Take up His Yoke

The Word of God

2012-02-19T10:36:00.002-05:00

During the first half of the seventies, a youthful Lozanne and I worked together summer and winter to complete my undergraduate and graduate degrees in education. We spent every summer with my parents or in a rented home away from home with an ever increasing number of very young children so that I could attend school.

I continue to marvel at the stark differences in the way graduate courses were conducted in the decade that followed the very free and easy sixties. Each summer I would take two courses for a period of six weeks. During the summer of 1974, I took one course that was quite simply an afternoon group discussion held, believe it or not, at the Brunswick House, a well known pub just down the street from the Ontario Institute of Studies in Education. There was no credible written component nor examination to evaluate student progress for this Sociology of Education credit. In stark contrast, that same summer I took an extremely traditional course in the History of Education in Ontario. There was a formal ninety to one hundred and twenty minute lecture each and every weekday afternoon. Half of the marks for the course were based on a formidable written examination and the other fifty percent consisted of a major term paper that could be completed from primary sources only. It took the professor one full session to get us to understand that we could not use one source of anyone writing about any particular subject. We could use original documents only for research, footnotes and quotations.

Since the computer and internet age had not yet dawned, I spent virtually every morning of the month of July, 1974 in the Archives of Ontario, at a microfiche machine pouring over the original writings of Egerton Ryerson. Much of the material was written in his own hand with straight pen and ink. What had started out as a much resented and forced academic imposition became a labour of love. For once in my life, I was expected to read the original documents and make my own conclusions, completely separate from countless scholars who had written on the subject. I came to recognize Ryerson as the father of modern public education in Ontario and most probably, Canada.

Ryerson was a “saddle bag” itinerant Methodist preacher who was eventually named the Chief Superintendent of Education for Upper Canada in 1844. He authored the three successive School Acts which made education available to all instead of the historical reality of only the privileged few. I and many like me from working class backgrounds, who started school just seventy-one years after his death in 1882, owe reformers like Ryerson a very great amount of gratitude. The provision of universal quality education is a very substantive gift to those who embrace it.

I will never forget the lessons from that summer and indeed I remember far more of that arduous course than any other I experienced. I have come to realize that having to use the primary sources and not what others have to say about any given subject is far more valuable than the second hand alternative. I have also come to realize in later years that the Holy Bible is just such a primary source. Reading a commentary about the Bible is just that...another mortal man or woman’s comments about the Bible. The Holy Bible is God breathed and contains the word of God. Hebrews 4:12 makes a very clear declaration about the word of God.

12 For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.

The more you actually read and hear the word of God, the more you recognize the living power of it. It indeed can cut through any subterfuge and and deceit. Having said that, I have to give the final word to Jesus.

28 But He said, “More than that, blessed are those who hear the word of God and keep it!” (Luke 11:28)

(Comments, corrections, suggestions or rebuttals are welcome. My email link is contained in “About me: view my complete profile” to the right of this page or use the comment section below which requires that you have a Google account. All are welcome to follow me on Twitter at www.twitter.com/markthall)

Little Doggies

2012-02-06T12:15:00.001-05:00

As I reached the brow of the hill, I could see him waiting for me.

He was actually waiting for anyone to walk in front of his property. Daily he would protect what he considered to be his corner which consisted of a few rental cottages and a small confectionery store. Even as a twelve year old, I found it odd that a business that depended on walk-in customers would keep an untied and ill-tempered full sized black Doberman pinscher on their property, not to mention the public road that led to my elementary school. Passing this mean and at times vicious dog was a common noon-time challenge for the few kids who walked to and from school on Premier Road.

Younger readers may find such a situation hard to imagine. The best way I can explain the world of the fifties is a pervasive belief by parents that kids should learn early how to take care of themselves. Anything short of requiring multiple stitches for a dog bite would not prompt adult intervention or indeed even a telephone call to the owner to complain about the situation. There were simply no animal control agencies to call. By the same token, protecting yourself in a physical manner did not elicit the actions of any animal protection agencies. As a child, I well remember an upset neighbor shooting a purebred Boxer in the offending dog’s own yard. The police gently admonished the man for discharging a firearm in a built up area. There were no other charges.

At the age of twelve, I had long since learned the art of either ignoring or blustering my way past this nasty waist-high beast that was always outside and blocking the road at 12:45 P.M. On this particular day, his mood appeared somewhat darker than usual as I approached. His tail was between his legs and his menacing growl was, well, more menacing than usual. He was baring his teeth as he growled louder and louder. Bluster would not work on this day, nor would ignoring him. It was winter and in the fifties, pre-teens wore very uncool large and heavy boots called over-shoes in the winter. I took very careful aim, kicked with all the strength I could muster and my right boot caught the Doberman right under the chin. His head snapped back and his body arched in a sickening manner as he collapsed apparently unconscious to the side of the road. Suspecting he would wake up soon in an even worse mood, I continued on my way to school. The incident was so minor, I probably neglected to mention the encounter to anyone over the age of thirteen.

The next day I approached the corner establishment with great caution. Indeed I had spending money in my pocket at the ready for a purchase of candy. My nemesis was sitting on his property well back from the side of the road and simply stared sullenly at me as I passed and entered the store. He was never to approach me again.

Anyone who has read more than three of my messages will know that I am a dog lover. The exploits of our English Springer Spaniel named Marley are close to legendary. Her picture has actually been published in my blog. For this reason, I marvel at the reputation of dogs in the Bible. The word “dogs” appears 23 times in the entire Holy Bible. With the exception of one parable, the word “dogs” bring forth visions of those being thrown to the dogs or dogs cleaning up after a battle. Dogs are associated with the wicked, the greedy, the fraudulent; not to mention murderers and idolaters. The singular word “dog” is present eighteen times and is used for a negative connotation each and every time. The one parable where "little dogs" are presented in a more positive manner is in Matthew 15: 22-28.

22 And behold, a woman of Canaan came from that region and cried out to Him, saying, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David! My daughter is severely demon-possessed.”

23 But He answered her not a word. And His disciples came and urged Him, saying, “Send her away, for she cries out after us.”

24 But He answered and said, “I was not sent except to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

25 Then she came and worshiped Him, saying, “Lord, help me!”

26 But He answered and said, “It is not good to take the children’s bread and throw it to the little dogs.”

27 And she said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the little dogs eat the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table.”

28 Then Jesus answered and said to her, “O woman, great is your faith! Let it be to you as you desire.” And her daughter was healed from that very hour.

One has to remember in this parable that Jesus is simply stating the fact that He came first to offer salvation to the Jewish nation. This Canaanite woman, like me and perhaps you, is a Gentile. Our time for salvation was to follow after His death on a Roman cross. This woman shows remarkable understanding and humility. Instead of being insulted by the reference to little dogs, she embraces the metaphor and by doing so shows her great humility and faith. Jesus healed her daughter at that very moment! Given the obvious bias against the word “dogs” in the Holy Bible, I find it all that more heartening that Jesus loved, before their time had come, even the “little dogs”, especially those who showed Him their faith.

He Carries Us

2012-01-27T11:55:00.001-05:00

I have made an observation of late. It is obvious to me that for various societal, economic and cultural reasons, a lot of parents are about a decade older that Lozanne and I were when they start to have children. I have also observed that they seem to be more tired and indeed harried than I remember. Looking after the every need of infants and very young children was and continues to be all consuming and a challenge. Dare I dwell on the daunting prospect of “older” parents dealing with the continuous battle of wits that characterizes the teenage years?

Lozanne gave birth to four children within an eight year period from the time she was eighteen and twenty-six. She enjoyed every minute of her “baby years”. I was a father at the age of twenty-one. We both remember those years fondly and I dare say they were the happiest years of our lives. I marveled at how Lozanne could cook supper with one hand while she held a baby in the other. I remember enjoying changing, holding and feeding those beautiful babies in the early hours of the morning during the nights when it was my turn. We had so much to see, talk about and share in those hours. I don’t remember being tired. Indeed being tired is one of the realities of middle and old age, not of youth. One of the great things about babies and toddlers is that most of the time they have to be held.

I miss holding babies, but I gracefully admit I could no longer properly do the job. I miss carrying babies and toddlers around at family and public events. A young father is usually the strongest in the family and is even made stronger by carrying around a dynamic moving weight of twenty, thirty or forty pounds. I remember so well the smell of freshly washed hair and the aroma of baby oil and baby powder. I remember the intimate conversations with infants who could communicate in so many ways except speech and then the fascinating babble of toddlers and the clipped descriptive language of two and three year olds as they whispered in my right ear. Much less prevalent in my mind are the memories of frequent illnesses, sleepless nights and dirty diapers. Those were realities, but are by far over-shadowed by the joys of youthful parenthood. In Isaiah 46: 3-4 we discover that our loving and all-powerful God feels the same way.

3 “Listen to Me, O house of Jacob, And all the remnant of the house of Israel, Who have been upheld by Me from birth, Who have been carried from the womb:

4 Even to your old age, I am He, And even to gray hairs I will carry you! I have made, and I will bear; Even I will carry, and will deliver you.

We who are believers are part of the remnant of the house of Israel. In these two beautiful verses we learn that as loving fathers we are simply emulating the loving actions of our Heavenly Father, the Father who made us. He holds us in the womb. He holds us from birth and he promises to carry us not just as long as we are little children, but until we are old and gray. Now that is a loving Father...my loving Father. I pray He is or will soon become your loving Father.

Lean Not On Your Own Understanding

2012-01-21T10:57:00.001-05:00

For the last three months, my health has improved to the extent that I have been able to deliver a short gospel message from the pulpit in our chapel. Since I am scheduled to speak again in two months, I have spent hours researching how I could use Lozanne’s iPad in order to combine a PowerPoint presentation of prepared slides with my speaking. Since I am of the generation that was introduced to the digital age after we turned forty, new computer skills can provide a rather steep learning curve. The Apple equivalent of PowerPoint is called Keynote. When I was ready to purchase and download the Keynote software, I then discovered that I must download the latest operating system for Lozanne’s iPad. Knowing first hand the devastation of lost data that can be the result of an operating system update, I then researched for hours the new IOS 5.1 update recommended before I could purchase Keynote. With some difficulty and much trepidation I successfully backed up all of the data on her tablet computer. That completed with minimal damage done to my wife’s iPad, I then purchased Keynote, whereupon I spent hours learning how to make a presentation in Keynote on my iMac and then transferring it to her iPad.

Having completed these challenging feats, I then researched how to use an iPad with a conventional digital projector. After considerable reading and asking a Christian brother for advice, I purchased the proper VGA adapter. Adapter and iPad in hand, I planned to test out a sample Keynote presentation on the chapel digital projector between services last Sunday morning. With the assistance of the young man who looks after the audio-visual needs of our chapel and who possesses towering technical knowledge as compared to mine, I connected the iPad to the digital projection system. I turned on the iPad and brought up the Keynote software. I opened my sample presentation and was immediately disappointed with the huge blank and dark screen behind the pulpit. I tried every imaginable variation of settings on the iPad. He tried every possible adjustment of the projector with absolutely no success. Exasperated, I went into the crowd in search of the brother who had advised me which adapter to purchase. I knew he had successfully shown a Keynote presentation with his iPad on the chapel projector. I asked for his help and he willingly came up to the pulpit.

He took one look at the setup and simply said, “Did you press play?” Alas, with a red face I had to admit that I had not pressed play, not that the arrow before me was anything but obvious! My delight with the successful projection of slide 1 overshadowed my embarrassment for being so dumb. The irony is, of course, that I had figured out all of the complexities, but in the end was stumped by the most simple of all the steps in the process. Upon pondering the situation later, the words of Proverbs 3: 5-6 came very clearly to mind.

5 Trust in the LORD with all your heart, And lean not on your own understanding;

6 In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct your paths.

When left to our own devices, we inevitably will forget to "press play". How we need the Lord! I had in my human wisdom turned the simplest of steps into something highly complex. Then I looked again at my first test slide and realized that the simple truth on that slide should not and shall not be made complex. It is the simplest yet the greatest of truths.

16 “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)

Persistence in Prayer

2012-01-16T13:45:00.002-05:00

My father-in-law and grandfather to our children practiced as a very well known and respected Registered Massage Therapist in our community from 1946 until 2005. He is remembered by many as a man with the gift of healing hands. During the 1970’s, when two of his chiropractor sons took over the family clinic, he became a land developer and a commercial and residential builder who turned farm land into a suburban neighbourhood. A mini-mall, a large medical plaza, apartment complexes and residential neighbourhoods were all the result of his ability to put his careful plans into action. A condominium development rounded out his dream for the area.

One of the jobs of a developer, after the plans have been approved by the municipality and once the infrastructure like water and sewer lines is in place, is to suggest names for the new streets that have been created. The municipality approves the names, but it is the developer who really has control over the naming of streets. Customarily, developers put forward names of business partners, investors and finally family members. I well remember during the building of the final residential neighbourhood the rather broad hints dropped by my father-in-law’s four daughters. Lozanne, in keeping with her personality, was very persistent about her wishes for the choice of names for the remaining streets. She was good natured in her reminders to her father. He in return was characteristically non-committal in his equally good natured responses. The memory of her persistence puts me in mind of the widow in the parable given by Jesus in Luke 18: 1-7.

18:1 ¶ Then He spoke a parable to them, that men always ought to pray and not lose heart,

2 saying: “There was in a certain city a judge who did not fear God nor regard man.

3 “Now there was a widow in that city; and she came to him, saying, ‘Get justice for me from my adversary.’

4 “And he would not for a while; but afterward he said within himself, ‘Though I do not fear God nor regard man,

5 ‘yet because this widow troubles me I will avenge her, lest by her continual coming she weary me.’”

6 Then the Lord said, “Hear what the unjust judge said.

7 “And shall God not avenge His own elect who cry out day and night to Him, though He bears long with them?

The true lesson of the parable is actually in the line introducing the story. We are told to continually pray and not loose heart. Persistence even in prayer demonstrates strong and abiding faith which is rewarded with answered prayers. Indeed Lozanne’s persistence paid off with her earthly father and resulted in her name being attached to a large crescent that will be the home of hundreds of people potentially for a century or more.

How Can We Thank Him?

2011-12-27T14:14:00.000-05:00

My grandson Liam has soared to new heights this year. He has been so very much on his game of making sure all concerned are only too aware of his Christmas wish list. For the last three months, he has used personal reminders, written notes, telephone calls and email to make sure Grandma and Grandpa know exactly what he wants for Christmas.

Due to my advancing maturity, like so many others of my generation, I have done my best to learn computer skills in order to literally keep up with this world. One of my weaknesses has been all aspects of video capturing, editing and saving. The other day I was trying to expand my horizons by simply rooting around in the Photo Booth software on my iMac. There before me was a file entitled “My First Project”. I knew that I had never used the software and had certainly not saved any such file on my computer. There was Liam’s smiling face. I clicked on his face and was treated to a 90 second clip of just what he wanted for Christmas. I have no idea when he recorded the digital video on my computer and Liam had never mentioned the clip to me. I am beginning to realize that wherever I go on my computer, my eleven year old grandson has been there before me.

I felt truly blessed. Liam’s diagnosis of moderate autism before he was two years of age had included a prognosis of limited speech and indeed the likelihood of a life bereft of any clear communication. The ninety second video clip was an animated and expertly choreographed verbal masterpiece in which he clearly outlined his deep desire for Pokemon White, Pokemon Black (books) and a DVD including the original soundtrack of Disney’s “The Emperor’s New Groove”. The delivery was spirited and downright entertaining with the use of many pertinent gestures and intonations. There was an introduction and a conclusion to his creation. At eleven, Liam not only knows more about my computer than I do, he can read and write at grade level or better and best of all he can express himself on an impressive oral level. I can only thank God for such unexpected blessings.

Other than just saying thank you in prayer, what is it that we mere mortals can do to properly show our gratitude for blessings allowed in our and the lives of our loved ones. Admittedly there is not much we can do for an all powerful and all knowing God. Psalm 116 does give us some insight in verses twelve to fourteen.

12 What shall I render to the LORD For all His benefits toward me?

13 I will take up the cup of salvation, And call upon the name of the LORD.

14 I will pay my vows to the LORD Now in the presence of all His people. (Psalm 116: 12-14)

By taking up the cup of salvation, we determine in our minds to make Jesus our lord and our savior. We admit our sinful and weak nature and submit fully to His taking all of our sin upon Himself and dying for our sake in order that we may spend eternity in heaven. In short, we accept his offer of salvation by believing and following Him. We call upon Him for all of our needs. There is something else we can and should do within verse 14. Just as Jesus paid His vows to God before and during His cruel death on the cross, so we should speak out and make our faith a public matter. All those around us should know our stand and our submission. To put it even more simply, they should know by our thoughts, words and actions that we are saved. By doing so we are truly thanking God appropriately for His endless grace.

Prayer and Proverbs

2011-12-15T12:21:00.001-05:00

During our last winter at our country home, we enjoyed a family gathering consisting of two Lozanne’s siblings and their spouses. Our visitors called ahead and offered to treat us to a takeout supper of fried chicken. We thoroughly enjoyed our evening and after our guests left rather late, we decided to clean up all the dishes in the morning. I placed all of the chicken bones and other disposables in a large garbage bag, as I have often done from time to time in the past, beside the waste pail in the kitchen and went to bed.

I am a restless sleeper and I could hear sounds that I mistakenly interpreted as middle of the night personal grooming which Marley is wont to do from time to time. Of necessity, last year especially, I was up and around every two hours. As I was moving out of the bedroom, I heard the same smacking sounds I had heard earlier. As a I approached the kitchen, Marley slinked past me rear end close to the floor and with her tail decidedly firmly pressed down between her legs. Her guilt was so evident that it was palpable. As I continued into the kitchen, I was shocked to find the garbage bag in the same position that I had left it hours earlier; however, its contents were now all over the floor. A closer inspection confirmed my worst fear. Marley had eaten every last chicken bone that were the remnants of a meal by six adults. She had never touched a garbage bag before in her five years with us, but the temptation was just too great this time. The amount of bones she had consumed was staggering and scary.

