Challenger the Eagle...

I took Jay and Megan to the University of Tennessee football game the other day. It was their first such experience in America and my first time in several years, and we all enjoyed it. I compared the stadium with all the orange clad people to Jeju Island in Korea. Jeju is where they have the Mandarin orange groves. We watched the marching band, and I explained the game as it was played.Before the game, we stood for the singing of the National Anthem, and witnessed the flight of Challenger the American Bald Eagle. Challenger is an eagle that was found when he was very young and raised by humans. He has remained with them and now does these flight demonstrations at events all over the country.

We saw the handler with Challenger in the upper deck near us, while the other handler stood down on the opposite end of the field. When he was released, Challenger soared and swooped up over the stadium. The crowd roared with excitement as Challenger circled the field. He glided half a dozen loops, seemingly teasing the crowd and the handlers. Several times, he swooped down as if to land, only to climb again at the last second. Having never seen it in person, I wondered if he was going to fly away. But just when the thought entered my mind, the majestic bird flew down and down and landed on the gloved hand of the handler. As I looked at the huge screen, I saw the closeup of Challenger as he received a treat from his friend.Days later, I was still thinking about Challenger. I was deeply impressed and awed by what I saw. And my thoughts included a question... Why did he land? As he flew against the dark night sky, I realized something. He was free. He had no tether... no chain... nothing to hold him down... yet his first instinct was to search for his friends. He found them, and after performing his task, he went straight to them. Was it for the treat? Perhaps that was partly the reason, but I tend to think he knows there are plenty of treats out there.

As I pondered this, God gave me the answer. It is not a reward that makes him land. It is not obedience or even training. It is a relationship. Challenger knows these people better than he knows anything else in the world...even other eagles. They saved him and raised him. They provide for him. They love him. And he loves them. He is free to leave whenever he wants, but the love they share compels him to stay. That is why he landed.

That's what God wants for us. He has given us our freedom. We can choose to fly away and never give Him a second glance. Many do just that. However, some have found what He wants for all of us...a relationship. Those of us who follow God, do so not for the reward. It is not even obedience or training. We follow God because of the the relationship we have with Him through Jesus Christ. He loved us enough to save us from our lost condition...to raise us from the pit of sin...to provide for and love us like no other ever could.

Why would I ever want to fly away from Him?

The Trees of the Field...

I told Todd the other day that I was going to help my Dad cut a hickory tree. He responded, "I'm surprised your Dad has any trees left!" I guess I often talk about the manly art of cutting trees. There's nothing better than a day with a clear blue sky, comfortable temperature, family all around and the sweet sound of a chainsaw. Get's my eyes misty just thinking about it. As I thought of writing about it, I knew I had to find an appropriate scripture. These immediately came to mind.

Exodus 20:12 Honor your father and your mother so that you may have a long life in the land that the LORD your God is giving you.

Genesis 1:28 ... fill the earth, and subdue it.

Here we are:

Papa Johns...

For lunch on Wednesday, my team took me to Papa Johns. Being the only customers, we held the full attention of the waiter. We ordered a family meal, and our driver charmed the poor guy into giving us individual drinks instead of the usual pitcher. He actually looked over his shoulder before shrugging and nodding with a smile.
After ordering, our driver asked the waiter if he had a free moment to listen to my message. He said he would but first had to make a delivery. Donning his helmet, he left the store and handed us over to a girl. That was when another of our teams entered the place. We enjoyed sharing stories before our food came.
As my team was preparing to leave, we realized the delivery guy had never returned. Glimpsing him hiding out in the kitchen, we charged the other team with the task and left for our next appointment. It was nearby, and soon afterward we were back in the car. That's when we saw the pizza guy again. I suggested we follow him and share the gospel, but we lost him at a red light. Then we got silly, talking about ordering pizza to the church so we could share. We could order pizza, chicken and every other thing they deliver in Korea. The ladies thought it was a good idea.

Side note: If you park in an apartment complex without a sticker, they let you know their displeasure by pasting a "Don't Park Here" sticker on your windshield. Your punishment is to remove it. It's not easy.

냇 킹 콜...

So we're walking down the street passing little shops and produce markets. We stop in one store to speak with a lady, and she invites us in. I sit down with her on the little stoop in the back and begin to share the gospel message with her. My translator is kneeling in front of us, and the lady listens intently. As my translator is speaking, something odd competes for my attention. I hear it in the background as I share the next part of my message, and as the translator takes over, my mind focuses on the sound.

"Unforgettable... that's what you are...." Here I am, halfway around the world, in a tiny fish shop in the middle of an old neighborhood in South Korea. And from an old radio nearby comes the familiar sound of Nat King Cole. As I've said about a hundred other moments... only in Korea.

P.S. In case you haven't guessed already, the title of this post is "Nat King Cole" in Korean.

Not House Guests Anymore...

Isaac, Sayone, Hanul & Sarang were kind enough to open their home to us. Mike has been coming here every October for the last 5 years, and my history with this family is well documented. Therefore, it's no surprise that we are no longer the strange American house guests. We are family.

Sayone asked me how I like my bacon... then she just said, "Here, you cook."
Sarang and HanulMike even helped to unclog the toilet. Of course, it was his fault anyway, but that's another story.

Does God Have A Plan?

Monday began a long week of running here and there to share the gospel with people. As most of the volunteers are stay at home mother's, many of the appointments are with other stay at home mothers. My team (5 of us) piled into a little car and dashed off. We were going to see a seamstress at a local mall. Upon seeing us, she busied herself and would not allow us to share. It was a disappointing start, but as we reached the car, we met the parking attendant. (I impressed everyone by producing the correct amount of change when he told the driver what she owed.)

As he walked away, someone suggested we chase him down and share with him. We followed and realized he was too busy with his job, so we stepped into a salon instead. The place was empty except for two ladies who listened patiently and responded to the gospel message. One of them shared that she was already a Christian.

As the conversation progressed, one of our team realized that she lives next to the lady's mother-in-law and has actually met her daughter. Information about Calvary Church was shared, and she commented that she has lately been feeling God leading her in another direction and had prayed the previous day that God would lead her to a church where she could serve and fulfill her potential.

So, did God lead us down the street after the parking attendant only to redirect us into this salon? YES! God knows exactly what He is doing. All we have to do is follow. Disappointment was changed to joy.

The rest of the day was filled with such encounters. A young mother in her apartment. A Buddhist dry cleaning man who reluctantly listened as he worked. At one stop, we hurriedly pulled into the only available space right in front of the door. One of the ladies said, "God prepared." I agreed.


An afternoon visit was to a group of ladies at some sort of community center. I was told it was a group who gather to teach their children English and was asked to share the gospel and then to read them a couple of stories in English. They were very receptive and all accepted Jesus except for one who was already a Christian.

