"Beer-Lahai-Roi............"

April Fool.  I'm not sure who started such nonsense, but yesterday began Spring Break for our neck of the neighborhood and, with the thirteenth of this month marking our forty-eighth anniversary, Beth and I have escaped to a "desert island" for a few days of celebration. This is being written early in the a.m., me seated in the large foyer of the Hampton Inn, a hot breakfast being served in the dinnete area and MSNBC amusing me on the television across the room. Back home, Fox News is usually my only source of political input; and watching "the rest of the story" merely affirms my opinion that man is a complicated animal, full of vanity but confused for the most part and in need of some greater means of navigation other than his own ability to reason. We gather with those with whom we agree. We make war with those with whom we don't. Peace, for most of us, is "having it my way". In perusing the Book of Exodus this morning, I read where God told Moses that the tabernacle would be sancitifed by His glory. Surely, one day we'll learn: Walking by our own understanding will always be a stumble down the road. The only "reality" is an inner connection with the One who created it all in the first place; and if that, for the moment, only equates to a temporary oasis where we can know Him in all that He is, then let me walk with enough sense to know He, alone, is truth, with enough thirst such union to follow His tug on the anchor-line......      

"Stability........................................"

It’s early Friday morning, the last day before Spring Break, and I wish I knew of some deserted island, nothing but a hammock, my Bible, a good book, and a supply of fig newtons. Nope; Beth would never agree to that. Even with it looking like we’re finally coming down to an Obama vs Romney battle, though, it’s for sure that the vicious mud-slinging is only about to increase; and, this being yet a divided nation in many ways, civil war is upon us once again. Not that our views on how to govern ourselves is the singular part of our existence that we so passionately argue. At this very moment, the country is racially embroiled over a young man’s tragic death, not many, on either side it seems, willing to wait and allow the facts to determine the truth. Personally, I’m inclined to believe the problem has little to do with life as it comes to us as it does with “life” as it is in us; and, by that, I don’t necessarily speak of what poses for Christianity in this nation. On a television interview yesterday, another minister suggested that the reason we are in such shape is because religion has not involved itself in the political system. If that is so, then it is marked by the genuineness of such faith as those men whom we’ve elected to office claim to possess, not by the Church lobbying for our population, as a whole, to adhere to our individual beliefs. The Holy Ghost is “packaged” individually, His reins on the person, not the propaganda the person pursues. Free will is allowed; but I’ve found it much easier if I can just stay calm enough for me to discern His input on my output……

"Candles.........................."

Yesterday marked the 40th anniversary of my “born-again” conversion to Christ, an event that truly did “save” my life in many ways. It took place in what was then my living room, but the house, itself, one that my father had originally built and that particular spot indeed the very place where I’d caught him alone one afternoon and questioned him as to whether he thought such a thing as “God” even existed. His answer left me puzzled. His death a few months later only made me angry at whomsoever or whatsoever deity that had taken him from me. Twelve years down the road, I came full circle, nothing making sense, my inability to explain myself, let alone a deity, leading me to a mental abyss and I jumped. Christ caught me…. I sat in my car for an hour last night, out in the parking lot waiting on my granddaughter to accomplish volleyball practice and reading a bit of Thomas Merton. In a chapter on “unbelief”, the author separated individuals into three classes of people without faith, two of which were professing members of the Church. As a Trappist monk, he spoke unto Catholicism; but it wasn’t all that hard for this Pentecostal veteran to identify with his words. My conversation Monday evening with that young father of three who grew up within our congregation, in fact, was centered on that very theme. After one’s confession comes the journey. One day each of us must step into eternity for himself and the difference will be whether we have created Him or He has created us. Determining that, however, is a personal matter. As for me, that same point of contact encountered four decades ago remains open unto me, providing assurance and alignment as I go. In Him I trust. All else is subject to suspicion……

"Happenings................................."

The two youngest grandkids and their dog stayed with us overnight, mom and dad journeying to Winchester to be with his family while his father had surgery on his neck. That meant Beth had to arise early in order to get the “youngins” to school and me being left alone here at the house with a few minutes to myself. Indeed, it seemed like a good time to pray. Kneeling down by the loveseat in the family room, I was just beginning to cross over into “the flow” when Tubby (the mutt whom I had already tried to coax out the front door twice earlier) now began to bark as if to inform me that his need was urgent; so I arose and let him out, turned and knelt this time before the recliner there by the fireplace, and was once more about to “connect” when the sound of his pawing let me know he was ready to come back in. My third attempt was more successful; but, somewhere in the middle of it, my cell phone brought me my wife’s request to meet her at Bob’s for breakfast. End of story. Such is life….. This evening McKenna came to me with a request to drive her out to our church for play practice. Thinking that she would be there no more than about an hour, I took a book with me to read. The day had been long; my mind was yet a bit numb; and it’s easier to just occupy one’s thoughts at such times: being “spiritual” seems too hard to attempt. Not even two or three pages into my perusal, however, a young father of three came through the front entrance with his young son in his arms and, making conversation, asked what I was reading. My admission to it being a secular novel was close to an apology. He responded, though, with no condemnation and for a few moments it was like the two of us stepped into His presence as we discussed the reality of the Holy Ghost, the Gospel as it proves itself out in our walk, His grace alive and leading us as we go. It doesn’t get any better. In fact, such is “life”!......

