Gopher Holes

I figure that, if irrigation water had a brain, it would avoid gopher holes.  Let me explain.  One of my preferred boyhood chores was irrigating our orchard and field.  I liked the job because it set me free to drive the old pickup truck (I didn't have a license) the mile or so along country roads to open the gate that sent irrigation water streaming through a small system of ditches to provide the life-giving liquid to our fruit and pasture.  (For those of you from places where it rains more frequently, you can't imagine how necessary irrigation is when one lives in arid climes.)

For a time, my irrigation job included a small field on a neighbor's property just west of us.  It was there that I got a brief education about gophers and gopher holes.  At best, gophers are a nuisance.  At worst, they are destroyers of life as they tunnel under the surface of fertile soil and steal the life of otherwise good plants.

This cute little fella looks innocent, but believe me, he's a destroyer.  He's also a reminder about life, which brings me to the point concerning irrigation water.  Numerous times I watched perfectly good irrigation water completely change its course and plunge down a gopher hole.  Granted, the gopher tunnel could only hold so much water before it quit filling or surfaced some distance away.  The water sought its lowest natural point, the power of gravity pulling it toward the center of the earth (or the bottom of the hole).  If the water had brains, it surely would have avoided the hole altogether, but it didn't.  Stay with me; there's a lesson in this!

You see, I know a lot of people whose lives were once productive and full of joy.  They were like irrigation water, out on a mission to help someone else find life  Then, at some time they were pulled off course by the pain of betrayal; a person they loved hurt them so deeply that they don't notice the little gophers that are burrowing beneath the surface of their hearts.  Sometimes they are just glad that someone is noticing them, unaware that the affection they are receiving is just a setup for more destruction.  Their God-given life starts a downward run into holes of oblivion.  The places and the people they once avoided are allowed to steal their life from them.

We had a way of dealing with gophers back then.  If they surfaced, it took a quick smash from a shovel and they were permanently eliminated.  If the gophers of life are eating away at you, get a shovel.  Or find a helper who will.

 

 

Harold Camping Should Publicly Repent

For those of you who have heard the word, but aren't sure what it means, "repent" means simply to turn around, do a 180, and/or change your mind about something.

I checked again this morning and Harold Camping is described as "Bewildered" and "Mystified" after his May 21 Rapture prediction came and went.  That's a little like saying, "Oops!" after playing with matches next to a powder keg which blows up at the base of a dam, with the resulting deluge destroying the lives of thousands downstream.  Camping intentionally ignored the simple words of Jesus, "But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father alone." (Matthew 24:36 NASB) Why do you think Jesus said this?  Isn't it probable that His followers back then wanted to know what was coming and when it would happen?  Jesus spoke graphically about the "what", but said clearly that even He didn't know when.

Early Christians thought of themselves as living in the "Last Days".  The Scripture was given in such a way as to make every generation wonder if this is the time.  For two thousand years, followers of Christ have wondered if His return would be in their lifetime.  My friends who don't follow Christ struggle with this side of Christianity.  We have become an age where many thinking people believe that we humans have complete control of our own destiny and that of our planet.  To them it is absurd that a God beyond our imagination created us and loves us.  The false prophecy of Harold Camping, coupled with the fierce loyalty of his flock, have only served to fortify the "no god is in control" position.

Harold Camping should publicly repent.  He has damaged the faith of many who fell under his elderly spell.  As someone who claims to preach the Gospel of Christ, he has damaged the name of the One who gave His life for us.

Luke 15:10 says that the angels in heaven rejoice over one sinner who repents.

I would rejoice with them.

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand...

...words of concern!

That picture I posted here yesterday unleashed a flood of comments, both on this blog and over on Facebook.  One friend told me that I'm loved, even with a cork in my nose.  Another friend warned me NOT to make that my Facebook profile pic.  Many friends just wrote to wish me well.  Thank you!

I seriously considered posting a picture today of Brad Pitt or George Clooney, then asking if I look better now.  :)  The truth is that the "cork" is out, removed by my Dr.  The bleeding hasn't re-occurred.  I have been given some medication changes.  AND I have made some minor "lifestyle" adjustments to minimize my risk...which primarily means I can't blow my nose.  'Nuff said!

I mentioned to Cathy last night that I was surprised by the outpouring of concern over my situation.  When I entitled yesterday's post, "When I Don't Understand", my lack of understanding was not so much about the nosebleed.  It was about the timing of it all and the cancellation of my trip to perform a wedding.  To be honest, I'm still struggling with that.

I'm still trusting God, too!

Thank you ALL for being so kind.  I'm honestly overwhelmed by you!

When I Don't Understand

If you had asked me 48 hours ago, I would have told you I'd be leaving about now on a journey to California.  This trip has been planned for months and it was special; I was going there to perform a wedding.  My cousin's son (second cousin? first cousin once removed?) is marrying his beloved in the mountains southeast of Sacramento.  Shanna (my cousin) and I grew up together and I performed her wedding to Frank many years ago.  They have often shown love and encouragement to Cathy and me, so it was an honor to perform this ceremony for their son Billy and his bride.

