A Great Hymn Story

Joachim Neander was born on May 30, 1650. He only lived thirty years. In those thirty years he served faithfully an an endearing pastor and as the author of sixty hymns. In his spare time, he loved to hike through a beautiful valley near Dusseldorf, and after his untimely death from tuberculosis, this valley (or thal in German) was named for him - Neander-thal. (you know what's coming, don't you.)

Ironically, many years later the skeletal remains of an early race of humans were found in that valley and dubbed "Neanderthal man." The discovery gave a temporary boost to supporters of human evolution. How odd that the name of the writer of one of our greatest creation hymns should be attached to a theory he never would have supported.

   Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation!
   O my soul, praise Him, for He is thy health and salvation!
   All ye who hear, now to His temple draw near;
   Praise Him in glad adoration.

   Praise to the Lord, who over all things so wondrously reigneth,
   Shelters thee under His wings, yea, so gently sustaineth!
   Hast thou not seen how thy desires e'er have been
   Granted in what He ordaineth?

   Praise to the Lord, O let all that is in me adore Him!
   All that hath life and breath, come now with praises before Him.
   Let the amen, sound from His people again,
   Gladly for aye we adore Him.

We Laid A Hero To Rest Today

Ted Wilding is a hero. He's a hero because he did the hard things well. He didn't shy away from responsibility and demonstrated a tremendous love for his wife even under a most difficult situation.

I met Ted nine years ago when I became the minster of music at West County Assembly of God. Ted played the tuba in our orchestra. Very early in my time at the church I had the opportunity to sit down with Ted and get to know him better and hear his story. The short version is that he had played the sousaphone and tuba in high school and college. Once he started in his career, he didn't play again. Much later in life, at the urging of other musicians, he started playing an old sousaphone. At one point, the minister of music at WCAG at the time, Doug Gilliland, arranged for the church to buy a new tuba for Ted to play. He didn't know if it was because Doug wanted a tuba rather than a sousaphone, or if it was because the sousaphone always played slightly flat. Either way, Ted, and the orchestra, was blessed with a brand new instrument. Ted also played in a brass quintet that make up the brass section of our orchestra. I love to hear them play.

Today the brass quintet was a quartet. Ted slipped into eternity last Tuesday evening some time, sitting in his favorite chair. He was the caretaker for his lovely wife Jo. I still remember the time when Ted told me that Jo had been diagnosed with dementia, and the prognosis was that it would probably turn into full blown Alzheimer's disease. Over time, we watched Jo start to slip away, and Ted faithfully took care of her. At one point he brought her to our rehearsals, so she could be close by. She needed to see him close. A few months ago he started taking her to the restroom during our rehearsals because he was afraid if she went on her own she might not find her way back. About the same time he told me that he was going to have to sit out playing for our worship services because Jo needed him to be close by. He still played with the Orchestra for special songs and presentations, but most Sundays he sat with Jo. Kathy and I went to the assisted living apartments where Ted and Jo lived for dinner a few times. It was wonderful to watch Ted take care of Jo, and to see her enjoy our visits because she felt so comfortable with Ted's care. I never once heard Ted complain about his and Jo's life. He was always upbeat and was a delight to be around, particularly at our Orchestra rehearsals.

Today we laughed at memories, cried some, played and sang some of Ted's favorite music, and said goodbye. The wonderful thing is that we'll see Ted again. The promise of eternity with those we love, and in God's presence is what sustains us through these times of loss. Ted Wilding is a hero...

The Miracle of God's Creation

I mentioned in my last blog that I had been in Albany, Oregon, visiting with our daughter Aimee, her husband Jason and our grandchildren. I also met our newest grand daughter, Norah Grace. I hadn't held a brand new baby in some time, so as I held her, many times, in the days I was there, I was reminded of how delicate and tiny and perfect, God's creation is. I was fascinated by her fingers, each one perfectly formed. Her tiny, tiny fingernails, miniatures of mine. Each facet and feature of her face placed there with exacting detail. While I realize I'm biased, this little girl is one of the most beautiful of God's creations.

Lately I have been fascinated with the bigness of God. Recently I read an article about the vastness of the universe and how that despite advances in methods to see farther out into space, the writer of the article concluded that we would really never know how big our universe is, much less what else is out there. As I thought about the findings of the author, I thought that God had to be bigger than we can possibly imagine in order to have created and bring order to this huge creation. Then, I was awed again as I sat and held Norah and marveled at God's incredible detail in miniature. I had an interesting question. How does a baby's heart start and how big is that heart. Scientists tell us that a baby's heart begins to beat at about 5 weeks after conception and at 5 weeks, the entire baby is only 1/16 to 1/8 inch (1.5 to 3 millimeters) long. That means that the heart is nearly microscopic. I wonder if God takes the responsibility to start each new heart? I wonder if His assistant says to Him, "God, today 27,567 new babies are ready to have their hearts start beating." And in His Omnipresent way, He begins the process of breathing life by starting brand new, tiny, tiny hearts beating.

