From the Ethnic "Other" Side

Well, yes, I was the designated driver for a quick trip to Billy Bob's in Fort Worth, Texas.  Charlie Daniels was the headliner, and there  were several of us in a study session at Briarwood Presbyterian Camp near Azle.  Three wanted to go, a friend trusted me with his ancient Oldsmobile, and off we went to Fort Worth.

We marched through the very crowded entrance to Billy Bobs:  1)  a 6'6" very black Catholic priest from Jamaica, 2)  a 5'6" semi-round very brown Mexican pastor from south of the border, 3)  a middle-sized camp director from North Carolina with red hair and beard (looking for all the world like Henry VIII), and 4)  me.  Entering a pure-country crowd, as white as a crowd can be.  Which crowd, hardly believing this foursome was actually approaching, opened up like the Red Sea and let us through.  Yes, they did look at us in a pretty puzzled way!

The opening-of-the-sea business continued until we had a good place to stand (no seats available anywhere).  We enjoyed the concert.  No hassles, no stares, just a quiet acceptance (after the initial puzzlement at our weird-looking group). We got the beat along with our neighbors, and it was altogether a good session.

Back in the car, my friends expressed their surprise at how easy and friendly it had all been.  Which it had been.

There are times when negative expectations just don't live up to what we thought.  Of course, that doesn't make news.  There are lots of times when people of different appearances get along just fine.  I've thought about that, and decided that it isn't appearances that trigger problems, but the fact that someone (perhaps with good reason) feels threatened in the moment, gets a shot of adrenalin, and encounters someone else with the same thing going.  As my friend the warden always said:  "With young adult males (and some old enough to know better) you always have to deal with the 'rooster fights'."

Give it a chance, though, and peaceful moments can surprise you.  And cause you to lift a prayer of thanksgiving.  After all, we don't ALWAYS mess up the good that God created;  just sometimes.

Next in Line

Henry didn't ever say much. Classic long and lean, always jeans and boots, he looked far from the skillful lawyer that he really was.  He liked the early morning "contemporary" service  (even though he often said it wasn't so much contemporary as a "slice of 1988 musically").  I don't think he sang, just attended and listened.

He would enter, give a very short wave, and take a seat.  Except on this particular Sunday.  He came and stood by me, saying nothing, for a long 5 minutes, watching people walk by and find their seats before service.

My mother had died, and the service had been during the week since I'd last seen Henry.  His mother had died the year before.  I felt his hand on my shoulder, then Henry said:  "I know how you feel.  Now you're at the head of the line, aren't you?"  He patted me on the back and took a seat.

In that moment, I knew that at least one person in the world totally understood just exactly where I was.  There had been lots of condolences, lots of strong and faithful things said, many good remembrances of her life shared. But Henry knew how it felt.  I had moved to the head of the line.  I was now on the escalator, with no one ahead of me, moving to the end of it.  And it was o.k.  Jesus did it, too, and accompanies us, and takes out the fear. But there is a "first moment" when we realize that we are the next in line.

I see lots of folks dealing with grief and death.  Some of them share intimate thoughts, some erect fierce barriers to keep all the feelings in (and the realities out, I think).  Some of them want to be known, some not.  But for the rest of my time, I'm grateful for Henry, who didn't say much, except for the one time it truly mattered.

Dogs Don't Do Divorce

Close to my place in the world, there is a visiting Beagle, once a month, for an undetermined number of days.  He stays in the back yard, calls out lonesome at the fence, and is generally ignored.  I'm trying to calculate the pattern, but it's about 4 days, once a month.

He is an award in a divorce.  The woman who "won" the issue doesn't do anything with friend Beagle.  Doesn't play, doesn't take him for walks.  The whole point is that she "won".  In the divorce, so I hear, she won shared custody of the family pet, purely to deprive the "loser" of the right to the sole custody of the dog. 

Makes you wonder what "win" and "lose" mean, doesn't it? 

Dogs just don't understand such business, I think.  Maybe that is why some notable or other says, from time to time, I do prefer dogs to people.

God created us and dogs, both.  Maybe there are times when God says, all other things being equal, that He prefers dogs to people.  Happily and hopefully, it is a passing feeling with God.  But humans often take more mercy than dogs to maintain, it seems.

