What In Heaven’s Name?

“Baby do you know what that’s worth?
Heaven is a place on earth.
They say in heaven love comes first,
But we’ll make heaven a place on earth…” (1987) “Heaven Is A Place On Earth” Recorded By: Belinda Carlisle Composers: Rick Nowels & Ellen Shipley

Two ants were taking it easy under the hot New York City summer heat. The pavement was hot, so they decided to relax under the shadow of a wall. As they leaned against the wall, soaking up its shade, they began a deep conversation to kill time. One said to the other, “I’m sorry, I just don’t believe in man-made skyscrapers.” With a sense of bewilderment, the other ant expressed his opinion, “Well, I guess it’s possible. I just never saw one built.” After a time, one ant wiped his forehead and made a suggestion, “I’m much cooler since we rested in this shadow. Let’s find a nice lump of sugar someone might have dropped on the sidewalk.” And off they went as they strolled away from the Empire State Building.

Photo by Nextvoyage on Pexels.com

Not far away, in an apartment on the 21st floor of a building facing New York Harbor, a fish bowl sat on a table near a window. Swimming around, two fish were contemplating their lives in a fishbowl. One was a small common goldfish, the other was a Beta. The Beta was a beautiful metallic blue, with rather long purple and pink fins hanging beneath him from his side. His melded blue, pink, and purple tail fin waved behind him like a royal flag in a gentle breeze. His dorsal fin was equally stunning in brilliant shades, floating freely from his back. he was very proud of his beauty, and didn’t mind flaunting his body in front of the very average goldfish.

Photo by imsogabriel Stock on Pexels.com

The Beta noticed the inquisitive look on his pal’s golden face. “Hey, Goldie, why do you continue to be a stooge fantasizing so much about this imaginary ocean you keep talking about?” The goldfish rolled his eyes in aggravation at the Beta’s prodding. “Through this wall of thick glass, I can’t see clearly, but I still believe there is an ocean out there beyond our bowl. It’s an endless depth of wonders with all sorts of oceanic life you and I aren’t privy to in our bowl.” The Beta laughed as he took a quick lap around the interior of his domain. “You’re an idiot, and always will be an idiot. Once and for all, you and I have our ocean, right here, right now. I love it, all 14 inches of it! Besides, I’ve gazed out through this glass and I haven’t spied one drop of this ocean you’re always bubbling about. Who needs an ocean of other life beyond this bowl when you have me, and my beautiful fins?”

Photo by Chevanon Photography on Pexels.com

At the same time, on the other side of the continent, a herd of wild mustangs are running free along the stones and cactus of northern Arizona. About 20 in number, the horses of every color loved sprinting together with their beautiful manes flapping in the wind. For the herd, the dry arid land is their home. Somehow, they are well fed, their noses discover the water needed for them and their young. They are soothed by the brilliant sunsets against the strata of multi-colored rock and mountains. Everywhere they look, there’s open country to explore and call home, even though humans call it, “Rough Country”. Three stallions are running side by side in the middle of the stampede. The trio have many conversations about the lead mustang of the herd. Their names reflect their individual colors.

Photo by Murat u015eahin on Pexels.com

Red: Do you guys ever wonder where we are running to, and why?

White: I really never gave a thought. Do you know why?

Blue: I know why. It’s because our fearless leader at the front of the herd always knows where he’s going. That’s why.

Red: Yeah, but do you ever wonder why we always seem to follow him wherever he decides to run? After all, we have brains, eyes, nose, mouth, and hooves. We can always break off on our own adventure, right? We’re free to do that, right?

White: Are you crazy? No way! Don’t you want to be next to the most popular stallion of our community? Who knows, his brilliance may rub off on us sooner or later. I say, let’s follow with a full gate.

Blue: Every now and then, I do wonder if he is always right. But, never mind. If we think for ourselves too much, we will lag behind. We can’t have that.

Red: By my estimation, we’re clopping about 40 mph right now. We don’t know what’s over the next rise…or do we?

White: There you go again with your weird theories from out of fairy tale-land.

Blue: Please, no more of your wild stories. Let’s just keep our eyes glued to our fearless leader’s rear in front of us. I’m sure he knows where he’s taking us.

Red: Look, I know I never have seen it myself, but I’ve heard about an incredibly wide and deep pit beyond the rise. The stories go all the way back to the native tribes. There’s got to be something to that.

White: Ya know, you don’t have to run with us. You can go dream about the pit you always warn us about elsewhere. That’s “Your Truth”, and “Your Truth” is NOT absolute in my way of thinking. Come on, our handsome leader is gaining speed. We need to step it up.

So, off the herd went at full sprint, following their chief of herds, straight north, about 200 yards from the southern rim of the “absolute” Grand Canyon.

Recently, and I must admit I do not know what sparked this comment, the 75 year old celebrity, Arnold Schwarzenegger, gave his opinion concerning the afterlife. In my attempt to paraphrase, I will leave out his profanity. He stated something like,

“Anyone who says there’s a heaven is a – – – liar.”

He didn’t let it rest there. he went on to spout that heaven is “a fantasy, a fairytale”. He mentioned how he has had many friends die over his lifetime, especially during his bodybuilding career. He expressed that when you die, that’s it. You go into the ground like a dead dog. With that said, he admitted he is afraid of death.

Arnold, that great theologian of the godless, must know something he is keeping to himself. How can a person be so dogmatic about an afterlife he has yet to experience? Has he been given a secret by someone of higher wisdom sitting in the lotus position on top of Mt. Fuji? And where did that shaman get his opinion? Probably from another horse, another fish, another ant.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I am not here to judge Arnold. Arnold is just another sheep in the same flock of earth. Still, Arnold has a much larger problem than believing, or assuming, this life is it. If heaven is a place on earth, everyone is still searching for it. How many thousands of years, with all of its billions of people over those ions, will the search be complete? Where is Shangri-La, Atlantis, or the Fountain Of Youth in Florida? If heaven is here in our fishbowl, along with looking at the selfies of our fins, then why is the search still on?

If heaven is so unbelievable, then why is it one of the most mentioned words in the earth’s languages? Why do we flippantly say, “Oh, heaven knows why”? Or, “The beach had white sand and crystal clear water. I was in heaven”? How about, “She is so stunning. She’s heaven sent”? Obviously, each person is born with a sense of eternity, beyond the here and now.

The bigger problem Arnold has is understanding heaven itself. To deny heaven is to deny God, to deny Jesus. Yes, scripture describes heaven in little glimpses. It even has been written that no human eye has seen, no ear has heard, nor mind has conceived what God has prepped for His followers. Jesus spoke much about heaven, a place He knew, a place He came from to be with us for 33 years. For those who trust His offer of salvation, we certainly will be in awe of what is described about heaven. Yet, what will be the zenith of living in heaven will be being with Jesus, our Redeemer. He is the focal point, the center of heaven, and all the glory heaven contains is all wrapped up in Him. He loves us so much that He said, with His own mouth, that He would go and prep a place for us before we get there. I believe Him. Do you?

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Arnold has some idea that heaven is a series of clouds and harps with cupids floating around. It certainly is not that, nor is it a place on earth.

Just yesterday, I was watching a TV show about conservation concerning the wild animal kingdom. There was a young sealion who was getting ready to be set free out into the ocean for the first time since it was a pup. He had been in the care of wildlife vets as he was recuperating from ingesting plastic trash from the sea. When they brought him to the beach in his cage, they opened the sliding door and he timidly stepped out onto the sand. After looking out at the ocean for a couple of seconds, he turned around and tried to get back into the cage. The assistant who opened the door, quickly blocked the entrance to the cage and gently encouraged him verbally, “No, buddy. You can’t go back.” He tried one more time to get around the man blocking the entrance to the cage. He then turned and started waddling toward the waves. Once the water splashed up on his flippers, he got excited and dove right in headfirst.

There are some who are so attached to this world, they really don’t want the afterlife. I was once married to a woman who felt that way. She was so enamored with the beauty of nature, she literally didn’t want to leave this planet for what is beyond. Her perspective was skewed. This earth is NOTHING compared to what waits for those in Jesus. For now, we are in a cage, a fishbowl, a stampede running toward the cliffs with a stupefied happy gate.

Arnold wants to hold on to the wonderment of this world’s success…seemingly forever. He is amazed, and even spellbound, by his healthy blue, pink, and purple fins, so to speak. So much so, he can’t see beyond it all. I pray Arnold will put down his guard long enough to seriously look beyond the bench-press for His Redeemer.

One has no need to fear death when the One promising eternal life is your Redeemer, and Creator of life. How sad it is to view a future as being in a box six-feet under.

To sightsee a bit of heaven is just a few page turns away in fuel for the race.

“After this I looked, and behold, a door standing open in heaven! And the first voice, which I had heard speaking to me like a trumpet, said, ‘Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this.'” – Revelation 4:1 (English Standard Version)

Woke To Great Awakenings

“Won’t you look down upon me Jesus? You’ve got to help me make a stand…” (1970) “Fire And Rain” Written and Recorded By: James Taylor

Christian history is simply fascinating, to put it mildly. In fact, from Jesus, all the way down through the ions, the historical timeline of the Christian faith is like no other. You don’t have to look behind us too far to find extraordinary happenings of Jesus movements that can raise your hair.

