Back Pew Silence

The wind blows!

2004-09-03T17:21:00.000-07:00

It's been a windy day here today. The leaves on the trees in my yard are twitching around in delightful movement as God tickles them with His breath. The pears are shaking around with juiciful fullness and some of them decided to plunge to their destiny and remind me that God provides in a myriad of ways that we sometimes fail to see because our blinders of life's pressures block us from seeing His daily work around us.

My wife, Barbara, is cooking pies and cupcakes in the kitchen for one of her social organization's booth at a local weekend community celebration. The house is filled with the sensuous fragrances of God's fruits of labor being diversified into sustenance for others to enjoy.

Meanwhile, many are anxious about the hurricane coming to Florida and potentially careening its way of devastation into their weekend plans. In Russia, the souls of her children are rising to the One who created them in love and eradicated by the whirlwind of real evil that permeates the hearts of those who know not what they do.

Also, today, a friend loaned us a copy of "The Passion of Christ" to watch tonight or tomorrow in the leisure of our schedule for the next day or so.

I'm already crying--even before I plug it into the VCR.

Not having yet seen it either at the theater or at home, I'm uncomfortable prior to viewing the film. All of what I've read about it has primed me for emotional spurts that will cry out because of the Savior's agony suffered for the winds of darkness that blow through our hearts and actions.

Today's news still speaks of why He went through what He did for us. What a wretched people we are within the depths of our being. Those who don't see the depth of their own evil continue to make it extremely rough for those who walk a different line of life within themselves.

They are part and parcel of the winds of adversity that blow across our history and leave millions in destroyed paths of dreams and hopes. They have become spiritual hurricanes that leave paths of havoc among the spiritual habitations of others.

Those who actually can envision and recognize the depth of wretchedness and snuff the movement towards further evil within themselves are the ones who start a revolution of lighting a candle in the darkness for all those who live, breathe, and move around them.

They then see God in the wind around them. They see love instead of hate. They see others as more important than themselves and their former selfish agendas. They see hope rather than futility all around them.

Instead of the sacrifice of children's lives for their evil thoughts, they prefer a pear falling from a tree as a sacrifice from God for their well-being and needs.

The longsuffering of God is in the tickle of the tree leaves in my yard as He is in the Florida coastline and the Russian gymnasium.

I cry tears of joy for where I geographically sit and tears of sorrow for those areas going through another set of circumstance at this moment.

Watching "The Passion" will remind me of the same, I'm sure. As I watch, though, it will be important for me to remember that Christ actually went through the horror of His last few hours and felt all of the pain, hurt, and rejection that befell Him in those moments of dying for the salvation of a sinful and evil world.

I prefer a God who knows my pain and suffering through real experience rather than one who could only talk about it. When I actually do see the depth of my own wretchedness, it brings tears of sorrow to my eyes. When I see what Jesus went through because of my condition and I also see why He went through what He did, it brings me tears of joy that He provided me a way to overcome the hurricanes of my own listing spirit.

One of the messages of the Cross is that we do not bear our burdens alone. In return, we are to bear one another's burdens. There's a lot of burdens to bear today.

Barbecuing a Sacred Cow!

2004-09-01T16:56:00.000-07:00

After spending so many years of gathering ideas, theories, and facts, I find that as I get chronologically older, I spend more time discarding some of the fruitless items I've clung to and boiling it all down to some truths that continue to stick no matter the circumstance or incident.

As a youngster in faith many years ago, I was taught that if I believed correctly, then life would flow with special blessings and I would reap the harvest of the good in the world as a result. I haven't always found this to be true as I look back on the years I've travelled since.

As I read the great "Faith" chapter of Hebrews 11, I see that many blessings did flow to those mentioned in the first 35 verses. But from the 36th verse on, there have been many faithful who did not receive the same in return as those mentioned earlier. Tis true that the promises not yet seen by all of them are available in the long run, but some were sawn in half, wandered in the deserts, stoned to death, imprisoned and scourged, slain by the sword, destitute, afflicted, and tormented for their faith.

Grace was provided to all even though each of their trials were different in form. God also provided something better for all of them in the end.

So, I have to burn up the sacred cow taught to me that when God's in His Heaven, all is right with the world. Those brave believers mentioned in the 36th verse on certainly didn't find an alright world for themselves as they went into death and abandonment for their faith.

From the ashes of my barbecuing of this sacred cow, I do see that what is more important throughout it all is the maintaining of a strong faith in God's promises whether life is good or evil in actual experience.

It really emphasizes the statement made by Jesus that the world hates Him. That's one truth that remains true no matter how many times one turns it over on the barbecue spit and tries to burn it into oblivion.

Although many of us in the Western Hemisphere enjoy the ease of going to Sunday service decked out in our Sunday best or go to our coffeehouse meeting in casual dress to discuss God's blessings, there are many in other parts of the world who are being sought out and slain for their same faith in God's blessings.

Some of us live in comfort while others are going through "tribulation" for the same promise to us in the end.

As I carry the carcass of my burnt sacred cow to its final resting place, I pray for those who are still going through the kinds of horrors that the 36th and 37th verses of Hebrews 11 tell us of how it will be for some of us who turn to God for Truth.

On a perspective scale, I'm fortunate compared to those dying for their present faith. Although I rant and rail at times about how difficult life is for me, God has blessed me more than I realize.

May the Lord continue to "grill" me in His ways!

Lessons from a false god

2004-08-31T16:28:00.000-07:00

I have a brother who returned from Viet Nam years ago with a Purple Heart, a Bronze Star, and a monkey on his back. He came back with a worship of a false god in the form of a drug. That drug god is his life and he serves him every day in order to alleviate the nightmares from seeing too much of life's dark side.

He gives allegiance to his god by accepting him into his body and soul and letting this god take over for the rest of the day so that he can feel as if he is okay for the moment. My brother accepts the highs and the lows of his daily excursions as a payoff in worship to this false form of deity.

He seeks his god every day. He accepts that his god will provide relief for him. He knows that his god is always available if he looks in the right circles. In the rare moments when his god seems to have gone away, my brother knows that eventually he will show up again and give him the solace he thinks he finds in him.

My brother suffers at times for his god. He craves his god when times are hard and his god appears to have left him in a bad spot. He goes through withdrawals when his god is not there for him; but when his god shows up finally, my brother lights up in a kind of supposed joy after his "answer" comes and enters into his existence once more.

My brother fears no evil as a result. He accepts the "bad" that comes along with the "good" that he rationalizes is there for him. I've seen him walk through the valley of the shadow of death on more than one occasion with no hint of insecurity or loss.

I, on the other hand, worship a "True" God. If you substitute my version of God in the above paragraphs for my brother's god, I am to approach my God in similar manner.

Although one leads to life and the other leads to death, both of our deities speak to us in terms that we both accept as our situations at present. There are obvious differences, though. My God loves my brother more than he realizes at the moment; his god doesn't care one way or the other. My God died for him while he is yet in his "far off" venture; his god will eventually kill him.

My God is Eternal and Everlasting; his god is temporary in relief. My Deity speaks of hope; his speaks of illusionary pretense. My God wants to move me beyond death; his god will bring him to death and then stop there.

If there's any lesson I might be able to apply to my own walk with my God of choice in this comparison, it is that I continue to be as sincere in my walk with Him that my brother is with his. He puts out great energy to find and hold his god within his daily grasp.

May I do the same with mine. I pray daily for my brother.

It's scary to change the channel sometimes!

2004-08-30T15:57:00.000-07:00

When I take the beam out of my own eye and focus on what I really am in essence, it's scary to also see that I have the capacity to be good---much more good than what my "comfortable self" wants to acknowledge at times.

With that "good" comes a disruptive idea that I then must do something with it towards others more than towards myself. This message seems to be contrary to what I've been taught in society to be a worthy one.

It's so much easier for me to hang onto the "bad" I see in me and make it a center of focus to which my life can revolve around and gain "meaning" to my walk in life. We all like sympathy from others towards our misfortunes and circumstances. It makes us important for the moment. It feeds the "self" that doesn't want to move beyond what we deem as something that gives us definition.

What if, by seeing the dichotomy of good and evil within myself, I then become closer to my true being rather than lying to myself about my current "self's" pretense of being real?

If I then decide to see this new definition of "self" as true and correct, I then am put in a position of forgiving you for the motes you carry around. I have to rise up to another way of living that isn't "comfortable" right now in my present condition.

I'd have to call a partial truce with you and surrender my self-pity, anger, hypocrisy, and finger-pointing. This new "good" I see would require me to act in good favor towards your own "true self." I'd have to do acts that would possibly break through your own "comfortable self" and assist you in seeing another viewpoint about all of us who walk together in the community of humanness.

It's only because of recognizing the beam in my own eye that I can see the mote in yours. That beam I carry requires so much more forgiveness than does your mote. Forgiveness, Humility, Faith, and Trust cleans me out to where I then see a more-defined picture of the "good" in me that can then be projected and acted upon towards you.

Maybe the reason some of us do not move towards a clearer picture of our true standing in God's eyes is that we would then have to come out of our own Egypt and work in conjunction towards each other in a spirit of comraderie about what our true situation is. We would have to carry each others burden even in the wilderness and share manna on a daily basis rather than to hoard it for own needs---something TV commercials don't expound on very much.

I notice that there isn't a hole in our body that we don't stick something into--based on TV commercial philosophy. It keeps me entrenched into the idea of "comfortable self" and constantly reinforces a diversion from looking to another way of living life. Maybe that way of living 24/7 is an "evil" that deters me from experiencing the "good" that is also within me. It paralyzes me from looking to those scary thoughts that I may be actually worth more than I realize at the moment.

I've become accustomed to being brainwashed by the media messages all around me. It's time to become enmeshed into the "other message" that's also around me. Love permeates the Universe and spreads itself into a glory that is seen by those who want to see it.

Lord, please let me grasp that other definition that seems to be so scary at times. Let me remove myself from "self" and enter into your "True Self." Teach me to trust in your vision much more than my own.

In other words, help me to change the channel!

He who has led will lead!

2004-08-28T16:23:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I have to keep in perspective that the jug of love that God pours on all of us is an endless jug that never stops flowing. I have to also remember that I am not the jug--I am the riverbed that He continues to pour into.

As a tree planted by the waters of the river, when my leaves begin to wilt, my roots need to drink deep of the sustenance He provides through His endless pursuit to let me know that I am in His spiritual environment and worthy to be quenched by His outpouring.

When I hear only silence after prayer, maybe He's providing me a lesson to trust in Him. Maybe, also, He's showing me the virtue of His longsuffering. It could be, too, that He is teaching me patience as the silence unfolds itself towards the eventual progression of His answer for me in due time.

That silence sometimes can ferment within me the desire to want to pull up my roots and it creates the onset of wilting leaves because of my lack of trust at times and my impatience in wanting an answer now.

It shows my disbelief in His longsuffering manner with me. The "I" in me wants immediate results and directions and is analogous to a "fast-food" prayer request that hasn't time to wait very long for the seven course meal around the corner.

When I read the Book of His interaction with the world, I see that He who led will always lead. He who delivered will always deliver. He who loved will always love. He who listens always provides an answer.

Like the dead sponge that gave its life up and fulfilled itself by giving the Savior a last drink before His death on the Cross, I must also give my empty self to Him for His fulfillment.

In return, He continues to fill the riverbed of my life with His endless flow of rejuvenating Love.

In the background of my silence after prayer, I hear the torrent of watery love coming from the clouds that are above me.

He is still leading the way!

Battling Ungrace!

2004-08-26T17:07:00.000-07:00

I'm going through a really difficult time of pressures from ungrace lately as the result of a terrible situation from almost 25 years ago. There's nothing I can do to change the outcome, although it's been behind me now for a long time.

The good thing about it all, though, is that it pushes me closer and closer to God for any kind of peace within myself. God hangs around social outcasts and social lepers and gives them a second chance while those with stones in hand scream out for separation.

Even though I was eventually found to be not guilty of the situation through following the court's direction, I'm still going through repercussions. As a result, I've lost any trust in the justice system and those who keep changing the rules to fit their own political agendas.

May the Lord give me strength to carry on in the responsible and lawful manner that I have been doing for the last 2-plus decades.

A Clay Man's observation

2004-08-25T16:43:00.000-07:00

In looking back at patterns in my life, I see that in instances to where I was the most broken and contrite in spirit during situations that were way beyond my capacity to influence or build any actions towards solving the problem at hand, that is when God moved in and solved the dilemma for me.

Answers and solutions seemed to come out of nowhere at the time. On the other hand, when I still had what I considered to be a say in the situation or a "workable" way out of my own efforts, many of the problems were not resolved in what I would consider as satisfactory and fulfilling resolutions.

This is not to say that I couldn't solve some of the minor situations by myself, but, the bigger and more overwhelming circumstances have been ones that I could see no effort on my part as being capable of whittling the present dilemma into any kind of proper tackling.

It tells me that when I get into the proper position of relying solely on God for answers, He delivers. When I get out of myself and into Him, He takes over.

That, to me, is what prayer is in essence---getting out of me and my problems and into Him.

Potters do so much better at creating than clay does.

I'm 46 and holding---A Satire!

2004-08-23T15:35:00.000-07:00

The next time someone calls me a "turkey," I'm going to take it as an extremely high compliment and an indicator that my evolutionary process is coming along just fine.

You see, as a human being, I have 46 chromosomes that genetically define me, but if I were a turkey, I'd have 82 chromosomes to make up my structure. This increase in chromosomes would verify that, as a turkey, I have evolved beyond the mere 46 chromosomes that make up us simple human beings.

Since the evolution theory would support the idea that living matter becomes more complex as time goes on, these additions in chromosomes would be the end result of millions of years of experimenting to increase complexity in living organisms.

In fact, if I could just add 2 more chromosomes to my present genetic structure, I'll be able to move up to the levels of a chimpanzee and a tobacco plant. Both of these two different items have 48 chromosomes each.

With the help of a Past Life Counselor, I went way back to a long time ago when I had only 14 chromosomes and I was a garden pea. My dreams at that time were to add more size to myself and become fiercer in the world. After all, being a helpless little garden pea wasn't going to get me very far in the struggle to dominate the environment around me.

Through time, though, I somehow added 4 more chromosomes for a total of 18 and I became a head of lettuce.

It made me feel a whole lot better about myself as a result--as you can probably imagine. I was bulkier and could claim more space for myself. It was a very dizzy experience getting there, though, because when I got to 16 chromosomes, the halfway point to becoming a head of lettuce, I turned into a honeybee for awhile.

That was definitely an experience, believe me! I was larger than my old green pea self and had a lot more movement, for sure, but I really wanted to bulk out and be more intimidating in the garden I grew up in.

They say "where there's a will, there's a way," so I kept up the struggle to become higher in chromosomal form and I eventually did reach my goal.

As time went on, I got tired of being lettuce and wanted to carry forth a new vision for the world by becoming even more fierce in form. I had intellectually evolved within myself to the point where I realized that lettuce really wasn't going to take over the world by storm.

I had a revelation that centuries down the road, my present form would be rounded up and destroyed in the gulags of the salad bars in the future. I saw this as weakness in the years to come--to be subjected to cannibalization that would one day approach my people.

I utilized all my resources both within and without my very being until I evolved to where I was now a creature with 32 chromosomes. I was in a double bind at this point, though. I had the choice here to either become an alligator, who was definitely intimidating and bold even to this present day, or I could become an onion.

Although not very large in physical structure, an onion can make the world cry out in pain with the biting and pungent spirit it releases to those who try to peel its soul from protective layers forming it.

Some of my ancestors combined the two distinct attributes of the onion and the alligator and have remained, even to this day, in that same combination of unity. This explains why some people cry when a wild alligator is chasing them in a swamp or a bayou.

Those millions of years it took for me to get to the 46-chromosome level and become a human being seemed to go fast when I looked back on it. With the help of my Past Life Counselor, I could also see that there are more complex organisms around me who are light-years ahead of my present status.