The Food Bank and Uncle Stout

It was time for a check today, to the East Texas Food Bank, for their Thanksgiving drive.  There'll be one to the Matthew 25:35 Fund,  too.  We don't always "see" the poverty all around us, but it's there.  Like the rest of God's creation, there are inspiring stories within the poverty, missed when we turn away from it.

The picture is indelible, implanted in Bullard when I was ten, only revised a little as I became a teen.  I took a birthday present across the street to Uncle Stout Roberson, on his 90th birthday.   Just like every day, he was in his garden, working whatever crop was in season.  Even in winter he had some protected crops working.

His name fit.  He had worked with hand tools every day of his life, so, at 90, he was pretty much all muscle, tendon, and bone.  With a great attitude!  Couldn't hear, couldn't afford a hearing aid, so everyone had to shout a bit, but that was fine.  And he always had a good word for you.

I admired him.  But it never occurred to me that Uncle Stout had a hard life.  Before Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, just a little of what he called the "old age assistance", Uncle Stout HAD to work every day.  Corn and potatoes, beans and peas, lots of turnips and greens, and the priceless chickens kept him alive, and made sure that Miss Viola didn't do without.  He gave things away, people gave him things, and sharing was just a part of the good  life among good (and poor) Christian people.

Then the time came when no amount of will power was enough to drive him into the garden.  He could say with Paul, "I have fought the good fight..." because he had.  He defined the "honorable man", and in some ways still does.  I've not known a better one, in all the decades since.

Better This Way?

Jesus said it almost every way you can.  Paul underlined it.  Current materialism brushes it off.  Here's an article:

http://health.msn.com/health-topics/depression/articlepage.aspx?cp-documentid=100266204&gt1=31009

Simple - earning and spending money does NOT bring happiness.  Count the problem-folks around you.  Struggle to maintain the payments or whatever on the "medicine for what ails you" that was your "dream".

One of the hardest things in the world to sell is the dream-house or dream-car that was supposed to bring happiness, simply because the new dreamer wants to dream a new dream.

We're caught up in it, of course.  But every time we take a break from the concept, we recognize that private prayer "re-centers" us, while being a busy consumer does not.

Simple.  But hard to manage - - - all those advertisements work in the opposite direction, don't they?

Power of a Name

Moses wanted to know the name of God - - and the answer came:  I am who I am - in other words, you don't need to know!  I'm calling you, you won't be calling me.

Who ARE you? is a question of trust.

Five minutes ago, I got a political call masquerading as a question/poll sort of thing, asking if I "believed" in the traditional view of marriage.  (Which I do, but, in differentiation from the current politically correct interpretation, I actually believe in the older definition of marriage as a permanent, until-death set of commitments, not as a 50/50 shot at staying together, maybe, sorta, if it works out.)

The turn-off for THIS particular call was that the caller addressed me by identifying himself with MY name.  Disconcerting, to get a call from yourself.  Throws you off a bit.  Definitely gets your attention!

An emotional issue, a disconcerting identification, a "poll" to persuade for a political point and a vote....... it's tough to dig out the authentic in these political shifting sands.  This definitely was NOT authentic

Maybe it always has been, who knows, but this is a tough year!

It all reinforces the authenticity-factor in the Biblical record of the God who calls and the people who follow.  The more you learn about the deviousness of the times, the more you like Moses, I think!

Let me know what YOU think.

What a Journey!

What should a young teen do, parents deceased, living arrangements all jumbled, life turned upside down.  There are lots of options, but the story of one 13 year old boy stands out.

Leo Tolstoy started preparations for the entrance examinations to Kazan University, wanting to enter the faculty of Oriental languages. He studied Arabic, Turkish, Latin, German, English, and French, and geography, history, and religion. He also began in earnest studying the literary works of English, Russian and French authors including Charles Dickens,Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol, Mikhail Lermontov, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Laurence Sterne, Friedrich Schiller, and Francois-Marie Arouet Voltaire.

In 1844, at the age of sixteen and the end of what Tolstoy says was his childhood, and the beginning of his youth, he entered the University of Kazan to study Turco-Arabic literature. While he did not graduate, or even get beyond the second year (he would later attempt to study law) this period of his life also corresponded with his coming out into society. 


