Aug 022014
 

Having recently survived another birthday, I am reluctantly reminded of my age and the fact that I am getting older.  What I also realized is that I will forever be getting older.  Someday, I may die.  Someday, I may get a new body.  Someday, I may live in a different realm.  But I won’t get a new “me.”   This “me” is an eternal being.

We often speak of people who have died saying they would have been some number years old if they were still alive.  That’s not exactly right.  It’s the wrong way of thinking about a being that has an eternal spirit.  I shouldn’t say my grandfather would be 107 in a couple of weeks if he were still alive because, my grandfather WILL BE 107 years old on August 12.  He, just like me, will forever be getting older.

We all are getting older every minute of every day, and the process will never stop, so we might as well get used to it.  Besides, there are some advantages to having a birthday.  There’s parties and presents and hearing how much you are loved.  It’s a time for celebrating.  I wonder what kind of birthday parties they have in Heaven?  I bet my granddaddy is gearing up for one right now.  Maybe a big old angel will blow a horn to start the party, and God Himself will tell the story of how much He has loved my granddaddy since the day he was formed in his mother’s womb.  I would love to see it.   Who knows.  Maybe someday I will.  Perhaps we’ll celebrate his 150th birthday together.

 Posted by at 8:29 am
Jul 152014
 

I was really blessed by this article, so I am sharing it here.  I  always thought I was commanded to be salt.  But that’s not exactly what Jesus said.  Here’s a link to a good read by Winn Collier:

www.intouch.org

 Posted by at 7:35 am
Jul 022014
 

The rain fell despite the young boy’s protest.  He stood on the front porch, staring out towards the wet black pavement on the street.  He gazed up at the sky, shook his fist and yelled, “Stop it!”

The sky answered with a far away rumble of thunder and refused to comply.

The boy yelled louder, his voice building to an almost panicked crescendo.  “Stop it.  Stop it!   STOP RAINING!”

Distant lightening flashed a reply, followed a few seconds later with a defiant thunderous laugh.

The boy sat down on the top step of the porch and began to cry, the tears dripping to his lap as he watched a few bold drops of rain splash their way to the toes of his tennis shoes.  He looked up at the edge of the porch roof, then pulled his feet back against the step, trying to keep them well within the drip line.  He thought he could already feel his toes getting wet.

The bang of the screen door behind him made him jerk and spin his head around.  His dad was standing on the porch behind him, staring out at the dark wet sky.  Still gazing at the sky, he casually asked “What was all the yelling about?”

The boy stuck out his lower lip and grumbled, “It won’t stop raining.  I can’t make it stop raining.”

The dad started to chuckle, then caught himself.  This was serious business to the little boy, and if it was important to his boy, then it was important to the father.  He mustered a more serious tone, then replied.  “Of course it will stop raining.  But not because you want it to.  And certainly not because you scream at the sky.”

“Then how do I get it to stop?” asked the boy.

“You don’t,” said the father.

“Then when will I ever get to ride my bike?”

“Well,” the father paused for a second, “I suppose when you decide to.”

“But I want to ride now,” whined the boy.

“Then ride,” the father replied.

“I can’t.  I’ll get wet!”

The father let a faint smile infect his face.  “Now that’s a different issue all together, isn’t it?”

The boy crooked his head around and gave his father an irritated look.  “I want to ride my bike but I can’t because it won’t stop raining.”

The father took a deep breath and slowly sat down by his young son.  “As I see it, ” he said, “there are at least two things going on here.  One you can’t control, and one you can.  You can’t control the weather.  You can’t make it stop raining.  It will stop when the storm is over and not before.  But . . . ”  he pursed his lips then opened his mouth with a little smack.  “You can control when and how you ride your bike.  You could ride your bike right now.  You just have to be willing to get wet.  Or maybe you have to be willing to wear a rain coat.  Or maybe you could practice doing wheelies under the shelter of the front porch.  You can’t control the weather, but that doesn’t mean you can’t control what you do in it.”

The boy looked up at his dad with a quizzical look on his face.  His eyes widened a little as a mischievous grin invaded his face.  “I’m going bike riding,” he said.

A few minutes later, the boy was cruising through the puddles just so he could watch the water splash. It had been a long time since he had this much fun riding his bike.  The rain water was still splashing his sneakers, but he hardly even notice that his feet were wet.

– JMS

 Posted by at 8:40 pm
Jun 212014
 
I opened this watch with this wrench!

I opened this watch with this wrench!

I never knew one could open the back of a watch with a big old crescent wrench until, out of necessity, I tried it.  It made me wonder how many other discoveries I miss because I avoid the point of need.  The saying is true that necessity is the mother of invention.  The point of need, combined with an ear and heart attentive to the voice of imagination, ingenuity, and inspiration, is the place where unimagined possibilities appear.

Jun 102014
 

Time is limited. You can’t do everything.
Space is limited. You can’t keep everything.
Want to do something different? Maybe you need to give up something you are doing now.
Want to get something different? Maybe you need to give up something you have now.

