We Are The Sign

When I turned 13 years old, my parents got me a Hot Wheels set for my birthday that year. There was nothing spectacular about this type of typical racecar set; I’ve had several of them by this time of my young life. But what made this set was unique from all the rest was that it had (2) 1972, Chevy El Caminos (I later found out that these El Camino’s were especially made for this set and not sold in stores separately) and attached to these El Camino’s were gliders, that once the cars passed a trigger on the track, the gliders would release from the cars and go soaring. It was fun for the first month or so but sending the cars down the track and trying to “bomb” the dog with the gliders, got old pretty quick.



First forward a couple of decades. One night my wife and me were watching PBS’s “Antique Road Show” when one of the guests brought one of these Hot Wheels set that I had from my youth. The expert started telling the guest that this particular set was a short run series in that, Mattle only produced it for a brief three or four months and they were only sold in southern California thus making them pretty rare.



The expert then went on and, this is where I felt my heart starting to go into palpitations and I loss feeling in my left arm, if this set was complete with the gliders and cars, the price would be worth anywhere from $25, 000 to $30, 000. The guest told him that everything was there, except the gliders. The expert told the guest not to worry, because of the rarity of these sets, even a incomplete set would still be worth about $10, 000 to $15, 000….AND I HAD THE SET AND LOST IT!



Whether this is waxing nostalgia or crying over spilt milk, I’m not sure. One thing is certain, the gift I received as a young boy that cost my parents a few hard earned dollars surely is worth a treasure trove today.



But as a youngster, when we all received that special gift, didn’t we treat it like it was a wonder to behold? Didn’t it go everywhere with us? We would sleep with it, eat with it, take it on trips to near and far, it was our security blanket for when we went to the doctor’s office or any other dreadful place, we had a special spot for it in our room, we held it in high honor, no one played with it except us, but yet, we wanted to show it off to everyone we met. However, as good as some gifts are, what about those gifts that we received that didn’t hold such high regard? I think they call them “re-gifts”. You open the gift, and right away you know that this isn’t for you or so you think, ergo, you look for a quick and easy way to either get rid of it or make a buck off it. Regardless if the giver of the gift spent their hard earn dollars on it.



There were about 10 of them standing around the visitor as he taught the town people interesting things about his and their Father and the Father’s kingdom. The leader of the 10 made a request, “if you could give us just one sign, we believe who the people say you are”



The visitor retorted with, “an evil and wicked generation looks for signs and wonder” then he paused as he looked to the crowd and responded with, “say you want one sign? Here it is: I leave you with the sign of Jonah”



And with that proclamation, Jesus walked away from them. Murmuring to each other, they followed Jesus and one of them finally asked for clarification, “What do you mean, ‘the sign of Jonah’?”



Jesus replied rather harshly as if He was insulted by such blind stupidity. He told them. “you know how to read the sky for weather and you know how to read the trees for the change of the seasons, so why is it you don’t understand the sign of the times? The queen of the south will hold you in judgment because she sought the wisdom of Solomon and yet, there’s someone here greater than King Solomon. The people of Nineveh will hold you in judgment because after hearing the prophet Jonah preached, they repented and yet a greater preacher than Jonah is here in your midst”



And with that, Jesus walked away.



I have wondered in these past few months what our Lord meant by “the sign of Jonah” and what is the implication for this in my life? I consulted a friend for any input he might have on the subject. He gave me a direction to head off towards but I didn’t want to appear to plagiarize his ideas, thus I backed away from study of the phrase for a few days. But I didn’t abandon his suggestion either, I used it for a springboard to delve deeper into the word of God.



I further sought help from the Internet. I googled “sign of Jonah” to help with some insights on what the sign might have been. It didn’t really help either because there was a lot of kooky stuff out there; anywhere from the sign of Jonah was the shroud of Turin to someone actually used it to try and prove that Jesus never claimed to be God and that it was the true test to prove who messiah would be. That’s the trouble with the internet, while you know there’s golden nuggets there to be had for the taking, there’s also a lot of crap to go wading through to get to those nuggets. I knew this was going to be a waste of time; I had to delve deeper into the word if I was going to fully understand what the Lord is trying to tell me.



Then, I had somewhat of an epiphany. I’ve been reading and rereading the Book Of Jonah over several days and what I discovered is that while the fish part played an important part, (Jesus even used the example of Jonah being in the belly of the earth for three days and three nights as a reference to His death and resurrection) it wasn’t the climax of the story. The climax is that after the preaching of a somewhat soggy, seaweed draped, smelling of whale vomit, preacher tells the townsfolk about the impending doom they face from the Lord of Hosts, they repented and the city is spared from divine destruction.



Then the two caveats from Luke’s telling of the story kept tapping me of the preverbal shoulder; the queen of Sheba and the people of Nineveh. What they have in common is that neither of them are Jewish. Still, they believe the word of God. Then the Lord brought to mind the Roman Centurion, who made the request to Jesus to heal his servant simply by saying “it’ll be done”. Then the woman with the sick child who was a gentile, Jesus responded to her request for help by saying, “ It’s not right to take the food off the children’s plate and give it to the dogs.” And her reply was “yes, but Lord, even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the table”. She simply believed the words of Jesus and her child was healed.



And then…probably the utmost known verse of the Bible, that is seen at every sporting event (almost synonymous with the playing of the “Star Spangled Banner”) is that of John 3:16 and I don’t like to use it because of the overplay it gets, but it was the bow that tied everything together – “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.”



The sign of Jonah isn’t just the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ; it’s about those who believe the gospel of Jesus Christ, i.e. those who have faith in Him, those who believe His words.



Our Father gave us a wonderful gift in His son, our brother, Jesus. How ashamed we should all be if we ever treat the gift with anything less than admiration and honor.

Sin For A Season

It was a balmy evening as he looked out over the swimming pool right outside of his rented bungalow. He’s been on a business trip for a large retail manufacturer trying his best to round up new sales. He’s been gone from home now for about three weeks and feeling quite lonely for the warmth of his wife of fifteen years. Still, the road can be a lonesome place and a man’s mind can start to dwell on things he should not be thinking of.

Like an answer to a prayer, she walked up to the edge of the pool and looked around to see if anyone was watching. When she felt that the course was cleared, she dropped her robe and all of her nakedness came into full view and he was amazed.

As he stiffened like quick drying cement, and all cognitive thought left the cranium to the lesser, yet more powerful dictator between his legs, the only thought that matter at the moment was – “I have to have her!” He left his overlook and proceeded down to the pool. There he made his presence known and reassured her that everything was quite all right; it was only them that were there. He then helped her back into her robe and asked if she would like to go back to his rented room for some refreshments. She hesitatingly accepted his offer and soon found herself becoming quite warm to his approach. It was then that he proceeded to seduce her. No names were exchanged so the mystery helped fuel the lust.

In the morning, he got up, packed and left for home; thinking no one of importance would know about this pleasurable jaunt he had with the naked mystery visitor he met at poolside the previous night.