He and his brothers moved out of their uncle’s home and secured their own rooms. No longer the provincial, there were balls and galas to attend and other such manly pursuits under the general heading of "dissolute". Tolstoy did not have much success as a student, but he would become a polyglot with at least some working knowledge of a dozen languages. He did not "respond to the universities’ conventional system of learning" as he phrased it,  and left in 1847 without obtaining his degree.


The greatest writer of Russia would live up to his noble heritage, and then renounce his wealth to help the poor.  The writer of "War and Peace" would become a profound influence on Ghandi.  His estate would become a haven for homeless serfs.


All the advantages of life, by which we often mean financial resources, fade when we are motivated by faith and purpose.  Tolstoy became fascinated with Jesus, and dedicated to His teachings.  As he renounced nobility, he became a saint to the Russian peasant and a powerful influence around the world.


What marvelous things God does with a life given to Him!

The Forgotten Engineer (in you)

Buy a TV or whatever, get it home, unpack and set it up, off you go (maybe) into whatever level of excitement you hoped for.  Packing material?  Who thinks about that, anyway!

A great family in Houston worked with youth, traveled everywhere by van, bus, plane, mission trips, ski trips, the whole thing.  Sunday night meals, planning sessions, devoted a huge amount of time, always creative in whatever they were leading.  They raised a daughter who became the key figure in Christian drama in Houston (Jeannette Clift George), very likable people, very dedicated Christians.

I asked him one day about his profession.  "I'm an engineer" was the too-short reply.

"What sort?"

"I design packing material.  You know, the fiber stuff or the foam stuff around TVs, telephones, all that.  I have a small company just north of town."

A profession I had never known about brought my friend real prosperity.  The longer life goes on, the more there is that to discover.  And the more you discover, the more creativity there is to celebrate.

A wise man said, "When God created humankind in His image, He had great fun creating creativity in us!"

Next time you're rummaging around in life's smaller stuff, like packing material or something similarly non-spectacular, wonder a bit:  One of God's children created this, one small piece at a time.  Using a God-given gift implanted in every one of us.

How do you use that gift?

Well, Google Myself, or Not

Ever do that?  I did yesterday, and guess what I learned?  (Everything on the net is of course absolutely true!)

Well, I hardly recognized myself.  I'm on Facebook, which is true.  But, according to Google, I also live in San Diego, finished high school in 1984, am black, and fairly athletic.  I have 8 siblings, and I work for the city.  Not.

If I leave off the middle initial, I'm told that I'm an Australian actor who sometimes doesn't behave very well.  Not that either.

Whatever "free information" you might pick up here and there, I'm glad I know me, that the Lord knows me, and that family knows me.  I'm glad that God has not only had knowledge of me but has purpose for me.  It's a rejoicing thing that the Lord called me to preach 55 years ago, and has repeated that call on a regular basis ever since.

And we know so many "treasures", don't we.  And since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of highly credible witnesses, let us get with our very personal callings, lay aside every hindrance, and get running.  (That's not exactly what Hebrews says, but close enough.)  And if we look to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, it works!  Looking there tells me more than "googling", you know.

I could "google" myself again, or maybe it would work better to pray.  What do you think?

10-Fold and the Missionary

Today is the last day for 10-Fold.org, a project of the Board of Global Ministries (UMC), and the day's feature is sustainable agriculture.  It's been a good educational project, channeling money from a special grant into specific projects, based on the number of web hits.

As I watched today, it felt so very good to be connected to that project, teaching sustainable agriculture in Africa, South America, and the Caribbean islands.  For several years, we've contributed to Heifer Project (my birthday presents usually connect with that - this year a small farmyard and some bees went on their way).

And it reminded me of U. S. and Vivien Gray, missionaries from East Texas who went to Liberia decades ago.  They taught agriculture.  They served their community.  And they served as foster parents.  Everyone knew:  Vivien welcomed kids who had nowhere to go.