The children were alot of fun. They each have English names and I asked them questions and engaged them in simple conversation. They all communicated well except for Dora who was quite shay and Daniel who started laughing every time I said something to him. Jimmy arrived late. As the door opened, he took one look at me standing there, turned and reached for his mother and said, "Anyooooooooooo!" (That means "Nooooooo!") After several attempts, she finally got him into the room. He clung to her and hid his face for a while, but eventually, during my reading time, he opened up. Boy did he open up. These kids are 5 years old. He knew every animal name and every color in English. I finally had to ask him to wait and let one of the other children answer. At the end, he wouldn't join the group photo, but I managed to sneak one of him.

(LtoR) Jamie,
Bill, Dora
& Daniel









Jimmy

Lazy Days and Sundays...

Unlike our June 2008 trip when they got us working right away, we spent Saturday resting at the mission house. It's in another part of Seoul about a 30 minute drive from Calvary church. We visited with Pastor Won and Missionary Robert Hale from Daejeon. (Parkway Baptist where most of our team is from is Robert's home church back in Knoxville.) We walked the neighborhood and shopped (mostly for food), and Benny wondered how we would eat it all. We managed.

Saturday night, we decided to go to Outback Steakhouse right there in the neighborhood. We got into 2 taxis and started off. I showed my driver the written name Robert had given me. (Robert was in the other car.) We drove and drove, and the longer we did, the more confused our driver looked. He kept muttering something to himself, but I didn't know what about. Finally he called the free interpretation phone number and the nice lady on the other end told me that "The driver apologizes but the steakhouse has moved and he doesn't know where."

The driver indicated that he would take us to the nearest Outback Steakhouse he could find. But as I glanced at his GPS and saw the distances, I suddenly envisioned 4 lonely Americans lost in a sea of Koreans, so we went back to the house instead. We planned to call Robert to see where he was, but my phone (the only international one) was locked up in my room and Mike (one of my roommates) had the only key...in the other taxi. Eventually Cheryl remembered a door in her room and we discovered that it adjoined ours.

Robert, Steve and Mike were enjoying a traditional Korean meal at some restaurant in the vicinity of the missing Outback, so Cheryl, Benny, Judy and I ordered a pizza. It was a great beginning.

Sunday was much better. Pastor Won, Isaac and the Ninja (more on him later) picked us up around 7:00 a.m. and we went to our home-stays near the church. After some time with them we gathered for Sunday service. I was excited to see my praise team friends and enjoyed singing with them again. I sang a solo ("Give Us Clean Hands") during both morning worship times, and Benny brought a challenging message encouraging the Christ-like resolution to problems withing the church.

We enjoyed lunch with the church people and spent the afternoon witnessing in the church cafe. Around 3:00 p.m., I joined the Praise Team again to rehearse for the special service at 7:30 that night. We sang and laughed and sang some more. I was standing with Gun Yung the teen boy who couldn't find me a taxi back in January. He still apologizes when I tease him, but says he doesn't mind.

Around 5:00 p.m. things were ending and Yeon Hee said, "Jeff, let's go to the 3rd floor to eat chicken." Everyone gathered and we ate Korean Fried Chicken (my name) and then a couple of pizzas arrived. We laughed and talked for about an hour and then everyone got up and someone said to me, "Now we will go eat dinner." I can't believe these people are so small.

The night was topped off by Pyung Su, the worship leader asking me to sing a duet with him. That's an intimidating prospect. We sang "You Know Better Than I" which turns out to be one of the songs God used in my own time of struggle back in the winter. He is quite the singer, but I felt I held my own and was thrilled.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles...

Have you ever had motion sickness? There's nothing like it in the world. I've been car sick, sea sick, air sick and amusement park sick. I'm an expert. I know the beginning signs, and I know effective remedies for every stage of it. The problem is that the only way to stop it completely is to stop moving. But there's nothing you can about that in an airplane.

I spent the last third of our main flight to Incheon struggling with air sickness. I tried to sleep and went to the head (sounds more dramatic in this case) several times, with some temporary relief. Still, I could not eat the second meal of our flight, and my discomfort progressively got worse. The attentiveness of the beautiful young Korean flight attendants didn't even matter to me. I was really sick.

Side note: They really don't like it if you try to get out of your seat when you're landing. I had to rush to the head again during final approach. Two little ladies about broke down the door to get me back in my seat. They were sweet but insistant, so I complied. I know they will hold the plane on the runway if that happens during take off, and for a brief moment I was amused at the thought of the plane coming to a screeching halt in midair. But it didn't last.

Finally on the ground, I immediately felt better, but I wasn't cured. And during the hour long drive to the mission house, I had to stop a couple of times to the deep concern of our Korean hosts. Days later, people were still asking if I was OK. I told them of my long night's sleep and my hunger Saturday morning. Severe hunger is a great sign. I ate two eggs, several strips of bacon, a bowl of cereal and 5 pieces of thick toast. Much better!

Here We Go Again...

I'm reminded of an old Conway Twitty song...

"Hello darlin'... nice to see you... it's been a long tiiiiiiiiiiiiiime...."

You may think there's a double meaning there, but there's not. It's just been a long time since I wrote anything. I can't believe I allowed the distractions of life to stop me, but I did. Now that I'm away from them, I'm actually busier, but I find the old urgency to share coming back.

So I'm in Korea again, sharing the gospel, singing, and reacquainting with old friends. Pray for us as we work. Pray that hearts will be open to the truth of God's love for them. Pray for Calvary church as it struggles through some tough times. Pray that Satan and his army will be barred from the door. Pray for God's spirit to wash away anything that is not of Him and that His path will be clearly seen.

Eye Opener...

Eye openers can come from strange sources. Some time ago, I stumbled upon the Introduction of our 1991 Baptist Hymnal. I was shocked to read the following: "In the year 1690, Baptist churches in England were embroiled in a divisive controversy. At issue was the question of whether to permit congregational singing in the worship services."

Can you believe it? At that time, tradition was for only one or a few singers to offer praise on behalf of the people. The idea of the entire congregation joining together in song was unheard of. What we take for granted today was at that time a new idea, met with hostility and distrust. I can hear it now. "Thou hast not performed it in this manor prior." Tradition had taken over, and biblical singing as enjoyed by the early church was a foreign concept.

The following year (1691), progressive pastor Benjamin Keach, published one of the first hymnals. In the appendix of this new worship tool, he wrote the following: "'Tis a hard case that any Christian should object against that duty which Christ and His Apostles, and the Saints of all ages in their publick assemblies were found in the practice of it; but 'tis no easie thing to break people of a mistaken notion, and an old prejudice taken up against the precious truth of Christ. The Lord will, I hope satisfy all His people about this heavenly ordinance in due time, and they shall not call it a Carnal nor a Formal thing anymore."

We scoff at narrow minded people such as those who did not allow congregational singing. But we are no better. We like the comfortable, and new methods tend to make us nervous. Of course, everything we do must be measured against God's Word, and just because it's fresh and innovative doesn't mean it's right. However, we must take care to understand the difference between "preference" and "conviction". My preference must make room for authentic, God inspired methods of sharing the Gospel message. What spoke volumes yesterday may not necessarily communicate today, and the bible is filled with fresh expressions of the ancient truths of God.