Ten months later, he received a summons saying he was being sued for child support for the little escapade that happened that night. And now his wife, contemplating divorce, wants to know the whole story, His explanation – “I’m just a man”

Sin for a season.

Forgiveness is offered, but why can’t he still look at his wife after all of these months? Why does his words have such a hollow ring to them whenever he speaks of matters of the heart?

When he left for the business trip, he was self-assured, confident, and intellectually strong. After that fateful night, he was less sure of himself, made poor judgments, which led to his dismissal of his employment. The saying “what is done is secret is shouted from the rooftops” has a new ring to it and our friend is left with his shame.

We were in love. I had asked my then girlfriend to marry me and she said yes. Then it started. I moved in a couple of my things and within a matter of a few weeks, I was moved in to her apartment and we were living together. But we were in love. We were also committed Christians sharing a bed. It was a few weeks after this I went to a visit a friend at his work and was greeted by his wife.

She had asked me how we were doing and I told her the usual short answers – good, fine, can’t be better…. And as if she could sense something wasn’t just right, she change her tone and asked, “what’s really going on?” I told her of my new living arrangements and just as her husband, my best friend, the associate pastor of the church I was attending, along with the senior pastor, she questioned my statement in a loud whisper – “YOU”RE LIVING TOGETHER?”

Remember “things done in secret?” well; let me tell you, that church courtyard was my rooftop.

What could I say but that I’m only human. Everyone else was doing it also. You know, it didn’t sound good then and saying it now after all these years, it still doesn’t sound good. I had no other reason other than I was human and in love. At least I didn’t leave my Judy or use the proposal to get what I wanted and then leave her in shame; I loved her and we were going to get married and we did. But I can’t help to think of things that might have been loss in those days of indiscretion.

God is not to be mocked; for our actions have consequences. And what is done in the heat of the moment often leads to destruction down the road whether it’ll be a reminder that we’re nothing than dust in the wind to total destruction of one’s life altogether – loss of fortune, home, family, even life itself. With forgiveness from God, we given a clean slate. The object is not to rush out and try to dirty it up again….it well overtime, but let’s not hurry it along with stupidity and contempt for His mercy and grace.

After The Thrill Is Gone (for men only, but women can read also)

Music played a big part of my teen years. My favorite group of all time was the Eagles. Being a teen of the seventies, it was their music that saw me through many a good time, and helped me over some rough spots. On their "One of These Nights" album, there's a song entitled, "After the Thrill is Gone." The song is about a relationship that has had the flaming embers of passion quenched. The only thing left is ashes.

This song at its core, is sad. It raises an important question though: What keeps the flame of love burning? On June thirteenth of 2001, my parents celebrated fifty years of marriage. (In total, they were married for fifty-three years when Dad died in November 2004.) If I were able to ask them their key to a successful marriage, I think it would be that they still care for each other deeply. They actually enjoy each other's company, and they tend to each other's heart.

Meet Tom. Tom just got a brand new 2001 Ford Mustang. The body is pale yellow with a white convertible top. The interior is white leather and black carpeting. Underneath the hood is a 5.0 Cobra engine that will go 0-60 in 6 seconds. It's got a Blau Punk stereo system, with a 6-cd disc changer. He's had it for nearly six months now. Every weekend he's out there with the turtle wax and buffer, putting layer on layer on layer. Yep, his car looks real pretty.

Let's fast-forward two years. The car still looks good, the interior is just as clean. But one day, Tom goes out for a drive. It's a hot day. Tom takes this long, curving mountain road that has a seven percent grade. Tom notices that his temperature gauge is getting into the dangerous zone, but does nothing to cool it down, like pulling over and letting the car rest for a while. He does notice that the oil light is on, in fact it has been on for a while, but again, he doesn't do anything to relieve the problem. You see, like most men, Tom is task oriented. But Tom is not mechanically inclined. The inevitable happens, and Tom's precious Mustang that has hundreds of layers of turtle wax on it, blows a head gasket, and the engine freezes.

two things went wrong here. 1, Tom never had his car in for service. He doesn't know a dipstick from a twig, let alone how to read one and 2, he did check about his radiator once and someone told him that it was a closed system, which meant that you didn't have to add coolant to it. When he finally had it towed to the shop for repairs, he was told that the radiator was completely dry. The oil pan, when it was dropped, showed that the oil that was left was baked on, and that the main bearings had seized. So now Tom is the proud owner of a two - ton, wax coated, pale yellow, white over black interior, metal rock...with a great sound system!

The picture is obvious. He was careless with the maintenance of the engine. He was too wrapped up in the appearance of the car. He figured that the engine would take care of itself. In fact, if he would have spent more time pampering the insides of the engine instead of putting wax on it, the car would have taken him wherever he wanted to go.

Our marriages, men, for the most part, are like cars; we are driven by sights. We like frilly things. When we were in our courting days with our prospective wives, we would say, do, and buy anything to keep the romance alive. In fact, in the first few weeks of marriage, if we're honest, we lived on nothing but romance, bringing home flowers or frilly nightgowns; telling her how special she was and how pretty she was. We said and did all the right things. While we were home with our new wives, we treated them like a brand new car.

Then something strange happens. The frilly things stop coming. One by one, the compliments stop. Then, three or four years later, everything else stops. There is no more romance, no more conversation, no more passion, no nothing. Like our friend's car, our marriage has just frozen up. Now, all that's left is two people barely existing.

It doesn't have to be this way, guys. If we spent time and effort taking care of the girlfriend who would eventually become the future Mrs., then isn't it worth the effort now to still tend to her needs? After all, she is still the same woman you married, perhaps a few pounds heavier now. But haven't you changed too? She is still the same girl whose ear you whispered into. She still needs to hear these words, because they are the first words that were planted to sow the seeds of love in her. They are precious to her. I understand it's hard to say certain words, especially out in public, but to quote Garth Brooks, "somewhere other than the night, she needs to hear,' I love you'," whether it's bringing home a rose for her unexpectedly, or flowers sent to her work with a note that says, "meet me at....."

If Christ is our example on how to demonstrate love through sacrifice, then surely, we can sacrifice our pride to show the one who sleeps next to us how much we love them. As hard as it might be for some of my brothers to do, we, as men, need to tend to our wives, like we tend to our cars.

Like a car, if a marriage is broke, it still can be mended. Heck, even an old jalopy can be restored to its original luster and purr like a contented kitten when turned on. If the one who you share life with has lost her luster, then put a shine to her and make her glisten. And every so often, take her out and show her off. And while you’re out showing her off, make men envious of what you have and be proud of whom she is; your wife.

A marriage may look good on the outside, but if it's not maintained, it will die, just like a car without water or oil. For our marriages to last a lifetime, we must maintain them.

Color Of The Sky

I have a friend who recently made this statement about me in an email –

“I really don't know what world you're living in sometimes, my brother”

Sometimes I wonder too. Heck, I sometimes even feel like the line from “Raiders of the Lost Ark”, -

“I’m making this up as I go along.”

Classic.

I think a lot of us maybe living life that way, making it up as we go along.

So what is the color of the sky in my world? The usual, just like everyone else’s – chartreuse.