Just since the birth of the American Colonies, the amazing milestones of the church, and its outreach, are well documented, but often tinkered with in a Google search or Wikipedia. For the authentic history, it’s best to rise above the “wokeness” of those with large erasers. Instead, do the research by hitting the old history books before the slanted rewrites began to manipulate factual, documented occurrences concerning Christianity in America.

Photo by David Gallie on Pexels.com

Trust me, there is way too much of church history to layout on this post. But I would be remise if I didn’t mention, “The Great Awakening”, and the “Second Great Awakening”. The facts of the faithful in the U.S., Canada, and Europe are astonishing. There are a few names that stick out to me who were used greatly to ignite a faith movement during their times.

George Whitefield (Often spelled, “Whitfield”) He lit a spiritual fire for decades all across Great Britain, and the American Colonies from the 1740’s-1770’s. Benjamin Franklin wrote of Whitfield’s magnetism by use of his voice delivery and the pulpit.

Charles G. Finney. From the 1820’s to the 1870’s, he was the match God used to start a flame known as the “Second Great Awakening”. His works and documents are outstanding. He set out to revive a spiritually sluggish nation, earning the title of “Father of Modern Revivalism”. Not unlike Whitfield, Finney travelled mainly by horseback, drawing crowds ready to stay a few days. Many of the throng would travel far and wide to be under his sermons.

Dwight L. Moody was a shoe salesman in Chicago. He was inspired by the evangelical giants before him like, Charles Finney and George Whitefield. He began small by starting a kid’s ministry and a street ministry that would later be called, “Sunday School”. His sermons of note, some printed and published, are still quoted by many pastors today…if they dare. From the 1850’s to the 1890’s, this salesman turned fiery preacher, aided in evangelizing both America and Great Britain. He also founded the highly successful Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, which continues to send out quality trained graduates into the world today.

Billy Sunday was a famous baseball player, turned evangelist. From the 1880’s to 1935, Billy Sunday became widely known as a camp-meeting revivalist, who would spend weeks at a time, preaching in communities all across America. The mother of an old friend of mine came to faith under the preaching of this incredible man.

And of course, Billy Graham who took the torch into our generation until his recent death, reaching more ears across the world than anyone in Christian history.

There are more I could list here, but the trail these evangelists blazed are like wagon train wheel tracks cut into stone. You can follow their tracks, their ripples to this day. If you should look up the Great Awakening movements, you will discover how after a community was lit ablaze by the daily preaching of some of these fire-starters, saloons would close down. Prostitution vanished. Gambling halls were boarded up. Gangsters were converted, or run out of town. Countless people came to realize their need for God’s forgiveness through the saving gift of Jesus. Homeless were fed and housed. Love expanded. Enemies became friends. Churches were built. Schools, orphanages and hospitals were funded and built. Imagine the change in a city like that. Imagine your community altered like that.

Just like in the book of Judges, where the spiritual life among Israel resembled a roller coaster. Up/down, up/down. The anti-God sentiment would rise to the point where everyone’s deeds were always right in their own evaluations. What was once known as “evil” became acceptable, even commonplace. What was once known as righteous was either suppressed, abandoned, or ignored all-together. God’s reply to the spiritually weak nation was to bring calamity, hardships, weather changes, droughts, war, violence, etc. The Israeli’s response was to repent, turn from their ways and acknowledge God, followed by the lifting of the curse with blessings and safety taking its place. Then, the nation would backslide into their wild ways again. This cycle continued for decades. It seemed like they would never learn the consequences of turning their national back to their God.

I am not a prophet. I do not claim to know the future, with the exception of what the scripture tells us. But, I can read the barometer of the nation in which I live. We are spiritually ill, at best. We watch the news and our jaws hit the floor on the outlandish signs of our days. If not for God’s amazing grace toward this culture, we would be finished already. At this point in our history, Sodom and Gomorrah are not too far from here.

Our nation, our world, has endured so much in recent years. So much in the way of manifestations of pure evil are abundant. I know, we don’t like to call it for what it is, but that’s because we belong in the book of Judges. The list is way too long to write here, but nevertheless, the list of our sins grow daily. Our nation is decaying as we play our violin from the balcony.

We call evil things something good and upright. We celebrate wickedness and glamorize it all. We cheer those who attack our children with sexual sins, that is if we don’t slaughter them in the womb first. Forgive me, but we parade and applaud the physical mutilation of our children in the name of choosing gender. We mourn for those who are saddened because certain pronouns are not used to describe an individual due to their gender alterations, gender wishful thinking, and normalizing the ideology. We invite our children to drag queen shows, as well as other drag queen events as tools for indoctrination. Pedophilia, bestiality, and goddess worship are becoming tolerable for many in our country, even in our courts. We have normalized self-worship as we gaze at ourselves on little screens and self-publish our images to the world on social media.

Photo by Vinicius Wiesehofer on Pexels.com

What are we doing? Where are we going?

We are accepting cultural sewage on our dinner plates everyday because the Woke minority demands we do it, like shepherds prodding sheep. At the same time, we run from the righteousness the Almighty defined for us long ago.

According to Roman and Greek history, not to mention many other geo-political lands, we are way past due for a collapse of our house of cards. God’s nature is HOLY. He has, and will not perpetually endure a rebellious nation which was founded by Him, and held up His banner for well over 200 years.

Yet…there is a modern remnant.

We saw “The Chosen”, a highly successful TV drama series surrounding Jesus and His followers, continue to spike in viewership worldwide. Promos began to run on the movie, “Jesus Revolution” (out now in theaters) depicting the Jesus People movement of the late 60’s and early 70’s, when a conservative pastor, Chuck Smith, (Played by Kelsey Grammer) dared to minister to the hippies of his day. He was trashed by many in the church at that time as sin-on-wheels, and discredited as a nothing burger. Chuck Smith was unjustly ridiculed by his own spiritual sisters and brothers, including some of the churches I grew up in. It was a God-breathed ground zero movement which still rings through our culture today. Coincidence? Take a step back and get the wide-angle lens out.

Suddenly, this nation pulled together a bit in praying for Damar Hamlin, the seriously injured NFL player who died during a tackle on national television. The very public prayers began on the field of play, spreading all across the stadium, and the country. Not long after, rattling of WWIII got louder, mysterious, unexplained UFO’s were shot down, China’s spy balloon allowed to cross our country, signs of the U.S. in sharp decline in so many areas, new COVID resurgence, record breaking drug overdose deaths, etc, Meanwhile, the Grammy Awards highlights Satanic scenes live on stage, vis Sam Smith, to rousing standing ovations and screams of adoration from the audience, all sponsored by Pfizer, your friendly COVID vaccine conglomerate. Again, ask…a coincidence?

Now we see another heavy public movement of faith. It seems spiritual blooms are bursting open.

Asbury University in Kentucky. An average, regularly scheduled service at the campus chapel, ignites into a 24/7 organic praise, prayer, and worship center where individuals came to grips concerning their need for God’s grace, their need for repentance, their need for prayer. The doors had to stay open due to the masses coming to the extraordinary spiritual awakening at ground zero. Before you could keep up, days and nights, nights and days went by. As the word grew, others began to flock to the chapel from outside the campus, the town, the state, and even the nation. Globally, people took flights from other countries to gather at the Asbury University Chapel. So organic, not organized or pre-sold, no event planner involved, the phenomenon lacked famous, well-known preachers or evangelistic experts. No multi-platinum recording artists were invited to boost crowds. Ticketmaster wasn’t needed, or called on. At last count, before the chapel marathon service was ended, over 50,000 people had attended. Just shocking!

Although the chapel location was closed after several non-stop days, the revival continues off-campus. Now many other revival events are popping up all over the nation at various college campuses.

Thousands and thousands from Generation Z are giving their hearts to God, praying, getting on their knees in humility, making decisions for this life and the next. What is more newsworthy, none of this movement is contained inside one denomination. This fresh spiritual breeze blows across denominational lines. That is an occurrence outside of human hands, manmade design. No need to ask who is playing at any of these gatherings. Currently, there is no rock star drawing crowds, no Billy Sunday, no TBN, only The Bright Morning Star, Jesus. The Event Planner is indeed, the Holy Spirit!

Truthfully, this nation is more than ripe for a Great Awakening.

If you are reading this as an unchurched person, one who isn’t into Jesus, or the Bible in general, try not to analyze this moment in history too much. In your position, the word, “Revival” may be foreign to you, or you may know it only as a description concerning a resurgence of retro music, entertainment, fashion, or structural design. Spiritual revival didn’t start at Asbury Chapel, it starts in the single, individual heart. I hope and pray the revival ignites this writer’s heart.

God said it in scripture, so we would know the formula. He promised if we move closer to Him, He would move closer to us. Our land needs to be healed.

Find out the difference between Woke and Awake, in fuel for the race.