Isn't it nice to know that new ideas have been making people uncomfortable for centuries. It happens to each of us at one time or another. Change can be a good thing, and when measured against God's Word, I don't have to avoid or resist it. I can look at the experiences of others and know that growing pains are part of God's plan.

The Woodcutter...

Recently I was reading in Nehemiah. In it, we see dedication to the Lord's task and bombardment from the enemy. Satan repeatedly attempted to discourage the work of the people as they rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem. They persevered, and I regularly go to this book for encouragement.

I was reading chapter 10 the other day and discovered something unexpected. Many times, God surprises me with a nice little jewel, seemingly buried within the routine. The people had just finished the wall and many exiles had returned. They publicly read the law, observed the Festival of Booths, and confessed their sin. (The Festival of Booths is observed by constructing and living in a temporary shelter in order to remember their deliverance from Egypt and journey through the wilderness.)

Following this, the people joined together in a vow to God. They recommitted themselves to observing the prescribed ordinances and laws. They also detailed their offerings and donations to the temple, including silver, grain and animals for the offerings. As I read, I was halted by verse 34: "We have cast lots among the priests, Levites, and people for the donation of wood by our ancestral houses at the appointed times each year. They are to bring [the wood] to our God's house to burn on the altar of the Lord our God as it is written in the law." The last phrase refers to Leviticus 6:12 where the priests are instructed to keep a fire burning on the altar, but I have never thought or read about the donation of wood.

I've cut wood all my life. You could say it's a family thing. I remember watching my dad return home after dark with a truck load of firewood. I remember finally being old enough to go with him. I remember early mornings, peanut butter and honey sandwiches and our old Coleman water jug. I remember the smells and the sounds (man sounds: engines and grunting). I remember the work. And I remember the satisfaction.

I've never been very good at naming trees, but I can tell you how they will burn. In Boy Scouts, I specialized in towers and campfires. I can build you a fire that will burn for days and won't fall down. And I enjoy it. There is nothing like the smell of a freshly cut tree, and a warm, crackling fire is a great reward. That's why I was stopped by verse 34.

I can see the woodcutter. He has cut wood all his life. He cuts wood for his home and perhaps to sell to his neighbors, and he enjoys a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. But today is different. Today is special, because he is cutting wood for the temple. Today, the results of his handiwork will serve the Lord God on the altar of sacrifice. I can almost feel the joy he feels, and I can hear him singing as he works.

(To the tune of "London Bridges")
Cuttin' firewood for my Lord... for my Lord... for my Lord...
Cuttin' firewood for my Lord... and His Temple.

As I enjoyed this picture, God reminded me of something Paul said in Colossians 3:23-24: "Whatever you do, do it enthusiastically, as something done for the Lord and not for men, knowing that you will receive the reward of an inheritance from the Lord—you serve the Lord Christ."

The woodcutter is encouraged to have the same joy whether he is cutting for the temple or his own cook fire. I am to rejoice in whatever task is before me, not because of recognition or even the satisfaction of finishing the job. I am to work with all my heart...for Him. My joy comes from knowing that every effort is for the Lord, and I continually praise Him for the privilege.

The Empty Tomb...

In 1994, I visited the Holy Land for 6 days with a group of ministers on what is known as an “introductory tour”. It’s purpose was to introduce us to the tour company who hoped we would return soon with a church group. It was inexpensive and even included the promise of a refund if we booked a group within a certain amount of time. It was a whirlwind. They wanted us to see and feel as much as possible, and they filled every moment of the day.

Initially, I flew to New York, and after joining the rest of the group, departed for Tel Aviv at 3:00 p.m. (local time). After an 11 hour flight, we landed at 7:00 a.m. (local time) and boarded the bus to begin touring. This was difficult enough, since my body thought it was actually 2 o’clock in the morning. But by 2:00 p.m. that day (9:00 a.m. body time) I had not slept in over 24 hours and had spent the whole time flying or touring. Our guide, seeing our weariness, stopped in mid sentence and said, "Do you want to go to the hotel?" We all nodded appreciatively.

I quickly learned that our group differed in priorities as much as we differed in denominational background. Several times I was surprised by what interested some of them. I remember the first glimpse we had of Jerusalem. We were coming up from Bethlehem and topped a hill. There in front of us was the Eastern Gate leading to the Temple Mount. We stopped to take pictures, and the first thing several of my colleagues did was go straight to a camel guy nearby to take pictures of him. I'm not criticizing their choice, I'm simply pointing out the differences in our point of interest. Before long, I mastered the ability to get ahead of these friends. It allowed me a brief moment with the Lord in some of the more spiritually thrilling places.

The Garden Tomb is one such place. It is "believed by many to be the garden and sepulchre of Joseph of Arimathea, and therefore a possible site of the resurrection of Jesus." [The Garden Tomb] In any case it has the look and feel of what Jesus' tomb was like. When we arrived, we were given a brief history and biblical reminder. Then we were led up a path through the forested part of the garden. We entered a small clearing with an amphatheatre type seating area and sat while the caretaker continued to share. We were instructed to look over our right shoulders. I was astonished to see the side of a cliff nearby with the distinct features of a skull. This was Gordon's Calvary, a possible site of the crucifixion.

As we rose to move on, I sensed that the tomb was next and politely worked my way to the front while the others took their time snapping pictures. I could not quite believe I was really there, and my excitement bagan to build as I moved along. There was one lady farther ahead, and as we both went down the path, my quick pace turned into a trot. Heart pounding, I cleared the trees, and the tomb appeared before me. I jogged down half a dozen steps into the open courtyard. Crossing it quickly, I passed the lady who had stopped outside the tomb to read a sign. Without stopping I stepped into the tomb.

Stone walls, cool and pitted by time... Chisel marks... A hewn out bed along one wall...but it wasn't finished...... Finally, I breathed. It was a long moment, and it's burned into my memory. I was given the gift of a few seconds alone in the empty tomb. Time stopped for me there, and I worshipped.

The others arrived, and I stepped out, partly to make room and partly to preserve my moment. Later I recalled my time in the Garden, and my experience seemed to have a strange familiarity. Then I remembered. In John 20, we are told:
³ At that, Peter and the other disciple went out, heading for the tomb. ⁴ The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and got to the tomb first. ⁵ Stooping down, he saw the linen cloths lying there, yet he did not go in. ⁶ Then, following him, Simon Peter came also. He entered the tomb and saw the linen cloths lying there. ⁷ The wrapping that had been on His head was not lying with the linen cloths but was folded up in a separate place by itself.

Chills ran through me then and do now 15 years later. Ordinary men... following their Lord... found His tomb empty. Centuries later, another ordinary man found the same thing. Jesus is risen. He has conquered death. The grave could not hold Him. The tomb is empty.

I know... I was there...