How quickly things change!  Cathy departed early Wednesday to spend some time with her parents.  That night, just as I was falling asleep, I awoke to a feeling of sinus drainage way up inside my nose.  I got up to blow my nose in the semi-dark, then realized that it wasn't normal sinus fluid; it was blood.  Blood on the pillow case, blood dripping on the floor, a tissue full of blood.  I'm not prone to bloody noses, but I had one similar to this about two weeks before.  I mentally reviewed, then took the steps to stop the flow, waited a while, then checked; I was still bleeding.  I walked into the living room, typed with one finger (my other hand was holding my nose shut) and discovered on an internet site that I was responding correctly.  I waited awhile longer; still bleeding.

Finally, not knowing what else I had to do, I got my phone and dialed 9-1-1.  I had to repeat my address three times for the emergency dispatcher to understand me with my nose closed and covered with tissue.  The paramedics came, gave me further instructions, checked my vitals and, after a while, we still couldn't stop the bleeding.  They said I would need to go to the ER at the hospital.  They could call an ambulance, but I could ask a friend if I chose.  I called Tom from our staff and he came right over.  (Bless him!)

At the hospital, the physician told me I just need to apply more pressure.  The bleeding stopped about then and they had me lie there for over an hour, with them occasionally taking care of their normal tests.  The Dr. cauterized a small place just inside my nose and pronounced me ready to go home.  As I was being disconnected from their monitors, I suddenly started bleeding again from way up in my sinuses.  The Dr. returned and I explained to him it was just like the bleeding that woke me up.  He said, "I didn't want to have to do this.  You're not going to like me very much."  He then took a long, tight roll of absorbent material, coated it with saline and shoved it up my nose.  I thought it might just come out through the top of my head (not really!).  Jesus' words about getting the log out of your eye (except this was my nose) came to mind.

This is the way I looked.  I felt even uglier.

By the time I got through Wednesday night, I realized I had a problem.  I couldn't rest but a few minutes at a time.  I was also concerned about the trip scheduled for the next day.  Even before I called my Dr. for a follow-up, I called Shanna to tell her what was going on.  I was shaken by the suddenness of the bleeding as well as not being able to stop it.  I could imagine scenarios on a plane, in a rental car on the highway or in the wedding itself.

My Dr. concurred that I definitely shouldn't travel for 24 hours and that we didn't know if or when it would happen again.  He referred me to a specialist next week.  (I'm not worried about the long-term outcome, just the short-term uncertainty of a nose that might just start bleeding at a horrible time.)

I'm grateful that Shanna's family was able to find another local pastor who would step in and do the wedding.  I'm just sorry that I couldn't be there this weekend.  In questioning times like this, I am drawn back to the amazing relevance of the Scriptures: 5 Trust GOD from the bottom of your heart; don't try to figure out everything on your own. 6 Listen for GOD's voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; he's the one who will keep you on track. Proverbs 3:5-6 (THE MESSAGE)

Stuttering Crier

Click the "Send" button and your message can be read within seconds...on the other side of the world. Hit speed dial and you can be talking "instantly" to someone in another country...as you both drive along life's highways. Watch earth-shaking news (like the Japanese tsunami) as it happens.

It wasn't always this way. For centuries, one of the readiest forms of transmission for critical news was the "Town Crier." "Oyez, oyez (literally "Listen, listen")!" they would cry in the streets. When print media became more readily available, Criers were replaced by boys hawking papers: "Extra! Extra! Read all about it!"

Today, in our "advanced" civilization, we have need of neither Crier nor hawker; we have Twitter. Or Facebook. Or Google Ad Words. I know. I read them. Almost every day. Some of what I read on Easter weekend has me reflecting on why I am a "stuttering crier." Other pastors told of lives being changed in their churches. The reports I read were in awe of the way God is at work. I never sensed anything but reverent joy on their part.

Therefore, on this Easter Monday, I will not stutter. I will boldly proclaim what happened in Stone Ridge Church this past weekend. Only God can accomplish what we saw, so I am joyfully shouting His praises. Here are the highlights...

* 31 people baptized (more are preparing to be baptized soon)

* Almost 1400 in attendance

* Scores of young families came, many for the first time. Young adults keep bringing their friends and God is changing their lives. In turn, they are bringing other friends and the process keeps multiplying.

* We were gripped by the presence of God. In every service. At every baptism. People were giving their hearts to Jesus in the auditorium and out in the courtyard.

Perhaps the final moments of baptism after the last service said it best. Juan, an elderly man who is very ill watched his grandkids being baptized. Juan gave his heart to Christ not long ago. After seeing his family members and others baptized, he told his son, "I have never seen anything like this. I want to be baptized, too!" Because of his medical condition, some of us met on Sunday afternoon to baptize him in the jacuzzi of one of our leaders. As tears flowed, Juan modeled obedience to Christ's command.

