyond the last hill,

Steeples and spires in a golden vale,

And we will arrive at the gates of pearl,

Trumpets will blow, and banners unfurl,

Angels parading, legions of millions,

Creatures of wonder, heavenly minions,

Announcing our coming to the Lord’s host.

Where the meek rule, and the least are most.

Burdens will be lifted, backs unbending,

All weariness, pain and fear, ending.

And we will be clothed in robes of white,

Crowns will be placed,

Radiant, shining, cleansed in light.

And we will live by a glassy sea.

And God will wipe away our tears.

Eternal rapture it will be.

Forever in his presence near.

Together, forever, you and I.

Beyond the rainbows,

Beyond the sky,

Lies my hometown.

MJS

1/16/09

The Coming

2012-12-24T08:06:00.000-08:00

May The Lord bless your gatherings this Christmas Eve. May his Spirit abide with you. May he watch over your coming and going in safe journeys. May his light illuminate the darkness of this fallen world in which we reside for now. May he provide plenty amidst famine. May he provide healing amidst sickness. May he mend the broken-hearted. May he bring forgivness amidst the hatred. We thank you Lord for coming and we joyously await your reappearing.

The Coming

A cold winters night,

A strange heavens light,

An uncharted star,

A beacon, so bright.

A backwater town, forgotten by all,

Save those who remember, those who hear,

The ancient voice of the prophet’s call.

Stars glisten,

Brilliant, shining.

Angels listen,

Poised, pining,

Ready to rush,

Terrible beauty,

Waiting and watching,

Sentinels duty.

Shepherds waking,

Startled, quaking.

Hearts pounding,

Chests heaving,

Worshipping,

Bowing,

Hearing,

Believing.

The stillness is broken,

A child cries.

Satan shudders,

Knows his doom,

Regrets his lies.

A Child is born,

A Son is given,

The Son of man,

The King of Heaven.

Immanuel,

Come to save us.

Jesus child,

The gift God gave us.

MJS

December, 2007

Mary's Song

2012-12-23T14:08:00.000-08:00

A lullaby for thee I sing,

Whose ears have heard heavens voices ring.

A manger low for thee to lie,

Whose hands have wrought the earth and sky.

The angels look in awe and wonder,

That God has sent his son down yonder.

Oh what wonder now I feel!

That God has sent his son to heal,

The wounds of sin, the souls of men.

MJS

12/92

God Loves you, Merry Christmas!

2012-12-22T17:15:00.004-08:00

I'd like to tell you a story about a very special person. For the sake of the story, we will just call her "Susie".

Susie has had a hard row to hoe. She is a single mom. She has some physical disabilities. She is blessed with a loving mother, but is from a fractured family. She is well acquainted with poverty. She has struggled with sin in her life, including chemical dependency, among other things.

Despite these challenges Susie is blessed beyond measure. She is blessed because she is a disciple of Christ. She is a living example of the love of Christ and what it is and what it does in the world, and what it means to call yourself a Christian. She is also a teacher... not because she is a biblical scholar or a great preacher, but because she shows the love of Christ in her life. That's the most important kind of teaching in the world. Edgar Guest said, "I'd rather see a sermon than hear a sermon". By that he meant, I'd rather see someone living Christ than talking about Christ. The bible tells us to be "doers of the Word" (James 1:22). That's what Susie is. She is a doer of the Word. She is a doer of Christ.

Let me tell you why this is true. Susie is a member of a church. Sometimes she has trouble making ends meet and so now and then her church family provides some help to her. A while ago her church family gave her some gift cards to buy food and other stuff at some local stores. One day Susie was at the store buying some things for her family and when she was done she walked outside and on her way to the car she spies a person in the parking lot. It's not important to describe this person. It's not important to describe all of the signs that presented themselves to Susie. Suffice it to say that what Susie saw was a person who was in need, a person who needed help. A brother/sister in need (which is to say, a stranger in need). So what did Susie do? She reached into her pocket and she pulled out one of the gift cards that she had received from her church family, and she handed it to this person in need and she said, "God loves you, Merry Christmas!".

Now I want you to think about that for a minute. This girl didn't have enough money for her own family, but she gave of her wealth to a stranger! She didn't have a surplus of wealth to give away, but she had something more important. She had a wealth more important than money. She had Faith! Her faith in Christ resulted in an outpouring of agape love, which resulted in her sharing this gift. A gift of true love. Now no one knows the impact of her gift, no one that is, except the person who received it and God. Susie's faithfulness may have had an impact far beyond the few dollars that were received by that stranger. Who knows what affect that love gift and those words of encouragement had on that life, at that moment in time? God knows. He knows, because he works through us to do good in the world. He works through us to show Christ to those who are still in darkness.