I guess, as a human being, the theory of evolution we humans created for ouselves just doesn't support our seniority and top-of-the-rung status these days. As science keeps getting further into the secrets of the universe, it appears there are many more creatures around us who have added much more chromosomal structure to their inner workings than we humans can really accept in comparison.

I've been taught for years than an amoeba is a simple organism and falls back to the end of the line when it comes to the history of early life beginnings on Earth. But it's now known that amoebas have 50 chromosomes in their genetic makeup. That's 4 more than us Homo Sapien rulers of the planet.

I don't know if I'll be able to handle the idea of moving forward four chromosomes in advancement and turning into an organism that I've always looked at as totally inferior to myself for so many years. The Good Book says that it is better to be a living dog than a dead lion, so I'll have to accept that as a truth and move toward the evolutionary steps of progress as they arise.

I'll have to discuss my feelings about this upcoming predicament with those identical triplets with 78 chromosomes--the chicken, the dog, and the duck--and see how they worked their way through the dilemma coming up for me. They've had centuries to resolve their feelings about it and time puts all things in perspective, I'm told.

I betcha they had it all in proper perspective by the time they hit 60 chromosomes and became cows.

Well, because chromosomes in living matter are one of the most complex bits of known matter in the universe, it is logical to assume that organisms withe least number were the first to evolve, otherwise, the theory of evolution just doesn't add up in its logic and conclusions.

It's time for me to go on a spiritual sojourn or a "Vision Quest" to seek the truth of all this conjecture in theory, I guess. That guru, the sweet potato, with 90 chromosomes, should be able to give me some good insight all this.

Somewhere along the journey, I'll stop in at the Royal Pond and get the highly-regarded views of the highly-chromosomed carp. With their 100 chromosomes, they should also know quite a bit about it.

I've designed my search for truth to end with a visit to the most heavily chromosomed life form on the planet. I want to bask in the shade of its truth and watch the winds of adversity comb its branches and see how it bends so gently to their whimpers in order to defeat the attacks they so ignorantly place within its grasp.

It will be the highlight of my soul search behind all this madness in theory. Oh, it will be pure bliss and awesome, reverence-inspired glory to sit at the feet of the ALMIGHTY FERN.

Four hundred and eighty chromosomes in magnificence and completeness! What a creation to be at the end of life's evolutionary path!

I can't wait to get there, myself, in a few million years from now.

I think; therefore, I'm continuously confused!

2004-08-20T13:22:00.000-07:00

Lately, the thoughts of "My grace is sufficient for you" and "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not toward your own understanding" have been the consistent responses I sense after I offer my prayers to God.

Those spiritual reminders are difficult for one like myself. Most of my life has been spent as a "doer" of activities more than as a "bystander." I can't recall ever trusting much of anything in the past with ALL of my heart. It's scary, too, to let go of "MY OWN" understanding and hand over my heart to another.

Apparently, God has different priorities than mine when it comes to His direction spoken within my inner sanctum. While I'm wandering around with what I would consider major problems and dilemmas to solve and get through, He's trying to get me back to the Garden.

As I spend time and energy on trying to fix whatever I deem as "vital" for my happiness and contentment, He's working on getting me a reserve seat for the Marriage Supper.

While I pound myself over and over with guilt about my past and fear towards the future, He's laying on thick layers of "Grace" over my soul like a healing balm.

God keeps ignoring "My" higher priorities in life and He keeps providing me with reminders and notices that "His" way works much better than mine. I guess if I trusted with ALL of my heart, I would drop my priority list and pick up His for application.

Since I lean towards my own understanding more than another way of doing it, it's a struggle to let go of those "comfortable shoes" of self-taught lessons that are worn out, no longer functional, proven to be out-of-date, and parked in the closet for memory's sake.

In a nutshell, it boils down to something like this:

1) In my own understanding, I get to continue to revel in guilt and fear, try to fix things in life with ideas and approaches that haven't produced much good fruit in the harvest of consequences, and I get to continue to decide what are the priorities of life in my wanderings around the dusty planet of my own interpretative measures; or:

2) I can trust in God with all of my heart, lean not towards my own understanding, and receive grace that is sufficient enough to place me into His priority list of what's really important in it all.

Not much of a difficult choice between the two ways of looking at it, wouldn't you say?

Some of us are more stubborn and set in our ways than others are. That's what my own understanding tells me anyway!

What's in a name?

2004-08-15T16:46:00.000-07:00

When I sit in silence and listen to to God, He calls me "Joe" when He gives me guidance and comfort. "Larry" is my first name but it's always been more of my formal name rather than my common name.

I'm known as "Joe" to my family and very close friends. "Larry" has been my identity at work, school, and community social gatherings.

I'm glad that God is close enough of a friend that He recognizes me as who I really am at heart. He also calls me "my child," and reminds me that I am a "son of God."

"Joe" is sentimental; "Larry" is more distant with people. "Joe" is sensitive; "Larry" tends to let emotions not get into his heart much when he's out and about.

"Joe" is loving with others; "Larry" puts on more of a facade of intellectual strength.

God loves "Larry," too.

"Larry" just needs to let that fact get beyond the walls around him and let it enter into his heart that "Joe" possesses.

God works to break the dividing line between both sides of myself and fuse my being into a new man that is of one heart and one mind towards His love and mercy.

"Joe" knows that. "Larry" is coming around.

Diving for cover!

2004-08-12T16:56:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I find myself in a contest with God to where He takes the boulders of my sinful actions and buries them in the deepest part of His sea of love to where they are to never be remembered anymore and then I dive below and dredge them up again.

There must be some kind of false security on my part in wanting to not totally remove these parts of myself from my memory.

I keep trying to return to "justice" with myself while He keeps insisting on "Grace" as a much more beneficial manner of approach to my state of infallibility.

I'm glad His ways are not my ways. It's a losing battle for me in the long run and I'm sure that His intentions are for me to become a "graceful loser."

Anyone interested in purchasing a used scuba-diving suit?

Small thought--Big implications!

2004-08-11T15:49:00.000-07:00

Some days are easy to stay "on course" when it comes to maintaining some sort of "Christian conduct code" that alludes one to believe that God is in His Heaven; all's right with the world.

Other days, there's a creeping vine of inward hostility that tries to climb up the trunk of one's tree that is planted by the water and attempts to choke the forward movement into Grace and Love towards God, others, and self.

Today, the cashier at the grocery store counter said "Have a nice day!" after I paid for my groceries and started to wander back to my truck outside. My immediate thought after hearing her words were, "Don't tell me what to do!"

No telling what instigated this non-verbal response within the confines of my soul, but it's sure a gander into how I have some hostilities within that pop up spontaneously and without obvious reason for doing so.

At least I didn't verbalize the angry thought. Also, at the least, I recognized the seeds of an angry spirit inside me and diverted my direction towards One who has given resolution to overcoming the battle of flesh and spirit.

A small victory, but nonetheless, a victory! My history books are full of those who didn't "check" themselves when the small bouts of fleshly vines began to choke out their inner sanctum of God's garden of trees.
Molehills of anger spurts became mountains of hate that have colored our lineage with shameful bouts of fleshly thoughts becoming fleshly feelings and then becoming fleshly actions that killed others' spirits and bodies.

I'm sure glad that grace abounds much more than sin does! Even in the little corners of one's secret parts that cashiers can't hear!

"Self" observation

2004-08-09T17:20:00.000-07:00

I've been politically incorrect lately. I measured myself against God's plumbline and found myself to be "impure." Instead of it destroying my self-esteem and ego foundation, as the PC crowd would claim acceptance of such a comparison would cause to a healthy foundation, it brought me to a place to where I recognize that something outside of myself is the answer---not something within me.

As a result, it increased my gratitude for what God has done through His Son's death on the cross . Increase in gratitude towards God's provision in my state of impurity has been a much better resolution than any of the modern-day answers which want me to rely on my own inner strengths and efforts.

Paradoxically, my esteem has risen--not only in my eyes, but God's also. I esteem others higher than myself and come out okay. Now, my priorities are in this order: God--others--me.

Being last in this order of esteem, I rest much easier with myself and don't fret about everything having to revolve around my wants and needs.

Funny how that works--much more effective than a bunch of "will worship!"

Church Service

2004-08-07T16:04:00.000-07:00

The church service started promptly at 10 o'clock am and he was trying to get there on time in order to prove his devotion to God. The drive this morning was cluttered with traffic that was taking precious chunks of time away from his arrival that would verify his dedication to the congregational expectation that God shows up on time--and so should you.

As he waited for the light to turn green at an intersection hustling with hurting people who were not up to the "norm" of social doings, his impatience began to eat away at him as he harbored angry thoughts of how these wandering misfits were only hindering him from meeting his weekly Christian duty to the Lord.

All of a sudden, one of the misplaced souls hanging around the roadside approached his driver's window and asked him if he could spare a dollar or two for something to eat. The spirit within the pedestrian of life groaned in front of the now-frustrated driver as he further elaborated on how he hadn't eaten in two days and just needed a little help to sustain him for a little further of his own drive down the roadway of living.

'Can't you see that I'm in a hurry right now and wanting to meet my Lord and Savior on this late-running Sunday morning?" he told the desperate stranger. " God expects me to be on time to worship in His name and I have no time at this moment to assist you in your plight. God calls me to meet Him with all proper respect and timeliness in His meeting place, so I'll have to give you a rain-check on your request. "

The hungry man, used to hundreds of rejections in life, muttered the words, "I understand. Thanks anyway! The Lord be with you," and then he sat down on the curb with his broken spirit and tattered pride left over from all of the unfortunate incidents that had turned his life into one of helpessness for the moment.

As the light turned green, the motorist revved up his engine a bit more than usual and sped down the road knowing that he was only moment's away from the church front steps. Hurriedly, he weaved his way through the traffic menagerie until he hastily parked his car in the church parking lot and quickly shuffled his way into the Lord's house in just enough time to grab his favorite pew seat and get nestled in for his dose of the uplifting of the Lord.

He had made it with only seconds to spare before the service began right on time. He didn't want to miss any little bit of the pastor's sermon this week which had been announced in the church bulletin earlier.

The first song sung was "What a friend we have in Jesus." He especially liked the part of the song that spoke of "...all our sins and grief to bear." He thanked God that he had made it to the service on time and caused no grief to the protocol of the worship structure by walking in late and disrupting those who had their minds and hearts set to focus in on meeting their Lord and Savior for a few minutes.

The second song sung was " How firm a foundation" and as he sang, he reflected upon how settled in he was with Jesus because he had made it on time this morning as he always had each and every Sunday morning. He gave God the glory for guiding him to be here in His presence, although the outside world had almost created a black mark in his attendence record and timely fashion of showing up to meet Jesus on schedule.

After the song, the morning prayer focused in on how God smiles upon those who come to Him with a grateful heart and how he blesses those who have come to worship Him in this building today.

The pastor began his sermon on the Good Samaritan after the prayer was finished with all of the usual addendums of "Amen's " coming from the crowd of saints gathered together.The man listened intently as he heard the message of how we are to help those in need and how sometimes we have to go out of our way to accomplish this deed of Christian virtue. He agreed totally with the lesson taught.

He knew in his heart that he would help anyone at any time as long as it wasn't between 10 AM and Noon on Sunday mornings. He wouldn't want the Lord to be upset by his missing the assembly of the saints at the given time-slot.

Meanwhile, up in the third heaven, there was movement stirring as the angels designated a representative to aid the broken man still sitting on the curb at the busy intersection a few moment's away from the house of God.The spiritual representative was an angel in disguise--another misfit who happened to come across the hungry, broken-in-spirit man. He had a bit of extra food sustenance on hand and shared it with simple grace and nothing expected in return.

Back at the church, the final strains of "Amazing Grace" musically spread out over the congregation as they lent their voices in union towards the wrap-up of the worship service.

The third heaven angels looked down on the city and made note of the struggle between Grace and Law.The Good Samaritan out on the street wandered back into the crossroads of misfortune's intersection while the church participants resounded a final "Amen" before leaving the building to carry on with their lives.

Before the man could get back into his car to drive home to watch his favorite football team on TV, the Good Samaritan misfit had already added two more good deeds to his morning.

One showed Function over Form. The other showed Form over Function. One showed Grace. The other showed Law. One fed the hungry. The other fed his ego. One drove home the point of helping those in need. The other just drove home.

One lived in service to those in need although he was also needy in some ways. The other left the service and made mental note to leave earlier the next Sunday in order to further fulfill his obligation to the Lord. One went to church. The other was the Church.

Because of the substance and comprehensiveness of grace, God still loved them both. Just as He loved the seven churches of Asia and made note of their strengths and weaknesses through a Patmos writing.

Grace is much more vast than Law ever could know. Any Philadelphian in a crowd of strangers could tell you that. Even more than that, they might even show it without notice and coming from out of nowhere.

The 10 AM to Noon time-slot on Sunday morning wouldn't even stop them from spreading some of it around.

I'm homeschooled!

2004-08-06T16:02:00.000-07:00

Since Planet Earth is my present home, I'm homeschooled. Everything I've learned has been a result of hanging around this third stone from the Sun for almost 55 years now.

Sir Isaac Newton said, " I do not know what I may appear to the world; but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the seashore, and diverting himself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me."

I still see through a glass darkly on many things, but I do claim to have found some reasonable conclusions about certain aspects of this physical venture I'm currently travelling. I like seeking, but finding is so much better. One thing I like about seeking is that it contains the element of hope within its very process.

I would be extremely disheartened if there were no hope in my search for meaning as it would lead me to a life of continuous uncertainty. I have paid an exhorbitant price at times in my search for truth. It's cost me such wages as admitting I'm wrong at times; it's attacked my pride in that what I've sometimes claimed to be "correct" turned out to be, in fact, "error;" it's caused my mind to change on many occasions which created "humble pie" situations for me; and it's eventually led me to see that in this huge universe of knowledge and facts, I know very little when weighed against the mass of truth that is undiscovered still by my finite brain.

Somewhere in the scriptures, there is a verse that alludes to the idea that much learning brings much sorrow. Another verse in there hits upon the point that there is no end to knowledge.

In my opinion, this gives a partial credence to the Christian mention of "resting in His Truth." By faith, I latch onto the Answer given to the world that provides a solution through the seemingly futility of physical death.
It also gives comfort to the burdens of guilt, fear, and shame that don't seem to be addressed in much of a positive manner for those of us who are at times enveloped in those negative traps.

It also shows me that there is a Love much greater than I can envision that will fulfill all of the needs I do have in that area of my well-being.

Since God's ways are not our ways and His thoughts are not our thoughts, I'll rest knowing that the more pebbles and shells I discover along the way will bring me a little bit deeper into the undiscovered ocean of truth that God has full awareness of in His omnipotence and omniscience.

It's a win-win situation. Knowing that I will never be able to absorb or discover it all in my present state of being specifically points me to rest during the search and enjoy each discovery as it comes along.

Homeschooling has its reward!

Silently listening!

2004-08-04T14:24:00.000-07:00

Although my daily life seems to be in a holding pattern, I can sense a behind-the-scenes movement that isn't giving me a distinct and clearly spelled out answer to what I'm moving towards in future purpose.

My prayers are mainly about "Thank you, Lord, for your love and grace and I love you more than I even consciously realize at this moment." I feel as though I can hear the whirl of the pottery wheel as I'm being silently molded into a form not visibly recognized in my mind's eye and heart at this point in time.

To some degree, I sense I'm in the predicament of a pelican in the desert who is out of sync with the surrounding environment, but I don't have much insecurity or fear about being placed in that sort of position.

My gut feeling is that I'm awaiting a wind of some kind to pick me up and blow me back to my "real" seashore of sustenance. At present, I'm to deal with the quiet of the desert sands and wait on the Lord for His answer to my daily sitting-in-the-moment until a more defined sense of direction is shown me from One who listens and responds to those who have no other expectations in life higher than His authoritative measure.