All kidding aside, the comment that was made about my world was in response to a criticism I made about a sermon my friend preached saying that the United States has failed to live up to Dr. Martin Luther King’s ideals. The reason for my criticism and for the subsequent remark made by him was I don’t see the world that my friend sees.

Because of certain events that have happened in my life, it would be easy for me to live in a world that is run by bigoted views and where ignorance is king. If I would let these events dictate to me that certain groups of the human race are deceitful and indecent, then I best go off and live in a cave and say “to hell with the rest of the world.” In other words, become a hermit. On the other hand, I realize that some choose to live life that is narrowed by color of skin. Which is sad. Some will no doubt say that they are entitled to believe this for things that has happen to them whether it’ll be out of paranoia or ignorance or any other suspicious thought. So to make them feel safe, they have labeled any ethnic group other than their own as lesser human beings. Nevertheless, I can’t live like that.

I’m trying to live my life by three principles: Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, love your neighbor as yourself, and treat others better than yourself.

Some will say that is very naïve. Others might think I’m some kind of patsy to be taken advantage of. But the truth of the matter is the whole concept of “racism” doesn’t really mean anything to me other than words on a page. I’m not saying it doesn’t exist, it does. But if I am living with a philosophy that puts the concept of “God first in my life”, then the only life that matters are the lives that the Lord puts in front of me daily; regardless of skin color, regardless of culture, regardless of anything else that others may see as inferior. It just might be that the person in front of me may need to hear the gospel, may need to hear encouragement, may need a friend, may need to be loved, may need to hear a kind word on a particular rough day, or may be there to help me with a problem. There are numerous reasons why the Lord may lead two people together and any given day. A side thought – think of the blessings that we’ll be missing if we limit ourselves to just the same color people we are.

If we take God at His word, that He created everything, then out of respect for His creation, I must look on it with humility and if that creation is part of the human race, and it is, then that person has the same amount of respect as I have in the eyes of the Lord, so who am I to deem them as a lesser creature?

Last year (2006) was a very bad year for my health. I had a total of five hospital stays. The medical staff that took care of me ran the gambit of different races and cultures and religions. If I was a bigot, how could I allow these people to handle me? I mean there’s some kind of intimacy going on when you’re naked and being prodded. And I might add, when you’re all alone in the wee hours of the morning and the drugs are causing your mind to do strange things, it’s nice to know that you have a person, regardless of color, you can call that is there to reassure you that it is the drugs and nothing more.

The bottom line to all of this is we are at a point in the history of America where even if there are pockets of ignorance and plain stupidity, there are areas that character, not color of skin, matters. My job then is to treat all with respect for they are my brother or sister.

Mom, Is There A Communist Under My Bed?

Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but who ever trusts in the Lord is kept safe.
Proverbs 29:25

September 1970.

Bedtime was at nine o'clock. The school year just started and after dealing with homework for most of the evening, I wasn't really ready for bed.

My older brother and I shared a room. His bedtime was a half hour later. Most of the time I was still awake when he would come to bed. This night was no different from the rest, except that there was a question that was bugging the daylights out of me. Maybe that's why I couldn't sleep. I thought I would ask Steve if he knew what the answer was. After all, he was a lot smarter than me, because he kept reminding me of it all the time, and he is three and half years older than me, so he had to know the answer.

Big brothers are often times the tormentors of little brothers. Mine was no different. Only this night he wasn't a tormentor because he really wanted to help me. But his response to my question, well meaning as it was, shook me to my core. I’d soon find out that the imagination could create some pretty mean monsters if we let it.

So I asked him the question.

"Steve, what is a c-o-m-m-u-n-i-s-t?" I wanted to be sure I was saying it right. I thought it was a dirty word, because the context I heard the word in was always in a form of disgust.

"It's a type of government that is opposed to our government. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. I just heard the word and wondered what it meant."

He could have stopped there, and I would have been happy with that, but he didn't. He continued, "It's an oppressive government that wants to rule the world. I forgot who the president was, but he told a group of reporters that if we weren't careful, they would take over our country by 1971. When they take over a country, they get all the people together and brain wash them. It's called Reprogramming." (I later found out that it wasn’t a president that made the quote, but a senator from Wisconsin, Joe McCarthy.)

Thus began a nightmare that lasted a good two weeks till mom told me differently.

I don't remember sleeping too much that night knowing that my brother, MY-KNOW-IT-ALL BROTHER, had just dropped a bomb in my little psyche that basically said, "Our lives will be over in a short three months."

For the next two weeks I carried this around with me. Everywhere I turned, everything I heard, reminded me of what my brother told me on that particular night. For example: Television, my sanctuary didn't help at all. One of the television stations ran the movie, "Fahrenheit 451". It was a movie that dealt with a futuristic society that banned all types of reading and forced everyone to be equal. Then, there was another movie that told about when the Russians invaded Yugoslavia. The Russian army would go into the houses, drag out the men folk and shoot them in front of their women. Then with the war going on Viet Nam, I was growing more anxious with each passing day. It reminded me of a man needing to drain his bladder with no bathroom around and the only thing he sees or hears is water.

The next week, the pictures in my mind grew more vivid. I couldn't help but think of what it was going to be like to lose all of the freedoms we as a nation were blessed with. But what was more nerve racking was the thought that I would be losing my own life because of what I stood for. "Surely, they won't kill me? I'm just ten years old," I thought. "Maybe they would spare me and my family? Maybe we would just be reprogrammed? But I would lose Nan, Pa, Mom, Dad, Sharon and Steve." Well, Steven I wasn't to concern with, after all, he started this whole MESS! I didn't want to make that sacrifice. Maybe it would have been better off if they killed all of us because when my generation got old enough, we would surely try to do something about our captivity.

The anxiety kept growing. I couldn't control it much longer. I had to talk to someone about it. So I talked to Mom.

"Mom? Are the communists going to take over our country?"

"Who told you that?"

"Steven."

Deep sigh from Mom.

Now came the reassuring answer that would calm my aching mind. "No. Not as long as our boys are defending our freedoms." Momma always said the right thing at the right time.

Growing up, the communists were the enemy. They were faceless shadows that were meant to strike fear in the land of living by taking away our freedoms. It was my home, our home that they were out to ravage. Even now, if someone says he is a communist, I am on guard. Old fears never quite die out. Now, there is a new enemy of my adulthood that is a faceless shadow, who wants to bring down America, our home, simply because we are a considered an enemy of Allah. At least with the old Soviet Union we were the obstacles to their trek to world domination. Now, it seems, we are considered to be evil incarnate and must be removed from the face of the earth.

At a another time in history, when another mad man wanted the world to bow to him and his philosophy, back during the early days of World War II, Winston Churchill spoke to a group at Harrow's Boy School about the times they as a nation were facing. The Germans were bombing London day and night. I'm sure that the country of England was facing the same type of fear that we were on September 11 and the days after. Going over that speech, I can see why they called Churchill a Bulldog. His tenacity was his strength and he passed it to his nation. In the speech he was able to calm a nation's fears as well as those there in attendance by saying:

"...You cannot tell from appearances how things will go. Sometimes imagination makes things out far worse than they are; yet without imagination not much can be done. Those people who are imaginative see many more dangers than perhaps exist; certainly many more than will happen; but then they must also pray to be given that extra courage to carry this far-reaching imagination. But for everyone, surely, what we have gone through in this period - I am addressing myself to the School - surely from this period of ten months this is the lesson: never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never - in nothing, great or small, large or petty - never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy...."