Five Dollar Meal...

I wrote the following article the other day for our monthly church newsletter:

I attended a pastor’s conference in Jacksonville several years ago. The place was packed, and to help with meals, Chick-fil-A had set up a temporary sidewalk restaurant on the church property. After standing in line for a couple of minutes, I received my meal and handed my $5 bill to the man at the register. He said, “The man in front of you paid for yours.” Being nowhere near any of the people in my group, I knew it must be a stranger. Yet, when I looked up, there was no one. Although I could not thank the man who paid, I did offer thanks to God for the free meal.

First Baptist, Jacksonville covers several city blocks, and they have purchased and adapted a number of office buildings for use as classrooms. As I was exiting a building later in the day, a man stepped up to me and asked if I had any spare change for a meal. Instantly I saw what was happening. I replied, “I don’t have any money to give you, but I know where I can get you a meal.” As he walked away with his Chick-fil-A bag, I thanked God again. He had taught me a very important lesson. He knows exactly what He's doing.

He knows exactly what He’s doing at WLBC, too. We may not understand, but we are rarely meant to. I struggle with that. I want to understand everything that’s happening around me. By understanding, I’m able to give my approval (even silent approval) and therefore stay in control of the situation. But, God doesn’t work that way. He knows better than we that trust doesn’t involve understanding. Trust is relaxing into His arms and allowing Him to control everything.

I didn’t understand why my meal was paid for. But thanks be to God, my eyes were open, and when His plan was laid in front of me, I recognized it. A stranger was blessed with a meal and a kind word from the Lord, but I was blessed more. God has a plan for you and His church at West Lonsdale. Though we may not understand what is happening, we are responsible to be faithful. Faithful with our time… with our commitment to prayer and bible study… with our finances… with our… you name it, He owns it all.

Dear God, help us as we trust You. We trust You to provide for our needs and the needs of Your church. We commit ourselves to prayer and bible study and to faithful tithing. Keep our eyes open to Your plan, and bless us with experiences as we walk with You.

Not long after the article was finished and printing, I asked Angie, our custodian to meet me in the parking lot with a trash can. Someone had recently driven by with a load of gravel and left a good bit of it on the road next to our parking lot. It was spreading and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I gathered shovels and brooms, and we began to gather it up. But after only a couple of shovels full, it was obvious the trash can was not up to the task. Planning to bring my wheel barrow the next day, I thanked Angie for her effort and we left the gravel where it was.

About an hour later, a familiar sound outside startled me. It took a moment to register, but when it did, I jumped up and ran outside to see. It was the street sweeper. He was gobbling up our pile of gravel like my 100 pound dog eats his breakfast. I rejoiced. God knew our need and had a plan all the time. He allowed me to try and to fail so I would understand and see His provision. God has a unique way of confirming His messages.

Later that same day, I was on my way to the hospital to see one of our church children. I stopped by the store to pick up some puzzle books for her and while standing in line, I experienced a moment of impatience. I was in a hurry, but the lady in front of me was taking her time. Also, the cashier seemed determined to have a meaningful conversation with every customer. I sighed to myself, and after finally paying, hurried off to the hospital to minister.

As I arrived, I stopped by the volunteer counter for information and then entered the elevator behind another man. He asked, “Which floor?” “Two,” I replied. There is a strange unspoken rule for elevators. You’re not supposed to talk to people unless the ice has been broken. By asking me my floor, he was giving me permission to talk. I asked if he was having a good day, and he replied, “No. My daughter probably won’t make it through the night.”

There were no words to say. All I could mutter was, “I’m so sorry.” I was able to ask her age. She was 18. As we both left the elevator at the second floor, I said I would pray for him, and then I watched him walk down the hallway. I just stood there watching, knowing I should find after my visit. A nurse asked me if I needed help, and after I explained, she indicated she would help me later.

After my first visit, I walked down the hallway where the man had gone. The nurse was there and she went into the room and said, “There’s a gentleman here to see you.” When he came out, I saw the fatigue in his face. I identified myself and told him that I didn’t want to intrude but couldn’t leave without speaking to him and letting him know again that people would be praying for him.

He described her situation and said she didn’t want to stay that way, so they were letting her go. He seemed uncomfortable, so I didn’t push, but offered my name and number, “…if you need anything at all.” He said he knew she would be better off, and I asked if she knew Jesus Christ. He said they both did, and I reminded him that she will be free and they will be together again someday. It was a brief encounter, but one that blessed us both. As I left, the nurse said, “He hasn’t opened up to anyone before.” Wow!

Later it occurred to me that if I had arrived a minute earlier, I would have missed him. The delay at the store was not an inconvenience after all. It was part of God’s plan and for my benefit. I smiled as I looked back on God’s confirmations that day. He really does know what He’s doing.

Addendum…

Three days later, I was at the same store in the same line with the same cashier. I was again in a hurry, and she was starting up her conversation with the lady in front of me. My impatience only lasted a moment when God tapped me on the shoulder. Remembering the other day, I chuckled to myself and relaxed. Little did I know, God was again at work lining me up for an encounter.

As I left the store, two teenage girls hurried up to me with what appeared to be candy fundraiser boxes in their arms. One of them gave the speech about raising money for their church group to go to camp and grow spiritually. She then dramatically opened the box to show me their stained glass window hangers. I said I didn’t want to buy any, but asked, “What church is it?” She replied, “The Unification Church.”

She then asked if wanted to give a donation. I replied, “No. I’m a Christian and there are a number of things we disagree about. So, I can’t support you financially. But I would like to give you this. Jesus Christ and His death on the cross is the only answer for our sin. There is nothing else that will take care of it. Only Him alone.” The were gracious, and we parted cordially.

As I stepped to my car, the window of the car next to me opened. The lady, who had just been able to miss the girls and their sales pitch, asked me, “What were they selling?” I replied, “Do you remember the Moonies? They were the ones selling roses on the roadside. That’s them.” I was then able to speak the same truth about Jesus to her.

Again, God spoke mightily to me. He is the author of every day of my life. He has a plan for every moment, and no encounter is an accident. Whether I can share the entire gospel or only a kind Christ-like attitude, I must see these moments with His eyes.

Oh my head...

I’ve been updating the house lately. A new coat of paint, new window treatments, new bed linens.… I’ve even replaced all the receptacles and light switches with nice new white ones. I’m a perfectionist, so even the hidden receptacles need to be replaced (in my humble but accurate opinion.) The other day I moved out the refrigerator to get to the plug behind it. After acquiring the space to maneuver, I plunged into the job. One problem…I forgot to duck. A shooting pain in the side of my head reminded me of the cabinet, and I dropped to the floor in pain, quoting King James English the whole way, “Verily, verily! Behold! That hurteth!!

It’s not the first (nor the 85th) time I’ve hit my head, but it was the first time I’d drawn blood. After the initial pain eased, I saw the blood on my fingers. It was more than a scratch, but definitely not the gusher I expected, and without someone with me, I couldn’t tell how bad it was. I didn’t want to go to the ER just to check, so I did the only thing I could…I called Ralph. He’s our resident nurse at church.