As I've been sitting in silence the last few weeks, I've seen answers come to situations that would have put me out of control in years gone by. Some of these answers were simple answers to simple problems; others were more complex in nature; nonetheless, answered in a manner more than what I would have asked for.

As my inner being has, at times, wanted to scream out to the Almighty, "I'm a failure in life," I keep getting an immediate response back before I utter those words, "No, you aren't! Bear with me as we get through all of these bumps in the road together. Be still, and know that I am God."

Oftentimes, my prayers lately are just three words in content-"Thank you, Lord!" I then sense a peace within that strengthens me to keep the proper perspective that sparrows are important in the eyes of the Creator--ergo, so am I.

In a sense, I'm Joseph sitting in jail awaiting his future position brought forth by God. There's some behind- the- scenes activity going on but I may not always see it's playout in my current situation. I'm Moses in the wilderness learning the ropes of a different sort of lifestyle that will make me vital to another purpose that's not always for my own glory.

Whatever it is---Bring it on, Lord, in your wise and gracious manner. Although I may not perceive the current movement's purpose in a distinct manner, I do know that You are doing what You do best--molding me toward your Form as I sit in silence and bend to your Hands that know so much more than I ever can know when it comes to Your definition of shape and beauty.

I may not see the totality of your end result with me while I travel this planet at present, but I do hear the pottery wheel working under your loving thumbs.

That, in itself, is enough for me to know at this parenthesis part of my life.

Everything is Relative?

2004-08-02T17:25:00.000-07:00

I heard someone again say that "Everything is relative!" in defense of their particular value system.

I thought it peculiar to use an absolute statement to defend one's theory that relativity is the rule. It'd be the same, in my opinion, as saying emphatically that, "There are no such things as absolutes!" One has to utter an absolute statement to state one's non-belief of absolutes.

I'm a "live and let live" person. That might lend you the impression that I can handle some "relatives" in life. You do your thing: I do mine. It also implies that I can live in peaceful coexistence with surrounding differences. Although the implications of these statements I make here lean towards a relative nature, is it possible that underneath my words the solid foundation of an "absolute" is holding the premise together?

I can live around your differences until they impose upon my own differences. If you want to steal my stereo out of my house, our values are going to clash. I'm not going to let you "do your thing" in that instance (if I can prevent it, of course).

Chances are really good, too, that you don't want me ever stealing any of your stuff out of your house. Although you may claim a "relative way" of looking at life, there seems to be an inward law in all of our hearts that leads us to some absolute conclusions in our outlook.

Buried in the seemingly relative ideology of our overall outlook is a lingering absolute that cements a core belief--"Thou shalt not steal." I won't steal from you--you don't steal from me.

I hear society calling for some absolutes as answers for many of the problems today, but not many people want to lead the procession for an absolute answer. It's not politically-correct; it's old-fashioned; it's old-school; yadda, yadda, yadda.

In trying to please everyone with an absolute answer, many will not be pleased as a result. There are no easy answers anymore for us today as a planet in turmoil with all of it's complexity in issues. Band-aid approaches are only working temporarily in many instances.

I can only cling to some absolutes I deem worthy as a way to deal with it all. Any more than that and I get lost in the maze of things.--and that's the absolute truth!

Today in a nutshell

2004-07-31T18:53:00.000-07:00

Just "being" today, more than "doing" anything in particular.

Day off from work, so I've been in solitude and contemplation mode rather than "what can I get done externally" syndrome.

Been enjoying the wet torrent of God's radiance and love washing the pebbles and cobblestone of my daily walk. There's always a fresh, clean fragrance in the atmosphere of the spirit afterwards.

In return, I give Him the incense of prayerful thanks.

We love each other, God and I.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mom

2004-07-30T15:40:00.000-07:00

Today is my mother's birthday. She would be 72 years old if she was still walking on this side of the ground.

For a lot of us, our mothers are the first loves in our life. That special person who God chose to be our life's guardian in our youth and who nurtured us into what we are today certainly has much influence over who we are in essence. How we relate to others in life can be traced back to our relationship with our maternal parent in our childhood days.

The infant that needs its mother's arms lives on within us. Some still have their mothers here with them today. Some have suffered a mother's early death in their earthly walk. Some struggle with a mother's long illness on a constant basis. Some never knew their mother. Some have had extremely bad relationships with Mom.

Other have or had good fortune in their interactions with mothers.

The roughest week in my life was one of burying my Mom at the same funeral home and cemetery where I was working at the time. I can hardly express what it was like to be in such a position of having to deal with death on a daily basis in my vocation at the time and then have it be my own mother when it came time for her passing.

Like any job, it becomes routine until something drastically alters that schedule in one form or another. My altering that week was the death of my first love in life and the necessity of having to attend to arrangements where I worked. It was a very, very tough workload that week, as you may imagine.

My mom was a little woman who could get feisty when she wanted to. On the other hand, she had a heart so big at times that it wouldn't fit into the state of Alaska. She grew up very poor and lived in chicken coops and under trees for a time in her early youth. My ancestry on her side could have played all the parts of Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath without any practice.

I can remember going to pick cotton with her and my Dad when I was 4 years old and Mom would give me a 10-lb potato sack to fill with cotton. I'd dump it into her larger bag when I had it brimming with those fluffy, white fibers. I really didn't realize it back then but my first job was with my mother.

To cut through the years, eventually the family got squared away and those cotton fields became a long-ago memory. We lived pretty good throughout my high school years. At not time did I ever go without food, clothing, and shelter because a mother's love and a father's sense of duty did all the things they knew toward the union of their love--which was in the form of me.

My mother had an intelligence that would make the preacher and the scholar cringe when she had questions for them. She would study a lot of nights away in an honest search for higher meaning in this life. I spent many hours with her in study, debate, and questioning of all facets of life around us.

She could play several musical instruments and would sing to my brothers, sister, and I at night when we were in bed until we fell asleep to the soothing strums of the guitar and her smooth alto singing voice.

Later on, when I was speaking at churches and playing music in several different concert formats, I would deliberately scan the crowds and always find my momma's little smile and proud eyes looking back at me.

Her gifts passed on to me were there to see with her eyes and mind as she acknowledged my moment in the sun without a hint of jealousy or haughtiness inside her. It was unlike her to do much for herself, but she constantly reached out to others to give and give without the expectation of anything in return. It was a source of frustration, at times, to try and do something in return for her because she was so adamant about using whatever resource we tried to reciprocate with for our own needs and wants at the time.

Mom believed God was good, knowledge was power, and wisdom came when one was capable of handling it. She didn't trust institutions much because of what she called a haughtiness in trying to make everyone like them instead of who the person was in essence.

She wasn't one to put on airs to please you. She possessed that country pride that quietly said she was fine, thank you, without you meddling into her affairs. She had an independent spirit that came rooted in a history of common people who toiled hard and didn't demand much in return.

She owned a strength that was a far cry from a cotton field's urgency, but was engrained with circumstances and lots that life tossed her way. I don't find much that disputes those messages she passed on to me throughout my life.

They say a real mark of maturity is the ability to see our mothers simply as human beings--lovable, fallible, interesting, and imperfect--just like ourselves. It's difficult to see beyond the "Mom" role we grew up with and to then see our mothers for what, and who, they really are outside of that personification.

Later in life, I began to see my mother as who she really was outside of her "Mom" image, and I loved those parts of her as much as the mom part, I'm proud to say.

We didn't have a perfect relationship. We had a mom-son relationship. There were times, too, when we didn't see eye to eye on many things. Those times took us both into a research mode as we both studied privately within our souls to only later share the lessons learned with each other.

Mainly, though, it kept us intertwined in the circle of love and growth that a mother and child share as a bond in the pattern that God saw fit to establish a long time ago.

At the time of her passing, I did the best I could to make it right for her. I did my job as she always did--with total effort toward being entire in effort, with complete respect towards the needs of others, and with a take-charge method that spoke of the quiet confidence she passed on to me. She would have expected no less.

At her funeral, it was uplifting to see a packed parlor of people who came to respect one who respected them back. All the wheelchairs lined up along the funeral parlor walls with cerebral palsy patients she taught and assisted were overt testimonies to her giving heart and compassion towards others with less in life in different ways than she had at times.

I, her firstborn, during this time today of remembrance of her birthday, give total and unconditional love to my first love in life.

God bless you, Momma. You make me proud to be of you.

Stronger than Onions

2004-07-30T04:04:00.000-07:00

It takes a strong onion to make me cry! That sure sounds manly and tough-leathered, doesn't it? But the truth is, it takes an extremely pungent onion bulb before any tears come along and streak my rugged profile into a state of wetness.

You'd think from me sharing this insight that I'd be sticking out my chest right now and acting like John Wayne in heat after killing twenty-five Indians, but you'd be wrong.

What makes me cry is things like Mommas' dying, earthquakes that wipe out entire villages, being downsized just before the rent is due, and one-eyed Pug dogs who love you no matter who, what, or where you've been in your life.

Sometimes when I'm in a reflective mood and I'm working really hard inside me to see beauty and justice somewhere in the world, I'll hear just the right musical note coming from my stereo that touches a deep nerve in me and shakes it to its electric roots. It may be the way some guitar player bends the string and elongates the note into an utter of pain or sadness. It might be the manner in which voices harmonize into a chord of agreement with other voices who sing of a long journey through life and its dilemmas, but I'll feel right along with them and synchronize my life's experience with theirs at the moment.

The end result of this meshing with another's musical preaching oftentimes leads to a guy like me crying a few tears of relief, of understanding, of compassion, and of knowing that we humans sure have a lot in common when we let ourselves explore those areas. It makes me a bigger guy than John Wayne any day!

I say that a guy who doesn't cry once in awhile about something has got a lot to learn about being a total male. He's divided against himself in what he perceives himself to be and what he really is as a member of the homo sapien category. He forgets that those tear ducts were placed in his head for a significant reason and if he doesn't use them when it's time, then like an onion, he might want to peel away all the layers he's built around his true self and get down to the root problem of what's wrong with him.

It's interesting to me that the shortest verse in the KJV Bible is the simple scripture which says, "Jesus wept." He groaned in His spirit and was troubled when he saw the grief of those around him who had just lost Lazarus to the category of death. His connection to humanity was fully declared in the expression of weeping with those who had reason to be sad.

Jesus was not so macho as to be afraid to show his feelings when it came down to the wire of life's heartaches. In this respect, he was fully Man. Real heroes do things that phony heroes would never dare to do! Crying over real life events is one of them.

We've all heard the statement, "Laugh, and the world laughs with you; cry, and you cry alone." Isn't it sad that when life has touched us so movingly that a cry becomes our comfort, there's oftentimes no other person around to connect with our humanity and fellowship. When one is in the most need for another's embrace, many of us fail to carry the torch over the bridge to human unity because we think it's a weak gesture on our part. Strong men build bridges; weak men let them fall into disrepair.

I'm not talking about crying over spilt milk. Milk can be replaced; Momma's can't. When Daddy's are gone, it's difficult to substitute just anything that comes along for the real thing. That in itself ought to make a grown man cry for a bit! To know that one will be sorely missed one day by those who are presently under one's guidance and care should have the impact to where the tear ducts might want to spring a few leaks of watery love even for yourself.

I'll bet you a hundred John Wayne films that if a person shared those tears for just a moment concerning one's self and one's plight with those who currently look up to them in love, they will not be crying in their beer alone. One might even shed an onion layer of hardness and become closer to those who want them to be real anyway.

It'd make one closer to being the real guy they've always wanted to be but have been afraid to pursue because of what other onion-layered guys might think. Sounds to me like priorities are mixed up here somewhat!

If it makes anyone think some, a lot of onions sit in the corner and rot because no one pays attention to them after awhile. They become putrid to the core through time and their function in the world is no longer one of concern to those around them. Their stench becomes noticeable until discarded and another batch replaces them. The Courts are full of onions who wouldn't cry on occasion until they were caught permeating the air around them with the stench of moral decay. Makes one wonder, I hope.

It'd probably be a bit easier in the long run to just cry once in awhile with another human being. It'd soften the center and put a new perspective on the whole of life. It'd spice up life just like chopped onions on a bowl of chili beans. Crying is like slicing the onion layers into bits of life which spices us up to a different level of human taste.

One thing I guarantee is this, Pilgrims: John Wayne is dead now, and one day we will be, too. His films still live on and so will ours through the minds and memories of those we've left behind.

If you've got a four-star movie going on with your life, cry some tears of joy. If no one shows up to your theater at present because you require too high of a ticket price in order to get into your real being, then cry some tears of sorrow for yourself.

It might be wise to get out of the corner and quit stinking up the place!

A Majority of the Times

2004-07-29T03:35:00.000-07:00

The Leader was a proud man who was used to others coddling him with gifts of praise and trinkets designed to ease his conscience for he had no real skills in thinking.

He was actually a Follower in disguise who could eloquently quote the past and lock others' emotions into his silk web of cooperative mythology. He was very good at it, too!

The Follower looked up to him as bigger than the phenomenons of birth and death for he gave all his time and money in-between these major events to the Leader's influence and position.

Neither of them acknowledged overtly that the other one was pulling their chains of fate together toward an abyss of mediocrity and malnourished spirit. For the Leader was the Follower was the Leader was the Follower, ad nauseum--and both were actually One.

The Leader would poll the Follower's views and create speeches until the other heard his own opinion and cast his vote in agreement with himself again. He spent hours and dollars in searching out the other's message until the harmony of their cryptic codes were intermingled and pointed toward the tune of "Greater Good."

Together, they filed a court case against the Individual on the grounds he was not fancy to the majority rule and power. The Individual appealed to the Courts of Higher Wisdom--where many are called but few are chosen.

On the day of the appeal, the Leader wore his finest suit cut by Italian hands and sold in stores of Ivy League envy. The Follower wore his suit of copy with its label of fake from a poor child's hands in a distant land. The Individual cloaked himself with kindness and donned his inward strength with a simple array of modest manners.

The Judge ignored illusions, although he knew that pretense reigns among the cult of those who follow trend of thought and fashion. He was a governing principle who saw his job as one of separating the wheat of Truth from the chaff of deceit and he loved to farm the fields of mankind.

The Leader was the lawyer for the Follower who represented the Leader's interest in the Follower. He spoke with tones that roared in pleasant vibrancy and caught the crowd in rhythmic beat.

"Your Honor, I represent the People. I have the Follower here as a witness to that immutable fact. We belong to the Greater Good and are not afraid to speak our case as we are the rule and the majority realm. I cite the case known as Socrates v. State and I inform you now that it was I who won that case for I said then that I have no blood on my hands while the Followers screamed for him to poison himself with hemlock."

"For the sake of my pride and my position in life, I let the Followers lead me to my conclusions that day in order to keep my leadership among those I let govern my direction."

"The Individual who appeals here today is no different to me than any man that disrupts my day by upsetting the crowds who don't allow someone to be other than they. My case is clear-cut and my arguments strong because I speak for the People who speak for me."

It was then that the Follower leaped up and agreed with a "Hear, Hear" and a salute to the Leader he had picked for his cause.

The Judge slammed his gavel, demanding order to reign, and he then turned to the Individual who stood quietly aside. With reasonable voice, he said, "What is your defense in the Courtroom today?"

The Individual spoke with a manner of clarity and purpose of thought. "Your Honor, I thank you for hearing my appeal on this day of goodwill for I finally have ears that will hear. Let me first of all note that I am not a saint in my ways-- just a man who is not of the majority crowd. "

"I pretend of no rank or station so high that a blind man could not see his way to my door. I prefer not to mingle among deaf ears or cripples who can't hear wisdom or walk paths of simplicity in this world and its grooves."

"I am the husbandman to the fruits of my own sweet labors in which I eke my living with no help from the crowd. I am not a straw man nor hollow in direction of life. I tend to my business, like Thoreau in his bean field, and I render to Caesar his due. I spend my evenings in quiet reflection, apart from the masses who live lonely lives. I elect not to follow the mobs with their nose to the grindstone and I have no remorse for choosing this pathway."