“Yet even now,” declares the LORD, “Return to Me with all your heart, And with fasting, weeping, and mourning; And tear your heart and not merely your garments.” Now return to the LORD your God, For He is gracious and compassionate, Slow to anger, abounding in mercy And relenting of catastrophe. ” Joel 2:12-13 (NAS)

Lessons From Damar Hamlin

“There’s a love that’s divine,
And it’s yours and it’s mine,
Like the sun.
And at the end of the day,
We should give thanks and pray,
To the One, to the One.” (1989) “Have I Told You Lately” Recorded and Written By: Van Morrison

On Monday night, January 2nd, several million eyes were on the screen watching Monday Night Football. It was the Buffalo Bills visiting the Cincinnati Bengals for a tough bout. Not far into the game, the Bill’s safety, 24 year old Damar Hamiln, wearing #3, made a picture perfect, clean tackle, stopping a Bengals advance for yardage. After the play, Damar stood to his feet, took a step back and collapsed. At first, most thought he just had the wind knocked out of him. As the medical team tended to him, it became apparent he no long was breathing. His heart had stopped. For nine minutes CPR was performed. As they feverishly worked his lifeless body, they were able to jump start his heart. He was taken to the hospital where he went into cardiac arrest once again. His mom was in the attendance and went with him to the hospital.

Photo by Jean-Daniel Francoeur on Pexels.com

Thousands in the stands were in shock. You could hear a pin drop as the fans were waiting and watching what was being played out before them. As the cameras panned over the crowd, many were in prayer for the young player. On the field, players and coaches knelt and prayed together. Some players humbly got on all fours with their faces to the turf as they cried out to God for their NFL brother. Many held hands, embraced one another, and on both teams many tears were openly shed. Across the nation, as the broadcast continued, prayers began to go up from living rooms, sports bars, and at places of employment. Later, it was reported that globally people stopped to pray during the tragedy over the airwaves.

It was decided, and rightly so, that the game was to be cancelled. Slowly the stands were emptied in a very eerie silence as the fans poured out into the parking lots. Some in shock, some emotionally distraught, some in silent prayer.

As Damar Hamlin was in a coma, while the medical staff urgently fought for his life in the hospital, the NFL, the coaches, along with the Bills and Bengals, urged the public to continue to pray as his life hung in the balance. Indeed, the prayers continued on through the week, even on the fields across the country the following NFL weekend forged by various team members openly praying together for healing for #3, Damar Hamlin. Prayer requests came from players and coaches combined in the press conferences.

As the days rolled forward, so did the prayers across the nation. On the third day, Hamlin opened his eyes. Each day, the doctors gave encouraging news about his recovery. He is expected to make a full recovery…from DEATH! As I write this, on January 10th, Damar has done so well that he was released from the Cincinnati hospital and flown to Buffalo General Hospital in Buffalo, NY for ongoing treatment. He is overwhelmed by the love and support he has received from all over the world. He is especially grateful for the outpouring of prayer, as he shared how he is a person of faith. He honored his mom for raising him to believe in God, and His ways.

Photo by Ric Rodrigues on Pexels.com

So what have we learned from Damar Hamlin in the aftermath of such a wonderous event in his life, one which was played out before the world?

The lesson didn’t really come from Damar himself. After all, the healthy 24 year old man literally died on the field of play before a global audience. Under the circumstances, he not only shouldn’t be alive today, but he seemingly has not suffered brain damage, significant heart damage, nerve damage, etc. According to the medical professionals tending to him, he is projected to someday soon, run out of the hospital doors. It leaves the thinking person to ask a simple question, which many will ignore.

Millions and millions should be asking, “What just happened here?”

It’s not the first time something miraculous happened. I can think of one very sick man who also had loving friends who cared for him. They cared so much that they tore open a hole in the roof of a house and lowered him down on a stretcher because the house was so full of people. Why go to such trouble? Because the Master of The Universe was just beneath that roof. Jesus had been healing the sick, raising the dead, giving sight to the blind right and left. The ill man’s friends had faith in the One under the roof. So, they went into action out of love for their friend, KNOWING Jesus had the power to heal his infirmities. In scripture it states that not only did Jesus remove the illness, but told him to take up his bed and walk away. In full strength, he did just that.

An executive, a vice president, of the NFL, remarked at the week of prayer for Hamlin in an interview, affirming that there is “power in prayer.” In tears he acknowledged that there is a God who hears our pleas, our cries, our hearts.

There is power in prayer, but moreover, there is power in the One receiving the petitions. If we had prayed to the Buffalo Bill’s medical doctor, he would have lacked the power beyond his medical training. If we had prayed to the sun, the wind, the referees, there would have been a funeral for the Hamlin family. If we had prayed to Hamlin himself, stretched out on the turf without life, the petitions would have bounced off his helmet. Prayer, sincere prayer, is an act of faith toward the One prayed to, the One Who has the power.

Photo by Paulo Mu00e1rcio Dos Santos on Pexels.com

In the earliest manuscripts of scripture, from Genesis onward, God commands us to pray. He even goes so far as to promise He not only will hear faith-filled prayer, but that he also will respond to the prayers offered in humility. Sure, some responses to prayer is the word, “No”. Some responses to prayer comes as, “I will. In My timing.” Sometimes, answers in the affirmative have happened before the prayer is finished. I can testify to that in my own life.

In the scope of God’s purposes, we need to look deeper at what just happened. Ask why this event was so public. Ask why this episode was broadcast around the earth on that designated Monday night. Ask why Hamlin’s miraculous progress has been front page news almost every day since it occurred. Yes, there is a deeper purpose here. I am not one to say what that purpose is, but I do know God promised He would make Himself known throughout the world in the ending of days.

Look around. The mouth of the naysayer was shut. No one is suing the television network, or the NFL, or the Bengals or Bills because prayer was so abundant and public, on a very visual broadcast. The very same people who have sued coaches and school districts over public prayer at sports events were nowhere to be found. I find that very odd.

Another lesson learned over Damar Hamlin’s death-to-life story is the love shown. The general public displayed its humanity. His charity, for impoverished children in his hometown, had only raised $2500.00 at the time of Hamlin’s health event. The last time I checked, it has reach almost 10 million dollars in donations in a matter of a few days. The well wishes continue to stream in. His teammates, as well as other NFL players and coaches, continue to show their love and support while he is in his hospital bed. The general public, whether football fans or not, have poured out concern and love toward this 24 year old who most never heard of before that Monday night game. This personal event for Damar Hamlin has turned many hearts. In fact, it displays a true heart in our culture, a heart we often do not see.

Most of all, we have witnessed something, not only remarkable, but downright awakening for many. There is a multitude of souls who have acknowledged their faith openly during this episode, and many for the first time. In the core of this nation, many are rediscovering their faith in God.

In a down-sliding culture where we are pushing our children to drag queen shows, we must stand up in the field in which we play and acknowledge God. While we see children killing children, and adults as well, we must grip our faith, hold it up and beg for God’s ear. As the love of many cools to a coldness, the people of faith must struggle through what is easy to do and love anyway.

I predict that Damar Hamlin will forever be changed in his spirit. He will grow in life to understand true love and brotherhood even more than what he once understood. I am hoping the rest of us can do the same.

Incorporating prayer in life can be had when being filled with fuel for the race.

“Come close to God and He will come close to you.” James 4:8a (NAS)

An Exit Of Grace

“God save our gracious Queen,

Long live our noble Queen,

God save the Queen.

Send her victorious,

Happy and glorious,

Long to reign over us,

God save the Queen” (1619, via various historic literature.) National Anthem, or Royal Anthem of Great Britain. Some sources report the melody possibly was composed by: John Bull. Otherwise, composer is unknown.

Some have mournfully reacted to the passing of Queen Elizabeth II in a curious way. Multiple times the words from the Queen’s subjects have been stated something like, “I never thought this day would come. After all, she is the Queen. She just goes on and on.” Deep inside such sentiments, although recalling they were said out of shock and grief, is an eternal urging, a longing for an undying righteousness, a Monarch which never ceases to die, defeating the laws of nature and age. It may not be spoken of while sipping a pint around the dartboard of a rustic low-ceiling pub in Sheffield, but apparently the longing is the undercurrent of the soul. In fact, ancient scripture points this out as an everlasting truth.

Queen Elizabeth II knew this all too well. Her Majesty knew her God. She, herself, yearned for the day when she would bow in His throne room where The Unseen Eternal, The Ancient Of Days remains in constant power. This 70 year Monarch never needed to bend the knee here on this temporary placement, but she looked forward to the day when she would fall on her face before the Eternal Ruler of The Universe. At 96 years of age, she finally was ushered into what she had always imagined.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“Although we are capable of great acts of kindness, history teaches us that we sometimes need saving from ourselves – from our recklessness or our greed. God sent into the world a unique person – neither a philosopher nor a great general (important though they are) – but a Saviour, with the power to forgive.” – Queen Elizabeth II (2011)

Commentators from the BBC to the local small market news outlets in America, have reported the stainless rule of this Monarch. Often the words behind the news desks tell of the Queen’s remarkable record of scandal-free reign. Although every member of the House of Windsor cannot stand under such microscopic scrutiny, the Queen endured to the end with God’s righteousness as her bond. In fact, most Monarchs in the scrolls of history were, and are, flawed in one area or the other, some gravely so. Throughout England’s history, as well as all other nations, Monarchs, wrapped in such power while stewed in elitisms, haunted by ironic jealousies, have proven to be warped, corrupted, and in some cases, evil. That is not to say Her Majesty was sinless, as some may proclaim, but the fact remains, her reign as Queen saw very few flaws. Her reputation as a person was above board in just about every way that has been reported outside the walls of Buckingham Palace. No wonder this long-reigning Monarch has been hailed as one who held to selfless service, self-control, self-restraint, and always reaching for the highest of standards.