One morning, a boy who called himself Bennie, eight years old, stood on the porch.  He had walked a very long way to get to Mrs. Gray's house.  She invited Bennie in.  Into the family, into the faith, into service.  Bennie became a minister, then a Bishop of Liberia.  As an honored leader, he served in government, becoming vice-president of the country.

In 1977, Bennie Dee Warner took a trip to a conference in America.  He brought along his wife and children, which turned out to be a blessing.  During that trip, a coup overthrew the government and Bennie couldn't return.  (Liberia is finally coming out of that long period of chaos.)   Settled in Oklahoma,  he is still a powerful influence in the church, and his life's work is a tribute to one woman's servant-hood.

One missionary, one eight year old boy on the porch, and a turning point.  God inspired Vivien to say "Come in."  And just look what He made of it.

The Other Lesson from Earl

He came to Lindale from Jacksonville, where he had engineered the box factory system, translating hand work into fast and accurate automated production.   Allen Canning Company brought him in to rework their production line.  He liked to tell how he began.

First day on the job, Earl took a folding chair and a legal pad, and moved slowly along the line. He listened to the machinery, the wheels and bearings, every part that moved a can or touched one.  On day two, he went back, walking the line with the engineering drawings, listening to the way each part passed a can down the line.  With a well-trained ear,  he heard the pauses and the tensions, the grabs and the slips.  The process was repeated until Earl knew the rhythm and timing of the machinery very well.

First you listen, THEN you modify.

Good lesson to learn early, specially if you want to succeed!  There are lots of "machines" in life.  Production lines, schools, churches, families, all have bumps and whistles, groans and strains, smooth spots and conflicts.  Earl said, "You have to listen first."  Whether you're making baskets, canning vegetables,  growing a family, or shaping up a team, listen first.

We've all seen instances of a highly skilled "engineer" of one sort or another, trained, equipped, eager to work, but who never learned to listen.  Frustrates everyone.

The best blessing I know?  God listens!  It all works better when God's children, who want to do His pleasure, learn how to listen, too.

Earl and the Chicken-Cooker

It must have been quite a conversation, when my older friend Earl offered some helpful advice to a "rookie" managing the rotisserie chicken cooker. Earl, dressed down in his most casual, had just bought a chicken, opened it, and pulled a drumstick just to check. Not done.

So, he quietly and politely told the "cooker" that it wasn't done, not near done. The cooker looked at the elderly man and proceeded to tell him that he didn't want any advice, thank you very much. Besides, what could HE know about cooking, anyway?

You can't (as Granny said) tell a book by it's cover. Earl had been an engineer for a large canning company, with a real focus on food safety, and with about 30 years experience. The "chicken-cooker" was one month into the job.  It's not an age thing, it's just a human thing.

I've taken good classes. But I've learned some of the best things from just listening.  Hundreds of times, it might be a pilot, a teacher, a musician, certainly a cook, a historian, we're surrounded by folks who have lived a part of their life we didn't know about.  And then........       Some of the best education in life comes from letting someone tell you all about whatever it is that they love, whether it is the love of cooking, or the love of flying, the love of singing, or the love of poetry and drama.

Got a good story along these lines? I'd like to hear it.

B

Trash Day

Trash pickup today on 849 - always amazing what we "toss".

This fall, we found Austria to be immaculate - no trash. Until we came to Vienna, walked up to a large group of youth, eating something from McDonalds. One girl, the picture of "color outside the lines" looked both ways, giggled, and tossed down the wrapper on an otherwise totally clean walking street. The girls around her giggled, and off they went. I didn't understand the language, but understood what I saw. And watched another in her group, who said nothing, but quietly reached down and picked up the trash as the group moved along.

If you say, "Don't do............." something inside says, "Well, I'm gonna.......................", as old as Cain and Abel. Sure, there are lots worse things than dropping a wrapper, lots of other ways to cross the line and play with the forbidden. But if her whole culture says "no", she'll find a way to say "yes." Human nature always lives on that edge.

In the Old Testament, the ultimate sin is to insult God and disrespect Him. So, layer by layer, the law built a sort of safety-net philosophy into fence after fence, each one farther out from the core sin. I might sew up a tear in a cloth, and that breaks the sabbath law, but that is just one of the outer fences. My conscience reminds me LONG before I get close to actually offending God.