It was Saturday and he was on his way to Lowes, so I met him there. There in the parking lot, he confirmed it. “Yeah, you could use a stitch or two.” So, that’s how I got 3 staples in my head. After the initial hit, it never really hurt again, except the next morning when I forgot to be careful washing my hair. It was a great conversation starter though, and I never realized how many people would worry about my well being until a passing reference wound up on Facebook.
Now, I told you that story to tell you this one.

Several years ago I was trimming the big Kwanzan Cherry in my front yard. I’m always hesitant to cut limbs, because you can’t put them back, but this thing was really in the way. I decided to remove a few bottom limbs to make it easier to mow and snipped the first one-inch branch. As I reached with the loppers for the second branch, I saw some movement in the corner of my eye. In the eternity that was a second or so, I focused in on four hornets that were coming in my direction. They were in echelon formation diving and then turning left in a sweeping upward arc. They reminded me of a flight of World War II fighter planes, positioning themselves for the coveted belly shot.

As they approached my face, I instinctively began swatting with my hands while simultaneously running backward and blowing out my nose and mouth. (I had long ago dropped the loppers.) The lead hornet, taking advantage of this training opportunity, decided to show his flight how it’s done. Undaunted by the turbulence I was creating, he deftly piloted himself toward his target. Reaching his destination, he began to lay his ordinance.

As he flew up my nostril, my eyes widened in shock and fear. Instantly, I blew harder and he was thrown out, but not before he got his stinger into me. Having done his damage, the lead hornet gathered the flight and returned to the hive, no doubt to regale the other hornets with tales of his feat and celebrate into the night.

I've been stung by Yellow Jackets with no serious result, so I didn’t think I was allergic. But I’ve never had a run in with hornets. That and the location of the strike made me a little nervous, so I called Ralph. (Great guy, Ralph.)

“What should I do for a hornet sting?” I asked.

“Put meat tenderizer on it,” Ralph replied.

Still in a bit of shock, I said, “No Ralph, it’s my nose.”

So Ralph said, “Ok, put ice on it.”

I blinked a couple of times, and then said, “No Ralph, it’s in my nose…he flew UP my nose.”

“Oh,” said Ralph. (He’s one cool customer. No panic. If I ever have something serious happen to me, I want him there.)

“Get some liquid Benadryl, you’ll be fine,” he said.

Later, after I had followed his instructions, I called him back and asked, “What do I do if I get an ice cube stuck up my nose?”

“Wait for it to melt,” he replied.

Reflecting on My Mother...

I remember it as if it were yesterday. I was at Children’s Hospital to have my tonsils removed, and this well-meaning nurse was attempting to draw some blood. Now, I want to say right up front…I like nurses. They’re nice people, and I appreciate the difficult job they do. That said, either this nurse was having a bad week, or my vein wasn’t cooperating, or she just wasn’t very good. Whatever the reason, I spent quite a few minutes in agony, until my mother demanded she leave and send in another to do the job.

Then there was the time I chased that ball down the hill and into the street, only to stumble over the curb and land on my right knee, tearing my jeans and the flesh underneath. (I can still show you the scar.) In tears, I ran home where Dr. Mom was ready to fly into action. Why is it that relief comes from your mother and no one else?

Then there was the time I rode my bike into the street right in front of that car. Laying in Emergency at the hospital with a broken left leg and a slight concussion, my strongest memory is when my parents arrived at my side. As any child might be, I was upset because of the trouble I had caused. But, quickly I realized they were only concerned about me…not about having to leave the restaurant early.

As Mother’s Day approaches each year, I am flooded with many such memories. Times of broken toys, broken bones and broken hearts. The one constant is that my mother was always there. She was there to protect, to mend, to encourage, to reassure. And there’s nothing quite like hearing your mother say “You did great!”

Isn’t that just like God? He’s here to protect you, to heal you, to encourage you, to reassure you. And, oh, the joy on that day when we’ll hear Him say, “Well done!” Mothers have the unique opportunity to show a side of God that we’ll see nowhere else. I’m grateful He gave me the mother I have. I’m grateful we have become the friends we are today. And though I don’t say it often enough, I say it now…

Thanks Mama. I Love You!

Isaiah 66:13 As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you...

Influence...

I Timothy 4:12 "...you should be an example to the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity."

It's something we forget about, the influence we have on others. Especially surprising is a child's revelation about some characteristic they've seen. Children watch... and learn. Take Dalton for example. I teach elementary school boys on Wednesday night. In addition to lessons about God and missionaries, we play rough and rowdy games, say pledges and such... real man stuff. Tonight was no different, and before we were finished, the girls let out of their class. A couple of them stopped at our door as we finished our closing prayer and started into the room. One of my boys called out, "Hey, no girls aloud!" I smiled proudly, and chuckled to myself, "The 'He-man Woman Haters Club' is alive and well."

As we were leaving, the boys asked if we could go to the gym. They said they wanted to go where the girls were not. I asked why and they responded, "They're bossy." I laughed and said I had to go to choir practice, so they would have to go to the playground with the girls. As we descended the stairs, Dalton said, "Not our sisters... it's..." and named the "bossy" one. Again I smiled, and as we stepped out of the building, they took off running. But Dalton stayed back. As he and I walked, he spoke up again.

"I'm never going to date a girl!"

"Oh?" I replied. "Never?"

He thought for a moment and then said...

"Yeah... like you..."

Garage Sales...

A garage sale is a great way to observe people. It's humanity in microcosm. First, you have the early risers. They're the ones who greet you as you open the garage door. They eagerly move past you to get a first look, even while you're struggling to set everything up. I had not even put out the neighborhood signs yesterday when the first two people showed up. It reminded me of a sale years ago. It was on our open carport, and first thing that morning my dad discovered a lady digging through the items in the dark.

Then there are the flea marketers. These are professional shoppers. They go from sale to sale, looking for items they can resell at their flea market booths. They are shrewd buyers with a quick eye, wasting no time with things most people examine. They usually go for the glass items. Figurines and salt and pepper shakers for example. My sister unloaded a large number of items right away, and I'm convinced she could have made more money. But she was just happy to get rid of them all.

Next are the compulsive shoppers. They have the "child in a candy store" mentality. They hardly slow down as they move through the tables, randomly grabbing items and exclaiming such things as, "That will look great on my couch!" In mere seconds they are at the money table with an armload of items and ask, "Can I leave these here for a minute?" They don't need any of this junk, and I know I'm contributing to problem, but frankly, I don't care. Better for them to have this stuff than me.

Also shopping are the critics. They are the ones who bring you an item and begin telling you what is wrong with it. They will argue with you and tear down the value of your merchandise all in an effort to get a better deal. They want something for nothing and will insult you if they don't get it. I rarely bargain with them.