There are those in the world who have a disdain for the Queen. Yet, in most every case, the reasons stem from her stance against sin and the appearance of such. She had no room in her house for misbehavior, outlandish hatred, and words and actions against her England.

There is no doubt in my mind, these qualities attributed to this Royal cannot be traced to her jewels, her robes, or her throne. It is my belief this Queen, if raised as a peasant on the back streets of blue-collar Manchester, her qualities would have remained intact. I should add here, it would not have been because she wanted to better than others around her, or to even strive for a life in a monastery, but only because she humbly knew where true righteousness comes from. Her Highness, somewhere in the bowels of her souls and spirit, at some given time in her lengthy days, accepted the forgiveness of sins offered only through Jesus, The King Of Kings.

“For me, the life of Jesus Christ, the Prince Of Peace, whose birth we celebrate today, is an inspiration and an anchor in my life. A role-model of reconciliation and forgiveness, He stretched out His hands of love, acceptance and healing. Christ’s example has taught me to seek to respect and value all people of whatever faith or none.” – Queen Elizabeth II (Christmas Day address 2014)

Photo by Gu Bra on Pexels.com

Much will be said of this Queen in the coming days. Her name will be garnished with grandeur, pomp and circumstance. Her memory, and the acts of her rule, will be enshrined by the high praises of accolades from the poorest among us, as well as, the wealthiest and most famous, and rightly so. As these events unfold, as the Queen is laid to rest, keep in mind of what she might say as a parting comment. With what I know of this great lady, as we highlight her achievements, and her vast integrity, she would stop us while pointing to the One Who shared His righteousness with her, holding her hand, and holding her up through a jubilee of her reign. It is her faith in Him which we celebrate, even if unknowingly.

In the pages of modern history, those of the faith, and even those searching for eternal truths, have been graced by irrefutable tangible movings of the hand of God for us to witness. There have been remarkable manifestations throughout history which work to enlighten the blindness of humanity. Although these things are a rarity since the days of Jesus, they have been well documented across the globe. In each case, in those very rare moments, there with it comes a divine message reaching from outside the created galaxies to the world God so loves. On Thursday, September 8th, 2022, just before and after the passing of Queen Elizabeth, a double rainbow appeared over Buckingham Palace where a throng of people watched with collective gasps.

Photo: Whitchurch Herold

About the very same time, another rainbow pierced through the cloudy darkness some 29 miles away at Windsor Castle for the mourners to witness, just as the Union jack was being lowered to half-mast.

Photo: Getty Images

In the days of Noah, the first rainbow ever was seen and recorded. It is written that it was a “sign”, a monument, of God’s promise never to destroy the earth by flood again. Upon the plucking-up of Queen Elizabeth’s soul on September 8th, it’s as if The Rock of Ages visually made it known she was now over the rainbow, under the arch of His everlasting arms. Truly, an exit of grace.

See what is in store for those who mourn, and for those looking for an eternal righteousness which never dies in fuel for the race.

“In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple.” – Isaiah 6:1 (ESV)

No Vacancy

"She can feel He's coming soon.  
There's no place, there's no room.  
A baby changes everything.    
A baby changes everything/" (2008) "A Baby Changes Everything"  Recorded By: Faith Hill  Written By: Craig Michael Wisemanm James Timothy Nichols, Kimberly Kerryann Wiseman

If you are not a regular reader of my jots, then you may not know I grew up in the 60’s and 70’s with a single mom, and as an only child.

My bio-father left our lives while I was a toddler. It was not a good marriage, In fact, the reason they got married was because he raped my 15 year old mom on a date and I was conceived. He had many problems which contributed to the divorce. Before I was three years old, the divorce served as a rescue mission from domestic violence, habitual adultery, and alcoholism. It was not only needed, but it was the end of a long nightmare for my mom.

Although my mom remarried a couple of years later (ending in a four year marriage) I grew up always wondering about my mysterious bio-father.

A poor teenage girl with a baby in the early 60’s in Texas, had no idea what counselling was, or even the availability of solid counseling in her circles. Her ripped out heart only went by her depression and emotion. Twice she tried to kill herself during pregnancy. Gathering all photos of my bio-father, cutting him out with scissors was the norm, she exhausted herself in removing the horrid memories. A pre-court deal was made by my granddad which involved an erasing of my bio-father. This meant no child support, no visitations, no contact as long as we both lived. For the first couple of years, gifts and cards would be delivered to me from his parents, but were returned to them. Keep in mind, in those days of tragedy, these were decisions in the attempt to protect me from the man and his brutality. My first name was changed to what was then my middle name. My middle and last name would be legally changed when she remarried, totally deleting the residual of how I was brought into the world.

Old faded memories from my toddler years produced little moments of scenes from when I was two, which included a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed man with enormous hands. My bio-father wasn’t spoken of as I was growing up. My questions concerning him were quickly snuffed out, for the most part. No pictures, no stories of him, no name. It was as if I came to this planet on a spaceship and was discovered in a cornfield wearing a cosmic diaper.

By the time I was 15 or so, I learned his name, and my birth name. That just made me more curious. Promising myself I would find him after I turned 18, I began sorting out plans to do some detective work on my own without the aid of my family.

Yet, it was nerve-racking watching for him. By the time I was eleven years old, anytime I was on stage performing in a play, musical, or singing solo work, I would scan the audience to see if any man out there in those chairs resembled my vague snapshots from my toddler brain. By the time I was in 7th-8th grades I took up the martial arts. Throughout my teen years, in hopes my bio-father had secretly been scoping out my events and activities, to the point of attending incognito, enjoying my performances in Karate and kickboxing tournaments, I would again, scan the stands for any man who might be tall, dark with large hands. Because I was a singer/actor, years of performances during the 70’s were spent going to the lobby during pre-shows looking at every tall man which walked to the ticket office window. Peering out the curtains before showtime, even though it was highly frowned upon, was the norm for me. I was always hoping that somehow, some way, he would be interested enough to check out who I was becoming and what I looked like.

My high school career ended on a humid night in May of ’78. I had just turned 18. My graduating class of almost 900 kids was prepped and ready to walk across the stage in royal blue cap and gowns. The ceremony was taking place at Texas Stadium, where the Dallas Cowboys played. The stands were filled on the north side of the stadium. Too many in the throng to scan for what might have been my last hope of my bio-father caring enough about me to attend in secret. There were dreams of a surprise introduction.

As it turned out, he never tried throughout my school years. Not once.

Saturdays were very busy days at the Florsheim shoe store where I worked in the Valley View Mall in Dallas. It was my first job right out of high school, while auditioning for various singing and acting gigs. You learn much doing work like that, especially when the goal is to understand how people think. But nothing could compare to the one Saturday in November of ’79, when a kind, and apprehensive elderly couple sheepishly walked up to me in the shoe store and introduced themselves as my grandparents. Talk about being in a daze. I was indeed. As it turned out, an aunt from that side of the family did some detective work to locate me.

They invited me to a dinner. I accepted. Entering into their family room at their house, I found old babyhood pictures of me I had never seen before on their wall, almost like a memorial wall. Honestly, I fought back tears through my shock. The second, or third dinner delivered a question from their side of the table. I was asked if I wanted to meet my bio-father…in person, face to face. Without hesitation, I said yes. He drove over to their house to meet me the same night. 6′-5″ tall, dark eyes, dark hair, olive skin tones, and large hands, just exactly as I had held him in my mind. Still…my mom and her folks were not pleased to say the very least.

Suddenly, there he was, in the flesh. I learned what his voice sounded like. Being an actor, I studied his mannerisms, his speech patterns and accent, his gate as he made his way across the room. Tirelessly, I hunted for anything which identified him as my DNA match. No longer did I have to wonder, dream, or scan an audience. He was there. No longer was he so mysterious, vague, or indescribable. No longer was he over there somewhere.

At Passover, in every Seder dinner, the ancient traditional elements are carefully place on the table. There is so much to be done to prep for such a holiday, including all the texts which are read and lyrics to be song. Like Christmas, or Easter, the feast is for the entire family, and extended family when available. The table can be set for 2 people, 12 people, or 50 people. Of course, the more the merrier. There is one curious tradition which every Jewish family recognizes. The empty chair with a place setting. This is a tradition which reminds those in attendance of “The One To Come”.

Elijah, the Old Testament prophet, was the name they chose long ago to represent the Promised One, the Messiah. To this day, many believe Messiah will be Elijah himself.

Since the days of Genesis, for the Jewish people, God was far to reach. He was over there, over the mountain, over the river, high up on the mountain, etc. Yes, He attended to them in times of trouble, but always having to come from up there, from over there, from the other realms. Although God told them His Spirit would be with the nation, many forgot or disbelieved. Even in their ancient temple, it was believed God resided behind a large, thick drape where the Ark of The Covenant was placed. No one was to enter behind the veil, or death would swiftly come. The ancient scrolls informed them that He can not be seen by the human eye. Only once a year, only the high priest could enter through the drape to perform his sacred duties, but even he had a rope tied to his ankle which had bells on it, just in case he himself fell dead due to seeing God with naked eyes. The other end of the rope rested outside so his body could be recovered. Yet, on Passover, they are always prepared to welcome Elijah, a Messiah-type, to suddenly come to their Seder table. Why? Because Messiah was the Promised One, Who is to come from God’s throne. He is to come in the flesh and fellowship as a member of the clan. So, the chair is empty for those who are still scanning humanity for Messiah.