In our time, the more fences we dismantle (and we've done a lot of that), the more dangerous our adventurousness becomes. (Remember how bad language actually used to be, at least, subdued in public.) Truthfulness has taken some hits lately as well. But the fences are there to protect the essential core, perhaps even the sacredness of life entrusted to us.

So, are we to be fence-BUILDERS? Probably not, at least individually, but surely we are to be fence-OBSERVERS, adding our part to the whole, encouraging others for the sake of Jesus' high hopes for all His children. Disciples recognize that there are values to be honored, just in the simple process of living out the Golden Rule.

Eye of the Beholder

My friend Zack posted a comment from a coach. That reminded me of a principal, long ago and far away, who invited me to do the opening prayer on the first day of school (obviously a while back). I arrived, and sat as he greeted the students.

Then he had a special word for seniors who would graduate the following May. "Now, I just wanta tell you, you'll be better off looking over the plow-handles at the back end of a mule, than going off to some college and getting their new ideas. Now, here's our new preacher in town to give us a little prayer."

Worst prelude I ever had! But he was sincere! Over and over again, he voiced that old sentiment: "Now, don't you get above your raising, ya hear!"

Sometimes the speaker reveals more than intended (applies to preachers, too, and sometimes things NEVER intended), and it convinces the "beholder" of something totally unintended.

Someone is always watching, always learning, and, in the case of the coach and principal above, someone is always walking away, in their mind if not with their feet. As leaders, two men intended to influence youth; maybe they never realized: in that moment, before the echo of their voice died out, the conversation ended. Period.

B

Cruelty in Tech Times

THE WEEK is a news-summary magazine. Cover story this week: "No Escape: Adolescent Cruelty in the Age of Social Media". Adolescent suicide is the mountain-top of anxiety created by bullying and intimidation. Teen gangs are a huge deal in many places.

Not new: 20 years ago my daughter could not wear an innocent-appearing bandana her grandfather had given her, because that color and design was claimed by a Tyler gang, who regularly drove through the high school parking lot. They prowled, and acted as owners of that "brand". Teens have always experienced light or very tough pressure to conform to whatever is "in" at the moment.

It's tougher, now. From the days of Adam and Eve, the general theme has been there. What about now? It's really hard for adults to perceive how isolated a bullied teen can feel. As an adult, I go about my life fairly secure. If someone harasses me or physically attacks me, I have legal recourse. I may be assaulted, but that isn't the end of it. A telephone connects me to quick, direct intervention. Help is available!

But, what if I am 14? And someone hits me, steals my lunch money or my shoes? Is there legal recourse? Does calling for help actually help? Or does it just bring further intimidation and violence from the bully? Is there a way out? (Insert your own story seen or experienced at this point.)

You hate to bring it to the surface, but for some teens, the shelter of a gang may provide the only shelter visible. Bad? Sure! Better than the alternative, being isolated and assaulted? Probably, at least in the very short term. Does that mean they "ought" to join a gang? Of course not, but it means any other plan just might not be visible to them.

As an adult concerned, ask if what we see is just the same old conformity-producing interaction, or is it a new breed of interpersonal cruelty? If there are lots of protective "layers" for adults, is it wise to remain unaware of the barren-ness of a cruel landscape for a teen who feels completely alone?

Got a suggestion about finding an accurate perception? Got a suggestion about altering the landscape for the benefit of one or many?

I'll collect and pass on what I get.

B

Never Say Never

It didn't fit my scheme of things. I did NOT believe in ghosts. Still don't, really. Except. And, no, it doesn't iron out the wrinkles in this thing to call a ghost an angel.

I was called to do a funeral for a born-in-Lindale person who had been gone 50 years. No family, no friends, no connections. There were about 20 people at the funeral, which surprised the funeral director and me.

The opening song was played, I stood and began the opening Scriptures. Suddenly, my dad, who had died 2 years before, leaned out from behind one of the folks attending. He smiled, gave me a thumbs-up, and leaned back, again unseen, never to be seen again. I continued the service, after the jolt, relying on 50 years of experience to remember what came next and on long-memorized words to complete the simple service. As the mourners filed out, there was no man even slightly resembling my father. Not even close. I watched intently, and then everyone was gone from the room, and we took the casket to the hearse.