My heart rose to my throat. I had always believed that soft cooked chicken bones, which actually splinter when chewed, would surely cause a dog a horrible and painful death. The quantity consumed conjured in me a belief that a death sentence loomed over the head of our good friend. My immediate reaction was to pray for what I then believed to be a miracle. My second act, since it was the middle of the night and emergency wards do not exist for our canine friends, I consulted the internet by way of Google. I was surprised to find several websites dealing with the same problem. Much to my relief, another myth was debunked by the website of an eminent American veterinarian. In most cases, I learned, the bones simply pass with a possibility of diarrhea. In some, but not many, cases the bones cause intestinal distress and may require expensive and extensive veterinary intervention. The welcome advice was to monitor her carefully for forty-eight hours watching for signs of intestinal distress or blood in her stool. I felt marginally better and indeed watched her very carefully for the two day period.

It occurred to me several days later that my actions in the middle of the night were very biblically based. I did two things in the face of what I initially considered a catastrophe. Most importantly, I started with prayer and then in response to prayer and I sought expert advice. Jesus tells is in Matthew 7: 7-8 just exactly what we as believers should do.

7 ¶ “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.

8 “For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.

In the face of difficulty, we should always start with prayer. In this case, I was convicted to seek the advice of an expert which in this digital age is a not a difficult thing to do. In Proverbs 18:15 we read just that admonition.

15 ¶ The heart of the prudent acquires knowledge, And the ear of the wise seeks knowledge.

In seeking that knowledge we should search out wise counsel as we learn in Proverbs 11:14

14 ¶ Where there is no counsel, the people fall; But in the multitude of counselors there is safety.

Marley was closely observed for the next two days. She suffered no serious ill effects. Despite her cast iron digestive system, I learned a very valuable lesson. All edibles, including chicken bones, should be properly sealed and left out of reach.

The Light

2011-12-09T14:38:00.000-05:00

This afternoon I was finally able to finish stringing some Christmas lights on the tree in front of our home. Such ordinary seasonal jobs don’t get done nearly so easily or quickly as in the past. Later, as I drove Lozanne to the hospital for an evening of pastoral care work, we had the opportunity to see many homes decorated with thousands of brightly colored light bulbs. Each year the display of lights becomes more impressive. Lights are now strung on every possible outside structure including very tall trees. The result at night is really quite impressive. New this season are the inflatable and lighted Santas, snow men, sleighs, skidoos or Santa helicopters actually placed on the roofs. The sight is really quite beautiful. I began to wonder to myself this evening as Marley and I returned alone from the hospital why so much time, effort and money is spent on Christmas lighting at this time of year.

I would like to believe that the majority of these beautifully decorated homes dramatically underscore the true reason for the season and that would be the birth of Jesus. I am only too aware that the recognition of Christmas has become all too secular and is celebrated simply as a long and commercially entrenched early winter festival. I was reading an article the other day by the environmentalist Dr. David Suzuki who was postulating that, since December 21 is the shortest and darkest day of the year in northern climes, by putting up many lights we are attempting to shed great light in the darkness in the hope of reminding ourselves that spring will actually come with longer days. He could be right. Personally, I regard Christmas lights as representing Jesus Himself as he came into this world two thousand years ago. In John 1: 4-9 we read that Jesus Christ is regarded as light or as in His case, “The Light”.

4 In Him was life, and the life was the light of men.

5 And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.

6 ¶ There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.

7 This man came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all through him might believe.

8 He was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light.

9 That was the true Light which gives light to every man coming into the world.

In these five verses we learn that John the Baptist was sent by God as a witness to “The Light”. Jesus, who is “The Light”, provides believers with the light they require to understand and follow in the ways of the true Christian life. Verse five tells us the light shines in the darkness of this world and yet the darkness (world) did not and can not comprehend it. This verse summarizes my thoughts on the ever increasing assault of Christmas lighting. The light gets brighter and brighter with each passing year, but the vast majority just don’t understand why the lights are installed in the first place.

In John 12: 46 Jesus tells us Himself that he has come into the world as a light.

46 “I have come as a light into the world, that whoever believes in Me should not abide in darkness.

Ever Watchful

2011-12-05T19:30:00.002-05:00

This morning I was walking with Marley, our Springer Spaniel, on the road that borders on a resort that provides wildlife tours of game animals kept within its electrically fenced boundaries. We have walked near there most of the last two seasons and have rarely seen more than a glimpse of any wildlife in the fields and trees. This morning was different. A group of eight female deer were feeding from a large round bale of hay placed by handlers not more than fifty feet from the fence. The does, who were under the watchful eye of a very large buck lounging on the snow covered ground behind them, heard and smelled us long before I became aware of their presence. Marley’s low and tentative growl caused me to look to my left only to be met with sixteen big beautiful brown eyes staring straight at us.

Even as they clamped down on the hay already in their mouths their heads were raised as high as possible and their stare was so firmly fixed that it was actually a little disconcerting. They didn’t blink and moved not one muscle. Their concentration on the possibility of danger had rendered them immobile with rapt attention. Only one thing was of any significance to all eight of these impressive creatures and that was our presence at such a close proximity. Marley, predictably, in the face of larger animals than herself, was careful to not escalate the situation beyond a tentative muted growl, hoping, I suspect, that I would simply tell her to move on. I stood there for several minutes admiring their silent and perfect attention. Marley returned the same. It occurred to me as I admiringly stared back at them that this was the kind of attention that we all should emulate when it comes to a prediction made in the Bible.

The second coming of Jesus is predicted more than a few times in the Holy Bible. The words of Luke 21: 25-27 tell us:

25 “And there will be signs in the sun, in the moon, and in the stars; and on the earth distress of nations, with perplexity, the sea and the waves roaring;

26 “men’s hearts failing them from fear and the expectation of those things which are coming on the earth, for the powers of heaven will be shaken.

27 “Then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory.

These startling words, all but ignored by modern mainstream religion, are the words of Jesus Christ. Years ago, when I became a professing Christian, I made a conscious decision to accept what the Bible says, as best I can understand it, as the truth and only the truth. In my Bible, the actual words spoken by Jesus are printed in red ink. Every verse I have quoted above and below is printed in red. When I see the actual words of our Savior in the Bible, I sit up and take particular notice. If Jesus said it, you can be certain that it is going to occur. We have no idea when He will actually return to take His saints, living and dead, to Heaven, but we know that He will come for those who believe in Him and follow his ways. He tells us very clearly to pay particular attention in our watch for His return. We are to watch and pray with the intensity of wild animals seeking out that which is dangerous. What we are watching for is not dangerous to believers, but it promises to be a glorious and joyful sight and eternal experience.

34 “But take heed to yourselves, lest your hearts be weighed down with carousing, drunkenness, and cares of this life, and that Day come on you unexpectedly.

35 “For it will come as a snare on all those who dwell on the face of the whole earth.

36 “Watch therefore, and pray always that you may be counted worthy to escape all these things that will come to pass, and to stand before the Son of Man.” (Luke 21: 34-36)

Green Wood

2011-11-29T15:06:00.001-05:00

One of my earliest memories is excitedly climbing up onto a pile of wood slabs and throwing them one by one through the coal chute opening into the basement of our house. We moved from that house when I was six years old and I well remember the day that the workmen installed the ultra-modern oil furnace in that house. As I consider both memories, I suspect that I was four or five years of age when I began to work with wood. I loved to move and pile the wood, not just because I got to help and be with my father, but because deep down I truly enjoyed the process of dealing with wood for the purpose of heat. I didn’t know that fact then, but within one year of owning a home, we burned wood for supplemental heat and continued to do so in every one of our future homes. My love affair with wood heat has gone on for thirty-eight years. My obsession has necessarily been replaced, due to my recent inability to keep up with the much loved labour, with more modern forms of central heating; namely, natural gas and electricity.

I truly love the smell of seasoned wood in the woodshed and indeed the aroma of just a wisp of smoke from a good fire. The heat produced is like no other. It is pervasive, heats every part of the home and creates a comfort like no other fuel. Of course the beauty of an open flame held captive in your home is a very primitive pleasure. I actually dreamed that in retirement I could heat a home with wood.

For the last six years of our lives, the Lord allowed me that pleasure and we were able to heat our country lakeside home with wood heat. We possessed a modern wood furnace as well as a large two sided old fashioned stone fireplace. I loved, while I was able, to split and pile twenty cords of wood late in the spring of each year. The purchased birch would arrive in front of our woodshed in a very green form. By green I mean that it was full of sap and not suitable for burning at all. The moisture in the freshly cut wood prevents it from burning properly and indeed the smoke created from burning green wood can result in the build-up of dangerous creosote in the chimney. By splitting and piling in the open ended woodshed this vast amount of wood, we were able to provide four or five months of curing of the wood. During the warm summer and fall days the wood dried out so that it could be burned with efficiency and safety. There is a short, but fascinating statement attributed to Jesus in the twenty-third chapter of Luke that speaks of green and dry wood. To put it in context, let us start at verse 28.

28 But Jesus, turning to them, said, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for Me, but weep for yourselves and for your children.

29 “For indeed the days are coming in which they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren, wombs that never bore, and breasts which never nursed!’

30 “Then they will begin ‘to say to the mountains, “Fall on us!” and to the hills, “Cover us!”’

31 “For if they do these things in the green wood, what will be done in the dry?” Luke 23: 28-31

I find these four verses to be quite remarkable. Jesus has spent the previous night and day being brutally dragged through the mock courts of the high priests, Pilate, Herod and back to Pilate. He had been mocked, beaten, spit upon, and scourged. Just the chastisement of the whip as wielded by the Roman Soldiers was enough to kill some men before they were crucified. Jesus is unable to carry his own cross due to his exhaustion and injuries; yet he miraculously stops to speak to a group of women who are lamenting and mourning his tragic end by the side of the road on the way to Calvary. He is forecasting about thirty-seven years into the future the destruction of Jerusalem by the Roman army in the year 70 A.D.

It is the words in verse 31 that have the most effect on me. Jesus is several times in the Bible referred to as a tree or a vine. In this case he is referring to himself as the green wood that is not filled with sap and the promise of life, but green wood that is filled with goodness, grace, innocence, healing and miracles. This “green wood” is not fit to be cut down for fuel. Jesus is telling the women and us that if Roman soldiers will do such evil and violence to He who is innocent, just imagine what they will do the the “dry wood” which represents the evil and rebellious inhabitants of Jerusalem. There is another level to this metaphor. If God the Father could see fit to so severely punish his innocent son the “green wood” in order to pay for our sins, just imagine what He will do the the “dry wood” which is fit for burning for all of eternity.

As the Bridegroom Rejoices

2011-11-26T08:16:00.001-05:00

As I headed for my Volkswagen which was parked, due to the lack of a parking lot, on a distant street, I began to look forward to the weekend. Another week of teacher’s college was over. The 9:00 A.M. to 4:00 P.M. hours were a shock to the system after attending university for a year. I longed for the fifteen hour lecture week, especially since class cancellations and skipping early or inconvenient classes reduced the university workload down to a more manageable grind. Missing class at North Bay Teacher’s College was, we imagined, punishable by immediate expulsion. I was eagerly driving to pick up my bride of three months.

Our Friday evening routine was very quickly established during that year at normal school, so named because the teaching masters were supposed to inculcate the norms of standard teaching practices. I picked up Lozanne at our modest (I am looking back with rose colored glasses) one bedroom apartment in the heart of the industrial section of town. Our first stop was the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce which was in the downtown core. There was but one method to get money to spend in 1968. After parking and putting a nickel in the parking meter, you stood in a long line in a large high ceilinged and echo filled bank and withdrew the money from your account with a written withdrawal slip. Our usual weekly withdrawal was $25.00. We would then buy gasoline as required at thirty-four cents per gallon. The empty eight gallon tank would cost us $2.72. We then headed for the A and P grocery store to buy our weekly groceries for around $17.00. The money left over was our spending money for the week. We would then head home for a special Friday night meal like frozen chicken pot pie.

I have very fond memories of the early months of our marriage. For a brief period in our nearly 44 years, there was only the two of us. There were definitely times of tension as we adjusted to the complexity of married life. There were also times of joy and growing together as a couple. It is the times of joy that I best remember these days.

The Friday evenings stand out, as do the number of times I was late for class in the morning, which oddly seemed to be a very forgivable misstep at North Bay Teacher’s College. My uncharacteristic lateness on a regular basis became somewhat of a class joke for both students and teaching master alike. These memories have lately given me an enhanced understanding of Isaiah 62:5

5 ... And as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, So shall your God rejoice over you.

Throughout the Bible the concept of the church becoming the bride of Jesus is constantly developed. The prophet Isaiah, who wrote the above words about seven centuries before the birth of Christ, is forecasting a later day when God (Jesus) will rejoice and delight in His church given to Him as a bride. Who makes up the church? Simply stated, the church is made up of faithful believers. It does not consist of any one denomination or religion. It is made up of those who have professed their belief in the saving work of Jesus dying on the Roman cross in order to pay dearly for our sins. As I rejoiced over the bride of my youth, as I continue to do so to this day, so God rejoices over those who are true believers in his church. He sees every one of them as desirable and beautiful just as a bridegroom is expected to see his bride. I am thankful that I can count myself amongst those men who can truly understand the second half of verse 5 in Isaiah 62.

The Work of God

2011-11-20T06:02:00.001-05:00

Of all the possible idols that can separate us from God, the most insidious, personally speaking, is work. I have been retired for almost a decade. I worked on a part-time basis for another three years following my retirement. I have come to realize that what I considered to be nothing more than a healthy work ethic and admittedly driven ambition was much closer to full blown idolatry. All of my working life, I planned, prepared and studied as necessary for the next promotion. With the exception of one ten year stint as a superintendent of schools, the longest I remained in one position was four years. My average stay in many positions was three years before seeking a new job with better prospects. I moved from teacher to vice-principal in two different schools, to principal of small school, to principal of two small schools, to principal of a larger school, to superintendent, and finally to director of education.

The last thirteen years of my career consisted of 70 hour work weeks with some days ending after 11:00 P.M. I sat through countless meetings, travelled a lot and worked most evenings and a good part of weekends. The odd thing, as I look back, is despite my realization that I worshiped at the shrine frequented by driven workaholics, I am still proud of what I accomplished. I hope I did some good for the students and parents I served. I also had a very supportive wife who was with me every step of the way. I did not know the Lord Jesus as my savior until near the end of my working years. I began to become aware of work being my modern idol replacing ancient wooden statues of various small “g” gods just prior to my retirement.

One has only to browse through the the Book of Proverbs or the Epistles of Paul to learn that the Bible espouses a healthy work ethic. The key word is healthy. For the majority of my career, my approach to work was missing one very important element as presented to us by Jesus Himself in John 6:27-29

27 “Do not labor for the food which perishes, but for the food which endures to everlasting life, which the Son of Man will give you, because God the Father has set His seal on Him.”

28 ¶ Then they said to Him, “What shall we do, that we may work the works of God?”

29 Jesus answered and said to them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in Him whom He sent.”

Without faith in Jesus, no work would be better than hard work. When you live and work by faith in the Son of God, then you are satisfying what God requires for a healthy and productive work life. If you truly fulfill this one requirement, whatever else you do for work will be blessed. Although so called “good works” which we do for the benefit of others around us are not required to achieve everlasting life, when we work with faith we will naturally tend to good works through our actions and our giving. As is often true of the Savior, the most beautiful component of what Jesus tells us in these three verses is the stark simplicity. The only work required of God is faith. Wow.

Entertaining Angels

2011-11-16T19:21:00.002-05:00

I gently pulled back on the stick and raised the nose of the Champ trainer and in that one smooth motion experienced my first take off from a snow covered surface on skis. As I climbed away from the ultra white surface of the frozen field, I tentatively turned the nose to climb in a northerly track that had been set by my flight instructor who sat in the seat directly behind me. We had travelled to the main base of Orillia Airways in order to return the plane to its northern home at a satellite base. I remember that there was only enough daylight remaining to get us safely to Trout Lake near the city of North Bay. As I slowly climbed to our cruising altitude, I was quietly concerned with the ever increasing grayness in the sky ahead of us. Indeed it was too dark for the time of day and the latest weather report that we had received prior to take off.

In a matter of minutes, the clouds thickened and the snow pellets began to hit the windshield with ever increasing audibility and regularity. I was not surprised when I heard the familiar words, “ I have control” meaning that I was to relinquish control to the flight instructor who was about to display some real bush pilot skills. The snow squalls became so intense that we had one choice and that was to land. As Cliff (I have long since forgotten his last name) began a turning descent attempting to go around the worst of the clouds, I set about the task of looking for a suitable lake upon which to land. A medium sized lake ideal for our purposes loomed out of the blinding snow. Cliff made a partial circuit and decided out loud that we had little choice and on the positive side, the lake appeared to be fully frozen. With little ceremony he turned into wind and after completing a cursory landing checklist, landed on the lake surface. Oddly, in my mind at least, he kept the aircraft moving at a velocity closer to lift off speed than taxiing speed. As we headed straight towards the beach, he asked me to turn around in my seat and report any open water in our wake. To my horror, I observed and duly reported that indeed there was slush and water being kicked up behind us by our quickly moving skis. Cliff simply lodged the airplane up on the beach just out of the slushy ice. The wet tracks of our skis stretched out behind us for most of the length of the lake.

As darkness approached, we realized that only an unoccupied cottage might provide us some shelter from the storm and the surprisingly cold night. Behind the cottages, we found a plowed road and before long we presented ourselves cold and desperate at a farm house door. The elderly couple welcomed us immediately into their home. Cliff used their single black party line phone to report our safe but unexpected arrival to his employers. I called my parents to explain why I would not be home that night. I was eighteen years of age. Within minutes, a hot and plentiful supper was on the table and we were invited to spend the night in a large loft which was heated by one ascending black stove pipe on its journey from their well stoked wood stove to the roof and the now clear night sky.

I marvel as I grow older at the hospitality afforded two strangers in the night. This wonderful couple displayed no concern for their safety and seemed to relish the prospect of having visitors to share their meal and their home. I will always remember their kindness, an excellent meal and indeed their good humour.

The recent memory of the experience has brought to mind the words of Hebrews 13:2.

2 Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some have unwittingly entertained angels.

It occurs to me that their actions were indeed biblical. I am fairly certain that on that winter night in 1966, this kind and hospitable couple fell far short of their possible aim of entertaining angels. If it could happen to Abraham and Sarah as described in the Book of Genesis, why could it not happen to them or indeed to any of us? In Chapter 18, the account of three men paying a visit to inform Sarah that she was to become a mother despite her very advanced years is one such example of angelic beings enjoying the hospitality of mere mortals.