I am constantly amazed that the Creator of the universe, is also the same God who cares about microscopic details, like beginning new life. He does love us, He does care for us, He does know exactly where we are at and what we need. He is always there. Norah Grace, you won't remember my visit, but thanks for the reminder of who our wonderful God is.



It Doesn't Get Much Better Than This

I'm in Oregon for a few days visiting with my daughter Aimee, son-in-law Jason, and grandchildren Mattie, Elyse, JJ and my newest granddaughter, Norah Grace. Here's a picture I took yesterday as we were both going in and out of consciousness. It's amazing how relaxed you can be when you are holding a new baby. In the moments when I was actually awake, it struck me how dependent Norah was on me to hold her, not drop her, pat her a little when she stirred and generally look out for her welfare while I was holding her. While she is too young to figure out who she can trust and not trust, I think that at this age, trust is automatic. It is expected. Boy, don't you wish you could trust like that again. We've had too many life experiences that have put barriers and filters up so that we can evaluate who we can trust and who we ought to avoid.
The beauty of trusting God is that we can trust him just like Norah was trusting me. No preconceived ideas, no conditions, not even any perceived outcomes, just simple trust that God has it all in control. He said in His word that He would never leave us or forsake us. He is there for us. I was thinking about that as I held Norah and she took a nap. Maybe that's what we should do, take a nap in the arms of Jesus, and trust Him...

I Will See the Goodness of the Lord

Psalm 27 was part of my read-the-Bible-through-in-a-year reading today. It begins with two huge statements of confidence in who God is. The Lord is my light and my salvation-whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life-of whom shall I be afraid? (emphasis mine) The Bible's description of Heaven tells us that there is no night there because Christ is the source of light. I wonder if that means there will not be any shadows. After all, if God is omnipresent, He would be on all sides of any object at the same time, no shadows. There are three powerful words here, light, salvation and stronghold. When you let that sink in, there really isn't a reason to fear or be afraid.

Later on in the Psalm the author writes, One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple. There are days when we wish this would come to pass as soon as possible. The wonderful thing about this is that even in our toughest times, we know that one day we will dwell in the house of the Lord and we will gaze upon the beauty of the Lord. I have heard Christians wonder out loud if praising God will eventually get old in Heaven. I personally think that the process of uncovering the wonders of God will produce praise and worship and this process will go on throughout eternity. I think every moment will produce more wonderment and awe at who God is and what He has done, and our only response will be worship.

The Psalm ends with, I am confident of this; I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. In our present day, consumer oriented culture, where everything is immediate, no one likes to wait. Sometimes, however, after we have exhausted all the things we can do, the only response is to wait. Even then, we sometimes can't resist the arrogance of telling God what He needs to do for us, now! I think sometimes God waits us out, waits out our struggling, throwing tantrums, trying to fix things, and then He moves on our behalf. If we believe He is our stronghold (verse 1), then in His strength we can be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. (verse 14)

If you are having a tough time, this Psalm is for you. Read the entire Psalm and meditate on each section. Then, wait on the Lord. He's there...waiting for you.

Motherhood Is a High Calling

I live with a mother who has a high calling to be a mother. It became very evident when were were living in Linn County, Oregon in the early 80s. Kathy heard a public service announcement regarding the county's Social Services Department that was in desperate need of foster parents. We had two pre-schoolers at the time and we were on the pastoral staff of a large church in Albany, Oregon. After several discussions about the logistics of fostering children, and the consideration of moral and humanitarian implications, we signed up to take the classes and become foster parents. While Kathy and I are solidly pro-life, we are not protesters. We would probably never feel comfortable standing in front of a Planned Parenthood office or abortion clinic with a sign. But given the fact that at any given time there are approximately 500,000 children in foster care in the United States, caring for a child in this situation seemed to us to be a way to declare our commitment to life, to a watching world that seems to discard children without any remorse or second thought.

I must admit, Kathy was the primary care giver. I assisted her with a lot, but she is the one who cared for each child 24/7, took them to doctor appointments, took them for visits with their parents, met with the social workers, etc. There is not enough room to tell any of the stories, but each child was a story, including our very first baby with a huge hole in her heart that made her unadoptable. Our task was to care for her while treatment was decided on and then get her through the surgery(s) that would be needed and all the other things she would need. Before any of this took place, we had her dedicated in a church service and God healed that hole. Everyone who knew of her case was totally amazed.