When we call upon the Lord in times of strife it is His strength that gives us comfort. We praise the Father in the good times because it makes the victory that much sweeter. We praise the Lord for the leaders in our nation for we know that they are leaning on God for understanding and patience. Praise God for the strength He has given us to overcome our fears and Praise God that He has not left us when we need Him the most.

Praise God! Praise God that we live in times like this! What an exciting time to be alive and seeing history in the making. To see God's hand at work, and to see ordinary people do extraordinary acts of courage.

Although these times are scary and our imaginations can run amuck, these are good times as well. We need to gain strength from our God for the answers that calm all our fears. God can take our overworked imaginations, if we'll let Him, slow them down to a more sensible speed and allow sensible ideas to float to the surface of our worried minds.

It wasn't till I told my mother what was worrying me that I was able to overcome the fear of losing everything that I loved. When fears and imagination get the better part of us, do not run from fear but embrace it with the Lord's arms; for it is only then that we can overcome it.

Alas, I Will Praise Him

In the Psalms, we are told to - “let every thing that has breath, praise the Lord”. This is quite easy to do when the road of life is easy and the burden of being is light as a feather upon our back. But how can praises ring forth from your lips when the God whom demands such praises has ripped your heart out of your chest and put it through an emotional meat grinder? Alas, I will praise Him…for it’s the only right thing to do.

We’ve been trying for what seem like years to have a baby the good old fashion way, (after all practice makes perfect as they say, whoever the “they” are.) But after months of planting seed in what seemed to be a very fertile valley, none was taking root. We decided to get physicals and see what might be the matter. Judy, my lovely wife, checked out well and was in perfect health. And with all of my health related issues, I, too, checked out well. With one exception: the medicine I was taking for my Crohn’s disease was affecting the sperm count and movement. I was told that the medicine was making me sterile, but not to give up hope that there were alternative drugs I could be taking. A change in meds was ordered and three months later another sperm count was needed to see if there was any improvements. The seminal analysis showed that the count was vastly improved and there was movement but it wasn’t the movement the doctor had hope for; tail chasing with little forward movement.

I know that a man’s out look on life depends heavily on what he is made of, for it is the fuel that drives his veracity for life and his passions as well. And the baggage compartment between his legs, which God gave him at birth, controls it all. So when I was told that my soldiers were having problems marching into battle – having directional problems finding the object of the goal - I was a little more than depressed. At thirty-seven years of age, I was told that the possibility of siring a child was slim at best. I was still told to keep trying because even though I was still young, there was still a slight possibility that I could get my wife pregnant with the sperm that I had. But while the act of procreating is still the best way to get one’s spouse in the family way, the very act took on the feeling of a chore that has to be done in order to…well, let’s just say I was starting to miss the pleasure of my wife’s company and I was growing tired of “punching” a time clock.

Meanwhile, Judy had a friend whose underage granddaughter was pregnant and was told by her father to give it up for adoption. We were approached to be the adoptive parents and we readily agreed. But after a short period of time, the young girl decided to keep the baby.

A change in jobs for me and with a new home to live in along with a new town to reside in, we got back into the practice of bringing forth life in more ways than one; we were now parents to two cats.

The same friend approached us and the granddaughter was again pregnant and this time she really wanted to give up the child for adoption. We agreed to it and when we hadn’t heard from her in six weeks time, we knew she changed her mind again as it was confirmed by the friend. We also became friends with a couple who lived in a nearby town during this time. The wife told Judy of a cousin of hers that was incarcerated and was pregnant. However, due to the crime that she was in prison for, changes were the courts won’t let her keep the baby. We were asked to be the adoptive parents.

Having been down this road before without any real thought to prayer for the decision to add on to the family, Judy and I thought it best if we consult God for this resolution in our lives. We went into prayer and heard “take the child”. We agreed to be the child adoptive parents. We had two months to prepare our house for the coming child and in July of 02, I received a phone call from the hospital in Madera, California, saying our son was born the previous night.

When we got him home and settled in, I went back to work, passed out chocolate bars (don’t like cigars nor do I smoke) and started to enjoy the life of being a Dad to two sons, (we started the adoption paper work for one son, the other son is Judy’s and I will further explain his affect on me at the end of this article). Towards the end of that first week, I called home to see how Judy and the boys were doing and that’s when she told me that the mother changed her mind. It was if some one plunged a knife into our heart and cut out all the life in us. To say we were numbed was an understatement. A person polluted with alcohol over a lifetime is numbed compared to what Judy, Jared and I went through that night. All the plans and hopes we had for this son will have to be for another family, not ours.

How do you cry when the pain is so deep that there are no tears? How do you pray when there are no words to pray for? How do you control a rage that wants to trample over you lives like a bull seeing red? In a phrase -

Praise God!

Praise God from whom all blessings flow –
Praise Him all creatures here below

I will praise God! I will praise Him with my very being, for it is the only thing that makes sense during harshness of life. It gives us a glimpse of His perspective on our lives and most importantly, it draws us closer to Him, where healing can take place and maturity fosters. I can’t be angry with God for someone not being in obedience of His will; that is one thing He will not interfere with unless asked to do so by the person. All I know is that we were in obedience. And all things work for a purpose, especially if God has His hand in it; the boy ended up in a good family and is being raised in a Godly manner. And that’s what really counts here.

As for my fertility issues, some will say that I have a right to be angry with God for giving me a flawed system – in other words, I got cheated. To that I say, “No, I didn’t” for the blessings He has given me over the span of my life - a God fearing woman who loves me with everything possible to love a man with and a son. Even though he does not have one ounce of my blood in him nor does he share my name, Jared is still my son. Because I have seen him grow from small boy to man and have experienced him every day since February 26, 1990. That was the day I entered he and his mother lives on a permanent basis.

I will never quite know all the reasons why God allows things to happen the way they do, it’s still a mystery. As I said before, “Alas, I will praise Him” for it’s the only thing to do.

A Sad Day?

Father,

On this sad day in the history of the world, when two thousands years ago a truly innocent man was put to death, we take great joy in knowing of the anticipation of what will follow in a matter of three days.

Just like Abraham took his son Isaac to the mountain to act on faith in you, you provided an escape; a sacrifice was given and a son saved. You are forever true to your word, and that is the hope we must have in you that you will always be faithful to your word.

For what is impossible for man to do, you did by taking on the form of a man, giving up your glory for the incarnation and becoming a servant and by being obedient even to the point of death. However, the story doesn’t end there with the stone in place and the earth covered in clouds. I might add, dark sobbing clouds as though all of Heaven was crying - it was. This day in history should always live in infamy not for the sadness it brings, but for the hope that it brings.