After a hearty farm breakfast, we walked back to the frozen Champ and after some initial difficulties started and warmed the engine, freed the skis from the frozen snow and set out to take off for home. Despite the very cold minus twenty fahrenheit degree overnight temperatures, the lake was still slushy on the surface of the hopefully solid ice. Cliff actually taxied at ever increasing speeds around the edge of the lake until such time as he could achieve a take off speed as he turned into wind that morning. I will never forget the wake of watery slush churning behind us as we lifted into the air.

Nothing Serious

2011-11-14T11:30:00.001-05:00

My father survived my mother by thirty-four days. Both of them passed away in January and February of 2005. Within days of my mother’s funeral, following her very sudden and unexpected death at home, he was admitted to hospital for what appeared to be a respiratory ailment that in the words of the big city resident physician was “not life threatening”. It soon became apparent to my sister, Lozanne and myself that whatever was wrong was not getting any better. I had conversations with my very coherent eighty-seven year old father that led me to believe that he was actually debating with himself whether to die or to continue living. I did not know until the vigil that became those thirty-four long days that at a certain age, or perhaps at any age I sometimes wonder, you can simply will yourself to leave this world and join those in the next.

We watched as his health went from bad to worse despite the fact that he lived through rather major bowel surgery to repair a tear actually discovered in a chest x-ray. Even ten days before his passing, the young resident in charge of his care, assured us that he would recover. At that point I respectfully informed the doctor that he was indeed wrong, a fact which he admitted several days later when my father lapsed into a coma. Dad had simply willfully laid down long enough that his aged body just started to shut down. In effect, he died of nothing serious.

Several days before his death, we witnessed something that I will never forget. Apparently while in a continuous unconscious state, my father suddenly opened his eyes, smiled and reached out with both hands to someone or something at the foot of his bed. Even as we asked him who or what he saw, he was obviously in a comatose state and did not respond. There was such peace and joy in his smile and gesture that I think of the sight often. Who or what did he see? To whom did he so clearly smile and gesture? I will never be certain, but I now firmly believe that he saw an angel there to escort him to heaven or, dare I hope, that Jesus Himself appeared at the end of that bed and eased his difficult crossing over. The words of John 14: 2-4 lead me to ponder that promise. Jesus assures us that He will “come again and receive you to Myself”.

2 “In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.

3 “And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also.

4 ¶ “And where I go you know, and the way you know.”

I find such comfort in the words of Jesus. My father lived by Christian precepts all of his life and became a believing and professing Christian in the last few weeks of his life. I will never know for sure who he saw at the foot of his hospital bed, but my faith and personal experience lead me to believe that the promise of Jesus in John 14: 3 was fulfilled before my very eyes.

A New Dawn

2011-11-11T15:40:00.001-05:00

I find it intriguing that seemingly unimportant memories are often part and parcel of very significant events in our lives. I remember like it was yesterday the dawning of the day that was to be March 5, 1969. There I am in my 1962 blue Volkswagen Beatle buzzing across the brand new railroad overpass in North Bay, Ontario. Just as I reach the summit of the convex bridge the sun is rising on the horizon. It is a beautiful spring day and temperature is in the mild range. I can still remember the high pitched sound of the tiny air cooled rear engine as I shifted into fourth gear. Despite the fact I had slept very little in the last two days, I never felt more alive on that day as compared to all the days in my young twenty-one years. I was driving to my parents' house for breakfast. Shortly after midnight on that very day, I had become a first time father and now the day dawned as a spectacularly beautiful red, yellow and pink sight directly in front of me on the eastern horizon.

Lozanne, who had suffered her way from girlhood to womanhood by way of a very difficult and poorly supervised labour of thirty-two hours, was finally resting comfortably and I had spent hours admiring through the nursery window our beautiful new-born daughter. In those days, fathers were considered and treated as a nuisance to hospital staff, were not allowed in the delivery room and actually holding your own baby was something you could do at home after a four or five day stay for both baby and mother in the hospital. As you would expect, my specific and sympathetic memories of those thirty-two long hours of labour are with me to this day. Just as powerful is the memory of the dawning of that very special day in 1969. The pleasant and vivid memory puts me in mind of Peter’s rendering of the coming of Jesus Christ in 2 Peter 1:16-19:

16 ¶ For we did not follow cunningly devised fables when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but were eyewitnesses of His majesty.

17 For He received from God the Father honor and glory when such a voice came to Him from the Excellent Glory: “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”

18 And we heard this voice which came from heaven when we were with Him on the holy mountain.

19 ¶ And so we have the prophetic word confirmed, which you do well to heed as a light that shines in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts;

After two very dark nights over four decades ago in St. Joseph’s Hospital, a beautiful light came shining through. That day dawned on a completely new life for both Lozanne, Tamara and I. The morning star of a new baby rose in our hearts. Life would never be the same again. The same can certainly be claimed on a much grander scale, of course, with the coming of the brilliant light that also shone in a dark place that was and is this world; the coming of my savior and my Lord Jesus Christ!

Outside of Time

2011-11-09T14:09:00.004-05:00

We have moved! Lozanne and I no longer live in the country. Almost five months ago, the movers arrived at our door more than an hour late. That very difficult day ended in the early hours of the following morning. We have downsized to a small nicely renovated bungalow on a city street. The many unopened boxes that were resident in our new garage have finally been opened, attesting to our somewhat successful attempt at downsizing. What you need and what you want to keep are always two very different things.

Out of necessity, driven by the state of our health, we have given up the view, the lake, the quiet and the space, both inside and outside the house. Marley, our English Springer Spaniel, has made the greatest sacrifice of us all. She has adapted very well to being on a leash after spending the last five years running free. It has become very apparent that all she desires on this earth is to be with us, wherever we are. Soon after moving day, Marley and I were delighted to find, almost at our door, a beautiful walking trail that follows the wooded banks of a nearby river.

Of late I have been much more consistent than I was in the past at praying as I walk. Inevitably, despite many and varied topics, I pray for each and every one of our grandchildren by name. I petition the God of the universe for general requests for all of them and specific requests for each of them. A few days ago, I was discussing with the Lord my dreams for their lives in the future and it dawned on me that some of them will eventually become parents and our great grandchildren will be born. I now include our great grandchildren and indeed our great great grandchildren in my prayer requests. Given my current health status, it is doubtful that I will live long enough to meet any of my great grandchildren. As a mere mortal, I can only imagine what they will look like or indeed what kind of lives they will have. I cannot know anything about them despite the fact that they are the result of a loving union blessed by God that began more than forty-three years ago. The Lord has no such limitation. In 2Peter 3:8 we read the very reassuring words:

8 ¶ But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.

The Lord Jesus is not trapped within the physical constraints of time as we are every minute of our lives. As I pray here in the present for our great grandchildren, the Lord can see them in real time in the future. He can see them as children or adults with children of their own. Indeed he may see and hear them at prayer at the same time as I pray. When I pray for future generations who carry our genetic signature, I am praying for actual persons who are being watched over by the sovereign God of the universe. It boggles the mind to think of the power of God. I have one never ending desire that I routinely express in prayer; that each of our grandchildren, great grandchildren and indeed all successive generations will do one thing. I pray for it daily. I pray that they will walk with God.

The Witness

2011-01-16T12:02:00.002-05:00

Memories not evoked for years seemingly appear out of nowhere. When I was a boy, if we wanted to get into town from our suburban home, we had to cross railroad tracks that constituted the major transportation hub that was in North Bay, Ontario at the time. There were multiple train tracks to cross and it was routine to sit in the car for ten or fifteen minutes while the trains shuttled back and forth. There is now a major overpass built when I was a young adult over the whole of the crossing. That particular location is on my mind this morning. Until I was about ten years old, most of the engines working at that crossing were driven by steam. I well remember the black smoke bellowing from the large smokestacks and the characteristic sounds made by steam engines for over a century.

By the time I was old enough to get a driver’s licence, the use of diesel engines had taken over. My memory of that crossing and what was to transpire on one particular late afternoon is very vivid. I had walked from school to where my father worked in order to get a ride home. I was allowed to become a licensed driver shortly after my sixteenth birthday, but I was not allowed to drive the car without the presence of my father or my mother until I was seventeen years old. I realize now, of course, the wisdom of such a parental edict. As we approached the railway crossing there was a long line up of vehicles waiting for the shuttling trains. We settled in for a long wait.

As the signal lights and bells ceased, we were shocked to see a car that had been on the other side of the tracks careening out of control over the crossing. As was revealed to us later, the driver of the car had hit the gas pedal instead of the brake and had panicked with her right foot in that very position. It was a surreal scene as she continued to drive at a frightening speed at right angles to the line up of vehicles in front of us, hit two cars shoving them violently aside and then turning in the nearby field to return again and hit two more cars. She hit us hard on the rear passenger wheel and fender sending our car a full 360 degrees around and up the street thirty or forty feet. The panicked driver finally came to a violent rest under the porch of a house across the street. Pandemonium reigned as everyone got out of their vehicles to check for injuries of which there were miraculously none. It occurred to me as I sat in that damaged car in shock that if she had hit the passenger front door, my father may have been killed. Thankfully my father had just installed lap seat belts in that white 1962 Pontiac. Seat belts were not factory installed in those days and indeed were rarely actually worn. We had both buckled our belts as we embarked.

As the police were making their exhaustive multi-paged accident report, something else occurred to me. My father had warned me the day I got my driver’s license that one accident would be enough to end my driving career. I knew he meant it. I was very relieved that he was an eye witness to the accident. Beyond a shadow of a doubt he knew that I was absolutely not at any fault in any way. I would live to drive another day. In 1Peter 5:1 we read of another witness of what happened to an absolutely innocent man.

1 ¶ The elders which are among you I exhort, who am also an elder, and a witness of the sufferings of Christ, and also a partaker of the glory that shall be revealed:

We know from the writings of others in the gospel books that Peter was a major witness to the sufferings of Christ. I am comforted by his own assertion that he was indeed a witness. I live by faith, but I am delighted to be reminded of the actual historical references to the life and suffering of Jesus Christ. Peter was an eye witness to the suffering and death that resulted in my redemption. He was there when I was redeemed and he has reported such to me. Like Peter, as a believer, I am also a partaker of the glory that is yet to be. As we are also reminded in Colossians 3: 4, when Jesus, who is our very life, returns, we will appear with Him in Glory. What a day that will be!

God Knows the Heart

2011-01-12T06:47:00.003-05:00

I marvel at how quickly we can be judged by our outward appearance. Simply changing our clothes can create another persona for us within the world. Recently I had another occasion to note how quickly opinions about us are formed by those around us. Unless I am dressed for chapel, you can usually find me wearing bibbed work pants which are usually termed by most as coveralls. I wear them for comfort and out of necessity born of the results of surgery almost five years ago. I can’t count the number of times when I attend an appointment that I am asked if I am returning to work right after. Those who know that we are retired and living in the country are more likely to make a comment about me returning to “Green Acres”.

During my professional career, I quickly learned the importance of wearing proper attire. A jacket and tie have a very real effect on a classroom of children. I noticed a difference every time a casual dress day was enjoyed. Even parents and trustees respond differently to a three piece suit as opposed to a jacket and tie. I can assure you that you are seen differently in formal dress attire. I would not dream of going into court, negotiations or arbitration without “the suit”.

The clearest example that I have ever experienced; however, occurred about a decade ago. When I worked, I often walked fairly long distances for exercise and relaxation on the weekends in particular. One Thanksgiving Sunday, I found myself walking in the downtown core. A local church was serving a turkey dinner to those in need. There were several individuals out on the street inviting those who appeared to be homeless inside to enjoy a great festive dinner. I was dumbfounded when a young woman came up to me and invited me in for dinner. As I politely declined, I paused to regard what I was wearing. Very old baggy jeans, scuffed boots and a very used leather jacket combined with not shaving seems to have been the ticket to a free dinner for the homeless and those in extreme need. I realized how we make so many judgements just by observing the physical appearance of others. God does not judge us by our outward appearance or indeed even our observable behaviour. In Psalm 44:21 we read:

21 Would not God search this out? For He knows the secrets of the heart.

God does not need to see if we are wearing a suit, coveralls or old jeans. He sees what is in our heart. This is made even clearer in Hebrews 4: 12-13.

12 For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two–edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.

13 And there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are naked and open to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account.

It is an absolute revelation to me that He accomplishes this discerning power through the word of God. The words in my Bible are powerful and alive and they pierce my heart and reveal what is really there. Now that is a sobering thought. Oddly, it is a comforting thought as well. Since I can have no secrets from my God, we can put the superficialities aside and deal honestly and lovingly with each other.

The LORD Gives

2011-01-08T06:48:00.003-05:00

Yesterday I took Marley for a walk on the frozen lake. Despite the cold wind from the east, I wanted to enjoy the openness of the lake while there is not much snow as a result of our last extreme thaw. We started out strong and followed the shoreline around the bay in front of our home. Before we had gone very far, I could feel the exhaustion building. Some days I feel like I can conquer the world. Yesterday was not one of those days. I turned around to head back to the house. The wind was now in my face and the pace slowed even more. Marley baulked at having to leave her beloved lake where she can virtually run all of the time and investigate every foot of shoreline with that nose that never stops working. I felt, as I made very slow progress, older than my years. Each step was an effort as my legs became heavier. As I was trudging along, my mind went to a whole other season and circumstance.

When I was fifteen years of age, I applied to take the Award of Merit course and examination from the Royal Life Saving Society. There was a problem. The minimum age for successful completion of the examination was sixteen. The instructor of the course was an air force officer who, although he invited me to stay for the first night of instruction, stated that I would have to wait until the next summer to complete the course and the examination. I reluctantly agreed to stay for one night. I participated and interacted with the mostly adult group in the swimming and life saving drills with some enthusiasm. At the end of the session, the instructor suggested that I could return for a second night if I wished, again just to monitor the course. I enjoyed the second session even more than the first, especially when the instructor made an offer that I could not refuse. He would allow me to take the course and try the examination and if I could maintain a very high standard in all the criteria, he would grant the Silver Medallion for the Award of Merit on my birthday the following winter.

I was delighted with the offer and attended every gruelling session. On nights that there was no formal instruction, I would attend at the pool in order to swim lengths to build up endurance. Over the course of the summer, I realized that I was physically stronger that I had ever been in my young life. What I didn’t realize of course was that I was in the best physical condition that I would ever be for the rest of my life as well. It would be all a slow decline from here. On the night of the physical part of the exam, I swam the required distance, the extent of which I have now forgotten, in seven minutes despite the fact that the requirement for the yardage of the various strokes was a fifteen minute completion. I watched wrapped in a towel while others struggled to finish the course. I can still remember how strong and ready to continue I felt. I was successful that night and indeed received the Award of Merit on a cold January evening the following winter.

What a difference forty-seven years can make. As I walked slowly and painfully into the wind yesterday, I was initially tempted to feel sorry for myself. Then the words of Job 1: 21-22 came to mind.

21 And he said: "Naked I came from my mother’s womb, And naked shall I return there. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; Blessed be the name of the LORD."

22 In all this Job did not sin nor charge God with wrong.

The afflictions visited upon Job, as allowed temporarily by the LORD, were almost unimaginable compared to my minor rapid aging concerns. Yet Job was able to keep the LORD in His proper place. He alone is God and as God, He can act as God. The Book of Job was the first book of the Bible read to me in its entirety by Lozanne. I continue to be in awe of this man Job who was able to keep his perspective on the lordship of his God despite great hardships. What an example he was to me yesterday.

Y2K

2011-01-05T12:01:00.001-05:00

It just dawned on me that this year’s New Years celebrations were exactly ten years after the turn of the millennium. I won’t easily forget the infamous Y2K (Year Two Thousand). The problem arose with the practice of using two digit dates rather than the proper four digits. At the time, it was supposed that rolling over from 99 to 00 would virtually bring the computer world and as a result, our world, to a screeching halt. Much work was done by information technology departments on a global scale in order to prevent power black outs, banking disasters and the like. Many individuals and companies simply bought new computers. We will never know if the extensive preparations cured the forecast problems or if the whole Y2K scenario was vastly overstated in the first place.

I remember spending New Year’s Eve as a new Director of Education with my cell phone on and at the ready for the worst. Custodians were on duty in all forty-two schools of the district school board to make sure that the hydro and heat stayed functional after midnight. A handful of generators were purchased to be used in the event of power outages. The Manager of Plant and his regional employees were on duty for the whole night. Nothing happened. Nothing, that is, with the exception of one of the most spiritual experiences of my young Christian life.

Lozanne and I were invited with twenty or thirty others to a Y2K house party. There were many Y2K parties that New Years Eve, but few of them, I suspect were like this one. This party welcomed the New Year with about forty minutes of prayer which started exactly at midnight. We prayed for the new millennium. Most of the prayers were not about the much discussed Y2K problems, but about spiritual blessings hoped for in the new millennium. I had only been a Christian for a few years and I was much taken by the idea. It was a beautiful time. It also caused me to think then and now of the words of Jesus in Matthew 18: 20.

20 "For where two or three are gathered together in My name, I am there in the midst of them."

I am aware of the scholarly view that this verse refers to the reconciliation of Christians separated from the church by sin. I am also aware that it can be applied to any meeting of believers at any time and at any place. There we were at a Y2K party gathered in His name and there He was in the midst of us. I have been to many New Years Eve parties over the decades. This party was the most memorable and indeed the most fun. What a guest list!

A Thief in the Night

2010-12-19T11:43:00.003-05:00

I was completely caught off guard. It never occurred to me that it could happen, but it did. There was the proof. Two very distinct snowmobile tracks cut like a knife in the untouched snow on our septic bed. As any country dweller knows, snow is not to be packed over the septic bed lest it drive the frost down into the weeping bed. In our case, the septic bed area appears to be a very large lawn of about 2400 square feet. From out of the night and off the dark lake, two trespassers had violated the unspoken country pact to stay off any septic bed in the winter, not to mention that they were also trespassing on private land. It is just not done. Yet it was done. One pass on the septic bed is unlikely to cause any harm, but repeated traffic can be disastrous.