Only God!

Christmas At Innermost: Shepherds

Part 5

16 They hurried to the village and found Mary and Joseph. And there was the baby, lying in the manger. 
17 After seeing him, the shepherds told everyone what had happened and what the angel had said to them about this child. 
18 All who heard the shepherds’ story were astonished... 
(Luke 2:16-18 New Living Translation)

Jezreel went back to his sheep...for a time. Everywhere he went, though, he told the story about the angels, the young parents and the Baby in the feeding trough. To be sure, some scoffed when he said, "The Baby will grow up to be our Messiah!" Others, though, pondered his words. 

Finally, one morning, Jezreel spoke to his mother. "I prayed to the Eternal that very night before the angels came. I asked Him to anoint me with the oil of purpose for my life. I have met a wool merchant who works in Jerusalem near the temple. He has offered me a job as his helper. He will provide food and a place to stay. He has heard my story and will give me time to attend Torah classes and study the Scriptures. I will never be a Rabbi, but I can learn. And I can keep telling others about that night!"

Reluctantly, his mother gave him her blessing. Twelve years later, he was studying the Scriptures in a little room at the Temple, when he heard a commotion in the Court of the Israelites. A Boy was in a passionate discussion with the Priests and the Scribes...

To my readers: the events surrounding the birth of Christ are given extensive coverage in Scripture. The parts we don't always know about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' participants. My attempt this Christmas is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the first few chapters of Matthew and Luke. My hope is that reading my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.

Christmas At Innermost: Shepherds

Part 4

Author's note: at this point in the telling of the Biblical story, one might think that the angels sang one short verse of "To God Be The Glory" and closed the curtain to go about their heavenly duties. While the account itself is brief, try to recall, if you can, a truly compelling worship experience. For instance, I stood in nearly the back row of the upper deck of Anaheim Stadium one night and sang songs of heavenward praise with about 60,000 men. The resounding chorus of male voices and the sense of awe toward the One we worshiped made each song beg to be sung forever! Could it have been any less for the angel choir that night?

.......
Even the sheep seemed deeply content in the presence of heavenly light. To be sure, no work of darkness could penetrate their hillside as the angels sang and shouted and leapt and danced all around them. Much later, the night watchmen tried to describe what they saw. When one said, "They were above us, up as high as the clouds," another would counter, "But they were all around us, as if almost touching the pasture!" Young Jonathan always mentioned, "One of them was right in front of me, then took a giant leap, landing behind me! It was almost as if he went right through me!"

The shepherds had never heard such music. The melodies were so intricate that it was as if they secreted a light of their own. One angelic flute player would run up the scale to a very high trill and literally rise up in the sky with the pitch of his instrument, gradually floating back down to laugh and sing and dance with the others. On and on their chorus rang. The shepherds themselves had begun to laugh and dance and shout and leap just like the angels.

Long into this celebration, an angel began to sing a song that majestically announced the creation of a world. The shepherds felt, rather than understood with their minds, the declaration of light, water, earth, plants, sea creatures, and animals. The music crescendoed to a solemn declaration: "Humans in Our image!" As those words rang out, a renewed celebration broke out among the angelic chorus. They were celebrating God's creation of Man!

In a few moments, though, the sounds became dark. Every angel went from leaping and dancing to quietly singing mournful tones. The shepherds realized the significance and began to weep. The angels themselves were mourning the Rebellion. From this point, the music rose and fell, then rose and fell again, like the growing swells of a sea beset by a storm. Higher and lower they went. Moments of great rejoicing swallowed by moments of intense emotional pain. Then, silence.

Far back in the chorus of angels, a trumpet began to play a single, simple tune. Quickly, the shepherds noticed that it was the same melody that had begun this night of worship. At the end of the first musical phrase, a second unseen trumpet picked up a harmony. A moment later, other horns joined in, then the harps and percussion started adding depth. Angels, who had stood solemnly for a long time, began to move. Later, the shepherds said that it looked like they were shimmering lights that grew in intensity every moment. 

Suddenly, an angel jumped. Then another; and another. The sound, the light and the movement would have terrified someone who came upon them unbidden. But the shepherds were invited! The were shouting, singing, leaping and dancing again! Over and over, with joy they leapt to the sky.

And they realized that they were alone!

The sun was shooting orange streaks on the high clouds in the eastern sky. To the west, the first of the day watch was coming over the crest of the hill.

"What do we do?" cried Jonah. The others added their voices to his question.

Jezreel thought a moment. "Our relief is here. Let us go into Bethlehem now. We will see for ourselves what the angel told us!"

To my readers: the events surrounding the birth of Christ are given extensive coverage in Scripture. The parts we don't always know about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' participants. My attempt this Christmas is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the first few chapters of Matthew and Luke. My hope is that reading my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.