"I opt to not lead in the fashion of moment and won't sell my soul for a gentleman's bread. I swim against tides like a salmon who's spawning and I go where the angels do tread in their wake. I force no one with me when I travel alone."

"Your Honor, just because the Majority is physically stronger, to me, it doesn't make them right. I will be a man first and a subject second. Slaves to a system do not know freedom and I hope my reasons are looked upon as valid enough to not be crushed by the weight of mediocrity. I rest my case, Sir."

The Judge then slammed his gavel loudly and said, "This case is closed!"

It stunned all the participants that no final decision was made for either party. As the Judge left the courtroom, the Leader and the Follower huddled in meeting and both led the other to their own resolve of the case before them. The Individual moved to the door and began his venture out to his world.

It was then that the Leader, under the Follower's order, directed the Follower to tie a noose around the Individual's neck and hang him on the outside steps while the Leader gave his blessings to the event.

The Judge came out a few minutes later and saw the vigilante hanging in process. With a resigned spirit, he told the news reporters on the steps, "These case always end up with the same ending no matter which verdict I render. The only changes are the forms of execution and government structure involved. To not give a final decision at the end of a trial such as this one is the same as if I had ruled one way or the other. I refer you to that well-known case of Christ v. World."

Disgusted, the reporters threw down their notepads and went to look for a news story of more favor to the Greater Good. It was another slow day for the followers of Mankind.

An Individual had wasted their time again.

The Animal in me!

2004-07-26T16:55:00.000-07:00

At various times in my life, I've soared with a lot of eagles and I've swum with the sharks. I've even spent a lot of time with turkeys all the way up to, and beyond, after-hours.

To let the cat out of the bag, I've been a horse's ass more than once in my life span, also. I can vouch for the fact that every dog has his day, too. I've carried the albatross around my neck a time or two. I've been up to my rear end in a swamp full of metaphorical alligators enough times to where there's not enough donkey posterior to pin the tail on.

I've also got time in as being gentle as a lamb, peaceful as a dove, and as wise as a serpent. I've been part of the cattle crowd going along with the latest ideology or fad and I've been a salmon swimming against the stream at times. I thank God that I no longer thrust myself over the cliff like a lemming with no mind to know better.

According to some circles, I'm a dinosaur of sorts. I may be old-fashioned in some things, but I like the idea that He keeps His eye on the sparrow--a classification I accept as a way of attempting to keep myself peaceful in a dog-eat-dog world.

In my own way, I've floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee. I could tell you stories about getting tangled up in a hornet's nest of problems here and there. It wouldn't be a bunch of bees-wax, either, if I shared some of my personal struggles in life to where I eventually outswam the attacking piranhas of problems and outran the circling vultures of strife.

Oh sure, there were times to where these things made a monkey out of me and I wanted to scream out, "Holy Mackerel," but a cat isn't the only living thing with nine lives when it comes to picking one's self up and starting all over again. One can't always play dead like a possom and expect to get anywhere in their progressive walk of life.

I may not be the sharpest quill on the porcupine, but I like to keep my needs and wants simple and with enough to keep the hounds at bay. Similar to a squirrel gathering acorns for the winter or an industrious ant harvesting for the day, I can peacefully snore like a bear in hibernation with the knowledge that another day has reaped its reward and the harvest is plenty for today.

I don't racehorse through life as much as I used to, but I also don't take it at a snail's pace, either. I'm not out until the cows come home anymore, but I've spent some hours howling at the moon in my past and I wish I could take back some of the years that the locusts have eaten.

Thankfully, I'm not blind as a bat when it comes to seeing that experience is a good teacher and one can be wise as an owl if one decides to be. In a progressive sense, then, life can still be a "hoot."

Oh, I still strain at a gnat once in awhile and swallow a camel at times, but not as often as I used to. I'm much better at discovering the patterns and motives of the fox when he tries to get into the henhouse, too. One can't be a yellow-bellied lizard or a chicken when it comes to learning from the offerings that come to one's table of time.

Being as hungry as a wolf when Life provides its food to chew on certainly helps when it comes to digesting the nutrients of experience. There's a lion's share for each of us to learn from and hold onto when it comes to what the important things are around us.

Sometimes life is a barrel of monkeys; other times, it's a nest of vipers. Collectively, we go through times to where the coo of the dove softly reminds us of peace everlasting and then it switches to times when the dogs of war bark their orders upon nations in conflict.

I can remember times of strutting like a peacock in all of its glory only to get skunked soon thereafter by an embarrassing moment in the midst of all that vainglory pomp and circumstance. Going from being as fine as a bees wing to an immediate ugly duckling certainly teaches one some humility when it comes down to it.

It's a good thing we can shed our old skin and move on to new skin after times like those; otherwise, we wouldn't have the opportunity of becoming a higher form of being. Like a caterpillar, incubation in a time of chrysalis can be rewarding because it gives time to change one's essence towards real being and higher purpose.

We are not made to just put one foot in front of the other until death do us part, but something inside tells us we are made to soar above our common existence somehow. I don't believe we are just to be sheep led astray all of our lives by every whim and whimper of the herd mentality and its constant bleating in our ears.

Many "sheeple" like to cling to the majority opinion because it prevents them from the insecurity and fear of being alone in their own voice. Soren Kierkegaard, the Danish philosopher, wrote. " People demand freedom of speech as a compensation for the freedom of thought which they seldom use."

It's easy to hide out in a crowd and not have to face one's individuality and true strengths. Like an ostrich sticking its head in the sand, I'm not so sure that hope springs eternal in such an existence of that ilk. It'd create a beastly experience for us to have to endure.

Without hope, we are all only future roadkill!

I'm no Dummy

2004-07-24T18:31:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a church that hammered a bunch of "Thou shalt nots" into all of us prisoners in the pews as we sat there in fear instead of love. After the initial step of accepting Christ through His "grace," we were then taught the "Law" and how every move was watched by One who couldn't wait to zap us if we mis-stepped along the way.

If I would have placed a look-alike mannequin in my pew seat and snuck out during these "gospel sermons," everyone would have thought I (as a dummy) was a perfect Christian, I'm sure.

My mannequin would not have broken one single "Thou shalt not" ever preached on Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and during the mid-week service.

It would have sat faithfully through each service and not taken any initiative to be part of the world. It wouldn't have smoked, drank, swore, danced, went to movies, ate or fellowshipped with sinners, or violated any opinion of a "man of God."

It also wouldn't have questioned the church corporate hierarchy and any of its creeds, bylaws, or interpretations of Scripture.

In other words, my mannequin would have been a prefect member of the church who would never be in danger of criticism or disfellowship for contrary thinking.

I, on the other hand, have always been an imperfect being. I have something in me that prevents me from following all of the principles to a tee, so I get called on the carpet sometimes.

Well, like any church that shoots its wounded, I eventually got the meat cleaver for thinking out of the box on a couple of things. To me, they were small things; but to others, they were of such major intensity for me to be "cut out of the Kingdom" lest I influence others.

My mannequin would still be a member, though, because it had no thinking capacity and wouldn't rock the boat of "Truth." It would never have taken a step towards thinking on its own and placing itself into the "danger zone" of individual thought.

My mannequin would be comfortable with the idea of unity-in-conformity. It would pose no threat to anyone and their interpretation of any scripture verse.

In Greek mythology. Procrustes was the ancient champion of enforced conformity. He was a legendary highwayman who lived in Atica. He had an iron bed, which he regarded as the standard of human length. He stopped every traveler and tied him to the bed. If the person happened to be too short. Procrustes stretched him until he attained the "correct" length.

If the traveler was too long, his legs were cut off until he met the proper requirement. Thus was everyone made identical in size. In either event, the victim died.

The "Procrustean bed" has become proverbial for arbitrarily--and perhaps ruthlessly-forcing someone to fit into an unnatural scheme or pattern.

The pews in my church were like these beds. I was either too long or too short for them. In either case, I didn't meet the standard of length in my belief system. My mannequin wouldn't have made a sound whether it had its leg cut to size or if it had to be stretched further in order to meet the "right" size of faith.

I believe more in unity in diversity now. It isn't necessary for all to agree with my interpretation of Scripture. Being imperfect, I have no perfect interpretation--neither do others. There is no perfect church congregation because people are imperfect.

It's been almost 30 years since all this happened to me. During those years, I went in a lot of different directions--some good; some bad. When one's "bedrock of Truth" has been pulled from underneath one's feet abruptly, one is left hanging upon a precipice of emptiness and shock.

Eighteen years of being raised in a system of belief was torn away from me suddenly and with no concern for my safety in life. It was years before I could ever look back to wanting the "gift of grace" again as a result.

I don't automatically climb into "bed" with just anyone who pushes their "answers" on me about their movement of Truth. To, me that's spiritual hippie free-sex. In other words, I've learned to not be a dummy.

Thoughts on my blogging experience thus far.

2004-07-23T19:40:00.000-07:00

I've really enjoyed my blogging experience since beginning it 7 weeks ago. It's helped immensely in keeping me studying, applying, and searching for God's purpose in my life. I read many other blogs of the same genre and it assists me greatly in knowing others are out there facing many of the same situations and dilemmas that I am in life.

My former life has been one of both great good and great evil. I have labels on me that will not ever go away this side of the physical plane, but it helps me tremendously to read of others who are upfront about their own dilemmas in life and to get a peek into their faith application as they also move on to greater good in their lives.

I've suffered both the rod of man and the rod of God. I've experienced the justice of the system and the justice of God's laws. I've reaped what I've sown and the fruits were not very rewarding at times. I've experienced the grace of mankind in certain pockets, but I know that the grace of God is ever there for me in the middle of it all.

I'd rather be forgiven by God than by mankind. I even find grace in Paul's exclamation that he is the chief of sinners, for it tells me that I'm not the top dog on the evil list.

A song by Lyle Lovitt has the words, "God forgives, but I don't," and I've run across that attitude quite a few times in the last few years. Even that kind of message from others helps me to rely further on God to reshape me into the vessel He wants to mold me into for His glory.

I also find some peace and freedom in Jesus' words that the first shall be last and the last shall be first. Those words provide me with hope to carry on in my walk to become more like Him each day.

Thanks to all of you who blog your own experiences and thoughts. You've also been a provider of hope and peace during the almost two months I've gotten into this realm of spiritual blogdom.

Praying for Peace of another sort

2004-07-22T15:45:00.000-07:00

I may be off-base here, but if there will always be wars and rumors of wars, what good is it for me to pray for Universal peace in the world?

As Jesus said, the peace he gives is not the same type of peace that the world yearns for. I don't buy into a future "7 year period of tribulation," but I do realize that in many countries currently, there is tribulation happening for millions of Christians as I sit in the US pretty much comfortable with being able to express my faith in Christ.

I pray for those fellow Christians in over 90 countries currently facing trials of faith to receive the peace that passes all understanding as they go through much more than I can really realize in my present geographical soft spot for faith expression.

There, but for the grace of God, go I!

Good news

2004-07-21T15:35:00.000-07:00

Three weeks ago, I posted about losing $400.00 a month in income recently. Today, I got word that a new project we've been working on a trial basis in the last week liked the wife and I's work so much that they've decided to sign us on steady for the next year.

The new contract calls for us to increase our monthly income another $1456.00. The other good news to it is that I don't have to wear a necktie while doing the work.

Thanks to the Lord, both my finances and my neck have become further unstrangled.

Thoughts on Prayer

2004-07-20T16:26:00.000-07:00

It's been said that when we get to Heaven and find out how many of our individual prayers were actually answered for us during our time on Earth, we'll wish we would have prayed more. It's also been said that when you talk to God, it's called prayer; when God talks to you, it's called schizophrenia.

For myself, the "still, small voice" that speaks to me after I pray sure seems to know more than I portend to know on a conscious level. I get answers which cut through my wants, wishes, and hopes and these received resolutions oftentimes "nail down" my real situation and direct me towards Truth I need to hear instead of what I want to hear.

It's no surprise to me that the world would label it schizophrenia. After all, the world has its own agendas in mind. Much of what it calls "answers" only leads me to my knees to ask for another viewpoint that is more workable than what I actually do get from those earthly outside sources.

False gods give false answers. Real Gods present solutions that we may not want to hear at times; nonetheless, it is food for comfort and a source of peace to those who know their Master's voice.

"Tired" faith

2004-07-19T14:50:00.000-07:00

This has certainly been my month for car tire problems. I had another tire blow out on me yesterday afternoon on the way to work and my recently repaired spare was also flat again.

Fortunately, at just the moment it blew and I pulled over to the side of the road, someone we knew happened to be driving by on the opposite side of the winding, mountainous road and had a cell phone available for me to get a message to my employer concerning my stuck situation.

The good samaritan went and got my wife and I some cold drinks and snack foods as we began our wait for the boss to get us hauled out of our flat situation. He showed up 2 hours later with a brand new tire to replace the blow-out. He then called a tow truck to have us towed to get it fixed.

After being finally hauled to a gas station to get the tire replaced, we began our work---three and half hours later than planned--but we got there, thanks to angels in disguise of human bodies.

While stuck on the mountainous road awaiting for the finale, it was interesting to watch all the cars going by on their way to the multitude of recreational spots in the area. Out of over a 100 cars that passed us by, only one other stopped to see if they could assist us in any manner.

I was thinking about how miraculous it was that a person we knew would happen to be driving by at the very moment of our calamity. I also began to see the beauty of the landscape as I waited by the side of the road rather than my usual focus on "getting down the hill to take care of business."

For me, it quite often takes a "blow-out" of sorts in my regular routine before I appreciate the finer things of life--namely, what's really around me at the time; also, who's really in control of things.

In the midst of calamity, my faith got retreaded and headed me farther down the road of reality. The rubber met the road again!

The Three Burdens

2004-07-17T17:35:00.000-07:00

A man with a sincere reflection of deep thought upon his countenance was walking down a path along the side of a hill. It was Saturday and the business he owned was closed for the day, so he had no immediate worries to steal his mind away from the present moment.

Looking at him from a distance, one could see he didn't lack the essentials and the good things that life could bring if one was industrious with one's daily minutes. It was obvious to the passerby that this man could go through doors today that most couldn't find in a lifetime.

Still, his troubles showed in his eyes. The windows to the soul were witnessing to others of a spirit in turmoil. Deep within the caverns of his heart, he was contemplating three intolerable burdens of which he could not solve on his own.

What a symbol of paradox he was as he hiked the hill path alone- a man of plenty, but also a man of heavy burdens. One who commanded respect from others, but one who couldn't command his inner troubles to subside of his own volition.

What were these three burdens that weighted him down so much? The first one was fear, including fear of death. The second one was guilt,while the third one was the constraining hedges of self-centeredness.

This wealthy man's burdens are also ours to see and consider once life lifts its glitter from the dross and we see ourselves naked before the universe. They are carried by all of us from start to finish and they walk with us in all the hours we sleep, breathe, and work. They are constant reminders who rise up and reiterate at times of how temporary and fleeting we are in this world we travel in for such a short time.

As the man walked along, he reviewed the annals of his past life from the library of his memory banks again. He began to see events to where he did come close to resolving these burdens at various times in his past. All of them had a certain connection that was a common theme to the times he felt the lessening of the burdens in his life.

That certain thread of commonality appeared to be a power of transformation called love. On a human level, this human love had nurtured him in his physical years, but still, it didn't completely answer nor halt the peskiness of the burdens even to this day of his walk in the open.

All of the love he had experienced throughout time's bottle that was his to drink from hadn't yet answered his fear of death to this day. Like Private Ryan in his later years, he also wondered with guilt if he had lived a good enough life to atone for all the good that had been shown towards him by others. This very fact of him wondering about these two items verified that the burden of self-obsession was not resolved either at this point in his earthly sojourn.