I immediately drove to the local Home Hardware to purchase two large rolls of yellow plastic caution tape which is similar to the tape used to mark crime scenes by the police. I improvised a way using stakes and trees to completely mark off the area of the septic bed. I wondered if the interlopers would return and would they respect my now clearly marked area? Indeed, two nights later I observed new tracks stopping about six inches from the south side of the taped area and then veering off in the direction of my neighbour’s property. I was relieved to learn that at least they would respect the yellow tape and stay off our septic bed. Soon I or my neighbours will discover who the trespassers are and deal with them appropriately. I find myself now listening for the sound of snowmobiles in the evening and during the night. While I was outside last evening with Marley for her final business of the day, I was reminded of a verse written by the Apostle Paul. These two snowmobiles do indeed come like a thief in the night. I have not been able to predict when they will come; so it is with the coming of the day of the Lord.

2 For you yourselves know perfectly that the day of the Lord so comes as a thief in the night. (1Thessalonians 5:2)

The day of the Lord starts with the return of Jesus Christ to this earth. Believers living and dead will immediately go with Jesus to heaven. This is called the Rapture. As a Christian I look forward to this day. As much as I look forward to the day when Jesus will return to this earth, I can have no idea when He will come. There is simply no way to predict when He will return. The two trespassing teenage boys (I suspect) have reminded me of a very clear Bible principle and for that, at least, I can thank them.

20 ¶ He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. (Revelation 22:20)

(Comments, corrections, suggestions or rebuttals are welcome. My email link is contained in “About me: view my complete profile" to the right of this page or use the comment section below which requires that you have a Google account.)

Your God is my God

2010-12-15T15:28:00.001-05:00

There is no relationship quite like that of a mother and her daughter-in-law. Despite the best efforts at compromise and mutual affection, there are bound to be times when the relationship is strained. I know this, not only from my own first hand observation, but through the reflections of other sons and fathers-in-law. Simply stated, both the mother and the daughter-in-law love the same man, in different ways of course, causing each to be a rival of sorts from time to time.

In the summer of 1977 my mother and father had come to visit our new home. While they were on the guided tour our precocious daughter, Jessica Rose, who was in her third year, tagged along for the fun. Even at an early age, Jessica spoke in sentences and exhibited a sometimes surprising command of the English language. In the basement, we came across an ironing table that was already set up and indeed used as it had been in our former home. To this day there is little doubt in my mind that Jess knew very well what the object was and its intended use. Instead she paused and said, “Grandma, what is that?”, suggesting of course that she had never seen one of those things before. My mother carefully explained its use, probably convinced, temporarily at least, that her dear son was suffering through an ironing boycott. As she asked the question, Jessica gave her mischievous intent away though her telltale habit of firmly placing her tongue in her cheek. It would take her years to outgrow that obvious sign of disclosure.

In the Bible there is another mother and daughter-in-law relationship that is very carefully explored. Noami had come with her husband and two sons from Bethlehem to the land of Moab. Her sons married Orpah and Ruth, both of whom were gentiles. As a decade came to pass, Noami’s husband and her two sons died. Grief stricken, she decides to return to Israel and she tells her two daughters-in-law to return to the home of their mother. Orpah does just that, but Ruth refuses to part and gives us the poetic verses found in Ruth 1: 16-17.

16 But Ruth said: "Entreat me not to leave you, Or to turn back from following after you; For wherever you go, I will go; And wherever you lodge, I will lodge; Your people shall be my people, And your God, my God.

17 Where you die, I will die, And there will I be buried. The LORD do so to me, and more also, If anything but death parts you and me."

I have always been touched by the loyal tenacity of her words and actions. Lately, I have focused in on her acceptance of the God of Noami. She is not only willing to look after her mother-in-law, but she has a need to accept the true God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. She even makes a vow before the LORD Himself to let only death part her from her mother-in-law. I am struck not only by her fierce loyalty, but by her enviable faith.

Forget the Rules

2010-12-05T20:21:00.003-05:00

He was the strangest sight; completely out of context. Head held high and tail wagging, down the hallway strolled, confidently I should add, a beautiful reddish coloured Irish Setter with a child of about eight years of age in tow on the other end of the leash. The smiling boy was backed up by a nervously smiling woman looking back and forth furtively as if some great wrong was being committed. It took me a moment to comprehend what might be taking place within the confines of the radiation section of the regional cancer centre. As was confirmed a few moments later, the large friendly dog was attempting with the help of the woman and her son to break into one of the most sterile environments on earth in order to allow Grandpa, who was bed-ridden upstairs in the hospital, to spend a few, probably final, minutes with his best friend. They had chosen the long radiation waiting room hallway because it led to a back staircase that leads to the cancer wards above. What the woman had not counted on was five consecutive waiting rooms housing at least one dog lover each. She was actually running a gauntlet of patients stopping the three to admire the beautiful dog. Unlike his mistress, the long eared and furry setter was very much enjoying the unexpected attention.

One of the main reasons, I suspect, that this trio had chosen this particular hallway was the fact that it is always populated with many patients and very few staff. I was one of the waiting who stopped to admire this beautiful canine specimen. Just as the trio came to the end of the expansive hallway, one of the radiation machine technicians stepped out from one of the last doorways. We all thought that this beautiful, albeit perhaps inappropriate, attempt to please an old and very sick man upstairs had just ended. Fortunately, the young female employee energetically headed in the opposite direction down the hall, obviously oblivious to the presence of the dog. The trio did make it to the staircase without detection. I am not sure how they fared on the ward, but I hope they pulled off their assault on the rules. I am convinced that more good than harm was done that afternoon. As Anatole France (1844-1924), who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1921, wrote, “Until one has loved an animal, part of their soul remains unawakened”. I can readily understand the significance of that visit to the cancer ward.

I am quite sure that Anatole France is referring in his famous quotation to the soul that is actually defined as those things like conscious thought, speech and feeling that separate us from the animal world as human. He could also be referring to a person’s emotional and moral nature. I am equally sure that he was not referring to the kind of soul found in Matthew 16: 26.

26 "For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?

What does Jesus mean by His use of the word “soul” in this verse? The Amplified Bible does not even use the word ‘soul’ in its translation of verse 26. In the place of the word “soul” are the words “his blessed life in the Kingdom of God”. If I spend all my time on this earth concerned with making, spending or conserving money and preserving my own comfort, then I will miss the opportunity to give my all to Jesus and reap the eternal reward of my soul being in heaven. I look so forward to my blessed life in the Kingdom of God. Just maybe my favourite canine friend will be there as well.

Magnetic Resonance Imaging

2010-11-29T14:13:00.003-05:00

At 1:00 A.M. on Sunday morning, I had the pleasure of having an MRI. Magnetic resonance imaging does not use radiation like an x-ray, but powerful magnetic fields interacting somehow with radio frequencies to create an image of the area being scanned. We are most fortunate to have such modern technology in our regional hospital. I actually went to bed early Saturday evening and my eldest son kindly appeared out of the country darkness (despite my assertions that I could drive myself into the city) to drive me into our local regional hospital in time for the midnight admitting done through the Emergency Department. Midnight on a Saturday night at the emergency ward could inspire yet another blog. I was somewhat amazed by the number of persons in need at that particular hour.

I had experienced an MRI four years ago. I had forgotten just how “interesting” the process can be. On Sunday morning, I had the added pleasure of having my head cradled and strapped into an apparatus that prevented any movement. I could see the technician through the distant window by way of a strange mirror in front of my eyes. All metal jewellery and glasses removed and noise muffling headphones in place, I was moved into a very tight tubular space with the cryptic request that I not move for the next twenty-five minutes. In my right hand I clutched the panic bulb that I was to squeeze if I could simply not take any more. As I was moved into position, I comforted myself with the consolation of being able to pray undisturbed for the next twenty-five minutes. What an opportunity! Unfortunately, I had forgotten the loud irregular noises and periodic bone shaking vibrations that made up the next nearly one half of an hour. The machine literally cracks, pounds, rattles, thumps, shakes, contorts and whirrs for the whole time you are in it. I was completely and utterly unable to intelligibly pray. I just held my elbows painfully at my side and stared straight into the mirror waiting for the endless session to be over. “Help me Jesus” was about as far as I could get with my prayer session. The distractions of the machine are just too great. I made it through the session without moving and was soon back on the dark winter road to home no worse for the wear.

In many ways, I realize today that the MRI machine is very much like the modern world in which we live. We are all surrounded by constant distractions that keep up us from our communication with God. We are bombarded with media noise and worldly temptations. Amidst the noise, we are often taken further away from our Lord. I find solace in the actual words of Jesus in Matthew 6: 5-8.

5 ¶ "And when you pray, you shall not be like the hypocrites. For they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the corners of the streets, that they may be seen by men. Assuredly, I say to you, they have their reward.

6 "But you, when you pray, go into your room, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in the secret place; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly.

7 "And when you pray, do not use vain repetitions as the heathen do. For they think that they will be heard for their many words.

8 "Therefore do not be like them. For your Father knows the things you have need of before you ask Him.

I am greatly comforted by verse 8. My Father knew very well my needs and indeed supplied those needs within my Sunday morning MRI machine. I was completely unable to articulate, but He had no need of my words at that point. “Help me Jesus” were the only words required.

Accepting His Will

2010-11-28T14:37:00.004-05:00

Dear Regular Reader,

There are several realities that I have had to accept in the last little while...one of them being that I am currently having difficulty publishing blogs every two days. I hope to be able to contribute to this site at least on an intermittent basis. I pray that someday soon I might be able to add significantly to the 166 messages written in the last year and some months.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want." Psalm 23: 1

The Decision

2010-11-23T06:57:00.002-05:00

Finally, it had happened. We had a conflict. Jeremy’s hockey game and his music lesson were almost at the same time. Missing the hockey game was unthinkable to our nine year old son and missing the piano lesson was equally unthinkable to his serious and professional music teacher. The solution, it seemed at the time, was for Jeremy to attend his piano lesson wearing his equipment, less the helmet, skates and gloves of course. When his lesson was over, I was to whisk him away to a “just in time” hockey game at the arena. We thought it was a good plan at the time.

The piano teacher lived just down the street and Jeremy was able to walk to the lesson. I assured him that I would be ready to drive him to the game as soon as he returned. He left and in very few minutes had returned and announced that now we could go to the game. Confused, we questioned him as to why he was so early. Jeremy told us that when he arrived and sat down on the piano bench, the teacher, who was rather passionate about the study of music, told him he had to make a decision. Since he wasn’t volunteering the nature of the decision, we had to ask him about the choice he had to make. His kindly but serious teacher had told him, no doubt in her delightful eastern European accent, that he must decide between playing hockey and studying music. We are fairly certain that she meant that eventually the two would conflict and that then he would have to make a decision. To the nine year old literal mind, he heard that he was to make a decision right here and now and indeed he did. Apparently, as she later confirmed, he assured her immediately that he had decided to pursue hockey and leave behind his music career. Then he simply put on his boots, left the house and came home very relieved that he did not have to return to music. Indeed, he never did.

We are certain that Jeremy would not have continued much longer to take piano lessons. It was patently obvious that he did not enjoy the exercise. I have often thought of the hastiness of the proposed decision as expressed by the piano teacher. Giving a nine year old boy dressed for a hockey game what sounded to him to be an ultimatum could have only one result. He made the decision and she lost a student. Verse 5 in Chapter 21 of the Book of Proverbs reinforces my initial theory.

5 The Thoughts of the diligent tend only to plenteousness, but everyone who is impatient and hasty hastens only to want. (Amplified Bible)

On the other hand, perhaps she had assessed his future enthusiasm and success in piano studies and very purposefully and kindly allowed him a way to get out of what he did not enjoy.

21 ¶ The wise in heart will be called prudent, And sweetness of the lips increases learning. (Proverbs 16:21)

New Every Morning

2010-11-20T13:50:00.003-05:00

I am a morning person. As I age at what appears to me to be an exponential rate in relation to my peers, the “morning effect” as contrasted with the “sundown effect” is multiplied and very welcome. Today we awoke to the first significant snowfall of the year. As I went outside in order to shovel some snow, I started to think of other mornings so prominent in my memory.

When I was six or seven years old, my father actually took me to the hardware store to buy me a snow scraper. He finally grew tired of me asking for one so that I could shovel the walk and driveway. He found the lightest one, which in those days was not an easy feat. Snow shovels were all made of steel. Plastic or child sized snow shovels simply did not exist. The first thing I did each and every winter morning was to check the amount of snowfall. I was outside sometimes before breakfast enjoying the chilled early morning air and the task of clearing the snow. I have maintained that excitement for early morning snow shovelling. Unfortunately, the physical part of completing the job is not nearly as much fun as I remember as a boy. Today as I struggled to open up a trail to the garage, I was honoured with the sighting of a large magnificent eagle literally rising up in the gusty winds over the shore of the mostly frozen lake. Suddenly I felt the reality of the words, “But those who wait on the LORD Shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles” (Isaiah 40: 31). As my eagle was mounting up in the wind, my strength was renewed.

When I was ten or eleven years old, I delighted in climbing out my bedroom window at dawn in order to go fishing on spring mornings. The sun shining off the clear water as I cast my line from my plywood boat is as real to me this morning as it was on those mornings so long ago. It occurs to me now that I did not need to climb out the window in order to heighten the adventure. I am positive, after long experience as a parent and grandparent, that my mother and father were very aware of my early morning fishing expeditions.

In adulthood, I experienced another joyful morning experience. I was more of an observer, but I still enjoyed the utter delight that Lozanne felt and demonstrated during the years that our children were babies. She simply could not wait to greet the babies and toddlers in their cribs. No matter how tired she was from lack of sleep during the night, the slightest sound, whether it be crying, laughing or baby talk, would bring her joyously talking and laughing with each of our four children even before she reached their room. They were lifted immediately from their crib and another day of continual attention and love would start anew each and every day. I don’t doubt it for a second when Lozanne tells me that the years spent raising our babies were the happiest days of her life. I observed the joy renewed each and every morning.

The LORD does the same for us each and every morning. We read of His faithfulness and compassion in Lamentations 3: 19-24.

19 Remember my affliction and roaming, The wormwood and the gall.

20 My soul still remembers And sinks within me.

21 ¶ This I recall to my mind, Therefore I have hope.

22 Through the LORD’S mercies we are not consumed, Because His compassions fail not.

23 They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness.

24 "The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "Therefore I hope in Him!"

Each and every morning, even as life becomes more difficult, my hope is renewed. I am assured that His mercies will follow me all day long. I will not be consumed by the troubles of the day. His compassion will always be there for me. Great is His faithfulness that is renewed each and every morning. No wonder I continue to be a morning person.

Far from God

2010-11-18T14:35:00.002-05:00

Last evening Lozanne and I watched episodes 25 and 26 of the television mini-series entitled The Forsyte Saga. Over the past month, we have rented and watched all of the 1967 BBC adaptation of the series of novels written by John Galsworthy. To my knowledge, the twenty-six black and white one hour episodes have never been rebroadcast in Canada since the summer and fall of 1970. Although it was not the first mini-series made for television, it is certainly the first I can remember. It had a very dramatic, but believable soap opera quality to it that actually emptied pubs and churches when it aired on Sunday nights in Great Britain. The effect was similar when it was broadcast by the CBC following the Ed Sullivan Show at nine o'clock on Sunday evenings in 1970. Families gathered around television sets to catch up on the multi-generational series starting in Victorian England and ending in the third decade of the twentieth century.

Watching the series forty years later has drawn Lozanne and I back to my parents’ living room as we made sure to be present for the weekly instalment to be broadcast on the twenty-one inch Admiral television with the rabbit ears set in the perfect position for the best possible reception. We were staying with my parents in the summer of 1970 for six weeks so that I could attend summer university courses. We spent many summers in various locations for the same purpose. It is good to be reminded of our parents who were so good to us. At the time, I thought of them as old. Now as I look back, I am shocked with how youthful they were at the time. How we enjoyed those Sunday evenings seated on the low backed green fabric couch with a rounded cushion on one end. The baby was in her crib, hopefully asleep, and Soames, Jolyon, Irenie and Fleur were bound to entertain us with their family intrigues that were destined to lead ultimately to further scandals.

Lozanne and I have been pleasantly surprised that this early attempt at a television mini-series has withstood the test of time. It is still believable and entertaining after forty years of more modern competition. I am not sure that our children and grandchildren would enjoy such unsophisticated entertainment, but we have. Forgiveness is a central theme throughout the twenty-six episodes. The lawyer, Soames Forsyte, who is a pivotal character throughout every episode, was played very convincingly by Eric Porter who had the challenge of initially playing a twenty something year old and then finally at the end of the story, a man in his seventies. He and Irenie, played by Nyree Dawn Porter, endured a very sad marriage of about twelve years in the early episodes. Both contributed to the absolute misery that was their marriage. Several times through the years, Soames attempts to forgive and let bygones be bygones by offering a hand of reconciliation. Irenie, who actually loathed her former husband, is unable to reciprocate on every occasion. In the last episode, just hours before the untimely death of Soames, Irenie actually extends her hand in forgiveness. The audience is absolutely shocked when he then refuses to accept her long awaited attempt at reconciliation. He strides out of the room literally to his accidental death later in the day. I am sure that the importance of this scene escaped me in my youth. I was very disturbed by it last evening. Soames went to his death unable ultimately to forgive. What a tragedy. The words of Matthew 6: 14-15 came to me as I tried to get to sleep last evening.

14 "For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.

15 "But if you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses

As a mature Christian, I readily understand that the forgiveness of our sins is granted to us unconditionally through our belief in Jesus Christ. Even if we die as a believer before forgiving another, we are, through the grace of God, granted entry into heaven. William MacDonald in his “Believer’s Bible Commentary” tells us what we risk by not forgiving others is our relationship with the Lord. If we want to feel close to God here on earth, we must indeed offer our forgiveness to others just as He has forgiven us. The irony of Soames not accepting what he had initiated on several occasions throughout his life is a very powerful example of the lesson being taught in today’s two Bible verses. Had Soames been a real person living a real life, by refusing to forgive, he would have most certainly felt very far from God for what was to be his last day on this earth.

The Hand of God

2010-11-16T10:07:00.002-05:00

There they stood at my apartment door. I use the word apartment generously to describe my sub-leased second floor rooms on Mountjoy Street South. I knew one of the three young women from a recent date that was not to be repeated, but two had come along to meet the new guy in town. As I invited them in on that beautiful warm spring evening in 1968, I had no idea of what God had orchestrated just for two of us in that room. My eyes and my interest immediately rested on only one of them. She was the most talkative and animated of the three and with the exception of her good looks, I could not logically understand at the time why she was so very appealing. She was dressed in shorts and indeed her feet were bare despite the fact that she was the driver who had transported my guests in her father’s early sixties Valiant. There was what could be best described as an aura around her. I could not look away. She infuriated me and my careful and cautious ways even as she began to capture my heart.