Meaning? Really not sure. Endorsement? That's what it felt like. Ever happen before or since? Not at all.

So? What's the point? No matter what our theology and doctrine, there are events and experiences that open the doors we work hard to keep closed. This world is full of mysteries, which some of us see and some never do.

Here's the "So". If a person believes something different from my beliefs, that does not make that person "wrong", just one who has experienced something I have not. Jesus told us to LOVE enemies, critics, all sorts of "different" folks. He did not call us to compete, attack, or overwhelm, but to love our enemies and those who are different.

I may not have seen what you have, and you may have not seen, or will ever see, a ghost. But it's kinda important to never say never.

A Thankful Gift

Birthdays. Not sure what to do with them when they become the most recent of MANY. But my offspring did a good thing, with a thankful gift that felt very, very good.

A Promise Basket and a Buzz of Bees through Heifer Project was great. Bees are clear, and a Promise Basket is targeted to subsistence farm families. The basket's geese, ducks and chickens lay eggs that provide nutrition, and the basket's rabbits multiply quickly, ensuring that other families will soon benefit from Heifer's requirement that recipients "Pass on the Gift" of their livestock's offspring. Eggs to sell mean a child can go to school. Passing on the gift of the offspring means the recipient gets "on the team" of blessing.

Heifer Project is a parable in itself. Google it. Learn about it. I believe that is the kind of learning that draws us into itself. Read. Learn. A gift materializes and several are blessed. Clear. Understood. All Good.

A Friend's Legacy Challenge

A friend gave a devotional recently, saying he was greatly touched by his friend's death. What did he love? He loved to Bar-B-Que. He will be remembered for cooking great BBQ. There was a sadness to the remembrance, because the legacy his friend left was the joy of cooking meat.

An obituary not so long ago "remembered" a man who died a little young (to me at least, 'cause he was younger than I am) whose "legacy" was a life-time of spending money on himself and parties with his friends. Good or bad, that's what his was.

What's MY legacy? Is it all in books and notebooks, in CD's and other valuables (not much of that), or is it a legacy that is a LEGACY?

The best moment in my life for this kind of question came early on. My son, an honor graduate at SMU, thanked me for the inspiration. "What?" I responded. "For me watching you do homework while you worked on a doctorate while I was in Junior High!"

Aware or unaware, we leave legacies. We pray that they are good, because, good or ill, we do leave them and they do have impact. And we never outgrow our need to reflect on the fundamentals: "What's my legacy?"

The Guide: Budapest

From “Hello, all! Welcome to Budapest” we knew we had a good one.

This was to be no “flat” tour, expressionless and dull. Oh, no! This was an introduction to a passionate nationalism that was rich and full. It began as we walked to the Hero’s Square, with the magnificent statuary of mounted warriors in the center. Ah-Ha, so that’s what Attila and his followers looked like. (The most popular man’s name in Hungary is Atilla.) Mounted, ferocious, well-armed, intimidating, deadly serious warriors all in bronze looked down at us.

There were statesmen, too, but on every bronze face there was that fierce, unyielding expression, medieval and eternally unconquered.

Our guide pointed to her cheekbones and told of her Oriental heritage, described her language and ancestry as populating both Hungary and Finland. She let us know about her nationalism. And she told us her view of the foreigners who had ruled Hungary: “the royals”. They married cousins, became all in-bred, and “that’s why there were so many idiots!” No neutrality there!!

Take it all for granted? Oh, no! If it’s grand, it’s worth telling! She wasn't telling her story "for" me, even though it impressed me. She was telling her story from a heart that needed to express. And that always gives power to the story we hear.

Your story is worth telling, too. There are deep loyalties in every one of us. And when those are spoken out, they encourage some listener you might not even see. If life begins to feel a bit on the flat side, remember the passionate patriot and the very focused witness who moved you with THEIR story - - and tell YOUR story.

The Old Surgeon

I watched him take an antique Gillette Blue Blade double-edged blade out of the razor after shaving with it a few times. Taking a small juice glass, his practiced fingers began to stroke the blade inside the glass, with just enough bend to the metal to keep the blade edge at the right angle on inside curve of the glass. Back and forth, back and forth, then a well-practiced flip, and he stroked the other side. Taking it out of the glass, he examined each side, ran his finger along the side of the edge, and put the blade back in the razor. Ah, that’s good for a few more shaves!