This day was once to be thought of a great victory for the father of all lies, but God has turn the tables on the evil one and now this day has become a thorn in his side. God may have stubbed His toe on you satan, but in the end, it is your head that got pummeled.

I have heard it said that authors write what could be, artists paint visions of what might be, but you O Blessed One - you bring life to all. After all, your greatest work was done, through the frailty of your son, (to quote Michael Card).

Reconciliation has taken place. No longer do we have to go through the ceremonial killing of innocent animals for the purging of our sins. We can walk into the throne room of Love, humbly, and say – “Daddy, I fell down” and You are ever quick to come and pick us up in His arms as only a Father can do.

Death where is your sting? Grave where is your victory? The Lord of All, The Lord of the Living has beaten you!

Liberation has come to all the people of God; freedom from the tyranny of sin and freedom from the oppressions of the lives that we once held. There should be dancing in the streets, singing from the rooftops, loud hosannas from the mountaintops, a shout of praises in the valleys – OUR GOD RIEGNS! OUR GOD REIGNS!

The proclamation made so many years ago, has come true – I know there is a redeemer and I will see Him stand on this earth.

There is forgiveness in you O Great Jehovah, your mercy and grace announces your very presence. Rain down on your children O Ancient Of Days with unending love and shower us with blessings so that others may be blessed

Amen

An Uncontorlable Fire, Rage

Embers from a flame of long ago –
A slight breeze causes them to glow
With no water to be found
A forest fire starts to grow

Out of control, consuming everything in its wake
It has no conscience, no prisoners it takes
No purpose or intent it has; for reaction it‘s guide
A whiff teases the flames, piquing them
Soulless, it shows no mercy
Leaving blacken devastation in the aftermath

Anger may bring about change, but rage destroys
Fever can burn out infection, but a high one can kill

Rage sees only black and white
Pity the one who calls it friend

At The Threshold

Every time I go see my nephrologist, it’s always been the same – “your kidney function is normal, at least what is normal for your kidneys, see you in three months.” (For those of you who live in Rubidoux, a nephrologist is one who studies the function of the kidneys. To be specific, nephrons, which are the main component of filtration in the kidneys) Yesterday was no different than what it has been the previous visits; my kidney function was normal for what normal is for them. Except, the doctor added this statement towards the end of our visit, “have we ever talked what you want to do when the time comes for you to go on dialysis?”

Over the last nine years, I have had many a hospital stay either from the kidneys or Crohn’s or a combination of both. And every time that dialysis was mentioned as a possibility, the kidney start to function again (as if they would hear what would happen to them if they didn’t) and I would dodge a bullet.

When he came into the examination room, he wasn’t his jovial self. And I hope I’m not reading something into something that has nothing to do with my case. But in the past, he’s always been very friendly when entering the room, almost like saying, “I’m really glad to see you”. However, yesterday, there was a look of concern on his face. Like I said, I’m hoping that I’m not reading something that isn’t there, because in the last nine years, I have learned to trust this doctor’s decisions. He’s a well-educated man and a doctor with a very kind bedside manner. Last year when I was in the hospital for what the doctors thought was a heart attack and the tests they ran confirmed it, the cardiologist on the case wanted to perform an angiogram to see what damage to the heart occurred, (this can be detrimental to kidneys because iodine is used, which is extremely dangerous to kidneys in poor health it if stays in them too long) it was my nephrologist who cut through all of the medical twaddle and simply said, “you can live without your kidneys, you can’t live without a heart.”

I heard the words of a brother, but I also heard the words of my father, too. I have taken a vested interest in what this man has to say; he’s earned that right.

When he asked me if we had talked about what I wanted, when the time comes, something strange set in. It wasn’t fear as in there’s a ghost in the next room, so I better avoid that room. But maybe something closer to dread. Like I need to go into my garage and clean it up (you should see my garage, then you’ll understand) Understandably that by going on dialysis is not a death sentence in and of itself, it just that the two men I admire most, my grandfather and father, were on dialysis for about three to five years and succumb to death. The concern is that as I’m on the threshold of fifty years young, will I be around to see sixty or beyond that?

The good news is that things have change in the last four years for people with kidney disease and kidney failure. And I’m still considered to be young enough for a kidney transplant. So even if I might be on the threshold of dialysis, I’m not on the threshold of death.

Another thing to add to the mix is that after consulting with some people that I know that have survive various forms of cancer, the key to their survival was a positive look on life; we’re going to beat this. Now I realize that cancer and kidney failure is two different things, but an attitude, and a positive one at that, carries a long way. So when the time comes, the things I will keep close to me to encourage me, is a bright outlook, love of my family, and most importantly, holding the hand of the Master in the darkest hour.

Dad, before you go…

Remember that morning about twenty years ago? I can’t really give an answer to as why I was thinking of that particular morning, but something was stirring in my memory and well, for the events that took place on that morning – I just wanted to say that it was the first time in my adult life that I saw the love you had for me.

Anyway, I had awakened between four and four thirty in the a.m., with a full bladder rapping ever so softly against my abdomen. I went to roll over so I could get out of bed, when I noticed that I had weakness in my legs and upper torso; the reason for this weakness was that my potassium was bottoming out. I’ve been in this situation before. Well, not necessarily having to go the bathroom in the wee hours of the morning, but having low potassium. I needed to come up with a plan, because the more I waited, the tighter my bladder was getting.

I thought I had enough strength to answer the call of the commode but how to get there? The idea that I conjured up was…well, all I can say now is best laid plans of mice and men, but I thought if I could push myself up in a standing position I could manage my way to the bathroom and answer the call so to speak. Then, I could deal with the loss of vital minerals that my body was in dire need of.

On the count of “three”, I was going to rise up and make my move. Suffice to say, on “three”, I fell out of the bed, flat on my face. There I was naked, lying on my belly, full bladder no longer gently rapping on my abdomen, but getting ready to burst forth like a pressurize fire hose, and I couldn’t move. I had to do something.

I was not in the best situations and if nothing would happen in the next few minutes, I would quite literally be in hot water… well, warm water at least and a wet carpet. And I must confess, I have started off on better mornings than this; so has my Dad. So when I shouted for help, it was Dad that saw me first.

“Jamie?” Dad said. “Jamie, are you awake?” I had later found out that Dad thought maybe I had a nightmare and fell out of bed.

“Yeah,” I said somewhat embarrassed by my predicament. “I’m awake.”

“What’s the matter then?”

“My potassium is low and I can’t move.”

By this time, Mom had joined the pre-dawn escapades and asked me - “If you couldn’t move, then why did you get out of bed?”

“I don’t know. I thought I could make it to the bathroom.”

Dad then asked if I could rise up on my fours and he will try to toss me back on the bed. When you’re naked and can’t move, your options quickly become narrowed. He tossed me back into bed like a sack of potatoes. And with a slap on the bare butt, he then pulled the covers back over me and then left me to go get a Mason jar.

Needless to say, I was deeply embarrassed. Men aren’t supposed to look on each other nakedness for the shame it might bring. And being how one may sleep at night, meaning the lack of nightclothes, you still have a blanket to hide your body. But being exposed as I was, Dad, didn’t do anything that would further my shame and humiliation. In fact, he did everything that he could to cover my predicament.