Stupidly, I chided her for driving without shoes. I was, at least in my own mind, a mature twenty year old who thought he could correct the behaviour of this seventeen year old beauty. My protestations that driving without shoes was unlawful and dangerous seemed to have little effect upon her. I have no idea why I started what was to become a lifelong relationship with a correction. I suspect that I just didn’t know what else to say given her profound effect on me. As I was soon to learn, our personalities were about as diametrically opposed as is possible. The adage that opposites attract became a sizable understatement in our future relationship. Even as I upbraided her, I was drawn to her lively good humour and ability to ignore my uptight nonsense when required.

The next night the same three visitors appeared at my door. Since they were on foot, I offered to drive the threesome home as it became dark. I consciously made sure that the formerly bare foot young lady was my last stop. I was to learn later that she had me drop her off at the wrong house down the street, because her parents would not have approved of a university student who owned a car as a prospective boyfriend. Indeed, I did ask her out to see the movie “The Graduate” the next night and of course the young woman who was soon to become my wife and the mother of my four children said yes. I still to this day remember the blue dress with white trim she wore that night.

We have spent a lifetime of being different. We complement each other. Her strengths prop up my weaknesses and my strengths, I hope, do the same for her. The aura that surrounded her in May of 1968 is there to this day. I have written before about my firm belief that the hand of God is always upon those who are destined to believe later in their lives. I came to town to work at the Kamiskotia Mine for only a few months as a summer job that was elusive anywhere else that summer. Except for leaving to attend school, I have never left since, nor have I left her side. The words of Psalm 139:1-5 make it all so clear. The LORD laid his hand on us both. Lozanne and Mark were predetermined long before the spring of 1968.

1 ¶ For the Chief Musician. A Psalm of David. O LORD, You have searched me and known me.

2 You know my sitting down and my rising up; You understand my thought afar off.

3 You comprehend my path and my lying down, And are acquainted with all my ways.

4 For there is not a word on my tongue, But behold, O LORD, You know it altogether.

5 You have hedged me behind and before, And laid Your hand upon me.

Beauty for Ashes

2010-10-24T07:57:00.002-04:00

Lately, it seems that I cannot dismiss from my mind what has become, in the last several years, my favourite verse from the Bible. The words dictated to the prophet Isaiah by Jesus gain more meaning with each passing day. This morning that quotation caused me to stop and think about what was the best gift I ever received in this mortal life. I have received many memorable and beautiful gifts. The one that stands out in my mind involves a gift of absolutely no material value.

I was four or five years old. The weather was dark and the rain beat against the windows. I was forced to remain in the house rather than set up my collection of dinky toy cars and trucks in the sand plot by the back door. Although, I have no memory of my mood, I must have been unhappy and pouting about a circumstance that only God could change. My mother surprised me with a homemade set of road signs. They were constructed carefully of empty thread spools, toothpicks and small pieces of paper. Each sign was a replica of actual street signs in use around our home in the fifties. A few months later, I became the proud owner of a metal set of miniature street signs. Those expensive metal signs were never as valuable to me as the hastily, but lovingly and painstakingly, constructed signs given to me by my mother. The reason for that is obvious. Material gifts do not compare in any way to the gifts given out of time, effort and love. That being said, there is no gift that can compare with what our God has in store for us.

In Isaiah 61:3 we read the words that were actually spoken by Jesus and recorded for us by Isaiah seven hundred and fifty years before the birth of Christ. Jesus is speaking of His second coming seven centuries before His first visit to this earth. The words are directed to those who mourn in Zion and as a believer I claim my position as a mourner amongst them and I look forward to Jesus returning to this earth to take all the believers with Him to heaven. Even if I die prior to his Second Coming and meet Jesus on my way into heaven, I have already begun to receive the gifts as outlined in this verse.

3 … To give them beauty for ashes, The oil of joy for mourning, The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; That they may be called trees of righteousness, The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified."

In ancient Israel, ashes were associated with death and mourning. The beauty expressed in this verse can, in my opinion for what that is worth, be anything that we personally consider beautiful. We actually trade beauty for death, mourning and corruption. Rather than mourning the disgraces, sin and difficulties of this world, we can apply the oil of joy. In biblical times, the application of oil to the hair and the body was considered a great pleasure and a luxury. We trade unbelievable grief for joy. Rather that feeling the heaviness of our sins, we can look forward to being praised by the Lord Himself. We trade crushing guilt and self-blame for praise from God Himself. As preposterous as it sounds, we will be tall and powerful examples of goodness.

We receive none of these gifts through our own effort. We collect these completely undeserved gifts simply by accepting them through our faith in Jesus Christ.

Constantly Behold Him

2010-10-20T14:22:00.004-04:00

This morning, while rummaging through a workshop drawer, I happened upon a package of old postcards and letters. Prior to this year, I had almost forgotten the existence of these artefacts. Twice in the last few months, I have sat down and read the messages mailed to me by my mother during the spring of 1957. They chronicle a month long motor trip to Florida taken by my parents and another couple. The messages were mailed almost daily for a period of four weeks. The affection, encouragement, travel details and reminders to keep up with my school work contained in the letters and postcards are almost incidental to what I most remember about that very long month.

At the age of nine years, I was abruptly removed from school and the entirety of my social network and sent to live with my aunt and uncle and their two very young daughters. They treated me with great kindness and respect. I was given enough school work by my teacher to complete independently the grade three curriculum for all of the four weeks in March and April of that year. I spent each morning sitting alone at a card table completing my required lessons in mathematics, reading, social studies and writing. I learned more about research and independent study than I cared to know as a nine year old boy. The most difficult part, of course, was to simply force my young self to sit down and start to work. I spent each afternoon exploring the small City of North Bay. I must have walked hundreds of miles during that spring. I learned a great deal about being alone, independent and competent. I do remember very well visiting my older just married sister as I was allowed to explore the city streets.

To be blunt, those four weeks in the spring of 1957 are remembered as difficult and lonely. Although I was very well treated, I was forced to adapt to completely foreign circumstances for what then appeared to be a very long period of time. I have realized lately that I matured a great deal that spring and that the discipline learned over a difficult month was of great use to me as an adult. A decade later, I was to use the same skills to catch up with disastrously lapsed university studies during a post-Christmas break spent alone in a university residence. As a middle aged man, I used identical discipline and skills to independently prepare for the Ministry of Education Supervisory Officer examination. If it was possible, I would send my parents a thank you note right now, but the true author or our learning through adversity is God Himself. It is often through adversity that we learn the most. Adversity is very often the favoured teaching method of our God. In Ecclesiastes 7:14 we read.

14 In the day of prosperity be joyful, But in the day of adversity consider: Surely God has appointed the one as well as the other…(New King James Version)

The prophet Isaiah makes the point very clear in Isaiah 30:20.

20 And though the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide Himself any more, but your eyes will constantly behold your Teacher. (Amplified Version)

Like me, if you find yourself in adversity today, look around with fresh eyes for the Teacher. Your God and your Jesus will be right there where, if you look and believe, you “can constantly behold” Him.

No Remission of Sin

2010-10-17T11:16:00.002-04:00

I have previously written several blogs describing events observed and lived during summer visits to the farm of my great aunt and uncle. These events have remained in my memory for more than fifty-five years. It will be plain to the reader just why today’s memory has remained so vivid.

There I sat on the fence, completely unaware of just what was about to unfold before my seven year old eyes. My great uncle and his adult sons had brought a docile cow which was probably a steer and tied it to the barn yard fence. After some quiet preparations and without a word of warning to the animal or myself, one of my second cousins swung a sledge hammer and hit the steer squarely over the head. His action was followed almost simultaneously by another cousin who drew a sharp blade across the throat of the animal. A third man attached the hind legs of the steer to a hanging chain come-along and slowly pulled the cow upside down so that the blood could more efficiently drain from the now dead carcass. I was indeed shocked by what I witnessed. I have realized in adult years that the reason that I was not sent into the house or forewarned of what was about to happen was because not one of those men considered what they were doing to be anything but routine farm work. Indeed, as vivid as the memory is, I was not harmed psychologically for life by witnessing their work reality. The quantity of the blood spilled and collected that day was a life lesson in itself.

When I first became interested in reading the Bible, prior to becoming a Christian, I had a lot of difficulty reading and understanding the necessity of the animal sacrifices described in the first few books of the Old Testament. I simply could not make the connection between the forgiveness of sins in return for the shedding of blood, albeit the blood of a sacrificial animal. My childhood memory of the slaughter of an innocent animal made the Old Testament descriptions all that more real. I finally found my understanding of the process in the New Testament Book of Hebrews.

22 And according to the law almost all things are purified with blood, and without shedding of blood there is no remission. (Hebrews 9: 22)

The Old Testament covenant or agreement between God and men and women was dedicated with blood. Sins could not be forgiven without the shedding of the blood of sacrificial animals. The New Testament covenant was a completely new agreement for us sinners, but the shedding of blood was still involved. We read this very clear statement in Hebrews 9: 11-14.

11 But Christ came as High Priest of the good things to come, with the greater and more perfect tabernacle not made with hands, that is, not of this creation.

12 Not with the blood of goats and calves, but with His own blood He entered the Most Holy Place once for all, having obtained eternal redemption.

13 For if the blood of bulls and goats and the ashes of a heifer, sprinkling the unclean, sanctifies for the purifying of the flesh,

14 how much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without spot to God, cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?

Indeed when we celebrate communion, we are asked by Christ Himself to drink the wine in remembrance of His shedding of His innocent blood on our behalf. How thankful I am not only for my understanding of the process, but for his great and final sacrifice made directly for the remission of my sins.

Glory

2010-10-14T07:00:00.002-04:00

I often marvel at what constitutes a lasting and robust memory. Last evening, I had the occasion to suddenly remember my brother-in-law, who passed away about a decade ago. When I was a child, he often visited our home throughout his long courtship of my older sister. Gary was one who enjoyed good naturedly teasing anyone from whom he could evoke a reaction. Although I don’t remember reacting to the innumerable times he sat down on the couch, opened the newspaper and declared that “How Green Was My Valley” was on the late movie. This classic film never, to my knowledge, was shown on the midnight movie schedule of the only available television station when I was a young adolescent and older teenager. Indeed, I did not see the movie until I was an adult husband and father. I had by that time concluded, erroneously, that the title was just one of Gary’s fabrications designed with teasing in mind.

Last evening, Lozanne and I watched a rented copy of the 1941 masterpiece “How Green Was My Valley” directed my John Ford. We have both seen it many times over the years. With the opening credits, I could not help but fondly remembering my brother-in-law and how entertained he would be to learn that indeed it really was on television tonight. The movie chronicles, through the frequent narration of a never seen man in his fifties, of his life as a boy in a large, loving and Christian family who lived and worked in a Welsh coal mine community at the turn of the twentieth century. There isn’t much about life that is not present in this heart warming story of unrequited love, marital joy and humour, family dynamics, long term illness and accidental death in the coal mines. Unfailing stoic behaviour in the face of great physical and emotional hardship is a major theme of the film.

Despite previously enjoying the movie, I had not until last night gleaned from the script the deep Christian faith of the Morgan family. Praying on special occasions, the singing of hymns, Bible readings from Isaiah 55 and statements of eternal faith jumped out and grabbed my attention last evening. The most profound moment occurred just moments following the tragic death of the patriarch of the drama. At the end of the story, his wife, Beth Morgan, looks up into the sky with a look of unexplainable euphoria and proclaims to her daughter and widowed daughter-in-law, “Father came to me just now and he spoke to me. He told me of the glory he had just seen!” The Bible tells us that we on this side of the divide can have no idea what is in store for us in Heaven. In 1Corinthians 2:9 we read the following reassuring words.

9 But as it is written: "Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, Nor have entered into the heart of man The things which God has prepared for those who love Him."

The word “glory” appears three hundred and fifty-one times in the Bible. It can mean great praise and honour for man, but the praise is usually given to God. It can also mean inexpressible beauty and magnificence. Along the same vein, it can mean splendour and bliss. Indeed at times, as we see in Psalm 73: 4, the word is used as a simple but powerful noun that sums up the beauty and peace of heaven.

24 You will guide me with Your counsel,

And afterward receive me to glory.

Last evening as the words “The End” appeared on the screen, it struck me with great clarity, what Beth Morgan was expressing for all to understand. What magnificence, what splendour, what peace, what bliss and what beauty awaits those who believe!

Fallen Leaves

2010-10-12T05:58:00.003-04:00

There are some inevitable consequences to be faced for living in the country. One of them is dealing with fallen leaves. Around our house there are many evergreen trees, but the majority of the shady greenery consists of birch and poplar trees. There are a few maple trees fighting for some space as well. All of the trees act all summer as protection from the sun and the wind. As winter approaches, the leaves turn varied shades of gold, yellow, brown and red. Initially the property is beautiful. Before very long, we are buried in decaying leaves. I have long since given up trying to rake and dispose of the leaves in the fall. I am convinced that it simply can’t be done. There are just too many leaves.

One job that must be done twice weekly for the month of October is clearing the eaves troughs of the falling leaves. There is no escaping this ritual. The troughs and downspouts fill up to the point that water will not flow within them. It is necessary to climb up on the roof and meticulously clear each run of eaves trough and then remove the bottom of each downspout and clear the leaves collected at the bottom of each spout. This year, for the first time, I have contemplated installing covers over the eaves troughs in an attempt to stop the deluge.

As I was working on the roof the other day, one thought was in my head. How could there be so many leaves to clean out of the troughs? Who could ever count the number of leaves falling on our roof? How many leaves have I cleared and dropped to the ground? I even started to figure out varied ways to estimate the numbers of leaves. The numbers are seemingly endless. There is no way that the human mind can even grasp the shear enormity of the numbers of leaves falling to the ground. Two verses in the Book of Matthew came to me as I worked. In Matthew 10: 29-30 we read:

29 "Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will.

30 "But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.

The human mind cannot truly grasp the complexity of this world as created by an omniscient God. Who can even pretend to understand the active role that the Lord plays in the eternal unfolding of the universe? As I was asking myself who could ever know the number of leaves falling to the ground, the clear answer came to me. God knows! At any given second, on any given space, God can tell us how many leaves have fallen. He placed each leaf on the trees and through His will they fall to the earth before the weight of the snow and ice breaks down the trees. He created you and me as well. He is so aware of our being that he can tell you how many hairs are on your head. It occurs to me that if he is that aware of the minutia, just think of the important things he is watching and providing guidance and assistance to those who believe.

We Have Dominion

2010-10-09T12:55:00.003-04:00

My memories of the Christmas of 1957 are vivid. I had asked for and received a beautiful red leather jacket that I wore exclusively for several seasons until of course I outgrew it. My most powerful reminiscence; however, was based in the natural world. Late December of that year was extremely frigid without a hint of snow. The extreme cold coupled with a lack of wind and precipitation created the most perfect sheet of skating ice on Lake Nipissing that I have ever experienced. Nipissing is an Algonquin word meaning “big water” and indeed the lake is about 40 miles in length and 16 miles in width at its maximum, creating, that Christmas, a flawless ice surface of about 337 square miles. The ice froze almost instantly to a depth of about 8 inches. There was no hint of a thaw after the freeze took hold. The ice was so clear that it was possible to see the bottom of the lake at surprising depths of water.

The real joy came from skating in any direction until exhaustion or the constant cold caused us to return home. Parents in those days set few ground rules after making sure that the ice was safe. We were confined to an area about one mile from shore and we were not to skate any further than the then city limits of North Bay, Ontario. That created for us a rink one mile by five miles. I can still feel the exhilaration I felt skating at full speed for miles at a time. Although I enjoyed playing hockey and skating with neighbourhood friends, my most vivid memory is getting up at dawn and skating alone great distances as fast as I could. The flawless surface remained for about ten days until a snowstorm in January of 1958 covered the ice. My skating skills improved daily during that period.

As I recall the winter weather of my childhood, there is no doubt in my mind that the temperatures were consistently colder than those of today. I have no scientific or statistical proof for that observation except that I know that it was colder. Although, as I age, moderation in the temperature is quietly welcome, I realize that so called global warming is an observable phenomenon to individuals of my age and stage. The effects of shrouding our planet in clouds of greenhouse gases is causing the earth to warm up with the dire consequences predicted facing our succeeding generations. Of late, I am sickened by the televised images of the horrendous damage done to the Gulf of Mexico and to a river in Michigan all in the name of greed for more oil. The recently televised red toxic sludge oozing towards the Danube River in Hungary is frightening indeed, especially when I consider the direct words spoken by God in Genesis 1:26.

26 ¶ Then God said, "Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth."

God gave us “dominion…over all the earth”. We have not done a very good job with His entrusted stewardship. Hopefully the younger generation can reverse our failures in taking on and achieving this God given responsibility.

(Comments, corrections, suggestions or rebuttals are welcome. My email link is contained in "About me: view my complete profile" to the right of this page or use the comment section below which requires that you have a Google account.)

Precious in His Sight

2010-10-06T14:12:00.003-04:00

In the last twenty-four months, Lozanne and I have mourned the loss of five saints. The last to enter the door to heaven was declared to be, in his obituary, a “man of God, husband, father and gentleman”. As important as the later three characterizations are in a life well lived, they pale in comparison to the significance of the former, a man of God. Some readers may indeed be confused by my use of the word “saint” to describe those friends in Christ who have recently passed away. In the Bible, the word “saint” does not describe those who have been designated such by a church hierarchy. Sainthood is not an earned title to be conferred after exhaustive investigations into your holy life years following your death by church officials. One of my favourite short verses in the Bible is found in Psalm 116:15.

15 Precious in the sight of the LORD Is the death of His saints.

The above verse is taken from the New King James Bible. Who are “His saints”? Different translations of the Bible render those two simple words as “His loving ones” (Amplified Bible), “those who love Him” (The Message), or “His faithful ones” (Holman Christian Standard Bible). John Calvin in his commentary referred to the saints as “the godly”. “The sanctified ones” is how John Gill rendered his take on the meaning of saints. Matthew Poole characterized them as “God’s people”. The one that best fits my definition of saints is “all believers”, which was coined by the great nineteenth century preacher, Charles Spurgeon.