I'm not sure how many children we had in our home in Oregon, but there were several, including the birth of our third child, Josh. When we moved to South Carolina, we were both working full time at Heritage USA, but we also cared for newborn pre-adoptive babies. We had several babies in SC, each time when they left our home to go to their adopted home, the new parents spent the night before the transfer with us in our home. One couple brought their video camera and videoed everything, including changing dirty diapers, feeding, especially burping, it was quite hilarious. Kathy was the perfect mother to turn over a new baby to adoptive parents. She made sure they knew everything they needed to know, and helped make the new parents feel comfortable with their new baby.

When we got to Denver, we were only one of two families that specialized in medically fragile or severely abused children. We saw some real miracles as severely abused babies started the healing process. These children were fortunate to have Kathy as a foster mom. She loved and nursed so many children back to health. It was in Denver where we adopted our three children who were not adoptable because of their birth problems, both medical and because their mothers abused alcohol or drugs while they were pregnant. I still remember the forms we had to sign for Nicole. The disclaimer form was longer than anything I have ever seen. They wanted to make sure that we went into this adoption with our eyes wide open. I thought we would stop at one, or two, but it was mom, Kathy, who couldn't turn a child away. Today we have three teenagers in our home that we love dearly. Even though they have presented some unique challenges, they are wonderful children.

There have been times when I have sat back and been awed by Kathy's commitment to children, to watch her love and care for them without any regrets or selfishness. She has given up a lot over the years to do this, (35+ children) but somehow I think that she wouldn't have changed a thing. For her, motherhood is a high calling.

Here's a Glimpse of My Mom

Mothers are wonderful people. They sacrifice everything for their children. They love, protect, nurture and set aside their own needs and desires for their children. My mother is no different. Even after all the years I have been an adult, with my own family, my mom is still my loving, protecting, nurturing mom.

When my two sisters and I were in elementary school we had an annual late summer routine that the kids loved. I'm not so sure it was as much fun for my mother. My mom didn't drive during these early years, so when the appointed day came, we walked down to the bus stop and took the public bus to downtown San Jose. On one of the main downtown intersections was a huge J.C. Penney store. For several hours the three of us would try on clothes, pick new underwear, try on shoes and get ready for the new school year. After we paid for our purchases, we would load up our bags and walk down a block to the big Woolworth store. We would climb up on the lunch counter stools, put our bags at our feet and enjoy a real treat, lunch in a restaurant. We didn't eat out very often when we were growing up, so having lunch at the Woolworth lunch counter was a treat to look forward to all year. After we had eaten the last bite, we would load up our Penny's bags and head back a block to catch the bus for home. I can remember thinking that I hated for the day to end as the bus got close to our stop. It eventually got there, we loaded up our bags and walked home and put away all our new school clothes. My mom made this a great day for us, a fun day that I remember so fondly.

As an adult, I now know how hard my parents had to work to provide for us. I know my mom set aside many of her desires and needs so that we would have what we needed. Her example help mold me, and build character into my life. I know everyone thinks they have the best mom in the world. Too bad they didn't have mine, it would change their mind. (By the way, I still buy my underwear at J.C. Penny. As a child I loved the smell of a brand new tee shirt, I still do...)  

Freedom and the Voice of God

I have just started reading Bill Hybels book, The Power Of A Whisper. Near the beginning of the book Bill talks about some of his experiences in hearing the voice of God, and how awesome and humbling it is to know that God would speak to us. Specifically to us.

Reading the first pages of the book reminded me of a time when I was as frustrated as I could be as a worship leader. We had joined the staff of a church in the northwest part of Denver and my assignment was to help transition this church from a fairly traditional congregational singing church to a worshipping church. What this entailed was working with a choir and musicians, helping them understand what we were trying to do, and to communicate to the congregation, mostly by our actions and attitudes and not a lot of talking. Week after week I carefully prepared music that would help us all make this transition. We learned some wonderful new worship music, we put together a small vocal worship team, we rehearsed faithfully each week, and we blended hymns and older songs into the mix so there would be something for everyone, and nothing. I mean nothing. Each week it felt like our musical offerings to the Lord made it to the end of our stage and dropped off onto the floor. I would look out and see people yawning, talking, half heartedly singing and it would wipe me out. I can remember telling the Lord how futile it was trying to help this congregation learn to worship Him.

On one Sunday, after the second service of the day, I was driving home alone, feeling sorry for myself and complaining to the Lord about how I thought things had gone. And then God spoke to me. I can take you to the exact place in the road where it happened. While I don't believe I heard the audible voice of God, the impact created a lifetime transformation for me. He said, "You are not responsible for any results. When you lead people into My Presence, it is up to Me to affect their lives. All you need to do is to worship Me, worship with all your heart, people will watch you, join with you and they will enter My Presence where I will have the opportunity to change their lives". I cannot tell you how freeing that was for me. While it took some time to totally let go of my need to "see people respond", it was the beginning of a change for this congregation. After this encounter I began to have people come up to me and tell me how "meaningful this song was", or "I really was able to worship God this morning". Sometimes people made these kind of comments to me and I remember looking out over the congregation and not seeing anything unusual happening to them. No hands raised, no "heavenly glow", but it didn't matter. God was at work and I didn't have to worry about the results. If you are in a ministry position today and you are struggling with your effectiveness, just do what God has called you to do. Let Him take care of the results. It's freeing....it really is.