Christmas cards and songs reflect a great truth about a name given to describe Messiah. It wouldn’t be His personal name like, Fred, or Jim. But rather, a description of an attribute with great and powerful meaning. We first knew about this in an old Hebrew prophecy.

” Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: Behold, the virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call Him Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14)

Prior to a teenage virgin who would give birth to a son, she was told by an angelic visitor the child would be called, by people who would know Him, “Immanuel”. (Matthew 1:22-23) The writer, Matthew, went further by interpreting the old Hebrew name for us when he included, “(which means, ‘God With Us'”) Since Hebrew is written and read from right to left, literally it can read, “With Us Is God”.

King David was correct in Psalm 139. He mentioned the ever present God in his personal ever changing, ever altering life. Wherever David was to go, wherever his destination, he knew God was there. However, He starts out with the words, “Where can I go to escape your spirit…?” No “Immanuel” in David’s life…in the real physical sense. David understood from scripture, and by life’s experiences, God was spirit. He looked forward to a Christmas, which never came in his day.

“WITH us IS God” A Baby changes everything.

Because Messiah came to dinner, the chair is filled, no vacancy anymore. No room for any other god, nor demonic spirit, no room for a lucky charm. He FILLS!

Immanuel brought the world its first Christmas. Because of Immanuel, no need to scan for a higher power sold at truck stops, or spirit mediums. Because of Immanuel, there’s no more need to wonder if God cares. Because of Immanuel, hope rises, hearts are lifted, and lives are rebooted, washed and set to glow in darkened times. A baby changes everything.

No more searching to see if God shows up, to see if He cares about you on a personal level. Jesus came to make sure you understood you are not left as an orphan in your Father’s eyes. For 33 years, He was here to overwhelmingly prove it.

Ironically, He would turn the tables on us a bit. He mentioned to concerned followers, when He did leave, He would have a place built and ready for each one of us who trusts in Him, so that He could be with us after this life is over. So, I imagine, He has an empty chair and place setting readied with your name on it,,,if you belong to Him through faith.

Find Christmas renewed in fuel for the race.

“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.” – Revelation 3:20 (NIV)

Losing Faith?

“I will be here for you,
Somewhere in the night.
Somewhere in the night.
I’ll shine a light for you,
Somewhere in the night.
I’ll be standing by,
I will be here for you” (1992) “I Will Be Here For You” Recorded By: Michael W. Smith Composer: Michael W. Smith

It was late. I had been up since 3am. I traveled for 70 miles in a heavy downpour from a Texas autumn storm to reach a hospital in Greenville, Texas. I spent all day in a plastic chair in a small recovery room with three walls and a curtain. My plan was to drive back home that night, but Glaucoma has wrecked my night vision. Although I didn’t want to, I reserved a nearby hotel room. It was cheap, and on many levels, it should stay cheap.

The night didn’t go well at all. My mind and heart remained in that tiny recovery room at the hospital down the interstate. The last thing I heard, as my head hit the pillow, was a vacuum cleaner at work in the hallway at 10:21pm! I’ll spare you from the profanity which echoed off the concrete walls.

Drained of energy, I checked out around 8:30 the following morning. The rain had stopped, but the parking lot was littered with puddles to avoid. My heart was heavy, and my soul was dry. Somehow I felt I was on an internal cruise control as I opened the door to my parked SUV. My head hit the steering wheel as I placed the key in the ignition. There was no ignoring the craving for answers, the thirst for wisdom, and the starvation for comfort.

Not long ago, I wrote you a brutally honest post concerning my 77 year old mom who recently had been handed a diagnosis of dementia. Since I live in the Dallas area, and she lives in Greenville, we speak on the phone every day, sometime’s more than once. Over the past year or so, I have seen her begin to stumble on word processing during sentences over the phone. Just a few months ago she clearly began to experience hallucinations. When she began to forget the names of her granddaughters, I knew it was getting serious. She holds her cards close to her chest, so I am rarely aware of any specific assistance she needs. Slowly I have learned she can no longer do math, count money, or write well at all, etc. Stubborn and independent as the day is long, she slugs it out with life’s battles alone in her childhood home, the one she inherited from her deceased parents. Tough like a Texas oak tree, a woman made of steel, she raised me as a single mom through poverty, pain, and perseverance during the 60’s and 70’s. Not one CEO of any top 100 corporation could compare to her work ethic and drive to make a living.

The two of us in 1962.

And now…now, she is fading quickly. I’ve heard it said that it is like a great thriving tree losing its leaves in the fall, one by one. So true.

• 

It’s not like my wife and I haven’t spoken to her about the need to sell the house and consider assisted living. She poops it right out of her noggin when the subject is presented. She’ll say, “No, I’m not near ready for that. I’m feeling much better today.”

Many hours have been spent wrestling just how I might be able to convince her to turn this page in her life, without her being forced. I walk a balancing wire because I do all I can to keep from upsetting her, or have her turn angry with me personally for pushing her too hard. My belief is she dreams to live long enough in that special house until she dies in her sleep in bed.

A little over a week ago, when I asked how her day was going, she was hesitant and sheepish. Her voice sounded tired and foggy. It took a few minutes to get her to confess that she had been sick at her stomach for a few days. There were a coup[e of phone conversations interrupted because she had to rush to the bathroom to throw-up. But then the next day she would tell me how well she felt, and how it must have just been a flu bug. Pressing her I could tell she wasn’t back to norms. On the 5th morning from the day she told me of her sickness, she confessed that she wasn’t better after all. My bootstraps were pulled up as I spoke to her like a parent, telling her she must go to a clinic, or ER. She barked at me saying some over-the-counter meds would do the trick, etc. I knew better. No bait was taken. I called her doctor, but she couldn’t see her for several days. I called my cousin, who lives just 5 minutes from her, and told him he needs to take her to get checked out. In the end, it was necessary.

A couple of hours rolled by when I received a call from my cousin who handed me over to a nurse in the ER. Tests were being run. Later in the afternoon, a surgeon called me. He informed me she had a concerning hernia near her navel. He mentioned there was trapped bowel material in the hernia, as well as, a traffic back-up in her GI track. Emergency surgery needed to be done within that very hour. I approved it over the phone. She would be in the hospital for at least 5 days as they attack the blocked GI track. All went well with the surgery. I arrived to be with her the next morning.

That was 8 days ago, as I write this post. Although the procedure went well, and the draining of her bowels was completed yesterday, she remains very weak and in need of rehab. My “Iron Lady” has quickly become frail and needy.

In recovery

I wondered why she wouldn’t let me in the house when I would come for a visit throughout the last few years. I am her only child, just 16 years younger than she, and our relationship has been good. While she was in the hosp[ital, I was able to get into her house as I needed to retrieve her ID and documentations. The word “gasp” would fall short of what I walked into. Without getting into the horrific scenes I saw and walked through, I will just say, she has been living in filth and squalor, seemingly for a long time. My heart broke seeing and smelling the realities of how far my dear mom had spiraled. A dumpster will need to be delivered in order for us to clear and clean. That’s how bad it really is.

Life has been very tough. Without my life-long Christian-based faith, I know where I would be by now, and it wouldn’t be a place where you would want to be. In fact, I know of a few times suicidal thoughts were at play during some personal tragedies in my past. With that said, more than a plethora of times, God Himself reassured me of who I am in Him, and without Him I would be on skid-row, or worse several times over. Honestly, and you know this if you are a long-time reader of my blog, there have been near miraculous moments in my life, where in the darkened corners I found myself in, I was brought to my feet. It grieves me to type the next two words…AND YET, I still have faltered in my faith, even though God showed me His hand through the wind and waves. “AND YET”…don’t you just hate those words?

With my head on the steering wheel, along with waning droplets on the windshield from the night before, I felt spiritually empty. My “worry wart” was getting bigger as I sat there pondering what needed to be done. My mom is ill, and can never live alone again without assistance. Where will she go? My wife and I don’t have room for her, not to mention, she will need more care than what we will be able to do. Even now, she thinks she is going back home to live as she was living. I fear looking into her aged eyes to tell her she can no longer be alone. Frankly, I don’t know how to break it to her without crushing her spirit. I’ve already been taking over her finances. A Power Of Attorney will need to established on her behalf. The herculean job of tackling the house, cleaning, moving her out, selling furniture, then selling the house….arg! Sitting there in my vehicle, I only had less than a quarter of a tank left in my spiritual reserve. The tears began to flow with the current of loneliness taking me downstream to where I shouldn’t be.

My prayer-life has been eaten away, practically. Ashamed to say it, but it’s true. The realization of my forehead hitting the the steering wheel brought me to a place where I needed to scream-out to God. That’s exactly what I did. No dogma involved, no Christianese spoken, no pretense whatsoever was present. With a good old fashioned yelling, in concert with my belly-crying, I called out to God in despair.

