"Abra Cadabra....."

There is a mental image yet held by me of my paternal grandfather stretched out in his recliner, watching wrestling on the television set while listening to the ballgame on the radio and reading a paperback western at the same time. Take away the quart of beer on the floor beside him plus the cigar that he always enjoyed, and maybe it’s where I inherited my ability to peruse more than one book at the same time. There are three presently occupying my thoughts, one of them written by a psychiatrist and the fifteenth chapter, in particular, speaking to me in terms of possible use in ministry at both the rescue mission and the Detention Center. Surely the subject matter applies to us all, though, the truth therein certainly a part of my own life. It’s entitled “Only Bad Things Happen Quickly” and opens by stating: “One of the common fantasies entertained by those who seek change in their life is that it can be rapidly achieved. Once we think we know what to do, it appears that we ought to be able to simply do it. That these sudden transformations are rare is a source of puzzlement to many.” The author next begins to show that our addictions are not just limited to drinking, smoking, drug dependency, sexual perversion, and gambling. In his words, “What is at work here is the psychological power of habit, the characteristics that render each of us unique seldom the product of rational choice and the life-altering maladaptive behaviors that are our habitual ways of relating to others major determinants of how successful we are in forming and sustaining relationships.” He goes so far as to claim our “identity” is not a matter of conscious choice, but either inborn or formed by our history, ingrained within the very fabric of who and what we are, and he assures the reader that nothing is going to be altered overnight. In his opinion, any “sudden good news” was reduced to just four things: “a last second touchdown, an unexpected inheritance, winning the lottery, or a visitation from God”… That last statement made me smile, giving me pause as to just how much he considered each of these four events to be “life-changing”. While the latter holds more potential for transforming the inner character of a man, it yet remains without guarantee and conditional upon the relationship maintained with the addition of Christ “in” me. We, within the fellowship of faith, seldom put it in such terms, there being a better “draw” to stress the immediate more so than the journey yet ahead. Nevertheless, Paul admonishes us, as believers, to “examine” ourselves on a regular basis, perfection the goal, grace the incentive, not a blanket permission to remain as we are……

"Super Glue......"

Having often expressed here my disappointment with much that has changed in Pentecost and in my church, in particular, during the last four decades, it seems only fair that this old man also share some reasons why he yet finds himself seated in the balcony for Sunday morning and evening services. I’ve previously pointed to my daughters and grandchildren being active members, volunteering and giving themselves in several ways, Christ alive in their life far beyond what happens within their attachment to this body of believers. It’s also true that, while the majority of this congregation is no longer familiar to me, having grown larger than my ability to contain everyone’s identity, there yet remains within the bulk a certain few who were there with me in the beginning. My wife’s roots go back over sixty years and my own history amounts to more than four decades. That which holds us here, though, is an even deeper connection, one that surfaces from time to time, a reality that works in our midst regardless of all our differences, in spite of our humanity as it exists, a grace bigger than our inadequacies…. Sunday evening, perched in the upper level, I found myself once again simply listening to the worship team, the songs seemingly “programmed”, an attempt to “prime the pump”, but without any real success. It happens. The Spirit comes as He determines, not through any command on our part. So it was, then, in the process of taking Communion, we experienced, not a “rushing mighty wind”, but something closer to His presence simply being “poured” into the sanctuary. You sensed the difference, His entrance as if an invisible, divine dignity had arrived and the reality of such visitation filling not just the space around us, but receiving us, at the same time, into its depths. Willingly we became one within it. Praise began to flow out of us, the Holy Ghost for thirty minutes or so working in our midst. There would be no need for a sermon afterward, person after person in the pew beginning to exhort and testify of His grace…. I once thought such experience exclusive to “tongue talkers”, having never known anything like it in my earlier brief brushes with other denominations. Years have taught me otherwise. God connects with all who come to His well, the overt manifestation of such event only a matter of how much we surrender ourselves unto it. Let me also admit here that humanity remains humanity, all not using good sense in the liberty given; so I understand why some would prefer a different scenario than what occurs within my bunch. For me, though, this is familiar territory, “home” in so far as attachments, but a place where a commitment to its overall theology left me long ago……

"Integrity..........."

”Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired, signifies in the final sense a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed”… Dwight D. Eisenhower

I’ve started another book, three different ones now being perused at the same time, each one a different genre. This latest purchase is written by Ray Atkinson, author of “The Longest Day”, his subject here but one more historical novel entitled “The Last Guns of Light”. World War II facts have always held my interest. I was born in October of 1941, less than two months before the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. My father fought in the mountains of Italy, one of only two men in his battalion who survived, no wounds suffered other than nightmares on occasion. As a child, I quickly learned it not wise to wake him from slumber. Casualties of such hell are surely measured in more ways than one. In reading about Eisenhower this morning, though, it surprised me to hear several of his contemporaries express poor opinions of him, one fellow observing that “When it comes to war, he doesn’t know the difference between Christmas and Easter”, another judging him to be “no real director of thought, plans, energy, or direction!” Our 34th President, however, while bothered some by their criticism, struggled with more important issues, as far as I’m concerned, this particular account stating elsewhere that “While he was neither philosopher nor military theorist”, he believed too few commanders grappled with what he called “subjects that touch the human soul – aspirations, ideals, inner beliefs, affection, and hatred.” It makes one wonder if he took both of those evaluations into the Oval Office with him. I look at politics much as I look at the Church. We elect and accept our leaders mostly out of (a) party/denominational preference and (b) some charismatic quality the person holds with us. What we get is a man or a woman wrestling with life even as we do. Humanity always factors into the matter, on both sides of the voting booth, on both sides of the pulpit. Government doesn’t necessarily always equate to Washington, D.C. and the above quote need not distinctly apply to all military conflict between nations……

"Declaration................."

This space has always been mostly about a place to sort out my thoughts, a relaxation equivalent to that found through fishing or hunting, the difference being nothing gets killed, no dead carcass to deal with in any manner whatsoever. There’s no kidding myself about being a writer, though, it being fairly obvious that the only subject usually on my mind is Christianity, the Gospel as it filters through my perspective, over four decades of sharing it with others shaped by my journey within the Pentecostal experience. From the beginning, “truth” was never a matter of doctrinal dogma set in concrete, but a continual walk through the fog secured by an inner anchor-line. For me, this has always been an investigation, of me more so than of Him, an occupation, strangely enough, not always welcomed by many within the Church. Questions seem to scare believers, at times even anger them, their religion already framed and put to rest. Who needs explanations? It seems to me, however, that life is in the details as well as in the living, lessons learned as we go and longevity often requiring another look at the manual to determine if we’ve read it correctly. I’m not so much a teacher, in the sense of possessing all the answers, just another pilgrim on the path, and what comes forth here is merely my perspective at the time, up for examination, open for discussion. If theology is no more than an evolving analogy of an enigma, then it is also true that humanity, itself, is the biggest piece of the puzzle. God gives us direct contact, Christ in me, and we somehow manage to turn that into enough denominational dogma to confuse the issue. The instruction manual merely allows each factor to build its own Tower of Babel, some “pre-tongues” and some “post-tongues”, all of whom individually either claim to be the truth, or else the next closest thing to it. Sorry; but my only wish is to point whomsoever to the promise of our knowing an inner personal relationship with the reality of His resurrection; and, from there, it becomes a walk shared between you and the Holy Ghost. Discussion, not demands, is where this old man sits. Drop by any time……

"Illumination...................."