You have the conversationalist shopper. He likes people, and my garage sale is just an excuse to get out and talk to someone. I had some good conversations this weekend. My dad would love it. He lives for conversations with strangers. He can talk for an hour with someone he just met, and if someone picked up one of his items, he's prepared to relate its entire history.

You also have the drive-by shoppers. I wave at them, but they don't usually wave back. They are busy concentrating as they scan my merchandise for just that sought for item.

And then there are the children. Precious creatures who pick up interesting things and say, "Mommy, I want this!" to which I reply, "I'll make you a deal on that." I decided a long time ago that it's not my job to teach them respect or self-control. My job is to move the stuff out. So what if I contribute a little to their delinquency. OK, I'm only joking.

This morning, the second sale day, I had a few minutes after the initial rush to sit with nothing to do. Having pulled my office chair outside, I enjoyed the cool breeze as it blew through the Kwanzan Cherry tree which shades the front porch. Recently fallen blossoms covered the ground and gave the appearance of pink snow. The azaleas, blooming coral red waved cheerfully at me. It was an unexpected gift...a precious peaceful moment. I know now that God was preparing me for an interesting day.

All the personalities I've described were present today. In addition to them, I was visited by some even more interesting characters. They were a young couple. They came in and excitedly began looking at various trinkets. I was explaining something to the young lady and noticed something peculiar. As she was speaking, I thought, "She's thin, but her muscle tone is good." Then, looking at her face, I thought "Does she need to shav...?" That's when it hit me. "This is no lady," I thought.

What I had failed to see before became clear. But, I was happy that I had treated them with respect and normalcy instead of with the revulsion I now felt. Perhaps God kept my from seeing at first for that reason. We continued on and they purchased some items. As they left, I was seated again and looked up just before one of them looked back at me. I waved, but he thought I had been staring, and happily said so to the other one. It's a shame people will do such things for attention.

In a totally opposite situation, an older couple came through and saw the table and chairs for sale. It belonged to my sisters. When they moved out to an apartment together a number of years ago, they bought the unfinished set and stained and finished it themselves. Carol has been keeping them and put some new pillows on the seats, but it was time to let go. The couple spoke of a family member who had suffered some setbacks, both medical and financial. This set would be perfect for her, so they called and she came.

As the lady sat studying the table, she asked, "What's your bottom price?" We were asking $95, so I thought for a moment and said, "$80." I was prepared to be bargained down a bit, but without hesitation, she reached into her pocket and brought out a group of bills folded together. I looked, and it was four $20 bills. Later, the first lady told me that they were prepared to help with any extra cost, because $80 was all she had. I've said before I don't believe in coincidence. This was God's confirmation. He was showing His presence and work in both our lives.

Later in the day, it began to get hot. I was grateful for the shade but was still baking while talking to people. One lady, who obviously spent the day in the car looking for sales, picked up a pitcher and said, "If I buy this, will you put cold water in it?" Smiling, I gave it back to her with ice water and 2 cups for her and her friend.

Finally, as I was just about to begin closing up, a lady showed up and immediately began talking as she walked into the drive. She told me how, 4 years ago, she lost her daughter in a car accident. She related how angry she was that the driver had survived unhurt but that her daughter had been killed. She told of her other daughter and the bad decisions she had made. She went on with the consequences of those decisions. I spoke little and listened much. I thought it was her way of coping, reciting her litany of woes to every stranger she meets. Perhaps she does, but something in me said, "Listen." So I listened and encouraged...

When it was obviously time for me to respond, I shared how our lives are filled with pain, not necessarily because of God's displeasure, but definitely because of the fallen state of this world. She admitted that she had been angry at God, but had come to understand that she can be hopeful, too. I asked if she knew Jesus Christ as her personal Savior. She said she did and that He was her only strength. As she was turning to leave, I asked if I could pray with her. There in my driveway amid tables of merchandise we prayed together.

I prayed for her grief and for her living daughter. I prayed that God would comfort her in her loss. I prayed that He would show her a glimpse of our future...a future that will cause us to look back with amazement at how quickly this life and it's pain really passes.

When we finished she told me I had made her day. Little did she know that God had used her to make mine. Throughout the day He showed me examples of His desire for my life. He showed me what he wants me to be and do. He showed me He works even in Garage Sales. I am grateful for the exposure to the people He loves. He reminded me that I am His ambassador. Treating them with love rather than contempt, patience rather than haste, generosity rather than greed, compassion rather than annoyance.

I am reminded of His instruction:

Philippians 2:5 Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus

And of the benefit:

Acts 4:13 When they observed the boldness of Peter and John and realized that they were uneducated and untrained men, they were amazed and knew that they had been with Jesus.

I want people to know I've been with my Master.

The Cardinal...

It was a beautiful spring day, one which demands the opening of windows. A cool breeze was moving through the house, and I had even opened the garage door and the kitchen door which leads to the garage. As I worked in the back bedroom, I heard a noise in the other part of the house. I've never had children, but I think I know one aspect of parenting...the uncanny ability to sense when something is wrong. My subconscious tapped me on the shoulder and said, "The dogs are outside, so there shouldn't be noise in there." I went to investigate.

Upon exiting the hallway, I discovered the most beautiful red male cardinal. He was frantically trying to fly through my front window...the glass part. It's not the first time I've chased a bird, so I quickly grabbed a towel and held it up...partly to encourage him toward the door and partly for protection. He was already upset, and my presence only made him more panicky. He made several attempts at the sliding glass door (I had not opened it, because the dogs would only come in making for a truly exciting chase.)

After a brief try as matador, my new friend flew past me and began working on the bathroom window. In order to narrow the field of play, I closed both doors and was able to settle him down a bit. He even sat still but wide eyed while I reached toward him and unlocked and opened the window. Immediately he broke for freedom. Relieved, I quickly went down the hall to close the kitchen door, but heard another strange sound in the garage.

I looked to see another male cardinal working on the garage window. As I began the dance with this one, I realized what had happened. It's springtime...the season of love. And these two fellows had been fighting for the right to court some little female who was no doubt delighted at the attention. During their sparring match, they lost their bearings and wound up trapped. The need for freedom quickly overcame the need for love, and their attention turned from each other (and the female).

I chuckled at the situation and then laughed out loud when I thought of a moral to the story. Something about being led to destruction came to mind...

Proverbs 25:

²⁰ My son, keep your father's command,
and don't reject your mother's teaching.

²¹ Always bind them to your heart;
tie them around your neck.

²⁴ They will protect you from an evil woman,
from the flattering tongue of a stranger.

²⁵ Don't lust in your heart for her beauty
or let her captivate you with her eyelashes.

Hindsight...

Like most men, I imagine myself having a pretty high tolerance for discomfort. (This is when the ladies usually roll their eyes.) Actually, I endure pretty well, and most people don't know of the aches and pains I have. However, I'll be the first to admit that I have absolutely no tolerance for any abnormal sensation above my neck. I've suffered from sinus allergies all my life, and while it has been better for a number of years due to immunotherapy, I still regularly feel that old familiar pressure behind my eyes when the weather changes suddenly or when I'm exposed to pollen, mold or dust.