Our Bodies Are Miraculous Creations

Last week I was reminded again of God's unbelievable attention to detail when he created us. I had a visit with a new cardiologist. After listening to my Atrial Fibrillation story, he decided to do a stress test. I'll have that on Friday of this week. As part of the appointment, he decided to have a heart ultrasound done to make sure that my heart muscle is strong and that everything, except for the erratic rhythm, is working good.

I was turned away from the ultrasound monitor so I could not see any of the images that were being recorded. Since it took about 45 minutes, there is a lot of video of my heart beating. When the test was over and I was putting on my shirt, I looked at the monitor and saw that the last images were still there. It showed one of my valves opening and closing. I watched as the valve, in concert with the other part of my heart that was visible, worked to move blood through my heart. I was nearly overcome emotionally as I watched the valve work and realized how wonderfully we are put together. As I got ready to write this blog, I did a quick calculation. If I estimate that my heart has averaged 75 beats per minute, for 61 years and 2 months, the valve I was watching has opened and closed two billion, four hundred and fifty million, five hundred and twenty thousand times since I was born. (2,450,520,000) And that doesn't included the time in my mother's womb.

The Bible tells us in Psalm 39:13-14; For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; (my emphasis) your works are wonderful, I know that full well. I left the building with a deeper appreciation for the God we serve. The God who loves us, who knows us intimately and who loves us with an overwhelming love. By the way, the test showed my heart is very strong and working well, except for the irregular heart beat. I'm hoping this cardiologist will be able to help me with that.

A Friend Meets Jesus Face To Face

A good friend met Jesus face-to-face yesterday morning. He had bone cancer and finally lost the mortal battle, but won the eternal one. Ralph Matsen was a hard-headed, loving, generous, opinionated, and complex friend who help Kathy and I get off to a good start in the ministry.

In 1974 I moved from San Jose, California to Eureka, in northern California to become the first youth pastor Bethel Church ever had. Since the church could not pay me enough to live in my own place, I moved in with Ralph and Christine. We started having student meetings in the church, but the environment wasn't right. The room we were assigned was too dark, hard to find and did not lend itself well to junior and senior high students. After a few weeks I asked Ralph and Christine if we could use their family room for student meetings. Our attendance took off and we never looked back. When Kathy and I got married, my salary increased enough so that we were able to rent a small house. About that time, in a conversation with Ralph about how much our group had grown, and we were out of room in their family room, he suggested that we look for a facility that would really help us expand. Ralph was the first out-of-the-box thinker I ever met. We drove around Eureka and looked at all kinds of buildings. We finally settled on a swim and racquet club that had been built for a subdivision and had gone out of business because of a large lawsuit. For a rookie youth pastor, the thought of having this kind of facility was beyond dreaming. We cleaned, painted, landscaped and bought equipment and furniture for the Gathering Inn. At the time, I did not know of another student group anywhere that had their own facility like this. From the pool, to a racquetball court, tennis courts, sauna, large meeting room with a kitchen and room for pool tables and ping pong tables, it was incredible. While a team of students and Kathy and I make the final result a reality, it was Ralph's vision and financial support that made it all happen.

I owe a debt of gratitude to Ralph and Christine for their support, love and help as Kathy and I got started. They believed in us and invested their lives, time and money into ideas that were untested and probably not well planned out. But God blessed our efforts and many, many young people found the Lord in our student meetings. Lives were transformed and several students are in full time ministry today because what happened during that time. So, Ralph, thank you so much for your influence in my life. So long for now, my friend, we'll get the chance to catch up with each other again.

Your Ear Gets Cut Off and It Saves Your LIfe

One of the most interesting stories surrounding the events of Holy Week is the account of the High Priest's servant. Unfortunately the Biblical narrative is very brief, but I began to think about the implications of what happened. Malchus, the High Priest's servant, was probably the equivalent of a modern day executive assistant. The High Priest sent him with the group to arrest Jesus. In fact, he may have been the leader of the group. The High Priest couldn't go because it wouldn't have politically expedient, and he was going to be one of main prosecutors. When the group arrives to make the arrest, one of Jesus' disciples pulls out a sword and off comes Malchus' ear. Can you imagine the pain, and the screaming that took place. Undoubtedly, many other swords came out and it could have gotten ugly right away. Jesus steps up, takes the severed ear and puts it back in place. I wish there would have been a way to capture the astonishment on Malchus' face. I'm sure in Christ's complete and perfect way of doing things, there was not a scar, line or any other evidence that the ear had ever been anything less than perfect. I don't think Jesus cleaned him up. All the blood was still there, and perhaps dirt and leaves and other debris from rolling around on the ground in pain.