So now he was at a quandary with the three burdens and their endless impact on his life. Although love was seemingly an antidote to the pressures created by these influences, why does one not have a resolution of them even in the evening of one's life span?

One either eventually passes away from the world and the answer isn't given, or, there is a Greater Love beyond one's understanding that resolves the burdens before one returns to the dust.

The man stopped and sat on a dead tree stump for awhile as he tried to work through the mental puzzle he was facing. His mind reasoned that if being blitzed by finite human love at times was temporarily sufficient to calm the burdens for a period of moments, then a love of of infinite scale could reduce his fear, guilt, and self-obsession to zero.

As he thought about his dilemma, a realization came into his heart which spoke the words, "Muddy water let stand will clear." He took a deep breath and let his mind unwind from the intensity of his present condition.

Just then, he noticed a young infant branch with a little green leaf protruding from the dead-looking bark of the stump he was sitting upon. Another thought entered his heart that spoke as no other voice he had ever heard before. The words, "Be still, and know that I am God" proclaimed their presence inside him with quiet power and authority.

He then realized an answer for the three burdens! The green leaf and the young branch showed him no fear of death for they came forth out of deadness. Their fresh vitality in contrast to the scarred tree stump showed him that guilt and shame can be overcome and one can live again in newness of spirit. The authority behind the two sentences that spoke in quiet power within him had removed him from self-centeredness and pointed his soul to infinite love.

The man became joyful as he then saw new paths for him to walk along--life-paths that weren't physical in nature, but they would carry him through the hills of his remaining earthly travels.

Life was no longer something to cope with. It was glory discerned!

Catching a Ray

2004-07-16T13:39:00.000-07:00

From the back pew, one can see many backs of heads facing the front as each soul listens to the message being given for the moment.

Each of those souls and heads are hearing a different message as the words flow over the crowd and blend into the open receptacles that came to be filled with the provided spiritual sustenance.

One soul hears about a God of plenty as another soul hears the message that God is a healer of pain. Another listening spirit catches the tune of the Master being a companion in time of need. Two pews up, there's an anxious soul absorbing the truth that Jehovah is the Calm in the eye of the storm.

Meanwhile, God is hovering above like a prism over the crowd. As He turns his attention to each individual, He also turns His spiritual prism to where the specific rays of His light of truth can embrace and encompass the one who is looking to Him for guidance and comfort in time of need.

Each individual head and soul in the pews gets a special ray of light from a specific aspect and angle of the prism. As they leave the worship meeting, the prism continues to hover above them and rotates during the week by refracting the light into a rainbow of answers that meet the needs that come along the way.

God is ever turning His prism presence to fit our individual specific need as it comes along in our daily walk. He is the Refraction that illuminates our day.

In time of need, catch a few rays!

Banking on the Truth!

2004-07-15T15:35:00.000-07:00

Hovering above in majestic clouds and within reach of the minds and hearts of all the earth inhabitants, the mustard seeds of faith were a constant reminder of evidences unseen and things hoped for.

The little dog, with his keen vision and sense of hearing, would watch and hear the germinating seeds hover back and forth between the spaces of God and the earnest fields of mankind’s fertile hearts. He couldn’t quite understand why it was so difficult for spiritual beings in the current mode of having a human experience to grasp onto the clear vision within these mighty seeds of faith, but he also realized the opposing powers of those workers of darkness whose main goal is to blind the world from their real essence.

Not only was their silver and gold pulling away many from their true center of focus, there was also lust of the eye, lust of the heart, and lust of many assorted external measures as ploys to create a world devoid of insight and peace.

It was almost Orwellian, the little canine mused. "War is peace" seemed to be the mantra that many bought into as they indulged themselves in the sensory avenues available for their immediate attention. Each battle between spirit and flesh was won either by the Ultimate Rewarder or a false rewarder—there were no other victors available in the battleground of the heart.

The little dog’s Ultimate Reward credit card was a definite tool for mustard seed faith to sprout within individuals who got a peek into the worlds dividing asunder and who began to realize the darkness of their plight without corrective glasses to remedy their remaining walk of life.

Like a gift that keeps on giving, once a human soul had received the credit card’s free application to his or her unique situation, the grace that abounded from its very usage began to expand from mustard seed size to a much bigger realm of dimension to where the individual involved wanted to also spread grace and free-will measures to others around their circle.

The workers of darkness absolutely despised that aspect of the Eternal Bank’s vault of spiritual goods. It put them in a position to where they had to constantly work harder in order to get the affected new-Seer back into the former state of darkness. "No rest for the wicked" was their motto as they then had to expend more energies towards getting new-Seers to revert back to their former blind status.

Mustard seed faith could move mountains, though! The little dog reasoned that as this particular size of faith grew in its fruition and acts of grace were passed from those touched by its health and vitality to others who also would then open their eyes to what’s around them, the planet could eventually become a mountainous movement working in unity towards clear vision and recognition of the All-seeing Eye’s purpose for all involved.

But, like any bank’s worry, thieves spend a lot of time and effort in planning how to take what’s in the vault’s storage space and use it for their own fleshly gratification.

Unfortunately, the little dog realized, thieves don’t stand out in a crowd. Some of them stand extremely close by and are always in the heart of matters. It takes more than a stomp from a red hightop shoe to squash them out of one’s way.

It takes a cultivating mustard seed faith that’s not hovering anymore above the mind of men, but one that’s plowed into the heart and watered with grace. Those few who are chosen can attest to the power within the process involved.

We're not talking here about a simple ATM transaction outside the bank's interior. We're talking about banking on the premises 24/7.

Much Riches

2004-07-13T13:28:00.000-07:00

Woke up today with food, clothing, and shelter available for my wife and I to be sufficient for all through the day.

Anything over and beyond that is just extra blessings for the day.

Sounds simplistic, I know--but try telling millions of people who don't have enough food, adequate clothing, or reasonable shelter today how anything extra isn't a blessing.

Even in our poverty, sometimes we in the West are a spoiled people.

Gnarled Fingers

2004-07-10T17:04:00.000-07:00

When a sheep is among wolves, it's difficult to remember to be as wise as a serpent and as harmless as a dove. It doesn't satisfy the image much. It's easier to buck heads with the other person's belief system and walk away self-justified for all the wrong reasons.

Who wants to wipe the dust off their sandals and split the area when its much more seemingly rewarding to point to the dirt we accumulated from our sojourn of Truth and cry out how nobody understands? The only one who gains from this is the ego--the very thing that was supposed to be crucified at the point of surrender.

Strangers and pilgrims are to be "outsiders" looking in, rather than inside traders who stock the market with items the world is not demanding as a whole. Doing business in quiet is the command--not the exception.

In an unobtrusive manner that speaks of love and concern for the other, the world changes because the individual comes to Truth via an inner meeting with the Creator. Opening the door for them doesn't require a push through it.

The world isn't easily influenced by the ones it stands against in ideology. It does no good to complain when the world refuses to stand on the same side as the one who proclaims the Answer. It's the way of the world. There's the parade--and the bystander. It takes both to create the event.

To many, the rock of offense will always be an offense. The stone of stumbling will not sit atop the inner structure of a worldly, breathing building. Using liberty as cloak for maliciousness doesn't pass the test chosen to take. It's as evil as the evil seen "out there."

When the Chosen One was crucified, He didn't mumble a word against the form of punishment He had to endure. He accepted His consequence knowing it was the way of the world. He looked beyond the form to the end result.

The women who stood there on that day of sorrow didn't hold placards protesting the event. Those Apostles who had the courage to show their face at the crucifixion didn't chain themselves to the cross and yell loudly about the unfairness of it all. Their Master had taught them wisely about the differences they had with the wolves surrounding them at the time. They kept their egos in check.

Whose message is being spread when it's done the world's way? When in Rome, one doesn't always have to do as the Romans. The salt of the earth changes the meal on the plate through sprinkling--not by taking the shaker lid off and demanding to be all over everything in excess. If it were the latter way, it'd eat through the solid rock foundation and be on sand again. The ocean of world opinion would wash it away and scatter it into disunity. It's an old story, believe me!

Gnarled fingers which are bent from a driven nail speak a different message than a bent finger which gnarls with an angry point. Even though Jesus had a three-day Right of Recission on his physical death, He didn't flaunt it in the world market where the customer is stuck with a bad "bill of goods."

In His dying, He was far from the maddening crowd. When He cancelled the Death contract three days later, He arose to where generations to come would see Him in their life span. He didn't get to this point boisterously. It was a quiet event in the world, but Time, out of respect, divided itself between "Before Him" and "After Him."

When you're big enough to where Time bows to the parenthesis of your life, you'll not only be above the crowd, but you also don't do things the same way as the crowd below does.

The Creator gave us His "Word" on that point.

No Safety in Numbers

2004-07-09T22:00:00.000-07:00

The day OSHA showed up to inspect the ark was not a day anticipated very much by Noah and his family. They had it on higher authority that the ark was more than satisfactory for the upcoming assignment it was intended for. But bureacracy, for good or evil, has its rules and guidelines to follow.

Inspections are necessary for the protection of the people involved, OSHA reasoned, and without a proper safety-point check, thousands of lives could be lost due to carelessness.

The OSHA inspectors first began with the outside of the ark. With clipboards in hand, they began to write furiously as they eyed inch by inch the outer hull and the components that formed it. After an hour and a half had passed, the head inspector, Jared, the son of Makelicah, called Noah over for an oral report on their initial findings.

Jared reported that there wasn't a problem with using gopher wood to build the ship, but the pitch in-between the wood was found to be too combustible for safety's sake.

He pointed out to Noah the resin was mixed at the incorrect ratio of 3:2 and it would be healthier for the crew onboard someday if more turpentine was intermingled with the existing batch in order to make it less of a fire hazard.

This would also make the pitch closer to the required "blackness" in which OSHA had agreed upon during the days of Cain of the land of Nod.

Noah told Jared he would take it up with the boat designer as soon as they left.

The inspectors then entered the ark through the one door on the side which caused Jared to write up a flagrant violation of not enough egress for the second and third floor occupants. He also made note of the fact there was only one window above in the entire boat and it was only a cubit span in length.

He imagined in his mind's eye that if a fire ever broke out on the ark, the danger of three stories worth of humans trying to fight their way out with only one door on the first level and just one window on top would create a deluge of disaster. He reasoned that whoever designed this boat sure wasn't looking out for the safety of very many people when he designed this floating catastrophe.

As they went from room to room, it was becoming very apparent to the inspectors that this project was definitely in need of dire adjustments made according to the codes of safety that Man had devised.

Some of the rooms inside the ark didn't even look fit for humans to live in. It was like this barge of sorts was going to be used by a bunch of animals as a floating zoo or something similar.

Noah and his family could see and feel the animosity building in the inspectors as they meandered from room to room with their ink pens and clipboards never separating from each other as a result of the constant notations of flagrant rule violations.

After the inspection was finally completed, Jesse, the son of Belderic, the assistant head inspector, called Noah over and stated rather emphatically that he personally would never set sail in this contraption for all the tea in the Garden because of the shabby design structure evident from the man-made inspection.

Noah let out a little smile intermingled with a tinge of sadness and sorrow and then quietly put his hand on Jesse's shoulder.

"Trust me, Jesse, for that day will not come to where you will ever be in this boat on water, I'm sorry to say. Besides my wife, my three sons and their wives, no other humans do I have permission to let on board. Like you, I'm just a middle man when it comes to following the orders of the hierarchy above me."

That last statement by Noah infuriated Jesse. He sensed that Noah wasn't giving him proper respect by inferring that he, Jesse, was just a middle man who had to bow down to others above him in the hierarchy of things. He knew then that Noah wasn't properly giving him his due as an important government person.

Jesse threw down his clipboard and wanted to punch Noah's lights out right then and there. With snorting nostrils he yelled out, "How dare someone like you not bow down to my pride, position, and status when I'm trying with all earnestness to save your project from causing potential injury or death to you and your loved ones! Don't you have ears to hear and eyes to see?"

Noah declared with a soft rebuking voice, "You see what you want to see and hear what you want to hear-and so do I. Your act of pride and anger toward me just now is the very prompt which necessitated this boat being built. The potential of violence you showed me for not respecting your position in life has brought out the devil in you. I ask you all to please leave now as it is beginning to rain and I need to speak with the creator of this project concerning the sealing up of this matter."

The OSHA inspectors then left as Noah and his family began to load up the boat with animals, food, and clothing for the coming days of rain.

They finished those tasks and then got on board the ark. It rained for forty days and forty nights while they were safely snuggled inside the government-flunked project. The ark didn't sink at any time nor did it falter in its intended purpose, contrary to OSHA's final reports.

After the waters subsided, Noah mentioned to his wife rather sadly, "You know, the only thing those inspectors were correct about was the fact that carelessness could end up killing thousands."

A Day Off from the World

2004-07-09T14:12:00.000-07:00

Today's a day off from work for me. There's something restful in writing that sentence down.

No matter whether I spend today thinking of restful things or worrying about future events because of some of my situational circumstances recently, one fact won't change.

Jesus was resurrected from the dead.

That fact ought to be the underlying root underneath all of my days--whether they be work days or days off.

If it is my foundational premise for getting out of bed each day, then I'll find contentment along the day's progression. I'll be content in time of abundance and also in time of want.

It's really easy to write those words down and feel restful as I type them out. Where the rubber meets the road, though, is the real test of my faith with those same thoughts that I can so easily toss out there as self-professed applied wisdom in my walk.

Oftentimes, I do exactly like the Apostles did when the rubber met the road on Crucifixion Day. I hide away in fear of other authority than the One I like to say I hang around with all day.

When they knew for a fact that their Saviour had been resurrected from the dead, their days then became completely different in underlying tone, quality, and tempo.

No doubt, it's either true that He was resurrected--or it isn't! Since I proclaim it as fact, then let me be consistent in my approach to each day as it enters my parenthesis in time and marches me closer to meeting the One who bent time in half with His factual rising up from the tomb.

Someone said, "You've got to change with the times, unless you're big enough to change the times." Fact is, promising to rise up after being dead for 3 days--and then doing it--is pretty good argument that He was big enough to change the times.

Him changing the times effects my time allotted here on the planet.

If I'm consistent with it, every day will be a day off from all of the world's pressures, stresses, accusations, and anxieties.

Sounds restful to me!

Untieing !

2004-07-08T15:56:00.000-07:00

I haven't worn a necktie now for about 6 years. It used to be part of my work "uniform" for several years at one time. I no longer see any social redeeming value to it anymore.

Tradition has made it an important commodity in society's eyes and one can be judged solely by whether one wears such a thing in certain circles. Some churches have also bought into this tradition as it being something that pleases God. "Dressing up for God" on the outside is a sign, to some, that one's respect for Him is at an acceptable level.

I see no real point in wearing an external "rag" around my neck any longer. Such a trivial thing as a "spot" on the necktie can mar one's appearance in the eyes of some who deem these types of accessories as a reflection of a person's worth or unworth among the traditions of men.

A soup stain can turn tradition into a "filthy rag" around one's neck and create discomfort to those around the "marred one."

Somewhere in the OT, it's mentioned that God doesn't want any internal "filthy rags of righteousness" hanging around His value system of perfection.

I have a much harder time not wearing that one. It's like an albatross around my neck at times. It restricts "Blood" from flowing into all parts of my spiritual vessel.

Oh Lord, thank you for the freedom of not having to wear those filthy rags for all Eternity. I want to wear your "uniform" forever.Your redeeming value makes it possible for me to dress up my spirit with proper worship towards you.

Paradoxically, "Bless be the Tie that binds."

Master Planning

2004-07-07T03:15:00.000-07:00

Well, things went just as planned a long time ago.

God stayed the same today while I made a couple of spiritual adjustments that put me a bit closer to Him than I was yesterday.

I didn't do any "works" in the adjustment changes at all. I just trusted in Him today to provide the peace that passes all understanding and it was there for me during the better part of the day and evening.