A saint is anyone who has accepted the free gift of redemption so freely and generously offered through His redemptive work on the cross by Jesus Christ, the son of god. A saint is a professed believer in Jesus. A saint is a repentant and confessed sinner who knows he or she is forever forgiven. A saint is one who knows he or she is going to heaven. A saint is one who understands that his or her death is not a moment of regret or sadness, but an event that is actually precious in the sight of the Lord as He welcomes them finally into heaven. If you are a believer, you are destined for sainthood!

I suspect that I would have to look hard and long in the temporal and secular writings of this world to find another example wherein the words “precious” and “death” appear together in the same beautiful concept.

Have Courage

2010-10-04T16:15:00.002-04:00

By noon, the sun had retreated behind the ever greying clouds of a cold winter’s day. The wind had been calm, but as we lit a fire for warmth and our lunchtime tea, the biting wind chill froze our bare hands. It actually hurt to remove a mitt and strike the match. Before the kindling was burning properly, the snow began to fall. The north wind blew the snow sideways and made it hard to open our eyes. The landscape began to fade into whiteout conditions. My fellow Boy Scout and I had been left at daybreak at the end of the road adjacent to the river we were following. We had planned to follow the river a distance of about seven miles in order to spend the night in a known log cabin up-river. Carrying heavy survival packs, we had laboured on snowshoes over difficult terrain and deep snow for the last four hours. The change in the weather caused us to reassess the wisdom of our goal. We very much needed to reach the safety of the cabin before darkness fell and the temperature plummeted even lower. The temperature at our point of departure had been 4 degrees Fahrenheit, which on the Celsius scale in use today is about -15 degrees. There was no doubt in our mind that the temperature was dropping and dropping fast. A night time temperature of -20 Fahrenheit (-30 Celsius) or colder could be expected. The snow swirled around the dugout we had fashioned with a snowshoe in order to get out of the wind and light a fire.

Both of us were fourteen years of age and attempting to pass the tests required in order to become what was referred to as a “First Class Scout”. There were several requirements, but none as gruelling as the return seven mile hike through the wilds with the expectation that the scout spend the night in the bush. It had become apparent to us both that the likelihood of reaching the safety of the abandoned cabin with a fireplace was fading with the worsening weather conditions. We had to make a wise and informed decision. If we were to continue, it was almost certain that we would have to build, in the extreme cold and wind, a lean-to in the snow as well as a wind break in front of our fire in order to survive the night. Neither one of us was carrying a down filled sleeping bag suitable for extremely low temperatures. To continue, succinctly put, was to risk falling asleep and never waking up for the sake of a new badge on the arm of our uniforms. After as careful a discussion as made possible by our tender years and weighing all of the pros and cons, we decided that it would indeed be prudent to return to our point of departure and call for a ride home. We knew that we would have to repeat the journey again at a later date, but we felt that we had made the wise decision. Indeed, snowshoeing through increasingly soft and deepening snow took us even longer on the return trip. We knocked at a farm house door to ask for the use of their phone well after dark. I was wearing knee high moccasins for increased mobility and in order to not damage my snowshoes. I could hardly feel my feet as my father pulled up in his blue 1958 Austin to take us home.

Everyone I spoke to, including my parents, applauded our decision. That is until I went to the next meeting of our scout troop and explained our weekend adventure to our scout master of at least three years. He was a man for whom I had, and indeed have to this very day, the utmost of respect. He shocked me with his immediate assertions that we should have continued on our way despite the weather and survived the night in the bush whichever way we could. I completed the seven mile requirement in the spring, but I never could get past for years the fact that I had not won the approval of a man I respected so deeply. I second guessed that decision made by the fire in the snowstorm for many years, until, that is, I matured to the point that I came to the realization that true courage is not usually found in risking life and limb, but in having the courage to make a decision that is right and then standing by it. My career as an educational administrator afforded me countless opportunities to make difficult decisions knowing that various stakeholders would either approve or not approve. I learned that true courage is standing behind your decisions, actions or indeed your beliefs.

Becoming a born again Christian can be much like making a well informed decision that you know will garner some approval, but probably more disapproval. There will be a cost to be borne as a result of your decision. Friends, neighbours, colleagues and relatives, including parents, may say you have gone too far with “your religion”. Most will likely suggest that some moderation is in order. More likely than not, there will be someone you respect very much who will tell you that you should move in another direction away from such fundamentalist beliefs. When I was fourteen, I made a decision that I am sure to this day probably saved my physical life. At the age of forty-eight, I made a decision to accept Jesus as my Lord and Saviour. That decision, as unpopular as it was, and sometimes continues to be, saved my spiritual life. I don’t regret either decision one little bit. Both were taken with the best information available and backed up by the courage of my convictions. Can Jesus make the imperative “must” any clearer in John 3: 5-7?

5 Jesus answered, "Most assuredly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.

6 "That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.

7 "Do not marvel that I said to you, ‘You must be born again.’

Locked in the Trunk

2010-10-02T13:52:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I took our dog, Marley, to the vet for treatment of a yeast infection in her ear. Needless to say, from her perspective, the appointment did not go well. She was not happy as we drove home. Yet this morning, there she was staring up at me with her usual loyal and undying love. An internet joke that my sister-in-law sent me a few months ago came to mind.

“There is no doubt that your dog is man’s best friend. This premise can be simply proven by trying the following experiment: Place your dog and your wife in the trunk of your car for one hour. When you open the trunk, be careful to observe which one is glad to see you.”

I have no doubt when I opened the trunk that Marley would emerge tail wagging and ready to greet me with great joy. I suspect that the reaction of a loving wife or indeed my own reaction to being locked in the trunk, lest I be accused of sexism, would not be quite the same. It occurs to me today that there is much to be learned from the unfailing, unconditional, ever-loyal and accepting love of our canine friends.

All of us, from time to time, are “locked in the trunk”. I know that I have been in that hopeless darkness several times in recent history. My reaction does not model the example of man’s best friend. Marley is very much aware that, despite her immediate circumstances, in the long term, she is very much dependent on my love and care. Her reaction is the correct one. My reaction has been, like so many of us, one of anger towards my God. He is a forgiving God who can wait until our anger subsides in order that we may learn from the being “locked in the trunk” experience. As the gospel song “The Power of Your Love”, from the album of the same name, prays to our Lord, “renew my mind as Your will unfolds”.

I cannot even begin to appreciate the gift that my saviour has given to me. Despite the reality that I can never measure up to the standards demanded for entry to heaven, and I do mean never, Jesus has provided a way to take my selfish scarlet sins upon Himself and make them as “white as snow”. Through His coming to earth, teachings, actions and sufferings, I have a promise of an eternity in heaven. This thought is perfectly reflected in Isaiah 1:18.

18 "Come now, and let us reason together," Says the LORD, "Though your sins are like scarlet, They shall be as white as snow; Though they are red like crimson, They shall be as wool.

19 If you are willing and obedient, You shall eat the good of the land;

As I emerge from being “locked in the trunk” all I have to do is be “willing and obedient”. Marley can do it. Why can’t I?

A Digital History

2010-09-28T07:13:00.003-04:00

There are times when one wonders, without worrying about proper grammar evidently, “just what I have I gotten myself into"? I can relate to that question these days. I decided several months ago that I would finally get around to a retirement task that I had been moving forward in my todo list for several years. I have purposed in my heart to digitize, collate and file every last photograph, slide, negative and image already on old fashioned floppy disc in our possession. I enthusiastically set up a large table in the downstairs pantry and started collecting all of our photographs taken over forty-two years from all over the house and combined them in very poorly sorted piles of inherited photographs from Lozanne’s and my parents. I had no idea that the pile would be so imposing. I also had no idea that others would rifle through the piles with great interest and make my poor sort even poorer. Undaunted, I purchased a scanner capable of transcribing every photographic media into digital pictures. I spent a whole day devising a comprehensive filing system in which to collect the pictures. A foolproof backup system was also put into place. I quickly discovered that there simply was no way to pre-sort the negatives and the slides. Filing decisions are now necessary as I am scanning random material. No matter what I do to streamline the process, which includes exhaustive editing, the best I can manage is twenty photographs in a two hour work period. I sometimes wonder if the good Lord will allow me the time on this earth to complete this project of projects. I now regard the bulging family photo albums from as far back as the forties with some trepidation.

I started and completed the job of filing the photos on floppy three and a half inch disc. This collection was fairly recent and consisted mostly of our older grandchildren. I am now working on the hundreds of slides taken in the seventies and eighties. The job has become a labour of love. I never quite know who will show up on my scanner preview screen. I am transported back to a time when our now very adult children, most of whom are admittedly middle aged (sorry kids), were infants and young children. It is like I have never seen these photographs before. The job has turned from a formidable task into a great pleasure. There on the screen are special occasions like Christmas, birthdays and baptisms not to mention the Florida and British Columbia road trips taken in the early eighties. I am taken back in time when Lozanne and I were so young, energized and so much enjoying our young family. And yes, I have shed a few private tears in the solitude of my downstairs study.

The one question that has haunted me of late is where have all those years gone? How could time pass so very quickly? I am drawn to one verse in the Bible that best characterizes our human condition when it comes to time. We count our lives in days that quickly turn into years, and then decades. It all slips by so very quickly and then we are whisked into eternity. This timetable is a very human condition. Such is not the case for our caring and all powerful God. Moses phrases this reality so very well in Psalm 90: 4.

4 For a thousand years in Your sight Are like yesterday when it is past, And like a watch in the night.

What a short life we have on this side of eternity. What a long life we have on the other side of the door. Are you certain where you will spend your thousands of years? The very good news is that you can be absolutely certain with belief in Jesus Christ.

Dents in the Floor

2010-09-26T14:55:00.002-04:00

In April of 2006, during the three weeks after my second diagnosis of cancer and prior to life changing surgical intervention, I decided to undertake the task of building an outdoor screen room that is attached to our home. My greatest motivation was to have an outdoor sanctuary free from insects in which to recuperate after my stay in the hospital. I was strangely energized during those weeks and felt very much alive. Besides the construction of the screen room, there were several indoor plumbing repairs that I wanted to make while I was still comparatively healthy and active. In effect, I would actually take a break from the framing of the screen room and go inside to make the repairs.

Shortly before my departure to the hospital, I noticed small dents in the floor in certain rooms and indeed on the way to certain rooms. We have softwood pine floors and it is not difficult to cause damage to the boards. I could not figure out what had caused the dents and even blamed Lozanne for wearing high heels in the house. Much to my chagrin, it finally dawned on me that I had caused the dents myself by not removing my otherwise clean work boots as I moved from outside to inside work. The culprit turned out to be small pebbles lodged in the large tread of my boots. Wherever I stepped, small dents were created. They are not really that noticeable, but I sure see them clearly from time to time. I have even realized that the small pits may even have a positive reason for being. They will show those who remain, when I am gone, that I was indeed here. Should our home, as is my fondest hope, remain in the family, the dents will be a constant reminder of my former presence; albeit, clumsy, non-thinking presence. It also occurs to me that a life even well lived leaves behind few, if any, clues that we were ever here on this earth. In Psalm 90: 5-6 this concept is made all too clear.

5 You carry them away like a flood; They are like a sleep. In the morning they are like grass which grows up:

6 In the morning it flourishes and grows up; In the evening it is cut down and withers.

Elsewhere in the Bible our lives are characterized as a “vapour” (James 4:14) and as a “sigh” (Psalm 90:9). Verse 10 of Psalm 90 really sums up how short and fleeting our lives are:

10 The days of our lives are seventy years; And if by reason of strength they are eighty years, Yet their boast is only labor and sorrow; For it is soon cut off, and we fly away.

If I was to stop writing at this point, suffice it to say that my blog today is very depressing. The very good news is that this “boast of labor and sorrow” is not the end. It is just the very beginning of eternity. For those who believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, these years are just the first breath of forever in paradise with the Father and the Son. For those of us who have accepted the saviour’s free gift, there is a great deal of hope in that thought.

Now I have another way to characterize our short life on this earth. We are but dents in the floor.

As the Deer Pants for Water

2010-09-24T13:23:00.003-04:00

When I was eighteen, I dropped out of school. I was not doing particularly well during my last year in secondary school, due mostly to a poor choice of courses and a less than industrious attitude. I felt I could not take another day of school and determined that I would leave and never return. I walked away from the building in March of 1966. I well remember my father having little to say about my choice other than a quietly understated admonition that was closer to an ultimatum that I should find a job within three weeks. After two weeks of doing little about finding employment, I took the night train and joined my cousin working at the Spruce Falls Power and Paper mill in Kapuskasing, Ontario. Upon my arrival in town, I applied for employment at the mill and found myself working for very good money as a millwright helper within two days.

The most valuable part of my formal and informal education, I have realized, was the five months I spent in the paper mill. With each passing day, school began to look better and better. Indeed, I was back in secondary school the following September with a much more mature attitude in evidence. There is insufficient space here to describe how I was unprepared for the real working world, particularly in a northern paper mill. One of the duties given to me might shed some light on this reality.

During maintenance shutdowns, the huge dryer drums upon which the finished paper rolled off the line were removed from the paper machine. A small hatch was unbolted and removed and, as the apprentice, I was given the unenviable job of crawling inside a very hot drum about eight feet in diameter and thirty feet in length. The temperature inside was probably about 130 degrees Fahrenheit, although it actually felt hotter, much like my sauna when it is heated up and ready to use. I never knew that the human body could shed so much water in the form of perspiration in such a short period of time. The loss of bodily fluids was so extreme that we were asked to ingest salt pills in order to keep from fainting, a practice that I suspect is no longer acceptable in terms of health and safety measures. Anyone with even mild claustrophobia could not remain in those close quarters to complete the maintenance required. I am not normally claustrophobic, but that escape hatch did look awfully small as I moved further into the drum. Suffice it to say that after two successive shutdown events, I started to plan my return to academia.

The thing that I remember most about the experience is the degree of thirst I felt while working in the drum for short periods of time in order to survive the heat. I could not stop thinking about water while I worked so slowly in the heat and I could not drink enough each time I climbed out of the drum. My vivid memory of that all consuming thirst has reminded me of another overwhelming thirst and longing that is described in Psalm 42: 1-2. This longing increases for me with each passing day. The language in this psalm is beautiful poetry.

1 ¶ To the Chief Musician. A Contemplation of the sons of Korah.

As the deer pants for the water brooks, So pants my soul for You, O God.

2 My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God?

I can identify so well with the thirst felt by the parched hart. He longs for the cool refreshing water of the brook. Jesus spoke of “the living water” in John 7:38. He said “…if any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink”. (John 7:37) I continue to feel that intense thirst for the Lord and I long to finally have the opportunity to stand before Him. Do you have that kind of thirst today?

The Lost is Found

2010-09-22T11:23:00.002-04:00

All of my summer earning as a teenager came from either teaching swimming or life guarding at various beaches. The summer before I left for university, despite my best efforts to secure a better paying job, was no exception. I was working two beaches that year. We always worked alone no matter what the weather and the size of the crowd at the park. When I consider the working conditions then, I am sure that they could not and would not be replicated today. We worked hundreds of feet of rocky and sandy shoreline, with one deep area at either park. Our equipment was very minimal, the most useful being a telephone with which to call for help. A weekend crowd on a hot day could consist of hundreds of swimmers, the majority of whom were children. There was one sign at the entrance that outlined the few obvious rules for use of the park, most of which did not concern water safety, but the use of the change rooms and washrooms.

Most days as a lifeguard were very long and uneventful. The job could be very boring. On cool days, reading at a picnic table in a deserted park was your only option to stay awake. The job involved a lot of walking and extreme sun exposure before the days of sunscreen. I remember so well one very hot Saturday afternoon in July of 1967. There were at least two hundred adults and children in the water. As usual, I patrolled the shoreline barefoot from shallow to deep water always watching the water and correcting any obviously dangerous behaviour observed. A woman in her thirties approached me in a very agitated state. She could not find her six year old son. She had been looking for him for several minutes and was now in a state close to panic. I asked her where she had last seen him and whether or not he had been playing with other kids. She could only point to the shallow water and shake her head signifying that he had been alone. I was not comforted much by the fact that this boy was last seen in the shallow water. A young child can succumb quickly to drowning in a foot or less of water.

It is miraculous in a way how the human condition can move from bored and day dreaming to extremely alert and thinking clearly. The page of the Royal Life Saving Manual virtually appeared before my eyes and I knew what had to be done. I called the police for their assistance with the crowd and the possible need for other emergency services. With a whistle and a megaphone, I aggressively asked that all swimmers get out of the water, which they did very obediently. I then asked for teenage or adult volunteers to hold hands in a sweep line from the shallows to the chest deep water and search every foot of the water for several hundred yards along the shore. The line of volunteers was about a hundred feet long. My worst fear then became that they would indeed find an unconscious or even lifeless six year old boy in the water. Instead, as they pressed further and further down the beach right out of the park and in front of private residences, a young boy approached those in the shallow end and asked what they were doing holding hands. We had found the lost boy and indeed he wasn’t drowned, but just wandering where he did not belong.

What I remember most about that day, was the reaction of the mother as she saw her son being escorted to the beach by an adult volunteer searcher. Her face literally lit up as she saw him coming at a distance. She began to shake and cry uncontrollably. When he arrived nearer the shore, she ran towards him and nearly suffocated him with her embrace, weeping all the while. Her relief and joy at seeing him alive and well were quite simply overwhelming. I am not sure what happened at home, but not once did she scold him in the least for wandering off and causing a major event for all at the beach. Her only reaction at this point was all-consuming joy. My memory of her response to the return of her son, reminds me very much of the return of the prodigal son in Luke 15. In verse 20 we see the same picture of God’s everlasting love for the return of confessed and repentant sinners. He is so anxious to run and welcome the sinner into the Kingdom, God doesn’t even wait to hear the confession that He knows is forthcoming.

20 "And he arose and came to his father. But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him.

Later in the parable we read the very familiar words:

24 ‘for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ And they began to be merry.

God is awaiting our return to the fold with great anticipation. His joy knows no bounds when we finally do arrive.

Call Unto Me

2010-09-20T09:01:00.003-04:00

This summer I was taken aback by the words of a young man who certainly appeared to be what we would refer to as “the common man”. He was a well behaved protester at the G8 Summit in Toronto being interviewed by CBC news. His wisdom simply startled me. He voiced so eloquently what I have been feeling in the last year or so in words that made so much sense. He looked straight into the camera and said:

“What we have now in the global economy is socialism for the rich and capitalism for the poor.”