Can you imagine the encounter when Malchus went back to report to the High Priest. The HP probably didn't even ask about the arrest at first, he would have wanted to know how Malchus had gotten so dirty, and bloody. Can you imagine the servant trying to explain that his ear had been cut off, and yet when the High Priest examined his ear and scalp, he could see that nothing was wrong with the ear.

I can't help but think that throughout the afternoon, as Jesus hung on the cross, from a distance away Malchus observed all that went on. Every few minutes his hand would slip up to his ear, a finger would run around the spot where it had been severed, and Malchus' heart hurt a little more. Along with the centurion, he may have whispered the words, "truly, He was the son of God." I think Malchus lost an ear (not really) and gained his life...

Sometime It Pays To Be A Rookie

Another story that is totally fascinating to me is the account in Matthew, Mark and Luke of the tearing of the temple curtain. Once again, however, none of the writers goes overboard with their narrative of the incident. Notice, Matt 27:51 At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook and the rocks split. Mark 15:38 The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. Luke 23:44-45 It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. That is it! One of the biggest events of the whole week and that's all they write. The tremendous symbolism of the curtain tearing is that it gave all of us access to the Holy of Holies. In other words, Jesus really did redeem us, individually and personally, never again would we need a human to go before God for us. What a tremendous change.

We know from the original organizational system of caring for the temple, the Levites or priests had regular rotations and specific duties. They were assigned these duties by clans and in some cases, the special talents and requirements of the job were taught and handed down from generation to generation. I think that on this day, all of the priests wanted to be where the action was. They wanted to see Jesus carry his cross on the Via Dolorosa, they wanted to be at Golgatha to see the nails pounded into his wrists and feet, and they wanted to see what happened as he hung on the cross. I think that they chose the youngest priest with no senority to tend to the temple on that afternoon. This poor guy is already shaking in his boots because he is the only one there. (have you ever been alone in a big church building with all the lights out?) It got dark, the sun stopped shining, the earth shook, and rocks split. I can imagine that this rookie priest was nearly out his mind with fear. And then it happened...he heard an awful tearing sound. He looked into the Holy Place and almost had a heart attack. He clapped his hands over his face and covered his eyes as quickly as he possibly could. For a second he was looking into the Holy of Holies and staring at the Ark of the Covenant. He knew that meant instant death. After a few moments, he realizes he's not dead, he slowly looks through his fingers and, yes, it is the Ark of the Covenant and the huge, thick curtain is now in two parts, each part pushed to the outside walls of the temple. He slowly walks to where the curtain hung. He reaches out, and then quickly pulls his hand back. He reaches out again, and pulls it back. Then he puts in his whole arm, then a leg, and finally he steps into the Holy of Holies. I believe that right then the Holy Spirit came down and started a one man revival right on the spot. I can imagine the rookie priest dancing aroung the Ark, praising God and shouting at the top of his lungs. He was in the manifest presence of God, alive, more alive than he had ever been. So what if he had to stay at the temple and miss all the action. His life would never be the same again.

I pray that as we celebrate Maunday Thursday, Tenebrae and Good Friday services, that God's manifest presence will be real for each one of us. Oh Lord, even if we need to be rookies again, help us know You and the reality of Your sacrifice for us.

Some Unusual Events During Holy Week

I have always been fascinated by the events of Holy Week. From the triumphal entry through the resurrection, and beyond the week to the Day of Pentecost and Christ's ascension. I am continually frustrated by the lack of narrative in the gospels, particularly when an event seems so monumental. Through the years I have taken some of these events and meditated on them and come up with my own idea for why the event is even mentioned at all, and the implications of it for us. During the next few days I'm going to write about some of these.

The first one comes from Mark 14:50-52. Then everyone deserted him and fled. A young man, wearing nothing but a linen garment, was following Jesus. When they seized him, he fled naked, leaving his garment behind. Now, why in the world is this account in Mark's gospel? What does a New Testament streaker have to do with Christ's arrest? I also find it interesting that verse 50 tells about everyone deserting Christ, which I take it mean all of the disciples and their followers. This young man, in verse 51 is identified as a follower of Jesus as well.

Matthew Henry in his famous commentary says that this young man probably lived near the garden where Jesus was arrested, was curious about all the noise, threw on a linen sheet and went out to investigate. Since everyone else ran away, the Roman soldiers tried to arrest him by grabbing his clothes and he ran out of his clothes, naked as a jaybird (my twist on the story) into the night. The Bible Illustrator commentary says that the young man was the writer of the book of Mark, John Mark. This impulsive behavior, throwing a linen sheet around himself, was consistent with other things that we know about Mark. The commentary also says the reason that this account only appears in the book of Mark is that, since everyone who was following Christ had run away, Mark was the only one who knew what happened when the soldiers tried to grab him. The commentary writer also says that it was common for New Testament writers to include anecdotes about themselves in their writing without identifying themselves.

