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...
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
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.
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.
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