Seeing as how there are no more than about four who visit this site with any frequency, I’m going to expound a bit farther on Tony’s prayer experience that he shared with us in class Wednesday evening. This was not a “Now I lay me down to sleep” declaration on his part. It may well have started out as a petition of some sort, but somewhere in its course he somehow stepped into His presence, becoming as one with Him, hanging on the Cross. If it was a vision, he was in the vision. He could actually feel the nails as if they were in his own hands and feet, his body identifying with the Savior’s and knowing all the pain of simply trying to breathe. His muscles cramped, his mouth dry; and yet worse than all else was that moment when he realized that connection with the Father had been severed. It was an extreme sense of loneliness, producing fear and testing faith. Then that walk into the bowels of the earth. None doubted the tale as told, indeed all of us pausing for a few seconds when he finished. This old man did not make any mention of his dream, though, preferring to speak with Tony afterward about something I’ve long believed. The phrase utilized in our room was “death penalty” and it’s pretty safe to assume most, if not all, of Christianity equates that with the physical demise of Christ, the crucifixion in its entirety. Where is there any explanation in that, however, other than “I should have been nailed to that tree”? Do not all of us yet face the assuredness of our own demise? On the other hand, if we, without dismissing the agony endured throughout the whole assassination, consider that point in time when He was voided of that inner connection known with His Father from birth, suffering what we have known from Adam’s transgression in order to take our walk into hell, “paying the price for our sins” begins to add up for me. Calvary becomes, rather than a religious doctrine upon which we claim possession of a “get-out-of-jail-free” card, a relationship restored and held accountable to us on Judgment Day, the Gospel takes on new perspective. There is no wish here, on my part, to throw away and forget any of the other details concerning Golgotha’s hill. It all figures into “the price He paid” that humanity, as a whole might be reconciled with its Creator; but “how shall we escape if we neglect” salvation’s most important piece of the puzzle?.......

"Enigma........................."

It surprised me a bit, having missed the initial class in our Bible study of the Book of Acts, to find myself now but one of two with a history of having walked in old-time holiness. My partner in such distinction was no more than a young child when I first joined that bunch in the old church, leaving me to wonder about the absence of my other friends, those also having reached the status of being “senior citizens”. We’ve got two Baptists in my age group who never miss, the rest of the group, on this occasion at least, with less than fifteen of us there, Pentecostal, but their thinking influenced by all that’s changed since we put “legalism” behind us. There are two teachers who rotate in bringing forth a lesson, two different perspectives, two different personalities; and, in truth, it’s hard for me to just let some things slide, the one fellow entrenched in a more Charismatic point of view. That is, at the same time, however, what make me anxious to return each week, disappointed when revival or some other event knocks it off my calendar. We talk. We share. We look at our faith from each other’s perspective without going to war. Here and there we “connect”, the Holy Ghost showing up to manifest Himself in our midst. Tony, last night, briefly commented on one of those verses in the second chapter where it deals with Jesus being crucified and, when his eyes began to tear, his voice quivering, we encouraged him to continue. What we heard was an experience encountered once in a moment of prayer, a spiritual merging with Christ as He hung on the Cross, a tale much resembling a dream once given to me. He and I would talk afterwards of what the “death penalty” actually was. It would have been good to have discussed it with all; but you learn to walk with caution. Not all are ready for deep waters. One step at a time and as He opens the door. I’m just grateful for these who can come together as we do, finding unity in Him without demanding a cloned doctrinal dogma….

"Community.................."

It surprised me a bit, having missed the initial class in our Bible study of the Book of Acts, to find myself now but one of two with a history of having walked in old-time holiness. My partner in such distinction was no more than a young child when I first joined that bunch in the old church, leaving me to wonder about the absence of my other friends, those also having reached the status of being “senior citizens”. We’ve got two Baptists in my age group who never miss, the rest of the group, on this occasion at least, with less than fifteen of us there, Pentecostal, but their thinking influenced by all that’s changed since we put “legalism” behind us. There are two teachers who rotate in bringing forth a lesson, two different perspectives, two different personalities; and, in truth, it’s hard for me to just let some things slide, the one fellow entrenched in a more Charismatic point of view. That is, at the same time, however, what make me anxious to return each week, disappointed when revival or some other event knocks it off my calendar. We talk. We share. We look at our faith from each other’s perspective without going to war. Here and there we “connect”, the Holy Ghost showing up to manifest Himself in our midst. Tony, last night, briefly commented on one of those verses in the second chapter where it deals with Jesus being crucified and, when his eyes began to tear, his voice quivering, we encouraged him to continue. What we heard was an experience encountered once in a moment of prayer, a spiritual merging with Christ as He hung on the Cross, a tale much resembling a dream once given to me. He and I would talk afterwards of what the “death penalty” actually was. It would have been good to have discussed it with the whole group; but you learn to walk with caution. Not all are ready for deep waters. One step at a time and as He opens the door. I’m just grateful for these who can come together as we do, finding unity in Him without demanding a cloned doctrinal dogma….