All this being what it is, a naked son calling on his pop for help and the father restoring the son’s self-respect, reminds me of two sons that help save their father’s dignity. In the book “The View From Mount Calvary” by John Phillips, Phillips uses the story found in Genesis 9:23 to demonstrate what actually happened when Christ took on the sins of the world and shame was put on Him.

After Noah had one night of celebrating the harvest of the vineyard, he passed out in his tent in a drunken slumber and during the night, had become uncovered. One of his sons, Ham, looked into his father’s tent and saw his father’s disgrace. The Bible isn’t clear as of what was said to Shem and Japheth, Ham’s brothers, all that is known is that when they were told about their father’s defilement, they took matters into their own hands and saved their father’s modesty. They walked backwards into their father’s tent, not looking upon their father’s nakedness, with robe in hand, and covered his humiliation.

Now, fast-forward a few thousands of years and we see a man who happens to be a son stripped naked, while the accumulative sins of the world are heaped on him. The man happens to be the Son of God and what is taking place is the apex of his life mission – “behold, the Lamb of God that takes away the sins of the world” (John 1:29). So the problem arises - because God is a holy and just deity, He cannot look upon sin, so how can God, who loves His Son very much, look upon him when the totality of sins that mankind have done and will do are cast on Him?

Jesus is separated from God for the first time in His life (Mathew 27:46, Mark 15:34). It is as if God turns His back to His beloved Son. However, God may show His back towards His Son, but in so doing, He picks up a robe, figuratively speaking, and proceeds to walks backwards towards the cross, not looking upon the sins that are now covering His son, and covers His Son with the robe; a robe of righteousness, if you will. God’s love covers His Son…and it covers us too. “For what can separate us from the Love Of God? Who can separate us from the Love Of Christ?” although there are some that might try in their attempt to separate us from that love, no one and nothing can.

God loves His son because of His obedience, even unto the death on the cross. And Jesus is awarded accordingly with a name above all that at the very sound of it all tongues will confess and everything in Heaven and on Earth and under the earth will declare, “Jesus is Lord” (Philippians 2:8-11).

Nevertheless, some might say that God is playing loosey-goosey with the law if this is true. We must remember that it is His law and He can do whatever He wants to with it and it will still be called fair and just. But I think we often forget that His heart is that of a Father’s who will do everything within the law to make matters right. And that’s what He did, covered His Son. It should be mentioned - what loving father wouldn’t clothe their child in dire need?

Nothing further was said about my nakedness that morning.

Dad,…you handed me back my dignity and covered me with your love. And I love you for it.


Your son

The True Taste Of Freedom

I asked a dumb question the other night at work. It was dumb because in some respect it revealed how snobbish I can be, while suffering from the dreaded disease of all blowhards, Braggadocios. And as for most braggarts go, the more they talk, the more they show, just how little they actually know. My friend who gave me the answer to my dumb question was kind enough and gracious enough not to let my foolishness get in the way of some real clear understanding.

My friend is a young man from Burma. (Recently, the major rail line I work for has hired quite a few men from Burma.) I found out from my friend that Burma is controlled by a military regime. It's been that way for the last forty odd years. And as most tyrannical governments are, they don't take to kindly to criticisms of the way they run their business. In fact, the way they deal with complaints is either prison or the firing squad.

So this American, who has had some infinitesimal education in the ways of the world, asks – "So what type of government is it, communist, fascist, socialist?"

Then came the response that snap me back into the realities that my friend's fellow countrymen are currently living in. "Who cares what political ideology is in office, good and innocent people are being killed for wanting to be free!"

I tell you, as an American, I was ashamed. I was ashamed for being naïve thinking that political ideologies whatever they might be are better than the next. My friend is correct. When the government is killing their own decent and innocent people for the simplest of reasons; wanting to be free, then the governing political system is wrong and needs to be changed if people's survival of that country is to endure.

I was further ashamed in that the freedom that these good people want is nothing more than just a hollow word to me. But how have I forgotten what freedom is? I can remember the joy I felt as the protests were taking place in Tiananmen Square of the late eighties. It was the youth that were taking hold of what our forefathers taught and believed and were willing to live it out. I can remember smiling at the fantastic scenes of the Berlin Wall collapsing under the power of all kinds of hammers - ball peen, jackhammer and sledgehammers. Furthermore all in the name of freedom and all done by people yearning to be free. When my Father's generation liberated France, Italy, Germany, Japan, Philippines and the entire south pacific from evil political philosophies, the indigenous people rejoice at the coming of their liberators for they knew freedom was at hand.

So why did I miss this question? I think it has to do with the current status that we find ourselves in here in the states. When dealing with world matters, or so it seems, for us and our feeble minds, its turn to an us vs. them, red vs. blue, Dems vs. Republicans. If we're having disagreements and stalemates in government, it's always the opposition fault. Some wanna-be political office seeker might think when posed a question of a core issue such as freedom and democracy is, "How does it play in Iowa?" or some one else might think, if they have an original opinion on liberating an oppressed people somewhere on the planet, "If I lean in this direction how will the polls interrupt this?" So when I hear that a government is acting very poorly against its own people, I start looking for an excuse to blame the opposition. I do what we do best in this country; you exploit people just to prove your point. I sometimes get so disgusted with politicians!

Our elected officials often hear about real trouble facing freedom seeking people in the world or how a despot is wrecking havoc with its people and when asked about it, they give it a thirty second lip service job saying – "I'm glad you asked, by the way…I've got a plan" but it never deals with the core issue of freedom and democracy; two foundational tenets that we established our government and way of life on. Imagine, what we Americans bring to the world table, freedom, and our elected heroes back away from the subject like Superman from Kryptonite. How is it that the people we send to draw up our laws underestimate freedom's power?

The more I read, the more I understand; that freedom is found in every heart of every person here on earth. And that this freedom that we all desire has a religious tone to it – a universal axiom, if you will, that all mankind has a right to and if anyone government tries to suppress it, it should be considered a most grievous crime.

Freedom trumps all ideologies. In fact, all ideologies should have freedom as their ultimate goal. But they don't. All religions should have freedom as their ultimate goal. But they don't. I'm connecting the two because I believe that God and His glorious wisdom and insight into the human heart, has planted the seed of freedom. A freedom that means not being mastered by oppression as in sin, tyranny as in evil personified; but a freedom that is light to carry and security from all fears. Perhaps I just described what the dynamics of Heaven would be.
My friend and fellow co-workers have tasted the freedoms that we offer to the world. Per chance, they have enough of a fill to bring the people of Burma to the table of freedom and let them dine on its delights.

Pray for the people of Burma.

Pray for freedom wherever it finds a home.

Here Comes Da' Judge

I was talking with a friend at work. The subject of horoscopes came up, and he being a Christian, made a statement that made me questioned his take on the subject. He stated that the woman he is now dating sure does act like a Sagittarius because he has known several Sagittarians and they all act alike.