The huge corporate bailouts which governments have paid out to the banks in the United States and General Motors and Chrysler in the United States and Canada are being financed by the tax payer. I wondered at the time how such greed and incompetence could be rewarded by the seemingly hypnotized establishment. It is becoming evident that the banks and the car companies are flourishing, although the auto makers continue to lay off workers, but the economy continues to be weak in the United States and now in Canada it is slowing down. Unemployment continues to rise and who is doing the suffering…the little guy, the common man, not to even mention the poor in the developing nations of this world. The words spoken by this protester on the lawn of Queen’s Park are indeed true. The two national governments, in the guise of helping the common good, have employed socialism to subsidize the wealthy, but they are continuing to assure the common man that the market controls unemployment and their suffering. Despite the incentives and increased unemployment benefits offered to stimulate the economy, the lion’s share of the money went to the richest of the rich who surprise, surprise, continue to grow richer. We the taxpayer are faced with a growing debt, rising taxes, sometimes buried in things like Harmonized Sales Tax and now the spectre of privatized medicine.

It is so very evident to me that the secularization of North America can explain so much of what befalls us. As we in North America consciously move away for God and God’s Word, the clouds just continue to become blacker. Instead of helping the poor, we offer them capitalism as their way out and shower the wealthy with more and more of our hard earned tax dollars.

The actual words of God found in Jeremiah 33:3 make the error of secularization perfectly clear.

3 ‘Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know.’

The Message renders the last clause as “wondrous things that you could never figure out on your own”.

All we have to do is have the faith to “Call unto” Him and he will answer us. Few of us are calling these days and you can see the results everywhere you look.

Jesus Wept

2010-09-17T14:05:00.002-04:00

Recently, I have been reminded of the shortest verse in the Bible. Lozanne's studies have taken her in the direction of these two words. This simplest of sentences tells us so much about Jesus and prove that indeed he was human as well as divine. In John 11: 35 we read:

35 Jesus wept.

This verse has special significance to me. From the fall of 1960 until the summer of 2006, I could not and did not cry any tears. Even at the funerals of my parents, as upset as I was, the best I could do was to get a little choked up, but no tears appeared in my eyes. I can remember vividly the last time I cried as a boy. I had just returned from an overnight camping expedition and faced the prospect of a Sunday night of studying for an important seventh grade science test the next day. I was so overtired that I sat in front of my notebook and wept. My parents simply sent me to bed with the promise they would wake me up early to study in the morning. Through no one's fault, our generation was raised with the clear implication that males, as they matured, were not to cry. Some of us became very adept at shutting out the emotions that may indeed cause weeping, both in public and in private. Why such a culture should have existed, I have no idea as I look back. What I have since discovered is that a vital emotional outlet was denied us.

My lack of tears ended during my thirty-four day hospital stay in May and June of 2006. On a couple of instances, while I was desperately ill, I noticed, along with feelings of submission to the Lord, a few tears in my eyes that had to be wiped away. I am not sure if others noticed. The deluge came the day that my surgeon suggested that I take a day pass and go home for the afternoon. I must admit that his strategy of allowing me to go home for brief periods of time and returning to the hospital in the evening was one of the most healing strategies that he employed. On at least five occasions as I began to become stronger, I was removed temporarily from intravenous machines, their connecting tubes and other apparatus taped to my body strategically under my clothes, and sent home with Lozanne to spend time in our screen room by the lake. The agreement was that I would return very early in the evening to be reconnected and medicated for another night in the hospital. I can't describe the joy I felt when the doctor made the suggestions of the day pass. Cane in hand for stability, I made my way slowly to the car with Lozanne. As I entered our car, she started the engine and the sound system started up without warning playing a country gospel song. The lyrics started with the words, "My Jesus". I began to weep uncontrollably and inconsolably for about ten minutes. I could not get my breath and cried like an injured three year old. At first, I was horribly embarrassed and apologized for my untoward behaviour. As I calmed down and the tears subsided, I realized how much better I felt for the cry. I have been crying at the drop of hat ever since. I cry over movies, my children and grandchildren, when I give speeches about my wife, over the dog and sometimes in chapel during the Lord's Supper. Suffice it to say that I now cry easily and indeed I must admit that I continue to be embarrassed by it, but at the same time it feels so good.

I am heartened by the fact that Jesus, who was God on earth, was able to and did weep. In this instance in the Book of John, He has shown up purposely four days after the death of Lazarus. He knew Lazarus was already dead and He knew that He would raise him from the grave. His weeping was quite simply caused by his great sympathy for the profound grief felt by those around the grave site. He could empathize with their distress and actually feel their grief. Jesus is described as weeping three times in the New Testament. If Jesus can weep, so can I.

Walk With God

2010-09-15T14:12:00.003-04:00

I have heard my brother-in-law, who is a very convincing preacher, exclaim from the pulpit, “You aren’t getting out of here alive”. He is not referring to leaving the chapel after the sermon to have lunch. With the exception of the return of Jesus to escort the redeemed to heaven, he is correct. It would appear that there is only one way out of this life. Since the believer is assured heaven on the other side of the door, there is little to fear except the manner of death, which may be difficult or indeed may be quick and painless. I am intrigued; however, by the accounts in the Bible which describe the ascension to heaven by two individuals who do not suffer through the process of death. Elijah, a very aggressive and faithful prophet who fought against idol worship at great peril to himself, was taken to heaven by a whirlwind. I can only theorize after the reading of the story that Elijah was transported directly to heaven as a reward for remarkable service to God. There was no doubt that his faith and his demonstration of it was a minute to minute example for the rest of us. We read in 2Kings 2:11

11 Then it happened, as they continued on and talked, that suddenly a chariot of fire appeared with horses of fire, and separated the two of them; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven.

The second example is the one of Enoch. Enoch was the seventh generation descendent of Adam. Little is told to us about him except that, after his son Methuselah was born, he walked with God for three hundred years. Then in Genesis 5:24 we read the very sparse and concise statement, the significance of which, is easily lost in a quick reading.

24 Enoch walked with God; and he was not, for God took him.

Just what does it mean to “walk with God”? To me it suggests a relationship that goes very much beyond the attendance of church on Sunday. The Amplified Bible translates it as “habitual fellowship”. That would involve, I am sure, allowing God into virtually every facet of your life. It would mean the continual talking and listening to God through prayer. It would mean the keeping of short accounts with the Lord in respect to committed and confessed sin. In the New Testament times it would include, no doubt, keeping the Word of God ever before you. It would also mean obeying Jesus and living as the Son of God set out for us while he was on this earth.

I am greatly humbled by this short account of Enoch. As hard as I try, I have difficulty walking with God for a whole day. I get up the next morning and try again. I suspect that my experience is that of the vast majority. We try and we fail and then we try some more. Enoch walked with God one hundred and nine thousand and five hundred (109, 500) days, not taking into account leap years. He walked with God never slipping for three hundred years! This is a man who I admire. The good news is that I will still get to meet Enoch in heaven. It is likely, unless Jesus returns to this world, that I will get there through the conventional route, but I am assured by the Son of God that I will indeed make it there despite my less than perfect record.

Draw Me Nearer

2010-09-13T06:16:00.003-04:00

This morning Marley and I ventured along the farm road that is adjacent to our property. We walked back into the forest. It is a walk that I avoid during the warm summer months. The likelihood of meeting a black bear foraging for raspberries is a factor that keeps us out of our favourite walking trail until the cooler weather is upon us. I enjoyed a glorious fall walk with my faithful walking stick and my loyal canine companion sniffing out the scent of wildlife as she ran alternatively ahead of and behind me. I purchased a stout walking stick the day I decided to retire. I use it daily summer and winter. While walking on a smooth surface, it simply balances in my right hand. On rough or slippery terrain it provides greatly increased stability and balance. A walking stick is invaluable for breaking cob webs in front of you on early morning summer walks near trees and shrubs. It also affords at least the psychological promise of protection. Where we walk, even on our own property, bear encounters are common and in the past I have had to deal with an aggressive dog as well. I am not sure about the wisdom of using a walking stick on an attacking black bear, but this well worn instrument gives a modicum of comfort. It is the height of my shoulder and a little more than an inch in diameter. It also makes an excellent leaning post when I stop for a rest. Marley understands its use in pointing out directions along our journey. In short, I have become uncomfortable walking anywhere but on the driveway without my walking stick.

This dependence has made me much more attentive to the use of walking sticks in the Bible. The mention of rods, staffs and crooks is very common in scripture. When Moses is charged with the responsibility of leading the Israelites out of Egypt, God actually makes use of the staff that is in the hand of Moses as he speaks to him. In verse Exodus 4:20 that walking stick becomes “the rod of God” which Moses uses to punish Pharaoh over and over until he is ordered to leave Egypt with the Hebrew nation. Moses also uses this staff to smite the rock to find water in Exodus 17:6 and he held it aloft in order to fight Amalek in Exodus 17:9. When he held it up, his troops prevailed. When his arm tired and he let it down, the troops of Amalek prevailed. This walking stick became an instrument of God.

Lately, I have been meditating on the very familiar words found in Psalm 23: 4

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

I read the words “rod” and “staff” as one instrument; namely, a heavy walking stick probably with a shepherd’s crook at the end. I have always understood that comfort for His “sheep” comes from the protection afforded by the staff of the Lord. I am not to even fear the threat of death. I will fear no evil because the Lord is there to look after me. It has also dawned on me of late that the reference to “rod”, which is also an instrument of punishment in the Bible, may suggest that I may need to be disciplined from time to time, and indeed I do. The crook on the end of the staff signifies my need to be redirected from time to time, and indeed I do need that as well. I am recently heartened by the realization that a staff with a crooked end is used primarily to pull the sheep towards and closer to the shepherd. The strange thing is my realization later in life that such discipline and redirecting is a comfort, particularly when I know that the direction of redirection is always closer to Him. Indeed, the attention paid to my welfare and direction in life by a loving and disciplining God is forever a comfort that leads to heaven.

Fear and Trembling

2010-09-11T06:33:00.003-04:00

There she stood in obvious anticipation with that trusting stare. She was clipped, brushed and her pendulous ears meticulously cleaned and groomed. After her very thorough shower, she smelled of cheap shampoo. Marley, our seven year old English Springer Spaniel, was now ready for her annual visit to the vet. This is a yearly event I have come to dread. I approach it with much prayer, before, during and after the experience. Marley is inexplicably stressed by a visit to the vet even when she is perfectly healthy and only due for a couple of vaccination boosters that she doesn't even feel when they are administered. Regular readers may remember a blog about this annual event last year (Count It All Joy, August 18, 2009). It truly is a memorable day for Lozanne and I each year.

After lunch, leash in hand, ready for certain later use, and collar securely fastened, I ushered her into the back seat of the car. This year she was immediately suspicious. I have no idea how, but she sensed her destination. She began to shake...just a little, but shaking nevertheless. As I made the turn onto the highway that leads to her veterinarian of four years, a cowering Marley with begging eyes greeted me in the rear view mirror. The trembling increased with each passing kilometer.

Upon arrival in the parking lot, I had to block her escape through the open car door as I secured her leash in order to literally drag her into the clinic waiting room. Thankfully, this year there were no other dogs in the waiting room. Last year it was quite evident that her stressed behavior influenced the less than perfect deportment of other dogs who were blissfully unaware that they were in harms way, until Marley somehow communicated clearly with her demeanor of sheer terror that there was something sinister about this place and this afternoon. The whining, the begging to leave, the pulling toward the door, the standing up to look me in the eyes, the shaking, the trembling, the look of abject fear was enough to convey her clear message to all around her. This year there was no audience to influence. As usual, the actual visit with the vet with me holding her with much difficulty on the examination table was quite uneventful and painless for Marley. Unfortunately the vet and I didn't enjoy the visit nearly so much. I was brushing dog hair off my sweaty brow and clothes an hour after the visit. As I left the office, exhausted, I thought about her fear and trembling and indeed those very words came to me as a quote from the apostle Paul in Philippians 2: 10-12.

10 that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those in heaven, and of those on earth, and of those under the earth,

11 and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

12 ¶ Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling;

Paul is speaking to the members of the church at Philippi. In this epistle, he is attempting to correct some of the bad habits that had sprung up in his absence. Apparently divisiveness and squabbling were diverting the Philippians from an effective walk with Jesus. Verses 10 and 11 present a beautiful and effective picture of the lordship of Jesus. Eventually all will bow to His kingship either voluntarily or otherwise. All will bow and confess that Jesus is Lord. Some scholars have argued that the salvation mentioned in verse 12 actually refers to the Philippians successfully dealing with their difficulties. Other scholars insist that Paul is indeed referring to their redemption through the finished work of Jesus on the cross. My interpretation, particularly based on the translation presented in the Amplified Bible, is that in verse 12, Paul is referring to our redemptive salvation. He is suggesting that those who have accepted Jesus as their Lord and Saviour and are, as a result, saved from their sin, should continue every moment they are alive on this earth to “cultivate” or “fully complete” their salvation. They should do this with fear and trembling that actually reflects “awe, reverence, watchfulness, caution and timidity for anything that might offend God”. We know with certainty that we can’t work our way to heaven, but we can indeed further our initial acceptance of the free gift of salvation by continuing daily as best we can toward the goal.

What Has Been

2010-09-09T11:43:00.002-04:00

During my first year of teaching in 1969, I learned an important lesson in democracy. Unwanted jobs can often be apportioned to the most unsuspecting and vulnerable in the name of the will of the majority. As I sat in my first staff meeting ever, it was moved, seconded and resolved, before I could even think of objecting or declining, that I would serve on the Economic Policy Committee representing the two teaching unions in negotiations with the board of education. I observed at the table at my first meeting of the E.P.C. that it was not uncommon to combine several very experienced negotiators with a number of representatives with 2 weeks experience. Consensus was usually reached in a very short period of time that way. I attended monthly and sometimes bi-weekly meetings that year in the old Central Public School that was to be torn down in the summer of 1970. I never did observe negotiations with the board in progress that year. My memory of that old building is mostly confined to the basement which consisted of painted and unpainted brick and cement blocks as well as poured concrete.

I was amazed to discover this summer that some of the brick that surrounded me as I tried to concentrate during those evening meetings has a new home. That new home is in our home. The former owner of our house visited us this summer and in response to my question as to the source of the antique brick in our kitchen hearth, I was surprised to learn that they had been purchased at the demolition site of Central Public School and then stored for years until they were used. As I approach the kitchen stove, oven or microwave, I can’t help but think of those meetings in 1969 and 1970. I am also intrigued by a tar print of the treads of a work boot that remains on one of the bricks. I can’t help but wonder the age and stage of the man or woman who left his or her footprint in time 40 years or perhaps much more ago.

The revelation revealed by the builder of our house has also caused me to consider the relevance of the words of Solomon in Ecclesiastes 1: 9-11.

9 ¶ That which has been is what will be, That which is done is what will be done, And there is nothing new under the sun.

10 Is there anything of which it may be said, "See, this is new"? It has already been in ancient times before us.

11 There is no remembrance of former things, Nor will there be any remembrance of things that are to come By those who will come after.

Solomon’s disillusionment is somewhat sobering unless you read Ecclesiastes to the last chapter. Even in our home, we have a classic example of how building materials can go in a circle to be reused again. They indeed are not new and have been before. It is though they bonded with me and followed me to this house that I would eventually purchase. Even more disturbing is the revelation that the remembrance of what was is very limited. Except for my recording of some of this information in my writings, I suspect that the legacy of the bricks in our kitchen hearth will be lost forever with my aging memory. The remembrance of the person who left the boot print is already a vapour I suspect. Generations come and generations go. We are remembered for a very short period of time simply because those who knew and loved us pass away with our memory and we are soon forgotten.

In Ecclesiastes 1: 4 we are reminded that although generations come and go, the earth remains forever. I like to take this one step further. God remains forever. Jesus Christ remains forever. Believers in Jesus get to live forever in Heaven. When I consider the magnitude of His free gift, I am no longer concerned with how long I will be remembered on this earth.

Wait on the LORD

2010-09-07T10:52:00.001-04:00

During the summer of 1958, I spent twenty-one days waiting. Three long weeks of hopeful expectation day after day were spent awaiting the delivery of an archery set from the then popular Eaton’s catalogue. My mother had made the telephone order and told me that it was unlikely the much awaited bow and arrow set would arrive from the Toronto distribution centre that week. I still watched for the delivery truck each day, just in case. There were so many deliveries by Eaton’s in those days that I could observe the Eaton’s truck coming down our long street at the about the same time daily. Each and every day for that three week period I trusted that the truck would indeed pull into our driveway. My faith was renewed each night and I just knew the driver would make the delivery the next day. There was no notice or any forthcoming information from Eaton’s as to why the delivery was delayed. The reason for that is that they probably didn’t know it was delayed. I was the only party who held that opinion. As a child, I remember learning patience on a regular basis. Instant gratification was not a part of my generation’s childhood experience. We learned to wait and hope and then the next day to wait and to hope once again.

Come with me to the summer of 2010. We ordered for Lozanne an Apple iPad directly from the Apple Store Website. It was unavailable in local stores. We were informed clearly at the time of ordering that there would be a ten day wait before shipping probably because the computer had not been built yet. On the tenth day, I received an email informing me that the iPad had been shipped. I was given a tracking website address with the promise that we could follow the progress of the shipment. As a matter of interest, I followed the breathtaking progress of that package from the surprise, to me at least, manufacturing site of Shenzhen, China to Hong Kong, to Memphis, Tennessee, to Toronto and finally to North Bay, Ontario in four days less a few hours. The irony was that it then took three days to move the order the last few hundred kilometres up the highway. All the while, however, I was informed where the package was for the Friday, and the weekend. I knew it would arrive on the Monday. The whole process reminded me of how the wait for expected orders had changed since 1958. There was no wondering and little expectation of gratification daily because I was aware exactly of the location of the prized package. There was no looking for the truck. There was no reacting to the noise of a vehicle in the driveway. The excitement of expectation had been removed from the wait!

The phrase “wait on the LORD” appears three times in the Psalms and twice in the Book of Isaiah. The meaning in each instance is virtually the same. As I was contemplating the differences in waiting between the experiences as described above, I could not help but realize that waiting on the LORD is much more like my 1958 experience than the summer of 2010. In Psalm 27: 14 we read the following encouraging words.