"Heritage........................"

My twenty-year-old grandson was granted permission yesterday to drive the expressway down to the Lexington Mall, a distance of a hundred miles or so and his first “long distance journey” away from home. The sole reason for his request was to “pursue” a friendship established with a girl from Virginia, her church having attended our annual Youth Conference and her group now planning to stop and shop for a few hours before their return. If Cody, his brother, his cousin, and two other boys left here with mom and dad’s blessing, though, it is also true that their departure gave me and their grandmother some concern. The immediate area around their destination is at all times an enormous snarl of traffic, five lanes in either direction bumper to bumper out front and the parking lot itself not much better. Thank God for cell-phones and grandchildren raised to respect the hearts of their elders. Text messages kept us aware of their safety and, truthfully, the whole event took me back some fifty-two years to a trip I made with another fellow, both of us older teenagers and motoring to Paducah for much the same purpose. We took the ladies bowling when we got there, had dinner with their parents, and came back the next day. Where we stayed overnight is beyond my memory (so are the names and the faces of the girls, for that matter); but what is till fresh to me is the feeling of somehow reaching a milestone, a liberty granted me that somehow spoke of “no longer being just a kid”. Surely God’s hand was on us when we returned, me falling asleep at the wheel on old Route 25, no more than twenty minutes from the house, the driver’s window down a bit and the roar of the approaching semi so loud that it awakened me no more than a hair before impact. I’d like to believe that it was, anyhow. What I’m positive about, however, is that, whatever life brings to us, we can trust in His love, His wisdom, His concern; and what I’m thankful for is daughters who have raised their children in Him……

"Breathing............................."

It was pretty much a packed house at the rescue mission Wednesday evening, a few empty seats up front, but a crowd compared to the last few times we’ve shared. No sermon, per se, just the three of us talking with them about the Gospel as it has come to us in the journey, “life” as we have found it to be since experiencing an injection of Christ. Life… The last two days have but continued to bring to me a renewed sense of my job at school being “fun”; and yet, if the rumors prove to be true, next tear our individual Special-Ed unit will be eliminated, those few children left to us after graduation, plus a single incoming student, will simply be separated and sorted into other existing rooms, giving some answer to necessary budget cuts. With this economy, one knew it was coming, sooner or later; but right now it appears that I’ll just follow “my” boys and be working with another teacher. I won’t know any detail, however, until we walk through the doors again in August. Doors… Normally, there isn’t any way a basketball game would keep me up past eleven, but with last night being Friday and this morning being all mine, I sat up to watch my Indiana Hoosiers give Kentucky a good game. They exhausted themselves in the final moments, however, and I “gave up the ghost” about a quarter after twelve, three minutes left to play, the evidence telling me it was over. Falling asleep was no problem. Nonetheless, feeling “the call of nature” a few hours later, I arose and stumbled through the darkness, walking headfirst into the edge of the open door. It was one of those “What’s that? Ker-whop!” kind of encounters most of us have had at one time or another, me remarking on my own stupidity before sliding beneath the covers once again. About seven this morning, now in the recliner and brushing my eyebrow for some reason, I discovered a crusty area over my left eye, checked it out in the mirror, and realized I now possessed about a quarter inch vertical cut in that area… It seems to me that faith is not so much about moving mountains as it is about knowing Him in the middle of all that we do, all that we are. Spirituality isn’t defined by how well we pray, how much we go to church, or even by our ability to quote Scripture. It’s a relationship wherein two are one even when they aren’t, secured by a bond of surrender on our part, knowing His grace meets all our needs. So I believe. So I tried to witness to those men worshipping with us down at the mission……

"Connection............................."

My pastor friend in Pensacola posted on Face Book several times yesterday, stating in one place how his church had known “a powerful time in God’s presence” Sunday morning, but afterward noting that “as pastors, we pray, study, and prepare; and sometimes it still doesn’t come out like we had planned”. If his words seem to contradict one another, it is only because we all too often hold a wrong view of what it means to walk with Christ. Wednesday evening, “my” group will be visiting the men at the rescue mission again. I have no three-point message to share. My mind, at the moment, is a kettle of soup, Bible verses and my existence as it has come to me lately all mixed into a gumbo and cooking over the fire, the main ingredient no more than a question as to what Jesus actually meant when He said that He came to give us life and that more “abundantly”. To many, it would seem in this present generation, it translates to health, wealth, and a guarantee that whatsoever they speak will be granted them as heirs to the kingdom. People fail, I think, to comprehend that the promise concerns that which comes to us internally through the covenant, a restoration of that which was lost in the Garden, the Holy Ghost “in” me! One with both the Son and the Father, He is a continual source of strength, peace, wisdom, all that we might need in so far as, not only in taking the next step, but finding within it purpose, encouragement, those things that make our existence more than just sucking in air and going through the routine. Billionaire or beggar, facing terminal illness or feeling like you could whip whatever, He alone defines our completeness, our fullness. He is “life”……