Now it isn't much of a hardship for most of us to give gifts to those that we love, and we don't mind giving gifts of charity to those in need, through the office, or through church. We hear the bell ringers and we drop a few coins into the little red pot when we come out of the store, and we feel good about what we have done. But what if we decided to give of our wealth... to really give to those that God presents to us. What kind of difference might we make in the world if we really gave of our treasure? What a difference could we make if we decided to give like Susie did! Jesus makes note of this kind of giving. The Gospel of Mark tells the story of Jesus' observing and commending this kind of sacrificial giving by the widow in the temple (Mark 12:41-44). If a "widow's mite" can be used of God to make much good in the world, imagine what God would make of our gifts, if we would just give them. Imagine what good would be done in the world if our faith were as mighty as the faith of the great ones... like the widow, like little Susie.

Give to a stranger and then tell him, "God loves you, Merry Christmas!"

Give a gift this Christmas. Give of your wealth. Give of your time and talent. Give without expecting anything back. Give without anyone knowing. Give a gift like he gave to you... like he gave to me.

Christmas Without Cathy

2012-12-21T12:18:00.001-08:00

I lost a really good friend about ten years ago. I still think of her often. I tend to think of loved ones past during Christmas. This one's for you, Cathy.

Christmas will be a little dimmer, a little less joyful for me this year, since I lost a good friend. Cathy loved Christmas and all that goes with it. She loved to laugh and sing and talk… maybe even gossip a little. She loved late night television shopping on the Home Shopping Network. She loved good food, good music and good books. She loved life.

Her humor and cheer were infectious. When Cathy laughed, everyone laughed. It was simply irresistible. I often came to see her, with the intent of cheering her up, to minister to her, if you will. I would usually leave feeling a little guilty, knowing that I was the one who had benefited most.

She was the bravest person that I have ever known. She refused to be defeated by disease, or suffering, or lost freedom of movement. She knew the true value of things that I take for granted every day. She woke up, faced her situation, and lived her life every day with love, courage, and vitality, in spite of the difficulty and the pain.

Most people approach the age of 40 with some degree of trepidation. Cathy considered it a personal victory. Every day of life was a new record for her, a personal best, as they say in the world of athletics.

I know that I shouldn’t be sad, because Cathy isn’t here to see another Christmas with me. I can’t help it. I miss her. It helps to know that she is seeing her first Christmas in Heaven. I hope that I can share it with her some day. I can’t imagine what glories are present there to see. I’m sure that Cathy is seeing them all, experiencing the unimaginable delights. I have no doubt that she has joined the choir.

After she has rested a while, I think God will call Cathy to him. I think he might say, “Cathy, I have a very important job for you.” “I want you to teach the angels to laugh.” No one could be more qualified for the job. Only someone who has suffered can truly be joyful. Maybe that was her secret, Lord knows she suffered so. When I think of her though, I remember her cherubic smile, her sprightly humor, and her laugh. I can still hear it.

Yea, I think the angels are in good hands with Cathy as their instructor. I wonder what it sounds like, when an angel laughs?

MJS

12/13/02

Rest For the Weary

2012-12-20T11:43:00.003-08:00

Christmas is coming and we sing the old favorite carols again. One of my favorites is, “It Came Upon A Midnight Clear”. It tells of the angels singing on that night when Jesus was born in Bethlehem. Wouldn’t you love to have heard that angel chorus? I wonder what it sounds like when angels sing? One day we will hear them.

My favorite verse of that old carol says,

And ye, beneath life’s crushing load,

Who’s forms are bending low,

Who toil along the climbing way

With painful steps and slow,

Look now! For glad and golden hours

Come swiftly on the wing

O rest beside the weary road,

And hear the angels sing!

Jesus came to heal creation of all infirmity, to heal it of sin, to heal it of death. In Revelation 21:5 He declares, “Behold I make all things new”. No more tears, no more pain.

Isaiah 40 says, “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.”

Let us renew our strength in the Lord, as we remember the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ the Messiah, who died for us, and who lives again and sits at the right hand of God.

Let us shake off our weariness and climb on, in the hope of the unseen promise. Let us be still and listen for the angels voices singing.