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Monday, August 9, 2004

Ever since I was little, I've been fascinated by the American Revolution. I always wanted to see Concord Bridge where it sort of all began. You know, the shot heard round the world? By the time I got there, I had two little boys of my own who weren't fascinated by the American Revolution. I wanted to spend a while at Concord Bridge, you know, imagining those Colonial farmers descending on the bridge and the Red Coats stepping up to the bridge in their rigid formation. Unfortunately, my sons weren't interested in any of that. I tried to tell them the story - well, no progress, you know, this is vacation. Who cares about history? Right? Finally, I had one last idea. I got tri-corn hats for them, and we got some sticks for them to use as muskets, and I made them the Americans and I played the Red Coats. (Well, the Red Coat.) They came charging across one side of Concord Bridge. I went running away from them; I eventually ended up fatally wounded! And when they were done, they said, "Let's do it again, Daddy." Of course - they won! They were interested, but not until they had a part.

Thursday, August 5, 2004

Caterpillars are, well, ugly. Butterflies are beautiful! I have known people with butterfly collections. I've never known anyone with a caterpillar collection, actually. My guess is that every caterpillar gets pretty fed up inching along instead of flying. They get fed up with being hairy and ugly instead of being colorful and eye-catching. But, fed up won't do it. The caterpillar actually has to get into this cocoon and get metamorphed. Now, it's a word that we have for that miraculous process. It means changing your form - metamorphosis - right? There's something for you in that cocoon, by the way, especially if you're tired of crawling spiritually or if your spiritual experience gets pretty hairy sometimes.

Tuesday, August 3, 2004

Building a fire is one of those things a man is just supposed to know how to do. I hate to have my fire fail in front of other people frankly, so I can really empathize with my friend Rich who set out to get a fire going one winter that I was with him. He was trying to get this thing going in his fireplace when we were with him one Sunday afternoon. So, of course, he did all the right things. He rolled up the necessary amount of newspaper. He stacked logs with plenty of room for air circulation. Now, he didn't have much kindling. That was the only weakness in his fire. Well, the fire flared, and then it sputtered, and then it smoldered. So real quick, he rolled up two or three tight paper logs, and a newspaper, and that didn't do anything. Then finally, he said, I thought it was kind of strange, but he said, "I've done all I can do. Only God can start it now." We talked for about an hour without a fire, and suddenly this little flame appeared. It grew steadily, it became a really cozy fire, and Rich and I just looked at each other and smiled!

Tuesday, July 27, 2004

I've been told that during World War II, (which, of course, I don't remember personally), that they gave American soldiers more than bullets just before they went into combat. They also gave them a chocolate bar. It makes sense, when you think about a sugar rush, when they need all the energy they could muster. So, maybe sugar's not all that bad. Of course, if you give it to a man just before he's about to go and lie on the couch for a hour - now that's bad. That's the funny thing about sugar. You eat it, you exercise - it's energy. You eat it and just lie there - it's fat.

Thursday, July 22, 2004

When I'm in a new city, I don't usually make visiting a local cemetery one of my sightseeing priorities. But I did during my recent ministry trip to Halifax, Nova Scotia. I visited the cemetery where 121 passengers of the doomed Titanic are buried; many with names still unknown. Not long after the midnight radio transmission, "Have struck iceberg," three telegraph cable repair ships were dispatched from Halifax to make the 500-mile trip to the collision site to pick up the bodies of victims. In a way, the aftermath of the sinking of the Titanic is a tale of two ships. One was the Carpathia, the ship that rescued hundreds who had made it into lifeboats, later taking them into New York Harbor. The Carpathia carried a ship full of rescued people. But not the Mackay Bennett, the first funeral ship to arrive at the scene of the sinking. All they found was 328 people, floating in their lifejackets, frozen to death. The first one they found was a little two-year-old boy, floating face up. They were devastated. By the time they sailed into Halifax Harbor with every church bell in town tolling, there were three long rows of bodies on their deck - every one a person who did not have to die. Those lifeboats had been half empty. But as the people in the water cried out for help, the people in the lifeboats just kept rowing away. So one ship carried those who had been rescued. The other ship carried those no one cared enough to rescue.