“How did you do that?” I asked when I was about 8. “Oh, that’s just how you sharpen it, Bryan. A surgeon who can’t sharpen a blade wouldn’t be worth much, now would he?”

In an automated, computerized age, when so much is done for us, we forget that there are just some basics we need to know how to do for ourselves. There are lots of folks to “figure things out” for us, but a Christian who just follows whatever leader isn’t near the person he or she could be. Like Jacob, you have to wrestle with God; there’s no substitute. It’s like sharpening a blade, this business of sharpening a life. You have to press the prayer! Yourself! It's something no one else can ever do for you.

It's just how you sharpen it, you know. Yourself.

Eileen Nearne

New parables emerge every day! It's amazing what you discover in the short biographies posted as obituaries. From The Week (www.theweek.com a weekly news-summary magazine), there's a listing on Eileen Nearne. She died at 89, a recluse. Local officials thought they would have to use a "pauper's grave" burial, but when they searched her apartment, they found an extraordinary trove of WWII memoriabilia.

March, 1944, she parachuted into France with a short-wave radio transmitter, and organized weapons drops to the French resistance. Caught, tortured by the Gestapo, she escaped and hid until liberation. From 1945 to 2010, she lived with disabilities caused by the torture and stress, becoming more reclusive. (Do a Goggle search on her name - amazing)

A veterans's organization paid for her funeral, attended by 350, including representatives from the British armed forces and the French consul-general.

The "parable" part of this? Under the quiet, reclusive surface of people just around you, inside every one of them, is a story perhaps known only to God and to ones who care enough to get close enough to discover it. (Related "quiet" stories among my neighbors: a D-Day paratrooper and a transport pilot for that day, and a B-17 pilot.)

Go back and read Luke's Gospel; Jesus continually gets close to people that others avoid, and discovers amazing qualities there.

The "moral of the story"? Do what He said, love your neighbor enough to really get to know your neighbor, and suddenly your own life is enriched beyond all your expectations.

It Seemed Like a Good Idea

It SEEMED good. The CLERK said it was good. She translated the German for us: "after a good meal we're all happy!" But there were too many words for just that.

Google does translations, so off I went. After all, this little package of paper napkins was intended for a family reunion, just a little cheerful German for those who spoke German since childhood. Sure enough, there WAS a little more in this quotation from Oscar Wilde translated into German. Back into English, it read: "After a good meal, you can all forgive, even your own relatives."

Ah-ha. Not exactly a light thing to toss on the table in a real-life family. A little too serious for a paper-napkin greeting.

Communication is a fascinating and sometimes complicated thing! And with love and skill, it can be joyful.

But, it takes care. On the other hand, a good meal, good fellowship at the table, really can get us closer to each other, and that just may be the most important thing we do all day!

Enjoy, and may it happen for you!

Bryan

Knowing God and Knowing Stuff

In a class I lead, someone reminded us of the news report that, on a point by point basis, the folks who know the most about religion are often atheists. Christian folk sometimes just have never bothered to learn much, in theology or history, in the writings of the saints and poets. I'm not being anti-intellectual or anti-historical, just saying that a long list of "truths" is not the ball-game for Christians!

One of my favorite folks likes to say, "Well, I don't know, but my heart is pure and I love Jesus!" I like that. You know, there is nowhere in Scripture, as I remember and perceive it, that gives us credit for knowing STUFF. It does give some credit just for knowing/trusting Jesus. In fact, Jesus seems to take that tack, himself.

The Sermon on the Mount does not focus on knowledge, anyway, but on performance. It's not KNOWING STUFF, so much as DOING THE STUFF THAT JESUS WANTS, seems to me. The promises in Revelation are not for the "one who knows" but for the "one who conquers".

I'm glad some folks know the answers to lots of historical questions, I guess, and there's a value in that. But the key question for Christians is not "What do you know?" BUT a question much more for disciples: "How is it with you and Jesus?"

That's the big one!

Bryan