Friday, May 25, 2018

Cards on the Table

                         Cards on the Table

While I was attending my career launching computer service coarse years ago, out of our class of around 30 people, there was an older Christian lady, age of 60 or so. She was a really nice lady, sound in every sense of the word, straight up, honest. While a few of us were talking during a class break, about hearts, not the physical type, she stated matter-of-factly that her own heart was, “Deceitful and desperately wicked,” taken from the Bible, Jeremiah 17:9. One young fellow there was pretty shocked and said that He had a good heart.

Not everybody will own up to having a “Shadow self,” or a dark side, maybe not everybody does. I know that having a good heart is not what redeems us. And, I believe it’s absolutely necessary to have an—all cards on the table—relationship with that fellow from Nazareth, in trust.

I don’t think one necessarily has to announce to the world that they are deceitful and desperately wicked. But it’s a relief to know that I need not have any cards of any kind up my sleeve with God, or myself, when the one sitting across the table is perfect love itself.

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Thursday, May 24, 2018

Who Does He Think He Is?

                Who Does He Think He Is?

He came to the lost sheep of Israel
The religious crowd of the day
Saying clearly
In words irresistible
You know me
I am the way

The perfect reflection
Of love unseen
Not contained
Not controlled
Freely walking
On earth bold
As if it were His
Of all the nerve

We can’t let this go on
Said some leaders of the day
We must silence this man
Else He take our place
Then where will we be?
We must put Him away

Neatly tucked in a cave
A grave
A drawer
Where we’re in control

Not running loose
Outside our purview
Claiming He is the way

But it seems this story
Which played out
On the scene back then
Is a work in current progress
In our world today—again

It’s an old old story
I’ll stick to it
Like a cross
Without it
Where would I be?
Wandering in the kingdom of men

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Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Cool! I’m dead!

Cool! I’m dead!

I was standing at the sink in a men’s room, and another man was at the sink beside me, waving his hands under the sensor on the automatic water faucet trying to get it to come on. He looked up and indicated in a semi frustrated tone, that maybe he didn’t exist, and was therefore undetectable. Thinking back, at that point I should have pretended He wasn’t there. But, I just laughed.

The waters of this world - the rule book, can’t clean. I can wave my hands under that faucet all day, it just won’t work - frustrating.

For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God.

Colossians 3:3 King James Version

Wednesday, May 2, 2018

Quit While Ahead

Quit While Ahead

This one might sound a bit coarse right off the bat.  The word "Beer" is used a lot. But anybody who “Strayed” in high school might like it. It’s sort of a composite of events, but they are true, fairly innocent and only slightly embellished.

Quit While Ahead
As a teenager, age 17 or so, one night after purchasing a deeply discounted case of beer out of an open car trunk in an empty lot—from an off-duty A&P employee—a gang of us piled into a car and headed for the city: Washington DC. Back then it was not illegal to literally drink and drive. And, that’s what we did—unwisely.

So, the memory is pretty hazy, but not too long after crossing the 14th street bridge into the city, we decided to relieve ourselves of some of the huge amount of liquid we’d consumed. So, we pulled into an alley—a dark alley—on gang turf.

As they appeared behind us at the alleyway entrance following us in, I heard somebody say quietly something like, “We gotta get outta here!” We scrambled like we never had before and managed to get back in the car, floor it and roar away, unscathed. Really lucky for us the engine didn’t stall, and the alley was open on both ends.

Then it was off to The Hayloft, our favorite club in Georgetown, car rocking and voices wailing to the blaring sounds of “Susie Q,” by Credence Clearwater Revival; where we did some more rocking to a live band—while drinking even more beer—before heading over to Old Ebbitt Grill. I found it necessary to get out my fake ID this time. Which, like the discount beverage purchase in the vacant lot, was easily obtainable for any high schooler with the right grape vine contacts.

I made a grand total of 74 dollars that summer, playing rhythm guitar in our rock-and-roll band: The Henchmen. I couldn’t believe somebody would actually pay me money to play my guitar at parties—and yes—drink beer. Life was good that year. Things did darken later, but how many 17-year-old kids have the sense to quit while he’s ahead? Some may—not this one.

So, the moral to this story—I seem to always have one—is quit while you’re ahead. Walk away. Just do it. Find a tether. Something to believe in. Something true.

Believing the man who roamed the Galilean country side—with a gang of ruffians—would be a good plan in my opinion. You won’t have to join the Christian culture or get a bumper sticker or anything. Pick up a New Testament and just start reading from the beginning, which happens to be the response I had—the step I took—after hearing the still small voice of God in my life. Do it.