Wednesday, May 26, 2004

I don't know if there was ever a time in our son's life when he checked the mailbox so many times. Now you're thinking "Oh, a letter from a girl, huh?" No, it was grades from college. See, this was during our son's last visit home when he was going to college, and the grades for the semester just completed were supposed to be mailed to him at home. Of course, I was thinking they should have been mailed to me, because they sure mail the bills to me! Well, it got a little frustrating and as he talked with all his college friends, because they, in other parts of the country, already had their grades. And every day that they didn't come, well, he got a little more frustrated. Now why was he so eager to get his grades? He had every reason to believe that he had done very well this time. And finally, they came. Best grades by far since he started college - he was on the Dean's List! High five's all around!

Monday, March 15, 2004

Some years ago, my wife got a very serious case of hepatitis. Later, the specialist told her that the battle for her liver was so acute he could hear the blood rushing to save it, "Just like Niagara Falls," he said. Thank God, she recovered fully with no trace today of that disease or any of its effects. But it took a while - seven months of bed rest. That was an interesting time for Daddy - suddenly known as Mr. Mom - and for our three children. Thankfully, our church brought dinner to our home almost every night. God bless them! It's a good thing. I mean, if it had been up to me to feed the kids, they probably would have been on the cover of something like World Vision magazine eventually. But as tough as it was, my wife said she had much to praise God for in her recovery from hepatitis. For one thing, no one could really look to her or count on her for seven months. Here's what she said about it: "God gave me the gift of cleansing my schedule!" He weeded out a lot that didn't matter after all and left only what did matter.

Wednesday, February 4, 2004

There are not too many TV shows that you remember for 30 years. But I still remember a TV documentary that was filmed during the Vietnam War - it was called, "Same Mud, Same Blood." The correspondent traveled with this infantry company that was made up mostly of white soldiers from the Deep South with a few others who were Black - a unit commanded by a Black sergeant. Now, we're talking a time when America was being convulsed with civil rights conflicts. But the documentary told the amazing story of how a company that started out with huge racial walls between them became molded into a group of guys who would die for each other - after all, they were "same mud, same blood." There was something about being in war together that brought people close together who might otherwise have never have had anything in common.

Wednesday, January 28, 2004

For many years, J.R.R. Tolkien's trilogy, Lord of The Rings, has fascinated thoughtful readers. Like C.S. Lewis (who was helped to Christ by Tolkien actually), Tolkien communicated spiritual truths through allegorical myths in a world called "Middle Earth." His works have now captured the imagination of people who had never heard of his books through three epic motion pictures based on them. At the heart of Lord of The Rings and its epic battles is the ring. It's a gold ring that is the key to enormous power - but a power that inevitably addicts the possessor to its power. That power ultimately corrupts and destroys the one who holds it so tenaciously. It is, in fact, called by one main character, not the ring, but "The Precious."

Wednesday, January 7, 2004

We tend to know the TV shows that were big when our children were growing up. So, I happen to know something about a program called "The A-Team." Our guys had a must-not-miss date each week with Hannibal Smith and B. A. Baracus, and the rest of this team of fugitive Vietnam vets who took on the causes of people victimized by the bad guys. The basic plot of each show was fairly predictable - bad guys pick on person, person hires A-Team, bad guys are about to win, A-Team comes up with a brilliant, and usually unlikely, plan, A-Team wins. These elaborate plans were hatched by the leader of the team - Col. Hannibal Smith. And he never seemed to tell anybody, including his team, why he was doing what he was doing, or asking them to do. But at the end, when the strategy finally unfolded victoriously, Hannibal would always smile and say those trademark words, "I love it when a plan comes together."

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