So there you have it. John Mark, who would eventually write the book of Mark, decides, probably on a whim, to see what all the commotion is about. He wraps himself in a linen cloth and runs into the garden to see what was going on. On the way into the garden he is passed by all the devoted and brave disciples and followers running for their lives the other way. The soldiers try to make at least one arrest beside Jesus, and wind up with just a linen sheet for their troubles. I hope Mark lived nearby the garden. If they had decency laws in that day, he may have been arrested for public nudity.

So what is the takeaway for us living in the 21st century. For all the teaching the disciples received, for all the miracles they saw, for all the changed lives they observed, when "push came to shove", they acted like humans. Finite beings who resorted to self preservation by running as fast as they could away from trouble. As I have thought about this short account, I have wondered if I would have acted differently? Would I admit, unlike Peter, that, "yes, I am one of His followers", or would I have done exactly what Peter did? Fortunately, we know the "rest of the story." We know what happened. We know the triumph of the resurrection. The disciples and followers didn't. So I guess the short answer is that I probably would have done exactly the same as they did. More later...

The World Is Ready For Another Triumphal Entry

Hundreds of years before Christ made His triumphal entry into Jerusalem, Zechariah wrote in chapter 9, verse 9, Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion! Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey. Zechariah goes on to accurately foretell the coming of the Messiah. Matthew, Luke and John all give the account of Christ riding triumphantly into Jerusalem. The three accounts differ on one point. Matthew says the people spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the tress and spread them on the road. Luke says people spread their cloaks on the road. From John's account we get the name Palm Sunday. He said, They took palm branches and went out to meet him.

In each account, the result is the same. The people greeted Jesus as the conquering King who would rule over them and oust the Roman government that was oppressing them. They didn't realize that the humble procession, Jesus riding on a donkey's colt, was meant to represent a different kind of kingdom. One that emphasized the first shall be last, and children, widows and orphans were great in the eyes of the King. This was to be a spiritual kingdom, not a political one.

Today our world is desperate for another triumphal entry. There is not a political ruler in any country who knows what to do. There is unrest in every major region of the world. If it is not political, it is religious. In New Zealand and Japan it is physical as these countries try to recover from devastating earthquakes and the effects of them. Even in our own country we have a multitude of serious issues that are causing division from Congress to the Presidency, to states that are fighting with unions, to unrest at our borders. States that are bankrupt and inflation that is accelerating the erosion of our way of life.

As Christians, we know the only Triumphal Entry that we need has already taken place. Now we look for the Triumphal Return. Until then, we absolutely must make a difference in a desperate world as we share the answer to the hole in people's lives. May this Easter season bring triumphant peace and new relationships in Christ as we affect people's lives for Him.

Running From the Boogieman

There was no worse nightmare for me as a kid than getting chased by a boogieman or monster. In every dream, I tried to run, but my legs operated in slow motion and I could never get away. Fortunately, I always woke up before I got caught. Every once in while, as an adult, I will have one of these "getting chased" dreams. I'm always very happy when I wake up to find out that my legs really do work much better then in my dream.

I was reading this morning about the account of King David conquering the Jebusites and taking up residence in Jerusalem. It was eventually named the City of David. Shortly after that they tried to bring the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem and failed. About the same time, the Philistines decided to create some havoc. David inquires of the God, "Shall I go and attack the Philistines? Will you hand them over to me?" The Lord answered, "Go, I will hand them over to you." God goes on to say "As soon as you hear the sound of marching in the tops of the balsam trees, move out to battle because that will mean God has gone out in front of you to strike the Philistine army." The final verse of this says "..and they struck down the Philistine army, all the way from Gibeon to Gezer."

As I thought about this, I wondered, when God intervened on Israel's behalf, and there are many accounts of this happening in the scriptures, what did it look like? What would cause seasoned warriors to turn on themselves or get so spooked that they ran for their lives? I wonder if these enemy armies ran into the ultimate Boogieman? There is a hint of what may have happened on this day in Psalm 18, a psalm of deliverance.
    The Lord thundered from heaven;
      the voice of the Most High resounded.
    He shot arrows and scattered the enemies,
      bolts of lightning and routed them.
    The valleys of the sea were exposed
      and the foundations of the earth laid bare
    at the rebuke of the Lord,
      at the blast of breath from his nostrils.

Now that sounds like a soldier's worst nightmare if you are fighting on the wrong side. I imagine legs got weak, screams of terror filled the air and everything was left behind as the enemy army ran away as fast as they could go. We've read the "end of the book." Anyone who fights Israel is going to have to fight the Boogieman, and He doesn't lose.