My reply was – “why are you listening to the stars about your life, shouldn’t you be listening to the star maker?”

The question stopped him in mid sentence – “What do you mean? I just read it for entertainment purposes.”

“Well, you just said that she acts like all other Sagittarians that you’ve known…tells me that it might be more than entertainment purposes, that’s all”

“Well, then, don’t you find it fascinating that the stars could tell you how someone behaves?”

“No. I find it more fascinating that a God is more concern with my life then He is about nature.”

The reply was classic and in fact, it made me smile, “You’re taking this to a whole different level than where I want it to go.”

Notice that I didn’t send him off to Hell for reading horoscopes nor I didn’t stop fellowshipping with him; I didn’t even bring embarrassment or shame to him. All I did was made him think of his action, that’s all I was there to do, to have my dear friend think through this issue.

I couldn’t judge this brother for what he was doing for the simple reason that I’ve done stuff too that the Lord would have given me a second look for. I merely questioned this friend on a particular issue that as a follower of Jesus Christ, it should be looked at again. In other words, Jesus, if face with this situation, wouldn’t have condemn my friend, so why should I? Nevertheless, there’ll be some individuals who would see me as judging this person and that is what is bothering me.

It’s my opinion, but too many people use “judge not, and you won’t be judged” and have no real clue of what it means. That is to say, they use it to either hurt others or get others to shut up when all they are doing is pointing out something that is questionable, or even give them permission to judge the people who are offending them. And God forbid if they get caught in a sin, for they quote this line as if it vidicates the sin.

Anyway, the Lord didn’t mean to have His words used to abuse people when He spoke them some two millenniums ago.(a side note: I believe that this is what causes the most greif for Jesus. After twenty centuries, people still don’t get Jesus and who He is and somehow feel it’s their sacred duty to used the Lord’s words to beat up or shame weaker individuals or groups)

When Jesus spoke these words so many centuries ago, He wanted us not to make hasty decisions, especially when it comes to people. For if we judge someone rather harshly, whose to say that we won’t be handed the same treatment? I guess it comes down to what goes around comes around; so choose to apporach someone extending all the grace and mercy we can dish out. Wouldn’t we want the same shown to us on a particular bad day?

I have chosen to live my life with a God centered reality – everything is answerable to God, my actions, my words, my thoughts, my motives as perverted as they sometimes are, (of course all under the umbrella of His mercy and grace; I’m not much into wearing a hair shirt and I don’t see the point of self flogging when I don’t measure up to my standards.) So when someone accuses me of being judgemental, it goes to the core of me…it should go to the core of any Christian as well who is accused of such actions. I want my Father to judge me, not Ted down the street, although Ted down the street maybe a witness at my trial to testify whether or not I’m living as a Christian should live, whatever that may be. It’s my Father who I want to please, not out of duty, but out of love. But in using this as a motive for my actions, I may offend someone because their action may offend the Spirit and I may be the vessel at that time to raise a concern so that’s why I need to cling to mercy and grace and be wise with my words, and not to bring dishonor to the Father through an impatient tongue.

Having all said that, why do we often put ourselves in the saddle of a moral high horse and feel that we can judge anyone we want to? Is it because we feel that we have some sacred duty to our religion to ridicule and shame some brother or sister? Could it be that we’re not understanding what is being said when they speak? Why must we make some rash and hurtful decisions? From a personal outlook, I know this; sitting atop of a horse that stands eight feet at the shoulder, is a long way to fall – I know, I’ve been there many a times, that’s why I try my darndest to saddle up a Shetland pony!

I close with this, in the Book of James, the author tells us of the importance of controling the tongue. If we are using the tongue to show how religious we are, then are we following the example given by the prophet Micah – are we loving mercy? Are we acting justly? Are we walking humbly with God? From the Book of James, are we tending to the orphans and widows? Are we keeping ourselves clean from what the filth the world hurls at us? Or do we want to point out someone’s elses shame that may not be at the same undrstanding that we’re at?

Discretion of words is better than fluancy of speech, so choose wisely friends, the words of your heart so that God gets the glory and no one is hurt with petualnt decisions.

My Last Day On Planet Earth

What would you do, if you knew that today was your last day on earth? It’s the proverbial old question that can be answered in so many different ways. A lot of people will probably choose to run up all their credit cards, leaving the debt to be paid off by the heirs. Still others would want to do all type of earthly pleasures; not necessarily sinning, although it may border on sin, but doing things that they haven’t done since before today – sky diving or seeing the bottom of the ocean floor or wrestling with wild animals comes to mind. In other words, living like there is no tomorrow. So I return to the original question - what would you do if you knew that today was your last day on earth?

I was in the hospital when I woke up in the midst of a storm; a panic storm. Something dreadful would happen to me by the end of the day, I just knew it. Like bones aching when the temperature changes and you’ll know that a storm’s a comin’ or animals heading to higher ground in the anticipation of a flood. I knew that this would be my last day on earth and all I knew at that moment when the realization set in, was that I wanted was to spend it with loved ones. I also wanted to put things in order, sort of wrap up final thoughts and deeds as it were. But I was trapped in a hospital bed and I really couldn’t get free and tell people about the gospel that can save us.

I always had an idea of what my purpose was on this earth and now that I was on my deathbed, or so I thought, I was cognizant of the fact that I didn’t live it to the best of my ability. I was caught up in what I did, not with who I am. I was worried that my deeds weren’t good enough to please my Father in Heaven. Then the thought hit me – “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith, and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God - not by works, so that no one can boast.*”

I believe that I am saved through the sacrifice that Jesus did on the cross and it was good enough to please the Father. I also believe that we have been brought back into a right relationship with the Father and we are sealed with Him because of the works that Jesus did on the cross. So why am I worrying about my measly attempts of good deeds for salvation? Could it be that I may insult the one who truly loves me as I am?

It is my opinion, but I think that the most terrifying statement in the Bible is this – “Many will say to me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?' Then I will tell them plainly, 'I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!'*”

If we are doing things to please our Lord merely to get power from His name, I think we are missing the boat and we are in danger of soiling His good name. However, if we listen to the words of the Holy Spirit and obey them, great things will happen; mostly, the promise of salvation from the Father will go out to the recipient (and we take joy in that because we are the vessels He uses to do His work.) There is cause for great celebration because our family just grew.

By getting caught up in works, we focus our thoughts on us and we can’t see others in desperate need of saving, due to the plank in our own eye. That’s it! We become judgmental and we are more apt to condemn someone who the Lord is trying to save. In other words, we’re not presenting His gospel; we’re presenting ours. We’re trying to get the glory at Christ’s expense when it should be Jesus that gets the glory for the things He has done for our benefit. I mean, when you think about it, one player may do an incredible act to win the game, but it is the whole team that celebrates the win. So why not just rejoice in the gift of salvation and stop worrying about doing great things by our own power or borrowed power as it were?

I had a number of things that happened to me on that dreadful day. Blood chemicals were out of balance, which brought on the attack. I had never had a panic attack before and I hope I will never have another.