 Posted by at 9:59 pm
May 312014
 

Today, my youngest son graduated from highschool.  He may still be worrying about what he will be, but today, I’m pretty proud of what he already is.

 Posted by at 11:32 pm
May 272014
 

There have been times in my life when I felt God called me to do something so I stepped out and tried it and failed.  I used to think that meant I must have missed it.  Perhaps I did not hear his voice.  Maybe He did not direct me as I thought.  Maybe I didn’t understand.  Or maybe I just didn’t execute the plan as well as I should have.  These might be the most likely explanations.  But they are not the only ones.

Lately I have been thinking that connecting the events that way may involve some errors.  Mainly, it assumes I know what the outcome ought to be for every endeavor to which God calls me.  I don’t.  What looks like an earthly failure may be a Heavenly victory. Maybe there can be a difference in what God calls me to do, and what He calls me to accomplish. 

So often, I think I know what God has called me to accomplish because I infer it from what He has called me to do.  I make assumptions.  We all do.  God calls us to do something and we suddenly think we know what He is up to and how He wants it to turn out.  If I feel Him leading me to talk with someone about something, I assume they will be receptive.  If He calls me to teach a class, I assume He wants the class to succeed and grow.  What about those who feel called to start a church?  If attendance doesnt continue to grow, does that mean they missed God’s direction?   Maybe God wants PEOPLE to grow, and not church attendance.  What if a struggling group is exactly what it takes to make that happen?  What if God wants to teach me something through a rejected conversation or a failed campaign?  Might He direct me to still talk to the person or start the campaign?

I think the key is to do my best to follow God’s direction and leave the outcome to Him.  That also means that I can not assume I missed the direction just because I don’t arrive where I thought I would.

So then, if I can’t judge the genuiness of the directive by the outcome of the obedience, how then do I learn to assess the authenticity of my communication with God?  Well, I don’t know, but it’s what got me thinking about all this in the first place.  I guess that’s a subject for another time.

 Posted by at 1:41 pm
May 172014
 
Our Recycle Bin

Our Recycle Bin

On trash collection day, we have two trucks that come by.  One picks up the trash, the other comes later and picks up the recycle stuff.  Earlier this week, I went for a walk down our street right after the trash pick up truck had gone by.  The full recycle bins were all still sitting out, so I had some fun just looking at the contents and speculating about how it might indicate something about the lives of the people who left them out.

As I walked, I noticed some people recycled very little, and some a lot.  Some people recycled only one or two kinds of things. Some people might have a few aluminum cans in their bin and not much else.  Others seemed to recycle almost everything.  I passed one house that had set out extra bins full of paper, cardboard, cans, plastic cartons . . .  most of the stuff that would fill my trash can, they had determined to recycle, even if it meant having to find extra bins to put it all in.  It made me feel a little guilty, since we recycle very little.  Perhaps I toss out many things as trash, when they might be recycled into something valuable.

A little later in the week, I was talking with a friend who had recently had some “trash” tossed into his life.  It was ugly, smelly stuff that someone had dumped on him even though he didn’t deserve it.  It occurred to me that we all have trash come into our lives.  Often, we just hold our nose and try to deal with it until we can get rid of it.  But God has called us to have a different attitude.  God has promised that He can use it to make something good if we will only let Him.  God has a giant “recycle bin” for all the trash that would come into our lives.  The question is, will we just hold our nose and live with it while we wait for the trash man to pick it up?  Or will we put it in God’s recycle bin and allow Him to use it to make something good?

 

 Posted by at 9:05 am
Apr 292014
 

Bob sat in his chair looking for the sunrise.  He stared out the window, just waiting for the faint light to appear on the horizon.  He glanced at the clock.  It should be coming up by now.  Maybe there are clouds blocking the weak early morning light.  He waited.

Bob waited in that chair for another 2 hours, but the sun never showed itself.  He began to imagine the worst.  What if the sun went out?  What if the sun never did shine again?   Suddenly feeling colder, he stood up, grabbed an afghan and wrapped it around his shoulders, then began to pace the floor.  For several days, the news had heralded the coming of massive sun spot activity, but no one had predicted the sun would stop shining.   Bob’s heart was beating so fast and hard that he could feel it throbbing in his temples.

Most days, Bob worked the evening shift, getting home just a few hours before daylight.  Typically, he would come home, eat a snack, then sit in his chair and read for a bit.  When the sun started coming up, he would go to bed.   Now, as he waited for the sunrise that didn’t happen, he was beginning to realize it would all be night shift from this point on.  What he didn’t realize is that he had fallen asleep in his chair shortly before dawn, and slept the entire day away.  It wasn’t 8AM. It was 8PM, and the sun was faithfully shining on the other side of the earth.  Bob just had to wait a while longer, and the sun would shine on him again.   For a brief few moments, he would be ecstatically happy . . . until he realized that he would have to call and explain why he missed a day of work.

 Posted by at 1:26 pm
Apr 252014
 

Great and Holy God
Author of my soul
Write in me your peace
For you are the Painter of my life
The Builder of my destiny
And all that I am or ever will be, is yours.

 Posted by at 5:21 pm