A Wonderful Childhood Memory

On Monday, I received the latest issue of Heritage magazine. It is an Assemblies of God publication that chronicles the history of the Assemblies of God and the Pentecostal movement. The first two articles in this issue were accounts of the early Hispanic Pentecostal movement in the United States, particularly in the Southwest. I read these articles with great interest because my grandfather was a pioneer pastor in the Spanish speaking Assemblies of God and I attended his church in San Jose, California until age 15. It was fun to see pictures of people that I knew, including one of my uncle's graduation from Bible College in 1940. I knew many of these people because they were friends and contemporaries of my grandparents and they hosted many people over the years in their San Jose home. When I was old enough to go places with my grandfather, I would attend many ministerial meetings and events with him. I think I became his shadow. One of the great times every summer was going over to Bethany University (then Bethany Bible College) for the Spanish District Council. It was great to run around with kids from all over the western part of the United States while our parents and grandparents attended the various church services and business meetings.

After reading the articles, I was reminiscing about memories from my Spanish church days. One incident from the 1950s stands out in particular. One of the stops that Oral Roberts made with his huge 75,000 seat tent was at the Santa Clara County Fairgrounds in San Jose. The organizers had met with all of the ministerial associations in the city to gather support for the crusade. The "reward" for the leaders of each group was that they could sit on the platform for one of the healing crusade services. Since my grandfather was a Spanish Assemblies of God leader at the time, one of those nights, he and his fellow leaders were ushered to the platform for a unique perspective of the crusade service. Since I went everywhere with him, there I was, a child, sitting among the Spanish ministers, watching the power of God in action. I do not remember anything about the service. I can't remember any of the music, the preaching, or any other aspect. I do remember the healing line. At the end of the platform there was a ramp that started on the right side of the platform and came up to the platform height just about the center of it. Oral Roberts sat in a chair at the top of the ramp and people lined up, to a child it looked like blocks, to get prayed for. After awhile, wheel chairs, braces and crutches started to accumulate on the stage. Even now, if I close my eyes and think about that evening, I can see every detail in my mind. The opportunity to experience God's power in action from about 20 feet away will always be with me. This experience has fueled a life long desire to see God supernatural manifest Himself in the lives of His people. I hope I never lose that desire.

My 31 Year Old Daughter I Have Never Met

I have been sick, and home, with the flu this week. When I was feeling better, I decided to read a couple of books on my reading list. One of those was Heaven Is For Real, by Todd Burpo. Todd is a Wesleyan pastor who wrote about his 4 year old son's near death experience. The book is a best seller, and an easy read. I would recommend it.

Chapter 17, Two Sisters, wiped me out. In this chapter, Colton (the 4 year old) announces to his mom that he has two sisters. The problem is Colton only has one older sister. Because of Colton's age, his parents had not chosen to tell him about a miscarriage that had happened years earlier. Colton tells his mom that his sister in heaven looks a lot like his older sister Cassie, just smaller and with dark hair. He went on "in heaven, this little girl ran up to me, and she wouldn't stop hugging me." Let me say here, if you are a parent who has lost a child to miscarriage, you need to read this book. This chapter alone will bring tremendous comfort and peace to you.

In November of 1979 we were moving from a church in Manteca, California to a church in Albany, Oregon. The day the movers were at our home loading all our possessions on a truck, Kathy began to miscarry our 4 month old baby. I rushed her to the emergency room and over the next hours they took good care of Kathy through the miscarriage and the D & C procedure that followed. They kept her overnight and the next day we set out for Albany, Oregon. When we got there, I had to go immediately to work because as the new minister of music, we had the Christmas season in front of us with a lot of music to learn, rehearse and present. We did the best we could to heal, but it was a difficult time, particularly because we did not know anyone in our new city very well.

Fast forward to a time when we were serving a church in the Denver area. Our choir was singing the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir arrangement of I Bowed On My Knees and Cried Holy. Kathy told me that as we sang the song, she saw a picture, perhaps a vision, of her grandmother, who had passed away in the 70s holding the hand of a little girl with red hair, Kathy's color. I know that gave Kathy great comfort.

As I read chapter 17, I began to weep uncontrollably. After 31 years, I realized that I had never dealt with the grief of losing this baby. Between making sure Kathy was taken care of, driving to and getting settled in a new city, starting a new job and jumping into the Christmas season, I never stopped. After Christmas that first year, it was on to Easter and everything else that went into this new ministry. On Wednesday, when Kathy got home, I tried to tell her about this chapter and about my own personal experience. I could hardly get the words out. I have not cried this hard in a long, long time. I realized, however, that at one point, my tears of grief turned to tears of joy. Joy, because one day I'm going to meet this young lady, my daughter I have never met.