I had the choice of that or worrying all day about temporal circumstances and the baggage they bring with them. No matter which choice I make, the 24 hours comprising the day's length would still be the same.

Today, the choice was seemingly an automatic one to choose: Trust in God and He will give me peace throughout the day, no matter what the day's troubles are for me.

It makes me wonder why I've chosen "worry" so many times before over "peace that passes all understanding."

It goes to show why I'm not the Master Planner and Someone else IS! It's difficult for me to stay the same way each and every day.

I'm getting better at it, though! Practice makes perfect, they say. God stayed Perfect today while I became less imperfect than yesterday.

It's all part of the Master Plan. It works perfectly, too!

In Dependence Day

2004-07-03T16:47:00.000-07:00

With the Fourth of July celebrations just around the corner, it made me think of those strangers and pilgrims in this world who comprise a holy nation dependent upon Christ for freedom.

Every day is Dependence Day for us believers. Let the celebration begin.

Living the Psalms life

2004-07-01T15:01:00.000-07:00

Some days, I sink into those "my soul is cast down" days and have to strive within to recognize that God is still right next to me.

Other times, I have those "wipe out all my enemies" days to where I want God to save me from those "outside" my sphere of His safety.

Still other days, I have those "forgive me Lord, for I have sinned against you" times to where I plead for His mercy and grace in time of repentance.

Yet, at various other moments of 24-hour spaces, I flow along with an inner tune and praise to God in the manner of "Thank you for this day and your many blessings."

Interestingly, some spans of days will have all of the above intermingling with each other at sundry moments and in divers forms---feeding from one to the other until I reach the point to where it all gets turned over to the One who understands it all much better than I do.

To be as human as David was in his time, I also am as worthy of the attention God gave him in his human journey.

Selah.

Am I in the way?

2004-06-30T15:48:00.000-07:00

It was a year ago this month that I asked God to do with me what He will as I was drifting off into sleep during my bedtime prayers.

Since then, here's what's happened:
1) My wife and I got evicted out of our rental we had been in for over 4 years.
2) The landlady sued us in court and we won.
3) We found another rental nearby that is twice as big for only a bit more money.
4) My home business folded and we've lost $2500/month in income since last December.
5) We've been working a part-time job in the evenings in order to get by--and it just recently cut our salary by $400/month. We live in a mountainous area with little work available.
6) The front end of my truck got smashed by a deer "frozen in the headlights." The insurance check to fix it with had to be used for moving costs from the earlier eviction.
7) Some of my abominable past from over 20 years ago that I was later found "not guilty" of has come back to haunt me. My original "guilty" plea was conditional upon completing some court requirements that, if successfully done, would change my status to "not guilty." Nonetheless, I am currently having to abide by certain laws as though I am guilty.

I keep being reminded of my prayer from a year ago during all of these events as they've come upon us, but a part of me keeps resisting the "trust in the Lord" aspect of it all.It gives me a fresh appreciation of Abraham and his sojourn by faith into the unknown and lets me see that my faith is not as strong as his at this point.

I must be more stubborn than I thought I was! I'm still trying to hold things together on this end somehow.

I guess I'm seeing myself as a double-minded man right now--afraid to step off the mountain of faith and be completely directed by He Who is Who He Is.

I'm trying to get out of my way--resisting it at the same time.

Statistical Fact for Today

2004-06-28T14:37:00.000-07:00

Millions of Christians in the United States will not feed or clothe a needy person today.

Lessons from Nature

2004-06-26T17:02:00.000-07:00

In my walks through nature, I've never met a bird with a migraine headache from worrying about where the next meal is coming from. I've also never come across an unclothed flower.

Both the birds and the flowers appear to be "insulated" within the whole scheme of things to have their needs met, rather than "isolated" and straining from the worry pits of where their daily provision will be found.

I envy them in some ways. It'd be comfortable to just let life provide me with what I need each day without effort on my part. But, as I take another look, I see that the bird is ever working to build its nest, to gather its food, and watching for enemies from without. It isn't living a "welfare life" at the expense of the Creator.

The flower has also made effort to push from the seed of its birth to reach forward. It reaches out to digest the soil nutrients and drinks from the rain that comes its way. It is putting out effort to live and isn't necessarily getting a free ride, either.

I don't see deep furrows of wrinkles on the bird's brow from worrying about whether provision will be there for it. I've never seen a flower absorb aspirin in order to make it through the day. Neither appear to question the certainty of their needs being met--they just "trust" that it'll be there for them.

I envy them again as a result. While they trust 24/7, I do it in streaks. The demands of life can easily wrap me up in its tentacles and cause me to enlarge the ruts of my forehead into another row of wrinkled worry and the Bayer bottle becomes a source of comfort and relief.

An old saying goes, "Tie up the camel first, and then trust in God." Another saying says, "Before enlightenment, chop wood and carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood and carry water."

To me, this is basically saying: "Trust at all times, but carry out the work before you in the meantime."

Is it coincidence that my Bible says the same thing? I don't think so!

It gives this common sparrow and flower of God more strength to carry on. Although I still see through a glass darkly, I see that I am insulated by trust in what is beyond me in total understanding. It isn't vitally important to know all the why's and how's behind it all; rather, it's more important to know the "Who" behind it all.

Little dog prevents potentially murderous disaster

2004-06-25T15:19:00.001-07:00

True story on ABCNews/Online today:

"Puppy prevents Canadian killing spree"

"A Canadian man, driving a car packed with weapons and ammunition, was intent on killing as many people as possible in a Toronto neighbourhood but gave up the plan at the last minute when he encountered a friendly dog, police say."

SNIP

"Police say he had set himself up in an east-end park to load his weapons and then planned to drive around shooting.

He told police that a dog then approached and started playing with him.

Police say the encounter melted the man's heart, and he then went in search of police to give himself up.

"He happens to be a pet lover, and decided that since there was such a nice dog in the area, that people were too nice and he wasn't going to carry out his plan," Detective Nick Ashley said."

Truth is stranger than fiction, at times! I wonder if the little dog was wearing some red hightops.

Once a (fill in blank), always a (fill in blank)?

2004-06-24T15:20:00.000-07:00

What a conflict it seems between trends of thought today about reformed alcoholics, sex offenders, drug addicts, etc. and what the Apostle Paul wrote in I Cor, 6:9-11.

It's commonly stated nowadays that "once an alcoholic/drug addict, always an alcoholic/drug addict", or "sex offenders can't be rehabilitated or cured", for example.

Paul says something different about such matters when he lists several types of "people sins " in the above-listed verses;"....neither fornicators, nor idolators, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God." He concludes, "And such were some of you: but you are washed, but you are sanctified, but you are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God."

Quite a distance between the words "once a.../always a..." and "were," wouldn't you say?

The former allows no growth or movement into spaces beyond acknowledging the state of being sinful, while the latter proves grace and forgiveness as a positive gift of God. Sort of like having a choice of being identified as the "old man" for the rest of one's life--or moving into the "new man" status through God's love, power, and touch into one's heart.

Think of the ramifications if the "once a.../always a...." thinking had controlled such people's lives as Moses(murder), Joseph(rape accusations/prison time), King David(adultery/murder), and Saul of Tarsus(killing Christians). We'd not know them as the strengths and pillars they represent to us today.

Fortunately, for us, God helped them to become "new creatures" who once "were" evil at specific points in their lives. Ephesians 2:1-5 also reinforces this fact in past sinners who point their minds and hearts away from past sinful lifestyles and behavior.

Let us hope that the Church will also see through today's modern-day "once a .../always a ..." labelling process of sinners and help them to get away from their past "false higher powers" and look forward into the light of the Real Power on High!

Sunday Showtime!

2004-06-19T23:20:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in the back pew craving spiritual substance when the lights came on and the show began. First, there were the handsome and pretty people singing with perfect pitch and harmony about how Jesus was their Rock of Salvation in time of need.

After three or four more dazzling song displays of showtime glitter, they blew kisses to the crowd and left the stage to be replaced with a singular figure who had a commanding voice of authority when it came to cheering people on when their emotions were starting to bubble up inside themselves.

A few "Hurrahs for Jesus" later and an offered invitation for newcomers to stick around after worship for some coffee and pie, this person bounced off stage while a spiritual garage band set up to "get on down with the Spirit and create holy noise in His name."

The church groupies began to sway and swerve back and forth as the beat began to penetrate into the inner parts of the emotional selves who were so hungry to find favor with God somewhere in their souls.

A spirit began to infiltrate the church building and permeated from person to person until most of the congregation was tuned in to the beat of Jesus' name that the band was laying down upon them.

Worked into a lather at this point, the crowd was ready when the preacher showed up after the band high-fived each other and bounced off stage to the right.

The man was a gift of niceness and pleasantry to all those hungry souls awaiting his message from God this week. He didn't offend anyone about sin, rebellion, death, or Hell at any time during his rehearsed speech. He told us that he had three points about God's goodness he wanted to share with us this day. Then, he told us the three points, and he wrapped it all up by saying he had told us of his 3-point message for the day.

Then the ushers began to pass the baskets around for those who wanted to cast their bread upon the waters and find it after many days. The tithers gladly tossed in their commitment while others felt obligated to pay what they thought the show was worth to themselves.

I was still looking for spiritual substance at this point in the service, so I left and went outside to read the Book of Jude underneath a God-given tree.

Sometimes, contending for the faith requires one to search and study among different pastures and alternative environments than what is expected by those in "spiritual authority".

The show inside was interesting, to say the least. Sort of like a cloud with no rain or a tree with no fruit. My emotional aspect got a lot of attention in it all, but I still wanted spiritual substance to feed on.

Somewhere, there must be some Bread of Life and Water of Salvation to munch on. It's possible that I may find it in as little a crowd as where "two or three are gathered in My name."

There'll probably be a lot less pretense involved in that small of a gathering, too! Not to say that it's the only route one can take to get to Truth, but it's probably less wearing on the nerve-endings in the long run!

The View from Above the Streets

2004-06-18T20:25:00.000-07:00

Little dogs like to sit in high places for comfort reasons. There's security in being able to look over the surrounding area and know the safety of lofty positions.

As the little dog perched on the rooftop above the busy streets, he could spot the troubled arenas of mankind and find circumference around the evil being spread by the workers of darkness.

Sadly, blind eyes were becoming the fashion of many who weren't seeing its effect upon their viewpoint and future. Lust of the eyes and incessant demands for worldly possessions were straining vision away from the weightier matters of life. Worry and anxiety about tomorrow's needs eroded the foundations of numerous souls to where the present moment dimmed the light of laughter and hope from those in need.

The little dog reached into his front red hightop shoe and pulled out his Ultimate Reward credit card contract from the Eternal Bank.

In explicit terms, the bank CEO had specifically noted that the card was to be used only for free gifts to those in dire need of spiritual security and lifesaving hope.

It was signed by the little dog in blood, so it was of vital importance for him to abide by the contractual terms laid out.

There had been a past moment or two to where he had wished the cup would pass and he wouldn't have the pressuring burden to fulfill the contract's expectations, but he had shaken his paw on the deal with surety's measure--and he was a canine of his word.

From his lofty position, he reasoned that it shouldn't be difficult to assist others in seeing the need for free correctional glasses to identify their present plight, but there were so many who were entangled by webs of deceit and false promise.

What stronghold did gold, silver, chrome, shiny metal, and strong appetite possess that pulled the masses away from reality to where very few had chosen the free gift of eternal wisdom and life paid for by another's blood signature?

The little dog observed the shiny vehicles spitting toxic waste into the spiritual nostrils of mankind as they hastily went about their business and pleasure with no consciousness of the dichotomy involved.

Straight and narrow streets were no longer the norm, for they had been repaved into spacious highways of fast-lane lifestyle and fast food convenience. Impatience and silent hate were the menu of the day for many caught up in the bypasses of everyday stresses.

Free corrective glasses would certainly help them to see their dead-end streets, back alleys, and misguided avenues of despair. It would also require much faith in the All-Seeing Eye to break from the crowd and bask in the sunshine of his love and wise counsel.

The little dog folded the contract up and put it back into his hightop, knowing that each forward step of his walk would remind him of his promise to the CEO of the bank. Unlike worldly banks, he knew that if others accept the free gift, the Eternal Bank would repossess their souls forever into the vault of goodness and love.

"Paradoxical thinking is much more enlightening than the standard rule of the day," he thought to himself as he yipped a sound of delight.

Only in high places could one see the logic in the Eternal Bank's terms of conditions.

Driving a flat tire back home

2004-06-17T16:33:00.000-07:00

What a harrowing last few days! It's like I've been waking up on the wrong side of the floor each morning and it goes downhill from there.

Work pressures on all sides lately have built up to where I feel as though I'm in the middle of a bunch of buck-passing and I'm the low man on the totem pole.

A couple of days ago, I replaced a balding front tire with a better tire. On the way home from work at 1:30 am, this better tire decided to split apart on me about 4 miles away from my driveway. Unfortunately, my spare was at a friend's house awaiting a replacement also at the same time.

Determined to get my truck home, I fully concentrated on getting it there driving 5 miles an hour come hell or high water. My attitude was one of "whatever happens, happens--but I'm going to get this metal home one way or the other."

Well, I made it home and got the tire replaced the next day. Now, if I could just concentrate on getting to my eternal home with the same fortitude and resolution, chances are really good that I'll make it there, too.

I may travel at a slow pace and with much caution while at the spiritual steering wheel, but my understanding is that limping into heaven with a broken part is acceptable to God as long as the focus is on the right "parking spot to get to eventually."

Now I know why the "gates are made of pearl." A foreign substance invading the oyster gets transformed into a shiny pearl. By entering Heaven, one is changed from a physical foreign substance into a spiritual pearl of God's love.

I may limp home, but once there, I'll go through the metamorphosis to rest in the "eternal resting spot."

Thanks for the spiritual lesson, broken tire!

Removing dust from my shoes

2004-06-11T20:16:00.000-07:00

I Cor.5: 13, "For them that are without God judgeth."

It appears that God doesn't need me to get in the ring with Him and judgementally spar or get into a knockdown drag-out confrontation with non-believers over their non-participation in His thoughts and ways if they choose that alternate lifestyle.

I haven't come across a scripture anywhere in the Four Gospels to where Jesus continually chased down those who refused to believe His Truth.

I did come across a scripture, though, to where He did tell His disciples to wipe the dust off their sandals and leave if others weren't receptive to their carried message.

At that point, it appears that my part is over. I also notice that in the first chapter of Romans, there are three verses (24, 26, 28) that mention God giving them up (and over) to whatever their desires are. Logically speaking, it seems that I must do the same, then.

In part and parcel, that could be one aspect of the peace that passes all understanding. I don't have to get all worked up over seed that doesn't germinate.

The Song Remains the Same

2004-06-11T15:15:00.002-07:00

The little dog had a lot to contemplate from the gopher head's words given to him. He remembered a time when old, gray bearded men walking barefoot in long robes with sandwich boards over their shoulders had the word "Repent" on the front and the words " The end of the world is near" on the back. They were considered crackpots and laughed at by those who saw them in modern settings proclaiming their visions of doom.

But now the little dog saw the message coming from Ph.D's highly respected for their present knowledge. Ecological warnings as mainstream news harbor root-line evidences of man's ingratitude towards his physical vessel.

The little dog noted that militarists are warning that if we engage in full-time nuclear war, we'll exterminate ourselves from the face of the earth and it will be the end of civilization as we know it.

Diplomats tell the world that it currently sits on a powder keg-and the fuse is being lit in the Middle East. At any time the situation can explode into a full conflaguration of the world powers.

Whether it be modern educated man saying it is close to being a fruition of major calamity or whether it be the Revelationist saying the same 2000 years ago while stranded on an isle, the pattern and song remains the same.

Of course, some would say it's all in the interpretive measure when it comes to reading the signs that both the modern-day scribes and the lone prisoner on the Isle orate in their different pronouncements. Meanwhile, the needle and the damage is done!