Before I go any further, let me caution you on something. If you have not accepted God’s grace and mercy through what His son, Jesus did on the cross for our redemption, you may not get what I am about to write. Please, forgive me if I am describing you. Nevertheless, what I am about to proclaim is factual, even biblical. If you are a Jesus follower, and think of prayer as quietly spoken, laced with a “thee & thou” because it is your habit, or because you believe your prayer would not make it out of the room if not practiced in this way, you might find what I am about to advise somewhat sacrilegious. If you use ritualistic phrases in your prayers, often repeating them several times for punctuation, you may not like what I am about to suggest whatsoever. When in the cave, the belly of the great fish, or at hell’s gate itself, God wants to hear YOU, YOUR HEART, YOUR GUT-WRENCHING SOUL! Scream out to Him in your suffering, in your neediness, in your emptiness. He’s a BIG GOD, He can and will handle what you need to say. Maybe the words might not be so pretty, or elegant, that’s okay. In fact, that’s what He wants from you. In a personal relationship, that’s what you do in tense times. Reveal your passion of the moment to Him. My experience has been, when I do that, I hear from Him, strongly, directly, and timely.

During my prayer, through pouring tears, I reminded God of how much of a servant my mom has been in her faith-walk all of her life. My verbal slideshow to Him consisted of how faithful she has been to Him and His words. The pulse of her deep faith was so evident in her song, her servanthood, her sacrifices. Brutal honesty rolled out of my mouth as I fessed-up to God that I am helpless in facing this giant of an issue. He heard how I felt alone in this task, weak and feckless. In my yelling out to Him, I ended it by confessing how I needed Him to show-up. I admitted that I am clueless on just how to begin all that needs to be done, all that needs to be said, all that needs strength that I don’t seem to have anymore. My sincerity was brutal and blunt when I screamed out, “Lord God, I need to know you are with me! Not tomorrow, or even the next day, but today!”

At that moment, I cleared the drops from my eyes, reach out to turn the key in the ignition, and the radio was on my favorite classic hits station.

The very first sound coming out of my speakers as the engine turned over was…

“When you’re weary,
Feeling small,
When tears are in your eyes,
I’ll dry them all.
I’m on your side…”

In that very moment of my darkened frame, Simon and Garfunkel’s “Like A Bridge Over Troubled Water” began to air. Slotted at that precised juncture in time, not 5 mins before, or 10 minutes after, but right then and there, out of their 600+ songs in rotation, sprinkled in with news, weather, and traffic, the lyrics met me like a subway at the station. I spent about 30 years in radio and radio programming, and I can tell you, this just doesn’t happen at the whim of a programming clock with its categories of rotating songs, separation slots involving artists, titles, and production types. There is a true science to what you hear on the air. I recognized it as a, “God Thing”.

Recently, my wife and I read through a book on odds, the law of averages, chances, and frequencies of events. This would be a good study on the odds of this happening as a coincidence, happenstance, etc. Based upon the book we recently read, I can tell you that the odds are against me hearing the first verse of that song, programmed at the right hour, at the right minute, at the right second after my prayer.

Suddenly, I wept again, but for a different reason. My faith was bolstered as in times past. Because I was shouting out my guts to God in faith that He would hear my pleas, He responded using a medium so very precious to me and my life…music. He arranged all roads to converge at that moment to prove to me that indeed, He is there, and will be there.

When reaching out for God’s grip, look no further than fuel for the race.

“Then you will call upon Me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:12-13 (NAS)

Conformity

“Pressure: pushing down on me,
Pressing down on you, no man ask for.
Under pressure that burns a building down,
Splits a family in two,
Puts people on streets.” (1981) “Under Pressure” Recorded By: Queen & David Bowie. Composed By: Roger Taylor, Freddie Mercury, David Bowie (Lyrics), John Deacon, Brian May.

Are you old enough to remember these?

Photo by Yan Krukov on Pexels.com

I’m sorry. I’m referencing the bean bad chairs, not the kids.

I was so proud of mine. During my teen years, in the 70’s (1970’s, not 1870’s) I had one in my bedroom. It was royal blue (My high school colors.) and made of a shiny vinyl. It sat in the corner of my room, right next to my stereo record player and headphones. It lasted several years into my early 20’s until the tiny white Styrofoam beans began to escape the seams. That was tough on burnt orange shag carpet. I think I cried when I finally surrendered to tossing it in a dumpster. Recently, I have noticed ads for a bean bag chair revival, new and improved. Just like my old royal blue friend, I am sure the new ones will memorize the shape of your backside. They have a memory, ya know.

When the Star Trek franchise introduced, “The Borg” aliens to the Star Trek timeline in the late 80’s with The Next Generation, I was reminded of my old bean bag chair.

The Borg. Star Trek franchise. Paramount Pictures. Memory Alpha Fandom.

If you are unfamiliar with the Star Trek story-lines, the Borg is a race of collective drones, part android, part human, or other humanoid species. They are of one mind, no individual thinking or reasoning. Each drone hears only one dialogue from its members in the hive of collectives. Their purpose is to collect humanoid species by force to glean from their experiences and technologies in order to add to their own collective. Their very robotic vocal greeting to planets and space ships is ominous:

“WE ARE THE BORG. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED. YOU MUST COMPLY. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.”

Of course, the victims of such an assimilation means the humanoid species being spoken to will not only cease to live out their own culture and society as they know it, but will lose all identity and individual thought as they will be part of ONE MIND, ONE THOUGHT, ONE PURPOSE. In other words, it ain’t good.

Just like my bean bag chair, victims of The Borg must CONFORM, no longer keeping their own sovereign shape. I thought about this when after the summer Olympics were complete, I could see the outline of my derriere on the couch. Poor cushion, it had no choice but to comply.

What does it take to comply to the force facing you? If someone were to come out from the cavern they reside in, they may not see it. However, if you are plugged into what is going on around you, you will recognize it.

Whenever misinformation is given, the goal is to get you to conform. Whenever an alternative “truth” is unleashed in the media, academia, or from government, you can bet it is an effort to assimilate the “absolute truth” when conformity is the goal. Whenever free speech is attacked with vicious words, and even physical violence, conformity is the goal. Whenever you see a yellow sign and you are constantly told it’s a blue sign, the goal is conformity. Whenever a photo is forced upon you over and over again, accompanied by the word, “Racism” or “Crime”, and the photo clearly shows the absence of racism or crime, you can bet you are being groomed for conformity. Whenever you witness statues of significant officials and warriors, and founding fathers torn down and burned, conformity is the reward. Whenever an elected official, hired by you, the free citizen of democracy, stands behind the podium of significance and states that he/she is “losing patience” with you, conformity is in play. Whenever a growing mob tramples and burns down all that is wholesome and good for a community, conformity is on the menu. Whenever you are assaulted, or publicly showered with curses in order to shame you because of your ideology, theology, or your life-choices, the pressure is to squeeze you into conformity. Whenever shiny objects are dangled in the opposite direction of where I need to be looking, for safety and freedom sake, I am reminded misdirection is a tool which leads to conformity. (Just ask the catfish wrapped up in your local butcher shop.) Whenever righteousness, law & order, and right is rifled out to be evil, lack of justice, and wrong, conformity is the pressure.

My bean bag chair only conformed to my rear end due to the pressure of weight I applied to it. As for The Borg, well, conformity is the only option by way of force.

You might say conformity is the result of impression. To be impressed, whether good or bad, someone, or something must weigh heavily on you. Adam and Eve were introduced to the cleverness of a conformity campaign:

“…You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” – The Serpent (Genesis 3:4 – 5) ESV

If I were a bean bag chair, before someone applied their weight to me, I would push back with the boldness of shouting out, “I know my shape! It’s how I was made! That’s the truth of it!” If I were to face The Borg, I would fight for the truth of who I am, loving the freedoms God gave to me. Why? Because with God, resistance is NOT futile! I’ve already been transformed.

When compliance is birthed from a lie, recognize the signs in fuel for the race.

“And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.” – Romans 12:2 (NAS)

Good Grief!

“In the words of a broken heart,
It’s just emotion that’s taken me over,
Tied up in sorrow, lost in my soul…” (1977) “Emotion” Recorded By: Samantha Sang Composed By: Robin Hugh Gibb / Barry Alan Gibb

It’s been a longer span of time since I wrote a post on this blog. A number of reasons come to mind as I write this, but for now I will say it’s because of grief. Really, grief is just a pinch inside a mix of ingredients. Grief, with a good dose of anger, stirred with a mix of anxiousness makes for a good bunt cake to the belly. Throw that in a pre-heated oven deep down inside, and see what comes out as the temperature rises. Have you felt it yourself? This cake is bitter.

Grief can be born out of many things. Frankly, it could be manifested out of an ongoing flash flood of issues, washing everything down stream, taking out foundations which were once thought as solid and sturdy.

Photo by Ian Turnell on Pexels.com

Take note of the drastic rise in crime across the U.S. Notice the overwhelming splash of drug abuse nationwide. Research the scoreless population of homelessness in our streets and under bridges. Violence is becoming the norm in the streets, against everyone, including Asians, elderly, and children. Much of which were committed by ex-cons who were set free from behind bars. Others act out due to mental illness, peer pressure, or pure hatred. Where is the righteous rage?