A Mighty Fortress Is Our God

Yesterday in our worship services we sang a hymn and a new song written approximately 500 years apart. We sang Martin Luther's A Mighty Fortress Is Our God alongside A Mighty Fortress by Christy and Nathan Nockels. At the end of the first and second verses of Luther's A Mighty Fortress..., we went right to the chorus of Nockel's A Mighty Fortress. Since both songs were in the same key, it worked perfectly.

Martin Luther wrote his timeless classic right after nailing his 95 theses to the Catholic church door in Wittenberg, Germany in 1517. It is said that Luther would gather other reformers together for worship and prayer and they would sing this wonderful hymn as encouragement during some of the darkest days of the Reformation. Luther based the lyric of his hymn on Psalm 46. Verses 1-3 say; God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. Verse 7 says; The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. (emphasis mine)

Verse 1of Luther's hymn reads;
   A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark (strong wall) never failing;
   Our helper He a mid the flood, of mortal ills prevailing.
   For still our ancient foe (enemy), doth seek to work us woe (temptation to sin).
   His craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate, on earth is not his equal.

The second verse of Christy and Nathan Nockel's song says;
  Our God is jealous for His own. None could comprehend His love and His mercy.
  Our God is exalted on His throne, high above the heavens, forever He is worthy.
   And we will keep our eyes on You. We will keep our eyes on You.

   (chorus) A mighty fortress is our God. A sacred refuge is Your name.
   Your kingdom is unshakable, with You forever we will reign.

What wonderful music to encourage our hearts. Words from the Reformation and the 21st century to help us worship God.

Learning New Technology, Again...

After a being a lifelong PC user, I took the Apple plunge this week. Kathy organized our relatives and a few friends and gave me a gift card to our local Apple store for my birthday. After I bought it, a friend who works at the store, Vince, helped me set up my mail accounts, contacts, and showed me some of the basic features. What little I have done so far, I am really enjoying it. I can understand why Mac and iPhone users are such fans. Since my only exposure to Apple up to now has been a couple of iPods, the iPad is pretty cool. The  digital growth and implementation into our lives has been spectacular.

I think it was in 1988 when I bought the first two computers for the church I was working at. We bought one for our grade school and one for the main church secretary. Among many, one task stands out in my mind as being revolutionary at the time. It was how we addressed our major church mailings. We had a huge table machine called an Addressograph. It used metal plates stamped with a person's name and address on it. The metal plates snapped into metal holders and they would go in a tray which the machine would pick up one at a time. I big arm would come across the envelope or folded newsletter and pass over the paper and an ink ribbon. It made a horrible noise, and I knew that one day someone was going to lose some fingers in the process of addressing. In order to make a change of address, we had to send off to a company to make a new metal plate. With our new computer, our secretary entered the names and addresses once, printed them to a dot matrix printer with a label roll attached and while the labels were printing, she could do something else. A few keystrokes and a change of address was made. We all thought we had died and gone to heaven.

Today that computer wouldn't even be able to load our present day operating system, much less do any work. But in 1988, it was almost miraculous. Today, with a device that comfortably sits on my knee, I can see and talk with my children in England, just as easily as I can with someone across the room. In 1988 we were so taken with the moment that we had no idea what the future might hold. And yet the same principal is true, I'm so taken with this new technology that I'm not even thinking of what may be coming down the road. One thing hasn't changed, however. In 1988 we found ways to use our new computers to affect people's lives for Christ. I have already had those thoughts with my new iPad. How, mixed in with everything else I might do with it, can I affect people for Christ. We'll see...

   

I Love Watching Nature Come To Life

I was working in my yard yesterday. We all do the annual ritual of clearing away the dead stalks of plants that had their moment of glory and now give way to a new season. Pulling here, pruning there, deciding what to keep and what needs to go. Trying not to prune too much, but making sure each plant and tree will fill out nicely and thinking about new plants to purchase when the time comes. We have had a lot of rain and snow this winter and the ground is still very saturated. In fact, it snowed a couple of inches just this past Monday, leaving behind another layer of moisture. So after getting muddy and and scrapping off my tennis shoes for the 10th time, I decided to call it a day. It is supposed to be nice next week, so I'll get more time to finish the job.

The one thing I love about this time of year, and the thing that kept distracting me yesterday, was looking at all the bits of green. I love seeing nature wake up. Tiny buds that are just starting to open. Looking at Bradford Pear and Dogwood buds. Right now they are just tiny little balls, waiting for the right time to explode into color. I was even on my roof sweeping off the last of winter debris and saw the first Redbud blossoms about to burst open. I pulled last years dead plants away from all the daffodils and crocus plants, saw the first of those blooms and took a look at my rose bushes. Tiny bits of red and green where beautiful leaves will grow in a few weeks.

Today I'm sore from all the bending over, but my spirit is rejuvenated. Spring has a way of doing that. New life has a way creating a freshness that is renewing. Today is the first day of Spring. Thank you, God, for a wonderful reminder of Your life, in us.