The major difference betweeen the two trains of thought seems to be whether it is the end of mankind as we know it--or the end of the Cosmos as we know it. To look into the future from today's standpoint sees certain paths that logically will occur if not turned around and circumvented by a change in lifestyle-both internally and externally.

"Where does stewardship fit into the future scenarios that beset a troubling world that hides from its anxieties in a host of worldly forms?" the little dog asked rhetorically to himself.

The Revelator from 2000 years ago saw water destroyed and making it bitterly unusable, dark being created during the day to where the sun doesn't shine as it once did, saw many animals of the sea die because of pollution in the oceans, and visioned much of the trees and green life burned up at a certain point in man's history.

The little dog saw no inconsistency in the two different approaches to the same pattern. All see the same end if nothing is altered from this day forward. The gopher head was right in that many conveniently avoid the knowledge for fear it would interrupt their entertainment.

As the little dog watched the 8 car pileup below him and observed how angry the majority were because the slowdown became even slower now and preventing them from getting to their entertainment destination as previously planned, he saw the ugly truth be spoken again.

This was one heck of a pattern to be messing with! The All-Seeing Eye had forewarned the people of the destruction ahead, but many are called and few are chosen when it comes to realization of the underlying principles at work via the rulers of darkness.

Corrective glasses would assist many to see the error of their ways and could stir them in a different direction that produced more forgiveness towards themselves, their neighbors, and their planet.

The little dog knew it was attainable for he had read the end of The Book written on the Isle of Patmos. It was a very clear message.

"We win!"--was its finding.

The possessor of the Ultimate Reward credit card hightopped it on down the road with the knowledge that he'd have to keep on trucking into the hearts of mankind with promises of grace and forgiveness before the chosen ones would reach their eventual final destination.

He also knew that when that day came, Supper would be on him.

This Space "Occupied"

2004-06-10T16:29:00.000-07:00

The little dog sauntered off from his nap with the realization that engrained patterns of mankind can be observed but his main path was to occupy until fruition came into being. Realizing that the All-Seeing Eye's grace was sufficient to lead him along thru want or plenty, he didn't bide his time in arguments of whether time would become pre-millenial, amillenial, or post-millenial for him and others.

He saw that mankind had worked themselves into divisional distemper over evidences that weren't always crystal clear to the imperfect mind. The arms were arguing with the legs over interpretive measures that had not much bearing on whether one found the peace that passes understanding.

Those that ate the solid food of truth were trying to force-feed the babies into partaking of foods their digestive system couldn't absorb. The "Well" were attempting to convince the "Sick" of diagnostic treatments that were beyond the current status of their disease. Patmosian conclusions were not the items the hungry infant needed for grace to come and nourish his or her spirit.

Unfortunately, while this dichotomy was whirling itself around in the houses of the holy, among the outer walls of grace were the millions enslaved in their patterns of error and ignorance and who had very few clues as to where they stood on the sliding scale of annihilation.

The gut wagon of self-indulgence was definitely parked in the driveways of millions of starving homes who ravished its earthly delights on a daily continuum.The cares of the world had snarled them like a hungry python who squeezes his prey into submission. They didn't see the initial move of the serpent as he slithered in their direction and struck with a force they weren't ready to initially fight off.

Meanwhile, a more filling dinner of assurance, grace, and peace was just around the corner for those who left the comforts of their neighborhood and searched for it.

The problem to overcome was not one of insight into the End, but wisdom that took care of those for Today. The little dog was more interested in passing out bones of peace that filled up the inner hunger than to toss out 100 pound cans of Alpo to the crowds who would certainly ravish the meaty substance in immediate need, but with no real understanding of why it was provided to them.

He thanked the gopher head for sharing the dream with him and also thanked him for the compliment of being one who could first be trusted to understand it before receivng it.

Heading out of the park, the little dog decided it was time to stop by the local pet shop and purchase some fresh dog bones for those in need. He loved getting down to the bone with those who looked his way!

But can he want the grape, who hath the wine?--George Herbert

Receiving my "name and claim"

2004-06-10T16:15:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in the back pew of a "name it and claim it" congregation when the preacher in front said to tell God what it is you want and He will give it to you when 2 or 3 others agree along with the request.

I silently asked God to not let this kind of thinking infiltrate my soul to the point of saturating me with selfish desires in His name.

I couldn't find another 2 or 3 in the congregation to agree with me on this, but, so far, God has granted me my request.

A thought to ponder on

2004-06-10T15:53:00.000-07:00

If you let a hypocrite get between you and God, then the hypocrite is closer to God than you are.

The Sowing Pattern of the Needle Eye

2004-06-09T14:23:00.000-07:00

In the multitude of his business nap in the park, the little dog had a dream that spoke of a day when the pattern of mankind would hit its apex and reap the rewards it had sought in the open.

The line running straight through the annals of history pointed directly to a time when the reaper would sow his efforts and not be happy at all concerning his take of the divvying-up process.

For patterns very rarely lie. Only a major intervention can prevent the natural outcome of a progressive walk towards destruction to not express itself of its inevitable course.

The Spirit of the gopher head began to narrate the dream as the skies of the planet began to be filled with the smoke of greed, lust, famine, and war. Across the horizon were two golden arches of which underneath were the words "billions of people sold here" with the number getting larger by the second.

Horses were galloping past the Stock Exchange with a rider of mammon upon each back of the thundering animals---each dressed in the colors of a country's currency. There were the francs and the dollars and the yen and the denarius--all decorated out in their momentary splendor--each one riding in the parade with millions of hands on the sidelines extending towards them to have just a hope that one of the riders would touch them and heal them of their wants and needs.

Raw sewage and waste products poured into the rivers to be carried to the Evian oceans of thirsty people who fancied their water in plastic pretense.

The money exchangers paid their exhorbitant price per square foot to set up the booths of their wares inside the Temple yard and entice the peculiar people from their sojourn into strange lands that didn't create profit for the Company.

With a loud roar and a voice of certainty, the gopher head spoke like a crack of thunder with the words, "The history books are open. Let the pattern reveal itself to you who have sacrificed to your Moloch of choice. May the one-third of you who die in vain have your caskets prepared of the finest comfort while the rest of you eventually find your own hole in the ground to cover yourselves with when the Eternal Market crashes as it is written by your own volition and curse."

A trumpet blew and thousands lined up to pay their ticket to get into the concert with the hopes that the musician would grace them with an A-list guest opening.

The bonfires of the Vain began to spread across the skyline enveloping whole skyscrapers and major business districts. It began, the gopher head pointed out, in the background with a simple twenty-dollar bill burning a hole in someone's pocket but now it ravaged the earth from New York City to Tokyo with a menacing fever of heat and smolder.

The idolators of money leaped into the fires to be blessed by their gods of plenty and more. This baptism of fire was the ultimate sacrifice for them as the metamorphosis into ashes of their former selves became pronounced into piles of squandered flesh.

The odds-makers were betting huge amounts of mammon on what day the fire would burn itself out---not knowing that their very act of betting would keep it aflame for a longer period. The carnival barkers were selling tickets and programs to the main events that were transpiring and reaping gain from those who wanted to see their own life in turmoil.

Suddenly, the gopher head screamed out, "It is finished!" and the history books in the Library of Congress all flamed up and disappeared instantly as the pattern of mankind had reached its final conclusion.

As fast as the dream had come, it was now over and the image in the little dog's mind was blank except for whispers of smoke trailing across a cerebral sky of blank space. He awoke uneasy from the visionary dream, but knowing that truth had been spoken in the terrifying motion picture within his mind's theater, he also awoke refreshed that it had been revealed to him to see the accuracy of the world's pattern of course.

He pulled out a needle from one of his high tops and glanced at the eye of it for a bit and thought, " Not even Houdini would attempt this one, but money doesn't always bring one common sense."

In the background of his heart, he heard the voice of the gopher head say, "You can take that one to the Bank!"

The Answer is blowing in the Wind

2004-06-08T15:27:00.000-07:00

The tiny breeze flowing over the park was a friend of peace to all who had come to see the world from a perspective not found in the daily grind of life.

Grind comes in so many forms that most don't recognize its weight on their souls until the tentacles of its force and wear are already in place. There was the grind of compromise, of despondency, of fear, of inner toil, of personal weakness, of discouragement, of uncertainty, of mistreatment, of difficult people-just to name some of the items that needed the oil of peace as a salve for weary people who are losing their hearing and eyesight in matters eternal.

The little dog came across a young lad who was picking dandelions from the park and scattering their seeds with a breath of certainty and purpose. The boy glanced at the little dog and said with a manner of determination and perspective, "I'm killing dandelions by blowing them to smithereens!"

"Ah, but are you really?" the little dog barked with a note of philosophical question in his voice. "It appears to me that you are setting them free to spread their talents further along. Their seeds are being spread by your breath to places they might not have alit on their own and they will create new dandelions wherever they plant themselves as a result of your efforts to kill them."

"It's possible that you are the ventilation for them to move forward in their destiny and become more prolific in their influence on the hillsides and plains of this planet."

The young lad looked surprised at the observation he had just heard and replied, "But that's not my purpose in doing this. I'm killing them from where I see it and I have no interest in what happens afterward."

The little dog wandered away from the scene and sat down next to an oak tree that was dying from age and decay. He thought of all the acts in the world to where people "kill" each other daily without seeing what the future may hold for those affected by their acts of aggression.

It was part of the daily grind. It created some to be more blind and deaf as a result. Still, in others, it led them to become more fruitful in their endeavors with those in need. Being empathetic to others misfortunes because of one's own hurtful experiences lent life a more thorough and rich perspective.

Like a beautiful painting, without the shadows and shades of dark, there was no perspective for the naked eye to appreciate. Maturity rested in one's shadows and dark moments to ponder in contrast to the moments of happy glow and light joviality in life.

Just then, a fresh acorn fell from the dying oak tree and landed by the little dog's feet. Truth had once again spoken in a small peaceful manner from nature's host of examples.

He felt peaceful inside as he thanked the Ultimate Perpetuity for the reinforcement, for peace can come from such small things--like acorns finding their new avenues of growth to the small smile of a baby who has found a familiar face that it can trust to a sky turning beautiful hues of color as it begins its spread of night while "killing" the day's sunlight of strength and glory.

The little dog decided it was time for a nap. Peace comes in many forms, he thought. A nap would be the perfect oil to ease his mind.

The Good Samaritan

2004-06-08T15:13:00.000-07:00

We call the Good Samaritan "good" because he positively assisted a "victim" of bad circumstance. Would he still be called good if he assisted the "offender" in some positive manner, also?

Every Dog Has His Day

2004-06-06T09:28:00.000-07:00

It was an old and dusty looking toy lying alongside the road, but its round shape was still intact and there were no holes that would prevent it from its aerodynamic dance.

The little dog picked up the Frisbee with his mouth and sauntered over to the park where many people were out doing whatever they had decided to partake in for the day.

He noticed many different types of value systems wandering around or resting in the oasis of the city to where people came for various and sundry reasons. The Epicurean and the Puritan were there playing on the pendulum swings of "Anything goes" to "Oh, no you don't!"

Parts of the park were covered with legalism and other parts were engaged in the frivolity of decadence. In the middle of it all stood the little dog just wanting someone to play with him and his new-found toy.

It takes another being at a minimum to play Frisbee with a dog, so the little one wanted to find someone who had the time to assist him in having some fun in life for a few minutes.

Coming across a man sitting sternly on a park bench, the little dog stood in front of him with the Frisbee hanging out of his mouth and his tail wagging in playful gesture.

The man looked at him and said, "Sure, I'll play with you for a bit, but you have to understand the rules first. First, no drooling on the Frisbee or I'll possibly become contaminated from whatever you little dogs carry around in disease. Second, you must catch the Frisbee and come back immediately to me for reward. Third, if you miss catching it just once, the game is over."

The little dog listened and decided this wasn't going to be too spontaneous and hearty for his want of happiness in the trade-off, so he moved over to a lady who was sunning herself in an open part of the park.

She glanced at him with a smile on her face and said, "Sure, I'll toss the Frisbee with you!" She grabbed the Frisbee from the little dog's jaws and tossed it wildly into a family picnic going on about 50 feet away from where she was sitting. The little dog chased it and got kicked trying to retrieve it from where it landed in the crowd.

He brought it back to her and she then tossed it into the pool where there were many cooling off in the mid-day heat. Someone swam to the Frisbee and handed it back to him immediately as if it was a nuisance in their own space.

The little dog could see that the lady was not very respectful of others in the park by tossing it into their own personal affairs as they were attempting to have fun on this day. It was as if her own discretion and enjoyment was the only thing that mattered to her.

The little dog moved on with his toy in search of one who might enjoy the play for what it really was in essence. He had enough examples in his life of legalism and decadence to where he knew that pleasure was not in either extreme.

Sitting alone on a knoll of grass was a homeless person who had suffered from the ravages of economic downsizing and was contemplating of how to fit back into a society that seemed far out of reach at the moment. The look of rejection carried long on his countenance and he appeared to be under its spell in a cemented manner.

The little dog looked at the homeless man with a sincere wag-tailing expression of gladness and the man reached over and petted him on his head with a few strokes that expressed a need for a companion to aid him in getting through a difficult ordeal in life.

They tossed the toy together with a mutual unspoken announcement between each other. It was play in its purest form---the rules were invisibly written in a symbiotic manner and easy to abide by for each of them.

It was formed in spontaneity and with an understanding that freedom of play expression was a natural event that forms as it is acted out in freedom to those involved. It was a form of worship between the ones engaged in the process and their instant recognition of a Oneness in the universe.

They played Frisbee until both were nourished from the unplanned union and satisfied that a newer perspective on life had occurred to each as a result.

After a few more pets and "attaboys" from the homeless person afterwards, the little dog gave him a paw to shake and a couple of licks to heal the man's doubts and worries concerning his current concern in life.

Before he left his new friend, he reached into his front left high-top and pulled out a card which read, "Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." He handed it over to his new-found brother of spontaneous play and simple spirit.

The little dog left the park with a refreshed spirit and a hope that not everyone in the world can be kept down from the workers of darkness and their plot to suck the meaning of life away from all of the hearts of mankind.

True play had worked its miracle of hope and peace within the breast of another down and out person in life's alley. The little dog smiled and moved on in a graceful waltz of affectionate dance.

Free toys bring about free play in life!

A saint is one who exaggerates what the world neglects.- G.K. Chesterton

Fleas from Temptation

2004-06-05T23:07:00.000-07:00

Suddenly, from behind the phone booth, a wild gang of fleas leaped up and confronted the little dog as he had just begun to move on down the road a ways. Each flea in the gang wore a patch over their left eye and had the words "Itchin'and Hitchin' " tattooed on their forehead.

The gangleader flea stepped up and said, " My name is Legion, for we are many! What gave you the idea that you could step into our territory without being affected by our turmoil? Speak up, little dog, because we know how to make your days full of misery and leave you itching for relief from our presence among your kind."

"Who is my enemy?", the little dog thought, as he looked directly at the gang leader with clear intention and full strength of character. Even in the most comfortable homes he had dwelled in temporarily, there were constant openings for the many heads of evil to crop up out of nowhere.

" You are of that evil one, the Dog Catcher, aren't you?" the little dog spoke with no guile in his soft yip. " He has sent you to try and ensnare me into his prison of steel and to euthanize me after so many days of being forgotten, hasn't he?"

" But, lo, I am covered with the flea powder of love and I have the salve of forgiveness in my heart for you who are under his whim and order. I command you to come out of his presence and leave this test you're trying to run on me at this moment."

Suddenly, a pack of mongrel dogs were running by the confrontation scene and the little dog clicked his four high-tops quickly in succession and the entire gang of fleas were swept towards the wild curs heading towards the City Dump.