I'm a little obsessive about my sinuses. I pay close attention to the weather report and the pollen index, and any pressure in my head brings out the medication. I use the excuse that my voice is my instrument and my livelihood. That much is true, but the main reason I'm so careful is that I simply can't stand the discomfort of sinus trouble. Despite my efforts, I regularly suffer from sinus trouble and occasionally a full blown sinus infection takes me in its grip.

Most of you know full well what I'm talking about. Intense pressure, closed airways, raw throat, coughing, sneezing, no sleep, and the presence of a strange substance I know should not be there. Time stands still. Every breath is labored. Every swallow is torture. Unending misery. Or so it seems. One day, I wake up and notice that I'm better. The misery evaporates, and it's difficult to remember exactly how it felt to suffer that way. Life begins again and joy returns.

That's how I imagine eternity will be. On this planet are many sufferings. Physical, emotional, even spiritual pain. Separation from loved ones. Ridicule, offense, rejection...loneliness. Time seems to stop, and the pain is magnified. But one day I will wake up and it will all evaporate...

Revelation 21...

¹ Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea existed no longer. ² I also saw the Holy City, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared like a bride adorned for her husband.

³ Then I heard a loud voice from the throne: "Look! God's dwelling is with men, and He will live with them. They will be His people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God. ⁴ He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will exist no longer; grief, crying, and pain will exist no longer, because the previous things have passed away."

⁵ Then the One seated on the throne said, "Look! I am making everything new."

Almighty God makes this promise to every person who trusts in His Son. The burdens of this world will pass away like a vapor, and we will even have difficulty recalling the pain. But that's not all. The same God who promises a future in the new heaven and new earth promises joy and peace on this earth, too. Even in the midst of pain and sorrow, we can enjoy fulfillment and abundant life. When I invest time in my relationship with Jesus Christ, I receive the blessing of His presence, compassion and peace. I'm prepared for anything that happens to me today, and I know that my future is filled with richness beyond belief.

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. John 16:33

How Do You Do That...

The other day Samantha Norman asked me, "How do you choose the songs for worship?" The question surprised me, and I didn't immediately have an answer, so I said something about flipping pages with my eyes closed and stopping randomly. Renee, her mother, chimed in something about Itunes party shuffle, so I said, "Yeah I use party shuffle. The only problem is that sometimes I end up with a Beatles song in the mix." Samantha's sister Sydney jumped in with, "Like 'Hey Jude.'" That was particularly funny, because we had all just heard a sermon on Judas. I still chuckle.

The real answer didn't come to me, because frankly it's not something I do alone. Granted, there are times when I'm either tired or not where I need to be spiritually, and I just pick songs I like. But most of the time, choosing worship music involves a powerful experience with God. This week is no different. Let me share something that happens to me regularly.

Yesterday as I drove to church, the song, "The Power of Your Love" was on the radio. We know it well, and I was singing along.

Hold me close, let Your love surround me; Bring me near, draw me to Your side. And as I wait, I'll rise up like the eagle, And I will soar with You, Your Spirit leads me on in the pow'r of Your love.

As I sang the chorus, another melody came to mind, and I heard the words:

Take me, mold me, use me, fill me; I give my life to the Potter's hand. Mold me, guide me, lead me, walk beside me; I give my life to the Potter's hand.

Realizing it would make a great medley, I checked my arrangements when I arrived at church. Sure enough, they are in the same key, and I excitedly wrote myself a note. This morning as I began to prepare, I pulled those songs first. I use several references which give me scripture backgrounds and even suggest medleys, so it was easy to find a couple of other songs. "Your Love, Oh Lord" leads into "The Power of Your Love", and "Have Thine Own Way" is the obvious Invitation song.

I then picked up "Did You Feel the Mountains Tremble". I've been wanting to use it for several weeks, but it never seemed to fit just right. Thinking it would be a good opener, I began looking for a companion to pair it with. First I went to the Worship Leader resource and found the scripture background from Isaiah 64:1.

If only You would tear the heavens open and come down, so that the mountains would quake at Your presence.

Feeling led to the hymns, I then went to my hymn/scripture reference guide and checked two hymnals I most often use. I was dissapointed to find no reference to that scripture, but was intrigued to see verse 8 of that chapter in both. Curious, I looked and was awestruck once again:

Lord, You are our Father; We are the clay, and You are our potter; We all are the work of Your hands.

There is no such thing as coincidence. Only the One True God could guide and confirm like that. I am no longer surprised by the way He works in this, but I am always amazed. Another thing about all this is that Todd and I rarely discuss what he plans to preach. The only time I have any idea is during a series. That's why I'm continually amazed when the singing and the sermon fit like a hand in a glove. People think we coordinate it all, but the fact is that we don't have anything to do with it. God really can bring obedient people from different directions to arrive at the same place.

We're opening worship Sunday with "Heaven came down and glory filled my soul!"

SOLI DEO GLORIA!!!!

Sign #1...

I was born at an early age. (My dad likes to say that.) From the first day, I was in church. I grew up hearing the preaching, singing and story telling about Jesus. I heard about how He was born of a virgin in a humble place. I heard about how He lived a perfect, sinless life. I heard about how He was crucified, buried and rose again. I even heard about how He wanted me to be part of His family, the church. It was comfortable, and I felt I belonged. In my mind, it was only a matter of time before I joined the church.

In our churches, at the end of each service, we include what we call the "Invitation". Simply put, it's an invitation for anyone to openly respond to whatever God is doing in their lives at that moment. While we all sing an appropriate song, people voluntarily make their way to the front of the room where they can either pray, receive counsel, join the church or profess their new found faith in Jesus Christ. No one is required to speak. Rather the Pastor shares with the congregation for them while they stand next to Him in full view of everyone.

By the age of 9 or 10, I knew I needed to join the church. But there was just one problem. I was horribly timid. The idea of standing in full view of the congregation was a terrifying thought. I know what you're thinking. If you know me at all, you're probably saying, "Jeff? Timid??" The truth is, "Yes. The real Jeff is a scared little boy." The person you know is the one God has transformed and enabled, but we'll get to that in a minute.

I've always struggled with the fear of being seen. Some people I know love the spotlight. I love the shadows. Oh, I do fine in small groups or even in larger groups where I know most of the people well. In those settings, there is a level of control, and I can be secure in the box I've built for myself. But the idea of being the center of attention anywhere still gives me the shivers and makes me slip to the back of the crowd.

In church, as the invitation approached, anxiety would begin to grow. "People want me to join. It's the right thing to do.'' Those were the thoughts in my head. As the song began, I would try to talk myself into it. "Go down on the second verse," I would say to myself. When the second verse began I would think, "OK, on the next verse." Sooner or later, the song would end, and I would be off the hook. That's how it went week after week.