Try not to ignore the vast numbers of “illegal” immigrants crossing our southern border at will. Throngs have entered illegally from all over the world. The White House continues to sit in silence about this problem. Many of these are sexually abused on the journey, victims of human trafficking. A few days ago, two little girls under 10 years old, walking solo across the border, had been sexually assaulted. Our border officers have had to get wet while retrieving bodies floating in the Rio Grande, including the bodies of children. Not a peep from the White House, as if it’s not happening. When out of the confines of much of the media, you will find out that thousands of these untested, unmasked, unvaccinated illegal immigrants are ill with COVID as they are freely placed by our government all over the U.S. by plane and bus, possibly in your town unknowingly. It’s not a racial statement to point out the facts of what is going on. That’s a foolish default narrative accusation set-up by those who don’t want to face the problem, but are willing to attack those who do. Pouring in without resistance includes drug mules, various criminals, and well-known gang members, including the murderous, MS-13. Very few are being vetted. There are those close to the the border crisis warning of terrorists taking advantage of an reckless open border. Yet, the White House looks the other way. Yep, nothing to see here. That’s the same people who planned the exit from Afghanistan. Trust?

Unwise massive spending bills, much of which are politically charged from the far left, are being passed that will cripple our economy, leaving generations to come under water. Trillions of dollars we Americans do not have. We are no longer energy self-sufficient. Fossil fuel production here has been dramatically clipped in the last 8 months, and now we are dependent on OPEC, and OPEC’s whims once again. Sure, some nations pay $9.00/gallon and call it, “normal”. Some pay more than that. Is that what we want? My wallet isn’t big enough. How about yours? Maybe we will find a way to grind up all those statues of the founding fathers we have torn down and pour the dust into our gas tanks. Do you think that will work? At the same time, businesses are shutting down, while some can’t stay open due to the lack of employees. Why? Because the White House continues to spoon feed people with unemployment checks, along with stimulus checks, which add up to much more than their salaries.

Critical Race Theory is quickly becoming a norm for school districts all across the nation. Why do we approve of our children being soaked in the false narrative that one race is better than the other, adding that one race is a perpetual victim at birth? CRT teaches against Martin Luther King, Jr. He believed a nation should not judge by the color of skin, but by one’s character. CRT aims to divide the population into tribes, no longer with the goal of ONE NATION, ONE PEOPLE. The White House approves. Why is that?

We have a Godless generation being raised. Marxism is celebrated now. That sound isn’t wooden pews creaking as someone shifts their weight, it’s crickets. Ebbing away are moral directives and disciplines, unless it’s from the gang-banger on the corner, or the leftest professor with a communistic agenda. In fact, I have seen more Christian-haters, and Jew-haters, online now than ever before who rage openly, about how people of faith should be removed, or shut down in the proverbial public square. Just today, I read a post from an old friend who blamed the resistance to mask mandates on…(wait for it)…”religious people.” Have we forgotten how Nero blamed the ills of the Roman Empire, and even the burning of Rome on…(wait for it)…Christians? Oh, yeah. If CRT is replacing true history, than maybe no one will know about that.

Photo by Jonas Ferlin on Pexels.com

I have seen people I know die from COVID. At this very moment, one of my dearest cousins is struggling for her life from this virus, and her husband is in ICU on a ventilator who may not recover from it. At the same time, there are multitudes who will read this and respond with, “If they are part of the unvaccinated, they deserve to suffer and die.” The White House is now using a carefully crafted title, “The Pandemic of The Unvaccinated”. This is dangerous! It sets the idea, for minds of mush, that the pandemic is only here due to individuals who have chosen not to get vaccinated. Thus, the blame-game. This is where we are in our society now. The love of many will indeed wax cold, so says scripture.

Unfortunately, much of our current politicians in Washington DC, care more about applauding themselves on passing a multi-trillion dollar spending bill into law, or the number of vaccines pierced this week, or how many masks are smothered over the faces of Americans than the sloppy mess of how it was decided to exit our people from Afghanistan. Because of this failure, many American soldiers have been killed in the process of helping to evacuate helpless civilians in harms way. Scores of civilian losses. Women who remain will be beaten, raped, murdered, and refused access to education. Why? Because there, they are seen as pack mules and baby factories by extremist pigs like the Taliban and ISIS-K. In THIS crisis, the White House can’t look the other way, only due to the outrage of the majority of Americans, as the White House watches the polls in hopes it will be just another news cycle scenario. Experts now fear another 9/11 will take place. I certainly expect it.

So, yes, my grief is good! It needs to happen. Too many today are NOT grieving over the dragging down of our nation, our culture, our society, our laws. Too many haven’t felt grief at all because of the option to medicate oneself. Drink this. Swallow this. Shoot-up this. Snort this. So many of what’s running through our veins is coming across…(wait for it)…our southern border. Soon, grief is drowned in the pool of a blank mind, a blank spirit, a blank soul. America is in trouble. And if America is in trouble, the free world is in trouble.

Believe me when I say, I am not wallowing in grief, but I do find it difficult to shampoo it all away. How do YOU rinse it out?

Grief itself is not wrong. It is not a sin. In fact, Jesus said it’s even rewarded.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” – Jesus – Matthew 5:3-4 (NAS)

Even Jesus was a man of sorrows. He wasn’t shielded from hurting and pain.

After His friend, Lazarus died, he was hit with grief. Before raising him from the dead…

“Jesus wept.” – John 11:35 (KJV)

He mourned for His nation in peril and disarray.

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you that murdered The Prophets and stoned those who were sent to it! How many times have I desired to gather your children, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing! Behold, your house is left to you desolate!” – Jesus – Matthew 23:37-38 (Aramaic Bible In Plain English)

He sees. He knows. He weeps. The Author and Finisher of The Faith wrote of all of the above in prophecies, both in the Old Testament and the New Testament.

He also comforts in the most difficult of times. That means I can react to our state of affairs and grieve. In doing so, I know I am in good company.

Grieving is expected. Righteous action is plainly printed in fuel for the race.

“I heard the LORD of Hosts declare: “‘Surely many houses will become desolate, great mansions left unoccupied. ‘” Isaiah 5:9 (Berean Study Bible)

That Which Entangles

“And if they stare
Just let them burn their eyes on you moving.
And if they shout
Don’t let it change a thing that you’re doing…

Hold your head up, oh
Hold your head up, oh
Hold your head high.” (1972) “Hold Your Head Up” Recorded By: Argent Composers: C. White/R. Argent

I admit it. I am an Olympic junkie. I sat on the couch for two weeks, glued to the Tokyo events. I found myself cheering while taking-in certain sports I normally would pass on, like wall climbing. After a few days, I realized I hadn’t even taken a shower. Yeah, sad, I know.

The human spirit in these games was so evident, even in a pandemic. For the most part, no crowds where allowed to cheer the athletes onward toward the goal. Unless a relative was a coach, no parents, wives, husbands, children, significant others were on the grounds. So, in a way, the competitors found the struggle a bit more challenging without the love felt and heard around them.

The human interest stories attached to some Olympians were in abundance. I would list the notables, but the list is way too long. If you weren’t able to watch, trust me, there were plenty of tear-jerking side stories shared.

These games were a bit different for me personally. The daughter of an old friend of mine made the Olympics this year. Melissa Gonzalez is a 27 year old world track contender in the women’s 400 meter hurdles. She has dual citizenship and was able to represent her dad’s country of Colombia. (Her mom, my old friend, was raised in my area.)

Melissa Gonzalez

Melissa grew-up here in my neck of the woods and attended University of Texas in Austin, Tx. She was a track star there, but her speed times were shy of Olympian competition requirements. She work every day for years on end to better her times. She prayed about the decision to tryout for the Tokyo games, made the choice, and qualified. She threw-off the personal disappointment, in her less than luster times at UT, and grew wings on her shoes for Tokyo. Melissa had broken her own Colombian record for the 400 meter hurdles, and in the qualifying heat in Tokyo surpassed her national record for a personal best. A few days later, in the semi-finals, she had to run in the rain against a world record holder, and the up-coming gold medalist.

Although Melissa fell short of winning a medal, coming in the 6th place slot, she remains in the top 24 for women’s 400 meter hurdles in the world. Because of the joy she possesses from her deep faith, she held her head up and displayed God’s love wherever she went. She vows to go to Paris for the next Olympics in 2024. You go, girl!

Scores of friends and family met her at the airport when she came home. There were lots of tears shed as they cheered for a job well done. Really, a life well-lived. I’m very proud of her.

Melissa at DFW Airport

Although I was distracted, as my focus was on Melissa’s efforts and stats in Tokyo, I was literally shaken by another amazing, stunning occurrence in the women’s 1,500 meter qualifying heat. Did you see it?

Ethiopian-born Dutch distance runner, Sifan Hassan, 28 years old, would be unheard-of for the casual sports fan. If you are a fan of world track competitions, than you may recognize her as a two-time gold medalist in both the 1,500 meter, and the 10,000 meter events from the 2019 World Championships.

Sifan was flying out of her shoes as she was entering the final lap in the 1,500, when all went wrong. A runner from Kenya was in front of her, tripped and hit the track on her belly, tripping Sifan in the process, hitting the pavement as well.

Photo: Matthias Hangst – Sifan Hassa in orange top.