14 Wait on the LORD; Be of good courage, And He shall strengthen your heart; Wait, I say, on the LORD!

Waiting for the LORD involves the same skill set and emotions of my boyhood waiting. In faith, we are to hope for the LORD daily. We are to look for the LORD daily. We are to expect the LORD daily. Finally we are to trust in the LORD daily. Those of us who have had the opportunity to enjoy this hopeful expectation and to have our wait rewarded by joyful communion or answered prayer have no desire for any changes to this ancient and God designed process.

Of the Ending

2010-09-05T15:43:00.003-04:00

On a recent summer afternoon my ten year old grandson Liam was using my desktop computer. Since Liam is autistic, I always make sure to look over his shoulder to see what he is up to on my computer. I have no fear that he will go where he should not on the internet, but rather I am always entertained both by his amazing computer skills and curious about just what he is creating. There is also the minor concern of having a forty page document printed in living colour at any given moment. He has no concept of the word “frugal”. On this day I came downstairs in time to see a one page document of three cartoon characters coming out of the printer. I did not recognize the modern day characters, so I asked him to name them. As he did so, I read the title that he had typed in bold letters at the bottom of the sheet. I was frankly very surprised to read the following words:

“All the world of the ending June 2011.”

It took me a moment to realize that he has become aware of the so much discussed “end of the world” theory that suggests that the earth is doomed on Dec. 21, 2012. As I so often do before or during my writing, I did some research and discovered, to my amazement, no less than twenty-nine theories that claim the world will be consumed by an apocalyptic event on Dec. 21, 2012. These vary from the predictions of Roman oracles, the Mayan calendar, the writings of Nostradamus, ancient Egyptian prophecy and even predictions supposedly based on the Book of Revelation in the Bible. I was dumbfounded. It is no wonder that it is easy to overhear young people discussing what a recent movie portrayed may come true. I have even heard reports of otherwise responsible adults who are actually running up excessive debts that they are sure they won’t have to repay after the Winter Solstice of 2012.

My research trip to “end of the world” websites left me exhausted and dizzied by the nonsense I read. The Bible makes it crystal clear what comes next in God’s plan. We are also clearly informed that we cannot and will not know when that event will happen. For the record, references to the end of the earth and the skies above it as we know them are mentioned in Matthew 24: 35, 2Peter 3: 10 -13 and Revelation 20:11. There is absolutely no indication in these verses as to when this dissolution will happen. I share the opinion of most scholars that the dissolution of the heavens and earth will come long after Jesus comes to reign on earth. We find the words that inform us what is to happen next in Matthew 24: 36-42.

36 "But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, but My Father only.

37 "But as the days of Noah were, so also will the coming of the Son of Man be.

38 "For as in the days before the flood, they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day that Noah entered the ark,

39 "and did not know until the flood came and took them all away, so also will the coming of the Son of Man be.

40 "Then two men will be in the field: one will be taken and the other left.

41 "Two women will be grinding at the mill: one will be taken and the other left.

42 "Watch therefore, for you do not know what hour your Lord is coming.

Jesus is referring not to the cataclysmic end of the earth, but to his return to earth in order to take His church (those who believe), both living and dead to Heaven. This is often referred to as The Rapture or The Second Coming. The horrendous descriptions of apocalyptic events in The Book of Revelation take place in the seven years following the return of Jesus. This is referred to as The Tribulation which is indeed not the "end of the world".

I thank God for the grounding that His holy Word provides. As I hold up the nonsense of “end of the world” thinking against the stable template that is the Bible, I can clearly discern the truth. We should indeed prepare for the return of our Lord and Saviour and we can never know when that much awaited event is going to be. The rest of the man made misinformation and hysteria we can ignore, as I am sure that is exactly what my grandson, in his quiet, isolated and non-communicated wisdom, is doing.

All Things Work

2010-09-03T13:18:00.002-04:00

I read with interest a few weeks ago a newspaper article outlining the plans for a local high school reunion that would span a weekend. Indeed, a very full weekend of catching up with old friends was anticipated. Tours, a dinner and socials were about to unfold for alumni arriving from around the world. What really caught my eye was the enthusiasm expressed in a couple of quotations from local graduates and organizers. One of them told the reporter, “I loved high school, the hockey and the football days, the tightness of a small school and the camaraderie”. Another went so far as to say, “If I could go back, I would do it all over again. I loved high school.”

I cannot personally relate to those sentiments. I know many who would absolutely agree with me. The very thought of having to return to my secondary school and enter those doors as a student is enough to make me shudder. When I look back I wonder how I ever made it though the experience. Indeed I did drop out one year to work in a paper mill and had to return for an additional year, teeth clenched and determination etched on my face, to complete my senior matriculation so that I could attend university. The moment I entered university, I realized that learning was something to be enjoyed. I found creative thinking was prized and pursued the opportunity to learn and succeed with enthusiasm. In the pursuit of three degrees and other qualifications my marks improved with each passing year.

Indeed, I left secondary school with less than impressive grades. I have vivid memories of the fall convocation I attended after I had attended university for several weeks. It was such a relief to be assured that when I exited from that gymnasium, I would never return. I had studied Latin for four gruelling years from a man, who, despite his good intentions and competent approach, was prone to racial slurs and inappropriate exhortations, examples of which I have wisely decided to omit from my discourse this morning due to their objectionable and offensive nature. Within the confines of the sixties, his comments were not at all that unusual or perceived as offensive. The world has indeed changed for the positive in at least some areas. In the end, I achieved the stellar grade of fifty-one percent in my provincial examination for Latin Authors. I must admit that I memorized, with great difficulty (I am not now, nor was I ever very good at memory work), pages of English translation of Latin and simply wrote them down after trying to identify the first line of the selection. In short, I translated very little. The shocking event of my convocation evening was the earnest congratulations of my Latin teacher. When he commented on my fifty- one percent, I was surprised to hear him kindly say, “Fifty-one percent is all you need to get out of here”. Indeed, how correct and perceptive he was. I have never forgotten his congratulatory words. I must concede today that the study of Latin has shaped and defined my English reading and writing skills.

I have also realized in recent years the truth of the words of Paul in Romans 8:28.

28 And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.

We are not shaped by destiny, fate or even luck. We are conformed to the image we will become from the beginning by the hand of God. When we are going through difficult times, we may find it hard to recognize that indeed all circumstances are part of God’s specific plan for us. He is at work in us long before we have the wisdom to accept His free gift of redemption or in Paul’s wording we “are called according to His purpose”. All things, including a young person’s distaste for high school, work together in the shaping of an individual and I thank God daily for that reassurance.

The Church

2010-09-01T10:01:00.004-04:00

I enjoy very much the historical column in our local Saturday paper which is entitled "Time Capsule". The column written in late July caught my rapt attention as I opened the paper. It was not the text, although that was interesting, that seized my attention. It was the large photograph of the Eglise St. Antoine prior to its destruction by fire in 1936. Inset is the smaller photo of Father Theriault, who is a well known historical figure in the City of Timmins. To the right of the church, which was rebuilt immediately, was the object of my immediate interest. Obviously the parish rectory survived the fire that destroyed the large landmark that, as a matter of interest, was built by Lozanne's paternal grandfather. The large Victorian style manse evoked my sincere interest because Lozanne and I spent a couple of difficult hours in that house, which was torn down many years ago, preparing for our upcoming marriage. I remember a warm July evening in 1968. Father Morin, a very kindly man, had a tough job to do that night.

When Lozanne and I became engaged a few cultural, language and religious barriers were crossed. Our situation was not unheard of in those days, but it was unique. To the horror of our parents and the religious institutions of the day, protestant and catholic alike, an English Protestant groom and a French Roman Catholic bride were applying to be married, and I do mean applying. We could not be married in the Roman Catholic Church without the express permission of the bishop who was sequestered in a distant community. Father Anicet Morin, the incumbent vicar in 1968, was to interview us and make a recommendation to the bishop who had the final say in allowing us to marry…or not. Since a marriage in any other church or venue was unthinkable to Lozanne's family, we were under considerable pressure to perform. A long interview progressed through the evening. I have forgotten most of the questions with the exception that we were asked whether we intended to have children. Would those children be raised as Roman Catholics? I was not asked to convert, but further assurances regarding the religious raising of our as yet unborn children were sought in an interview with me alone. After several difficult hours, we were informed that a letter of recommendation would be mailed to the bishop for his consideration.

Obviously, the bishop consented to what was then referred to as a "mixed marriage"...a marriage that has happily lasted 42 years so far. Indeed, I kept my promise to raise the children in the Roman Catholic Church. Ironically, not one of them attends the Roman Catholic Church today. I want it remembered for posterity that I did indeed keep my promise and even participated actively in their religious training.

Most of us go through life regarding buildings or institutions as churches. I was in this category until I was forty-eight years of age. Today, as I remember so vividly the church building we were married in, the words of Colossians 1:18 are ringing in my ears.

18 And He is the head of the body, the church, who is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in all things He may have the preeminence.

The church is not a place. It is not a rich and powerful institution. It certainly is not a building, nor is it a hierarchy of well educated men or women. The body of Christ is a very simple concept. Believers in Jesus and His redemptive powers are the church. Jesus is head of the church. Indeed, in all things He is to have the outstanding superiority. Speakers in the pulpit at our local chapel are greeted by an expansive large lettered message that stretches across most of the back wall of the auditorium. The words "that in all things He may have preeminence" are a very valued reminder of the standing of Jesus in a building that is not a church.

Summer Vacation

2010-06-03T06:10:00.002-04:00

I have decided to take a summer vacation. I will, Lord willing, return with my two day writing cycle in September. I look forward to some physical work, recreation, relaxation and more study and prayer time in the next few months. Hopefully, with God’s help, I will return refreshed and ready to write. Have a great and blessed summer.

1 ¶ To the Chief Musician. To the tune of "Death of the Son." A Psalm of David.

I will praise You, O LORD, with my whole heart; I will tell of all Your marvelous works.

2 I will be glad and rejoice in You; I will sing praise to Your name, O Most High. (Psalm 9: 1-2)

The Royal Law

2010-05-29T07:18:00.002-04:00

When I attended North Bay Teachers College in 1968 and 1969, Lozanne and I lived in a small one bedroom apartment on Hammond Street. The zoning of that neighbourhood could only be described as industrial. Our home was over the office and warehouse of an electrical contractor. The upstairs hallway had outside doors at both ends and was indeed a perfect fly through for many bats. Getting to our apartment at night during warm weather was always interesting. The owner of the business and the building was truly a likable character. He had several favourite sayings. When he light heartedly wanted to issue a modern day curse, he would quip, “May all of your children need braces”. After paying for orthodontic treatment for three of our four children, I truly do understand the gravity of his pronouncement. When we had been disturbed all night by a group of his young apprentices installing a new engine in an old Dodge, his response to my query and complaint was to apologize for them, but to also explain that the car would never be fixed unless they figured out how to do the job themselves. This was followed by another of his favourite sayings, “Necessity is the mother of invention”. I have also experienced first hand many times what a truism that cliché constitutes. Fern is memorable to us for another reason. He was a very perceptive and kind man.

As the academic year came to a close, we had just about run out of money. The “loan” from my parents and the student loans that we would pay off for years had proven to be just enough to finish the school year…almost to the day. Our difficulty was that there was still a four month period before I was to start my teaching career. I had been exempted from examinations by several very kind teaching masters so that I could indeed find a job in order to support our growing family. Our eldest daughter was born in March of that spring. The problem was that there were not a lot of summer jobs to be found that would support a small family. As I paid our rent with our last ninety dollars, Fern engaged me in a conversation about our future. Before the conversation was over, he had decided that indeed he needed a tradesman’s helper for the summer and offered me the job on the spot without an application or resume being presented. He wondered, because his need for help was so great, if I could start tomorrow. I have never forgotten his kindness and indeed I did work for him until just before we moved to start our new life. Fern was demonstrating what Christians should be living every day of their lives. In the Book of James, in the middle of an admonition to treat everyone alike, there is one very powerful statement.

8 ¶ If you really fulfill the royal law according to the Scripture, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself," you do well; (James 2:8)

This is described as a royal law because it comes from the King Himself. Jesus is the one who gave us this very simple and succinct principle for Christian living. If we do indeed treat others as we would wish to be treated, we do well. Of course our neighbour is not just those who live close to us, but all who are in need and we are able to help. I recognize today the enormity of the kindness shown to us by a man who was only involved in our lives for less than a year.

Render Unto Caesar

2010-05-25T16:11:00.003-04:00

For the last four of five days, I have been studying. Unfortunately, I was not studying the word of God, but Transport Canada safe boating materials so that I might challenge the Pleasure Craft Operator Card examination. It is now law that any operator of a motorized boat must have a valid Pleasure Craft Operator Card. I have been boating on the water, safely I might add, for the last fifty-four years. None of that successful experience is recognized by the government of Canada. Instead I was forced out of academic retirement to memorize things like the buoy system on the St. Lawrence Seaway so that I can legally take my grandchildren out a few hundred yards on our small northern lake in order to go fishing. I can’t tell you how little I wanted to sit down and actually study. I quite literally forced myself to dredge up old and effective study skills. I also learned how to properly negotiate a lock system and to navigate in and around shipping lanes. I am now also capable of declaring a marine emergency over my VHF marine radio. The strange thing though, is that I can’t seem to find such a radio in my 16 foot aluminium boat with a 9.9 horsepower outboard motor. I also know how to use pyrotechnic flares should I ever require assistance within sight of my house.

You might be catching on that I was not too enamoured of the examination process just to continue what I have been safely doing for decades. I felt the process was unnecessary and rather nonsensical in the way that the government of Canada actually farmed out the testing process to several online companies who I am sure are making a good profit certifying old men just like me to do what they will never do. I could have simply ignored the demands of the government and been assured that being caught without my operator card was not a very likely scenario on a privately owned lake. I did, however, have the words of Jesus to guide me in this situation. In Mark 12: 13-17 we read:

13 ¶ Then they sent to Him some of the Pharisees and the Herodians, to catch Him in His words.

14 When they had come, they said to Him, "Teacher, we know that You are true, and care about no one; for You do not regard the person of men, but teach the way of God in truth. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?

15 "Shall we pay, or shall we not pay?" But He, knowing their hypocrisy, said to them, "Why do you test Me? Bring Me a denarius that I may see it."

16 So they brought it. And He said to them, "Whose image and inscription is this?" They said to Him, "Caesar’s."

17 And Jesus answered and said to them, "Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s." And they marveled at Him.

Jesus is of course answering a question directly related to the paying of taxes to the Roman government, but the lesson can be extended to all government edicts even to this day. Here it is made very clear that we are to respect and obey the edicts of our governors. As a believer, I am bound by obedience to my saviour to obey and support our government. The exception would be that when I am asked to compromise my Christian principles, I am bound to refuse and live with the consequences of the punishment unfairly meted out to me. Now you know why I conceded to the edicts of my government, studied and passed the examination as presented. As I rendered to Caesar, I also rendered to God.

Sojourners on this Earth

2010-05-21T15:42:00.003-04:00

This morning my reading in 2Corinthians 5 caused me to remember a beautiful woman who was present for about twenty years of our married life. Lozanne’s great aunt was known by all as Ma Tante Delina. Lozanne is named after her great aunt and her second name is actually Delina. I first met Ma Tante when she was in her early seventies. Given the youthful energy that this woman quite simply exuded, you would be hard pressed to guess her proper age. She was happily married to Uncle Charlie who has been profiled in an earlier blog. As happens in most happy marriages, in my observation at any rate, he and she were complete opposites. Delina and Charlie were childless. Delina always seemed to be on the move, working in her home or visiting many and all relatives both close and extended. She was a hostess beyond description.

Each and every Monday morning, I suspect for all her adult life, Delina baked bread. It was the best bread, especially when toasted, I have ever enjoyed. Most evenings, summer and winter, at about 9:30 P.M. would find family members, who had just happened to drop by, in her dining room enjoying her special toast with her homemade preserves and a cup of tea. The conversation was always interesting and lively. Of course Uncle Charlie, after he had scrubbed his hands like he was about to perform surgery, would not partake of the toast but high fibre cereal he referred to as “his hay”.

Three or four times per week, Delina would entertain guests for dinner. She is the only cook I have ever observed who almost exclusively used a “Presto” pressure cooker. This large pot with a locking cover was heated on the stove element and the contents were kept under great pressure. Delina deftly and expertly knew exactly when to let off the steam and continue cooking. Cooking food under pressure speeds up the process considerably. I often wondered about the dangers of working with heated pots under great pressure, but she never had accident that I know of. All the while she was moving with incredible speed about her kitchen, she was very capable of interacting with and indeed engaging her guests in a running conversation. All of us looked forward to a dinner at Ma Tante Delina’s. Children were always welcome and doted upon by Delina.

Following one such dinner, Delina suggested that she take our youngest two children to the park for some after dinner exercise and perhaps some ice cream. Since she was in her eighties, we suggested that the kids did not need to go to the park. In about ten minutes, we realized that the little ones were missing and went out just in time to see Delina actually sliding down a gravel embankment in order to cross the railroad tracks to take the kids to the park. They did indeed get their ice cream in the park. When approaching little ones, Delina often chanted in a scary voice as she moved along, “Ma jambe d’or” which I have only theorized was a line from a French ghost story about a man with a golden leg. Oddly, I never observed a child who showed any fear as they were always delighted with her presence.

For the last couple years of her long lifetime, she would often ask anyone who would listen, “Why am I still here?”. After Charlie had passed away and she finally had to enter the old age home, she wondered indeed why she was still alive. I remember her asking me that very question the day before she passed away at ninety- two years of age. This morning I thought of Delina as I read very similar words written by the Apostle Paul in 2Corinthians 5: 1-2.

1 ¶ For we know that if our earthly house, this tent, is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.

2 For in this we groan, earnestly desiring to be clothed with our habitation which is from heaven,

What Delina had come to understand was that we are but sojourners on this earth. The time we spend here in this world is very brief when compared to the forever of eternity. Like Delina, Paul actually groaned when wondering, no doubt, why he was still trapped here in an old weak body and not there in a new glorified body where he knew he would be for eternity. I am just beginning in the last little while to understand much more why Delina would ask the question, “Why am I still here?”.