But a positive thing came out of that day - a better way to present the gospel of peace, the gospel that can save us. I can place His gospel on the front door of someone’s heart and walk away knowing that I did what I was told to do. My legacy is not how many people get saved through my testimony or deeds of good faith, but that I was obedient to the Spirit.

*Scripture References Eph. 2:8-9 and Matt. 7:22-23, respectfully

Nothing In common

(The names have been changed to protect my sorry butt from any legal action, but you know who you are)

You know, it’s odd what a middle aged man finds to be the true definition of love. It’s so different than what it was twenty-five years ago, thirty years ago, or even forty years ago. I suppose that twenty years from now, I will have added more meanings to the word, as well as many more different facets of love than what I know of it’s depth at this time in my life.

Looking back on what little knowledge I had at that time, twenty-five years ago that is, it was all tied up with how many damsels you could lance with your personal epee. And although I never did get caught up in too much of this physical expression of lust, er, love, I did have my moments. Thirty years ago, while in high school, love meant to me that if you saw a girl and asked her out and she said yes, than that was a sure sign of true love. And forty years ago, you knew it was love in elementary school, when a certain girl would clobber you on the playground and then run away giggling, while you looked dazed and confused at that little whirlwind that tattooed your arm. Ah, to be that innocent again.

I thought it was love, I really did. I suppose that may be one of the reasons why some people do the things they do. But what I thought was love, was only infatuation; Eileen was pretty and although there was some depth to her being, I soon found out that there wasn’t much else there; we had nothing in common.

I met Eileen at the church I was working as a youth pastor. I don’t know why I didn’t heed the advice of a good friend that told me several years prior to this, “Never date someone from your own congregation.” The reason is, if a break up occurs and it becomes hostile, it will affect the life of a church and that is a very bad thing.

I was seeing someone else at the time of all of this, and the kids I was charged with never met Kate; I suppose that was a good thing, meaning that I never exposed that side of my life to those kids. I had built a good relationship with Kate although there were some great unknowns that never got resolved, and we got caught up into some sexual situations, which, as two devoted unmarried Christians, is never a good thing. But a fool only sees what’s in front of him. I pursued Kate; Eileen, on the other hand, pursued me. I was flattered. Even though Kate and I had a good thing going, there were some things misplaced in our relationship, so when Eileen pursued me, I thought it was an escape route and I fell hard and fast. Oh how wrong that thinking was.

Two things happened at first. The first was that Eileen told me that she had had some problems dealing with stress. OK, I could handle that, I thought. I didn’t follow up with “what kind of problems;” I was in love, she was cute...we could work it out. Problem was that she really couldn’t connect with people. I know that now, but back then…

The other problem was that she was very kissable, which happens a lot during the first days of any dating relationship, but getting caught up in the early stages of romance started affecting the lives of the kids I was charged with. My priorities got jostled. I was there for several reasons - to guide young minds to a saving knowledge of Christ, to build lasting friendships, and to help lead Sunday services. What I did was wreck the trust that I had established with the group and some friendships were lost early on. I never really was able to reestablish their trust, and that hurt. I not only lost trust in the kids but I let down parents, the senior pastor, myself, but most importantly, I feel, I let down God.

I didn’t lose my job over this relationship; my agreement with the church came to an end. I started working with the church in December of 1985 and left in June of 1986 after graduating from college. Throughout that summer, Eileen and I continued to see each other. But as summer came to a close, things were changing between her and I. The relationship died in September.

I did everything I could to keep the relationship going, but try as I might; the signs were all there. It was dying a slow and lingering death. The main problem was that Eileen was enamored with an image of who she thought I was. She liked the idea that I was a moral and honorable man. However, that idea died shortly after we started going together. What did I want? I just wanted to be liked.

So what’s the point to all of this? What could be the purpose of retracing a middle aged man’s love life of twenty years ago, other than to say that I had a pretty good relationship with Kate, traded it for something that I thought was there and by the end of the summer, I had nothing; I had no job, I had no Kate and I had no Eileen. I chased after the wrong thing and I had nothing left to show for it. Ah, but there is a lesson. A lesson on what it is to give and to love.

During our relationship, I had given Eileen a gift. It was a sweatshirt that had her name spelled on it in an unconventional way (remember names have been changed.) She liked it; at least she told me that she liked it. When the relationship finally broke up on the rocks of reality, she asked me how much I paid for the shirt. I told her it was a gift, I’m not requiring her to reimburse me; it was from my heart to hers. She insisted that she needed to repay me for the gift. I felt so insulted by her words that day. I kept saying – “You don’t owe me anything”. She wasn’t buying it. For some strange reason that to this day only she knows, she needed to be free and clear of all ties with me, I suppose for that matter, with all people that had come into her life. She kept hounding me until I couldn’t stand it any longer, and I quoted her a price. I prostituted myself that day. For a measly twenty bucks, I sold my love.

Out of all the events and dates that happened that summer, this is the thing that left its mark. And yet it is also a valuable lesson on the gift that the Lord has offered us through His love – salvation.


For by grace you have been saved through faith:
and not that of yourselves,
it is a gift from God
not as a result of works,
so that no one may boast
Ephesians 2:8-9

The lesson learned was how could we put a price on salvation? We can’t. And even if we could, it would be insulting to God and it would cheapen Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. There’s nothing we can, I repeat can, do that will repay God for what he did on the cross in human form. It was He, through the purest of motives, love, which gave us freedom from our sins and reconciliation with Him.

All the more, why do we throw a Bronx cheer to God with our measly tokens of good works, thinking it will please Him? Why do we ridicule Him by insisting on doing it our way? I think it may come down to a simple case of jealousy. Because His love is purer than gold. His love is more beautiful than the most exquisite diamond. His love is never ending; it’s unconditional. He is the very nature of love because He is love. (1 John 4:8) Our love fall so short of the love that is His. I believe that is where the jealousy comes from – our wanting to be God-like and realizing that we’re not.

When we accept God’s gift, in a way, we have something in common with Him, namely fellowship. When we fight Him, we become diametrically opposed to Him and we end up spinning our wheels in the muck and mire that is known as our lives.

In no way am I trying to equate my gift to that of the priceless gift of salvation. The point here is a gift is a gift. I tried to give something that was from my heart, with no strings attached, that I thought she would enjoy for the next few years or until the shirt frayed or she outgrew it. I never intended to be reimbursed for the effort that went into it. Nevertheless, my love took a major blow and any affection I had left for her died that day. God on the other hand, even though we may reject His offer, still stands by offering us His love. And even if we go to our graves rejecting His offer, He will still love us.

That’s the lesson of love that I have learned. Give everything with love attached to it and never, never accept payment for the gift, because you end up cheapening your love. In other words, love is priceless.

So what happened to Kate and Eileen? Kate and I eventually got back together a few months after Eileen and I had broken up. We stayed together for another year and half and when I did ask Kate to marry me, she turned me down. I met Judy three years later and she showed me a whole different side of love and with her my love has deepened so much more. We have been married for fifteen years and still adore each other. I do not know what has happened to Eileen since the break up. All I know is that while we were together, we had nothing in common.