As he stood alone a second or two later after the ordeal with the gang of fleas, he began to weep for those of a feather who flock together in evil. He knew that beneath each of the fleas' hearts, there was pain, hurt, anger, and lost direction in life. Strength in numbers was preventing them from looking beyond their daily life and seeing who they really were inside.

It was also the same with the mongrel dogs that had now become a vehicle to carry more hate and misery into their lives just now. The patterns and cycles of misery were set early in their puphoods and were solidified by no love from those who could provide them with creature comforts and a soft petting touch to let them realize they were wanted in this world.

The little dog saw them not as a wild cur or an angry flea but looked through the rough exteriors and envisioned them as a young hurting pup inside or a flea born in the egg of new beginning at one time.

With this corrected vision of what all were at one time and not judging them by today's event and circumstance, he then forgave them for their present actions and coming together towards further internal poverty.

" If I could provide the whole world with corrective glasses that see all for what they were in the beginning and how much has been thrown toward them in pain and evil since their day of birth, it might make this place a lot more tolerable for all concerned," the little dog contemplated.

It has been said that hindsight is always 20/20, and with the proper credit card, it is possible that glasses of this nature can be bought for all concerned.

It just depends on if the one who can afford this amount to have them made and delivered was willing to pay the price involved!

It would also depend on those under the influence of the Dog Catcher to recognize their blindness and drop their pride enough to accept the free glasses provided by the one who could prescribe them.

In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountain start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.--W.H. Auden

What did Soren know and when did he know it?

2004-06-05T17:55:00.000-07:00

" Truth always rests with the minority, and the minority is always stronger than the majority, because the minority is generally formed by those who really have an opinion, while the strength of a majority is illusory, formed by the gangs who have no opinion—and who, therefore, in the next instant (when it is evident that the minority is the stronger) assume its opinion ... while Truth again reverts to a new minority." Soren Kierkegaard

Similar thinking in form to dialectic process, it appears, but also possibly relevant to the birth of today's post-modernistic thinking. Agree or disagree, the thesis vs antithesis process is prevalent in much of man's makeup after the Fall.

Will the new monastic individuals of today become "the crowd" at some point in time until another minority pops up and challenges the stiff cement of what then becomes "tradition" again?

Odds are, though, that Jesus Christ will remain through it all as the same yesterday, today, and into the ages to come!

Billboard Sermon

2004-06-05T14:15:00.000-07:00

It's amazing how much Ultimate Credit can build up towards one's account if it's eternal and never runs out, the little dog thought. The last time he had checked , there was a total of "7" available for him to spend on others in need.

Because of his faithfulness in meeting the grace periods each month and being a timely dog to the Eternal Bank, he now had "70 times 7" available to spend when the sick, poor, meek, and hungry were in dire necessity. His little tail wagged with a pace that only Lance Armstrong could keep up with.

This increase verified that his Word was good when it came to meeting the responsibilities he had previously committed himself to. He yipped in delight at his joy in finding out that, if he wanted to, he could purchase the whole world with just one swipe of his credit card.

It puzzled him, though, that the lukewarm stores who were only open on Sundays from 10:00AM to Noon and 6:30PM to 8:00PM wouldn't let him use his credit card to get merchandise. It was like they had sold out the store before he got there to intentionally spend freely towards those who might need his assistance in time of need.

The store managers were adamant at times about their specific rules and regulations and they pleased only those who didn't require much. Most of the customers just meandered around the aisles to see who else was shopping there. They were like window shoppers who were enticed by the display window in front with its well-dressed mannequins calling them in to browse around.

The little dog much more preferred the down-to-earth milagros where the hard-working braceros of faith spent hours of toil planting the semilla into the fertile soil and nurturing it daily with a combination of love, patience, and understanding. After their daily labor, the braceros would celebrate their labor with a glass of wine and a loaf of bread---simple elements of nourishment--but actually a toast to the power that kept the fields ready for gleaning in perfect season.

It was vitally important for those in search of the mustard seed hope to keep their foundation in check without toppling the whole thing down one day because of a weak base of concrete. The KISS method would apply very apropos as a deterrent--Keep it simple, Samson!

The basic ingredients of concrete---dirt, water, and air--made the little dog think much of the pottery of dead men walking all around him. If there was a way to mold them into vessels of beauty without such resistance on their part, he'd figure it out, he thought.

As he left the telephone booth, he looked up and read the billboard across the street with a message he knew would help him in this endeavor.

The billboard said, "Ultimate Reward Card--You can't leave home without it!"

"Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue."--Eugene O'Neill

Newbie-to-blogging thoughts

2004-06-04T18:42:00.000-07:00

Many thanks to Wade Hodges (www.wadehodges.com) for giving me direction and encouragement to start this blogging venture. I'm sure that I'll involve myself in several "sins" of those who first start blogging because of a need to share thoughts and immediately throw it all out there for others to peruse as they come across this virtual spot in the Universe.

In this phase of infancy to blogging, I don't see a magic formula that will create readers or stimulate comments back to my rusings.

Maybe the catharsis is my major reward rather than the interaction with others--I don't yet know.

The Ego would say that "no comments" means I've stunned them into silence whereas the Reality will probably be that not many are hanging around here.

Anyway, the catharsis may be its own reward--like silent prayer to God getting a special listening ear when spoken from a trusting heart and inward moving lips.

Let it be so!

Group hugs

2004-06-04T15:03:00.000-07:00

Hebrews 12: 1, "Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses...."

Nothing is better than a "group hug" to encourage us that our spiritual course of life is heavenly supported by others who had human frailties in life and turned them over to "The Higher Power".

Charging Forward

2004-06-04T03:36:00.000-07:00

Resting from his tribute to the Ultimate Beat, the little dog laid on his back for a moment with all four hightops in position of prayer to the Lord of the dance.

Panting in peace, his breath rhythmically blending with the song of the wind, he felt as if he had been poured from vessel to vessel and was renewed in his ambience and flavor.

The workers of darkness had created a system to keep all the world in dregs of the flesh--stuck at the bottom of the barrel with no hope of new skin arrangement.

Like dead fish floating downstream with the current, there were many whose odor had offended the nostrils and were lifeless in endeavor to choose their direction. They were blind to the river's flow and deaf to the Om of its voice.

Consider the peach, the little dog thought, which is natural in its relationship to the tree. It didn't earn its ripeness, but rather, rested with its bearer and tuned into the calling of its being.

Shaken to reality by a honk and a motor hum, the little dog snapped to attention as a truck pulled up with a bumpersticker that said "Force happens." Someone blindly threw out two meaty bones of contention towards him in hopes that he would bite into the carcass remains and become as them.

Though hungry and not having yet broken the fast through the night, he bypassed the aroma and call of seduction and meandered away from the temptation before him.

It was no easy task, but one must choose one's master and serve them through thick and thin. The mother of us all had nipples to feed those who came and dined in good conscience and with spiritual hunger.

The little dog sneaked behind the truck and with a black felt marker he hid in a hightop, he crossed out the word "Force" imprinted into the bumpersticker and substituted the word "Grace" as a viable suggestion to those who would peruse it from henceforth on.

Altering evil intentions into messages of good was his forte in life, he thought, as he headed in an opposite path from the vehicle before him.

Unfortunately, not only were there many who were blind and deaf, but they also couldn't read the messages daily shown to them in Nature's panorama of wealth.

The little dog stepped into a telephone booth and called to see how much credit was still available on his Ultimate Reward credit card. The answer didn't surprise him a bit!

"It is to the prodigals...that the memory of their Father's house comes back. If the son had lived economically he would never have thought of returning."
Simone Weil

And the Band Played On

2004-06-03T14:55:00.000-07:00

Proliferating in the winds of time, the mustard seed rose above the land and hovered in the clouds to be watered with the firmament's grace---holding faith to the fact that an all-seeing eye would spot its correct place when the time was ripe for implantation.

Alas, the years had been eaten by the locusts at various intervals and many past seeds had been swallowed up by the armies of pride and famine---not to count the regiments of specialization that arose in a myriad of forms contrary to a hope's existence in peace.

Occasionally, a still point in time would open up to where a seed could dance downward to an open heart whose pride and greed had been ravaged by the tests of fallibility--and found wanting of another hue of life's color and pattern.

The open history book reflected the trails of the wandering seeds as they germinated in those who the majority could not see because of the blindness that spread among the sheeple.

April was always the cruelest month to alit as the winter of discontent had taken its toll on many. Rebirth was a long induced labor from the uterus months of torrential rains of disillusionment and the thunders of hate that kept one afraid to venture into innocence again.

Like a benevolent cyclops in an unfriendly land, the little dog awoke from his slumber, put on his four high-tops, and trotted over to the field where the wildflowers were beginning to spread their countenance over the yielding field. He thanked each one of them for their message and then began his morning salutation to the mustard seeds still hovering above him in silence.

Afterwards, he danced-- a four-legged menagerie of universal expression that reflected all cultures in their prime of hearty love and beat.

Within the simple moment of reverence that the little dog engaged himself in with spontaneity and awe, it also sparked the clouds to embrace the mustard seeds into their bosoms and hold them as truths to still be born.

Inside the music of the gentle breeze as it wove through the fir trees nearby, one could hear a still small voice whisper to the planet, " Behold, the little dog! When he gets down with the beat in the early morn, it's time to pick up your inward instruments and join the band."

Unfortunately, those who were blind also could not hear!

"I know nothing, except what everyone knows--
if there when Grace dances, I should dance."
W.H. Auden

The Cup Runneth Empty

2004-06-03T02:19:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in the back pew of a one-cup, one-loaf Church enjoying the silence in-between the preacher's words. I'd heard the rhetoric many times before and was accustomed to thinking ahead of the sermon as it presented itself to my ears.

When communion time came, the contents of the one cup had been physically ingested by all of the spiritual inhabitants in the pews before me by the time it was my turn to partake in the "blood". Nary a drop was left in order for me to communally examine my life in Jesus and share in spirit with the Church as a body of believers.

The ushers immediately retrieved more contents of the cup in order for me to commune as the scriptures so proclaim. Being the only remaining person in the last row of pews that hadn't done so as of yet, I sipped my fragment of the cup and swallowed it in reverence to the King who had touched my heart in a myriad of ways.

The question to some would be, though--by not sharing in the original cup content that was passed from hand to hand and sipped in a community of shared belief, was I then not part of the same crowd of believers because I hadn't drank from the same body of liquid content as the rest did?

A hardliner would have to stretch their dogmatic truth in order for me to fit into the formula of faith that separates this bunch from those who differ in communion patterns. Was I now a devoted participant in the one-cup Church formalities or did I start a new sect called the one-bottle sect? Let's face it, I did drink from the remains of the original bottle opened up for the service--but I didn't share from the one-cup's worth of original liquid flow that all the others shared.

I also did drink from the same physical cup as the rest, so was it the actual "cup" itself that joined us all together in this sanctioned ritual? Questions started to back up within me from several angles over this seemingly trivial happenstance. I began to see how this small incident could lead to "wars and rumors of wars".

Amongst all of the back pew silence, I heard an answer from within that said, "Thanks for remembering me and following my direction, Larry Joe. I've examined your heart and found you to be one of mine. Go in peace as much as you possibly can!"

Thank you, Jesus! You just assisted me in changing a potential weapon of feudal war into an instrument of peace within myself.

The Night Has a Thousand Eyes

2004-06-03T01:42:00.000-07:00

When the night is darkest, the juggernauts of retribution fill up the souls of the unforgiving to be used as fresh wrongs during the light of day.

The little dog watched from his loft as the workers of perdition cargoed the freight into the recesses of mankind for another term of havoc and pain.

Their goal was to create a blind world to where an eye for an eye would be fulfilled to the extent that nobody would be able to see their way anymore. The plan was working beautifully so far, they reasoned, as they scanned the newspaper headlines with any eyes they had left to see.

They would not rest until the world had become a moral desert with no oasis to lean into for comfort. Like undisciplined water, they wanted their absence of good to flow aimlessly into the fields and drown mankind under a flood of uncontrollable energy and destruction.

Division unto division, the master plan was working in every nook and cranny where a human soul was planted and resided. Schisms of every sort and category had sprouted up wherever a conscious mind could get entangled with the cargo of evil and spit out its venom and self-servingness.

As the little dog eyed the infiltration with a tear of sadness and heart full of sorrow, a little girl walked up to him and began to pet him with great concern and love in her touch. The little dog looked at her and could see that a prayer was in her heart that very much needed to be heard before any earthly plan to overcome the plague of blindness could be effective in its efforts.

He nestled into her heart and heard the innocent words of a child-like faith in the form of a pleading petition whisper into his spirit of grace and favor. "I pray for the bad people to be good and for the good people to be nice," were the words that came eloquently from within her tiny heart of love.

The little dog and the little girl cuddled with each other and created a mustard seed of hope that, even though tiny and insignificant in form, it had the power to spread and defeat the evil plans of the workers nearby who were oblivious to its fruition and shape.

It was only a small crack they created to fight the bigger battle, but cracks eventually make caves collapse. As the two little ones fell asleep in peace throughout the rest of the night, some birds came and gathered up seeds freely without having to earn them and a bunch of wildflowers started to creep their way up through the soil in a field nearby to bloom when the sun would shine later on in the daylight hours--the same sun that shines on people good and bad.

Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
T.S. ELIOT

The Feast of Plenty

2004-06-02T18:13:00.000-07:00

The little dog walked to a feast prepared for those who were classified as odd fellows of the world.

When he entered the building where the great meal was being prepared, the little dog noticed that there were not many rich and healthy waiting in line to be fed, but plenty of the poor and sick who had run to the occasion when they heard that grace was being served in abundance.

Leaning outside the building front was a ladder of power which reached up to the sky. So many were trying to get on the ladder that the rungs were cracking from the weight of those who saw this vehicle as their opportunity in life.

Inside, the poor and sick walked under a ladder that reached down toward them, and it had the words " Grace be unto you" carved into each step pointing down to the crowd underneath.

The banner hanging from the rafters stretched entirely across the dining area and it had the words "All you can eat!" in bright colors so that all wouldn't miss the message the Ultimate Proprietor wanted to convey to the diners.

The opening and closing scene of the movie Forrest Gump was being shown on the screens that lined the walls. Many could relate to the gentle lightness of the feather as it wandered downward to the ground with no absolute clue to where it would fall.

Each dining table had a copy of Dostoyevsky's book The Idiot firmly placed at the northern end. Every odd fellow who dined at the table could sense the book's lesson to their own plight in life as they began to dine on the heaping morsels piled on the plates before them.

After dinner was consumed and all were more full than they had ever been before, the little dog walked up to the cashier and said, "This is all on me! I will pay the price of whatever the bill comes up to. Do you take an Ultimate Reward credit card?"

The cashier looked at him with a hint of doubt and stated, "You know, little sir, that this dinner is going to cost you an arm and a leg, don't you?"

The little dog hesitated for a second and said, " Throw in a crown of thorns and I'll leave you a tip!"

Introduction

2004-06-02T16:42:00.000-07:00

As I sit in back pew silence watching all the movement among the faithful in the world, I get sidetracked by the hustle and bustle of the meanderings outside beyond the foyeur and doors that let me in to contemplate the navel of my purpose for being on Earth.

Such a dichotomy, it seems, at times! While the inside faithful are chatting to God of where their heart is for the next 90 minutes, the little dogs are outside playing freely in the moment with their Eternal Master who watches over them with the freebies allotted them in this world.

Inside, we're picking apart bones of truth to chew on for the upcoming days while the little canines outside are living the truth of the newly-placed bones before them. The "Present" is all that counts for them and they live in comfort that "The Master" will provide whenever it's needed.

From the back pew, it appears that many inside are full of doubt as to whether or not the future will be in the form they request from "The Master" who promises that all living things are under His majesty and fullness.

Which of the two groups is really worshipping in spirit and truth?

I sit in the back pew on purpose. Close to the inside faithful, but also only a few steps away from the outside faithful.

Stuck in the middle, one might say!