When I was 13, my father, a former Minister of Music and then High School Choral Director was asked to lead worship in a revival at a church near our home. Mama and I went with him every night enjoying the pre-service meal served to the choir and Evangelist. Oddly, I've always been at ease with adults and immediately struck up a friendship with the Pastor of the church, Hershel Sizemore. We had good conversations each night, and by Thursday, trust had developed in me. That night, he asked if we could talk privately. We went into the sanctuary, and he sat sideways in the pew in front of me. I don't remember a word he said. What I do remember is that Jesus was presented to me in a personal way.

What had only been head knowledge was transformed into something personal. For the first time, someone told ME what I needed. It wasn't about joining a group. It wasn't about what was expected of me. It wasn't about me and everyone else in the room. It was about me and God. It was about what Jesus did for me and my need for Him.

As we entered the time of Invitation that night, the same old anxiety began to build. I told myself, "I'll go down on the second verse." But a strange thing happened. As we began to sing, a wave of peace passed over me. I watched as an observer as I closed the hymnal, put it away and stepped out into the aisle. God had given me a gentle nudge. He had suddenly brought everything into focus, and I saw the big neon sign. It was easy. Daddy reminded me several years ago of the song we sang that night. "I Surrender All." That's what I did that night. It was simple and childlike. It was unquestioning trust. I surrendered control.

Over the following months and years, God has showed me the reality of sin in my life. He's showed me who He is. He's showed me why Jesus chose to die for me. He's showed me how much He loves me. He is still showing me these things. And I've learned to trust Him... to love Him back... to surrender all. He changed me. He enabled me to do things I never dreamed I could. I learned to live Philippians 4:13, "I am able to do all things through Him who strengthens me." He taught me to take my eyes off "I am able" and to focus on "through Him who strengthens me." Sometimes I give in to that scared little boy, take control and build my little box. That's when He gently nudges me again, points to the big neon sign and says, "Trust Me." Then I take His outstretched hand and we continue down the path together.

Signs...

Decisions can be agonizing at times. Sometimes it's due to my own lack of attention to God's guidance. He coaxes and directs, but I fail to hear and see, my focus being elsewhere. Other times His silence about a particular subject is direction enough. But I'm not satisfied with unanswered questions, so I continue to struggle in my heart. This is unfortunate, "for God is not a God of confusion but of peace..." (1 Corinthians 14:33). He desires peace for me, especially when I come to a fork in the road.

I remember Gideon and the fleece (Judges 6:36-40). He was looking for a clear sign from God, but when God sent it, Gideon was still uncertain. His own fear stood between him and clarity. He asked God to confirm the message, and God gently, patiently did so.

Someone recently shared with me that he is sometimes so confused that he simply asks God to close all the wrong doors. He went on to say, "I guess that's immature." I said, "No! That's a very mature way to approach decisions." In Mark 10, Jesus speaks of childlike faith. He's not implying blind action. Rather He's referring to confidence in something that's trustworthy...like a child instinctively trusts his parents.

As we age and learn, we take control and use our own "intelligence." It's only with spiritual maturity that we return to childlike faith, understanding the frailty of our wisdom compared to His. God wants us to trust Him that way.

Whether it's a fork in the road or a desire for something new, I really want signs to give me direction. Many times I have prayed for a big neon sign from God. A few times He has cleared the fog of my own making to give me an undeniable message. Actually, I can count 4 times in my life that He has given me a big neon sign. During the next few entries, I'll share with you those special moments in my life.

Waves...

Several years ago I went deep sea fishing in North Carolina. I had never been out in the ocean away from land, and I was excited and eager. Catching fish was secondary to me. I was looking forward to seeing the world from a different perspective. But the idea of being the big bad fisherman with a couple of full stringers was also appealing. I took my motion sickness pill and we started out just before sunrise. The boat held about 40 people, and they were all lined up along the rails. So, I found a nice spot on the upper deck with a good view. It was glorious. Cutting through the water and feeling the mist in my face as the spray came over the boat. It was a clear day and you could see for miles. "This is going to be a great day," I thought.

We got the signal and everyone grabbed gear and found a spot at the rail. Then the boat stopped, and the lines went into the water. That's when it hit me. Amid the ocean waves, I was suddenly hit with waves of nausea. I've battled motion sickness, but this was like none I had ever had. While the boat was moving, I was fine. Stationary, the boat rocked in every direction imaginable. Left...right...forward...back...up...down.... All at the same time. They had a bathroom on the boat. It was about half the size of a phone booth. And it was worse in there. The motion was the same, accept you couldn't see out. I turned in my gear and spent the next 9 hours flat on my back in the galley.

At the end of the day, we started home and my symptoms immediately went away. Emerging from the galley, I was relieved to feel the breeze and only one direction of motion. One of my friends told me the captain had asked for me, so I climbed up to the pilot house and knocked on the door. I had a moment of envy when I entered the air conditioned room and saw the bunk in the corner, but then I realized the top of the boat moved worse than where I had been.

The captain asked how I was doing and then said, "Would you like to drive?" I said, "Sure!" I took the wheel and he pointed to our destination. A tiny point off in the distance. I was determined to show impress the old seafarer, so I squinted and aimed and held the boat straight. It was more difficult than I had imagined. The waves were not that high, but with their rolling, the boat wanted to go this way and that. But I held it firm.

After a few minutes, the captain said, "You're doing well, but it can be a rough ride. It's easier on the passengers if you allow the boat to follow the swells and just keep a general heading. Bowing to his wisdom I complied and began to only make occasional corrections. The ride improved dramatically. I learned something that day. Strictly following a straight course is not the smoothest ride. Allowing the waves to direct your path is the best way to get where you're going...if you're a boat.

Life is not a boat. Yes, in life we encounter waves. They buffet and push, trying to move us this way and that. Social influences, temptations, even culture and tradition attempt to impose their will on our lives. The straight path is often rough, and many people choose the easy route, but at what cost. Following the trends of this world, they exchange God's best for shiny things that do not last.

God says in Proverbs 16:25, "There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it is the way of death."

Jesus said in Matthew 7:13-17, "Enter through the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the road is broad that leads to destruction, and there are many who go through it. How narrow is the gate and difficult the road that leads to life, and few find it. Beware of false prophets who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravaging wolves. You'll recognize them by their fruit. Are grapes gathered from thornbushes or figs from thistles? In the same way, every good tree produces good fruit, but a bad tree produces bad fruit."

Allowing a boat to go it's own way makes for a smoother ride. But by doing so, it is easy to lose sight of the goal. The goal of my life should be to please my Father. I will encounter waves of influence, and the ride will be rough. But keeping my eyes on the goal and my path straight will bring a greater reward than any fleeting thing this world has to offer.

Ephesians 4:14-15 "Then we will no longer be little children, tossed by the waves and blown around by every wind of teaching, by human cunning with cleverness in the techniques of deceit. But speaking the truth in love, let us grow in every way into Him who is the head —Christ."