Seemingly out of the race, Sifan looked up, watching the world contenders quickly leaving her behind. There were eleven of them, the fastest runners in the world, were now between her and the finish-line.

Photo: Reuters/Dylan Martinez – Sifan Hassan

To everyone’s shock, Sifan looked down in defeat and then looked up again with another expression on her face. The track star then stood up, and turned on the fuel from behind the running crowd. With nothing short of astonishing inward fortitude, Sifan poured on the speed. At this point, I thought, “Wow. Nice second effort, but she’s done.”

The lady from the Netherlands swept passed each and every contender in high gear. I couldn’t help but stand to my feet in my living-room as I watched the focus in her eyes burning like the Olympic torch itself.

As she was gradually making up lost ground, on the final straightaway, she pushed herself passed the front pack of five finalists to outrun them all as she crossed the finish-line in first place.

Photo: NBC Sports – Sifan Hassa 1st place

Later in the week, Sifan Hassan made it through the semifinals. On the day of the final heat for the medals in the 1,500 meters, she won the bronze for the Netherlands.

If you’re not familiar with the Bible, the Apostle Paul was a sports fan, from what he wrote. In his writings he uses some Olympic events to help us understand how spiritual faith works, and how it works itself out into action. It’s as if he saw the women’s 1,500 meter with Sifan, and the 400 meter hurdles with Melissa, and wrote the following…

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.” – I Corinthians 9:24 (NIV)

Whenever the winners were given a screen to see their family and friends cheering them on back home, it made most athletes smile, laugh, and cry. When Melissa exited the gate from the baggage claim back in Dallas, when she saw the cheering, weeping crowds with their signs and balloons welcoming her home from an effort well-done, there was joy in her eyes. And so this encouragement was written for us…

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” Hebrews 12:1 (NIV)

Since the days have passed by, I think a lot about Melissa and Sifan. Mostly, I try to get inside their heads when that moment of decision was made. For Melissa, it was holding her head up above the clouds of self-pity as she felt “less-than” from her college track times. She very well could have simmered in the frying pan of loss, holding her away from world competition. For Sifan, there must have been an instant of overwhelming defeat as she tripped over the Kenyan watching the surface of the track come closer and closer to her face. She was faced with walking off the track while calling it a day. But, somehow, someway, she stood to her feet, endured the pain, and found a gear she probably didn’t know she had at the moment.

How about when you have fallen? Do you recall? Do you remember the scrape to the knees as you hit the concrete of life? The losses, the failures, the defeat can be life altering, or even ending for some. I know this all too well. All things CAN BE endured.

Spiritually speaking, we all have fallen short of the target. The goal in our relationship with our Creator is too far away for our arrows to reach. It’s like an attempt at the long jump over the Grand Canyon. You just can’t achieve it. At the same time, God made a way to bridge the great gap we cannot negotiate. Jesus came here to run the perfect race for us, to carry us across the finish-line Himself, for Himself. Otherwise, because of sin in life, which we all are owners, we would be left on the track without a chance to crossover to where we need to be at the end of our heat.

We are born with our backsides on the surface of the track. But we don’t have to stay there.

A race well-done can only be had by grace, through faith, and easily found in fuel for the race.

“Everyone who competes in the games exercises self-control in all things. So they do it to obtain a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. Therefore I run in such a way as not to run aimlessly; I box in such a way, as to avoid hitting air; but I strictly discipline my body and make it my slave, so that, after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified.” – Paul – I Corinthians 9:25-27 (NAS)

Words That Stick

“…You might not see him in person,
But he’ll see you just the same.
Yeah, yeah,
You don’t have to worry ’cause takin’ care of business is his name.” (1973) “Jesus Just Left Chicago” – Recorded By: ZZ Top Composers: Frank Beard, Billy Gibbons, Dusty Hill

Oh, the irony of that last verse from ZZ Top.

So, who is God? Really? If He is to be found, then where is He?

Rarely do I write about an artist twice in a row, but this week turned out to be different.

If not familiar with ZZ Top, it’s not important to the thrust of this post. If you know ZZ Top, but you’re not into their style of music, again, keep reading.

ZZ Top has been together for more than 52 years. Around 1969, some Texas boys put together a three-piece band, which became a giant source of sound, with a southern rock twist. ZZ Top became one of the biggest selling names in the rock arena. If you hear them play, you might think you are hearing a five member band. Artistically, they are phenomenal. Billy, Dusty, and Frank created a powerhouse of music mixes which stamped their brand nicely all through the 1970’s and onward. Their concert tours continue even now.

Photo: Wikipedia – ZZ Top, Dusty Hill, Billy Gibbons, Frank Beard

This past week, Dusty Hill, the iconic bass player from ZZ Top, passed away while sleeping in his home in Houston. He was 72 years old.

Dusty was considered far and wide as being one of the greatest bass players ever to pluck the strings. He also held down the back-up vocals, keyboards (when needed), and the cello. In fact, he began playing the classical cello as a youngster. Seeing Dusty at a truck stop, in his cowboy hat, jeans, and boots, complete with his famous chest-length beard, you wouldn’t assume he was an accomplished tower of a musician, or that his net worth was just north of 60 million dollars. He was a master musician and stage performer.

Photo: Wikipedia – Dusty Hill

During my high school days in the 1970’s, I knew about 70% of their music by heart. My friend, and guitar player for my band, was great at picking ZZ Top songs on his guitar by ear. So, I was a bit heartbroken this week when the news came across that Dusty had quietly left us. Somehow, our rock heroes aren’t supposed to leave this life, or ever get old for that matter. At least that’s in the back of our minds.

Dusty had a few health issues he contended with over the years. He was not a stranger to injuries, most of which occurred while on the road with ZZ Top. After a fall, with a much needed hip replacement, Dusty was advised to sit on a stool during stage performances, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. A few years back Dusty’s trusted Derringer fell out of his boot, accidentally went off and left him with a bullet in the belly. He had the wherewithal at the time to drive himself to the hospital before he went into shock. It’s a good thing he did, too. He made a full recovery.

Sometimes words are spoken and forgotten. Often times, words can be iconic, sticking to the minds of the hearers, and label of the persona who delivered the words.

Once Dusty was asked about what he thought about God, being one of the composers of “Jesus Just Left Chicago”. His answer was stark, and maybe not unusual by today’s cultural standards.

“I believe in God. I just don’t know what, or who God actually is.” – Dusty Hill

Dusty’s answer seems to fit the mindset of many. When faced with the question, if someone laughs it off, then it usually means they fear the answer to the question. The nervous laughter is a self-protective distraction. After all, there is the theory that whatever you actually speak out-loud, you believe deep down. Dusty’s honest answer usually comes from someone who has considered the answer prior to being asked. In many cases, when those words are spoken, the person drowns the heart’s desire “to know” with the stuff of life. Some common tools would be, business, career, family time, substance abuse, talents, or entertainment. Others, may follow-up on their admitted loss “of knowing” the answer, and seriously seek God out. Jesus did say, “Knock and the door shall be opened to you.” -(Matthew 7:7).

Scripture is stuffed with passages speaking of this vital Q&A beyond the cosmos we are all faced with. From the beginning of biblical time, God Himself invites us to come and discover Him, to seek Him out while He may be found. One of my favorites is when God invites us to come to Him with, not just questions about Him, but actual debate, when He said in Isaiah 1:18…

“Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord: Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.”

Contrary to some schools of thought, God seeks us out. In reality, we run from the subject matter. Why? Because it’s easier to simply believe we captain our own ships, ships that sail into the afterlife. In a sense, humans are control freaks. We want to be the ones who lay in a bed in our home and say to ourselves, “Well, my body is ebbing away, but my spirit is strong enough to take it from here.”

To this, I would ask, if you can’t control your own thought-life today, this hour, or this very moment, what makes you think you can project your own spirit/soul? Seriously, ask that of yourself. Consider, the afterlife, and what is prepared for you, doesn’t belong to you. You don’t own it, like one owns a car.

Photo by Mark Vegera on Pexels.com

The most prominent self-taught statement on a deathbed is: “Sure, I have sinned, but who doesn’t? I’m a pretty good guy/gal, for the most part. That should speak well of myself at Peter’s gate…if there is one.”

As for Dusty’s “who” and “what”, Jesus addressed this several times so there would be no misunderstandings.

“Philip said to Him, ‘Lord, show us the Father, and it is enough for us.’ Jesus says to him, ‘Am I with you so long a time, and you have not known Me, Philip? The one having seen Me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father, and the Father is in Me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on My own, but the Father, as He remains in Me, does His works. Believe Me that I am in the Father and the Father is in Me; otherwise believe because of the works themselves.'” -John 14:10-11 (NAS)

For those who believe, these words of Jesus stick. As for Dusty’s words, he actually answered his own question in the last verse of his song from 1972.

Although you may think you are unknown to God, you’ll see anew in fuel for the race.

“And Jesus was silent. And the chief priest answering said to Him, ‘I adjure You, by the living God, that You may say to us if You are the Christ—the Son of God.’ Jesus says to him, ‘You have said; nevertheless I say to you, hereafter you will see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of the Power and coming on the clouds of Heaven.’” – Matthew 26:63-64 (Literal Standard Version)