There were those who dwelt in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
Prisoners in misery and chains,
Because they had rebelled against
the words of God
and spurned the counsel of the Most High.
Therefore He humbled their heart with labor;
They stumbled and there was none to help.
Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble;
He saved them out of their distresses,
He brought them out of the darkness
and the shadow of death
and broke their bands apart.
Psalm 107, verses 10-13
Our year is 2015. The world has endured countless wars and conflicts in the last 100 years of it's history. Statistics for just the death toll, not the wounded or displaced or suffering or raped but those that have died in those conflicts are staggering. There were 28 million killed between 1914 and 1921, another 28 million killed in the years 1922 to 1938, a staggering 55 million killed between 1939 and 1945, and if you thought that WWII was the end of this madness, Mao and his ilk caused another 46 million deaths from 1946 to 1961.
Those that are inclined to think that the world is a much different place now than from what you have read in your history books should consider a couple more death due to war numbers. From 1962 until 1970 the total is 16 million and from 1971 until the present day there have been over 60 different conflicts resulting in more than 22 million deaths.
What is the cause of all of this carnage and misery? Some has been the attempted genocide of those from a different people group or political philosophy. The Turks in the Ottoman Empire systematically exterminated Armenians, Assyrians and Greeks. Hitler's Germans did the same to Jews, Gypsies, homosexuals and the less than perfect. Mid East and Northern African Muslims want to eliminate the Jew and the Christian and a comprehensive list for the hatred of one group for another is way too long to include here.
And then we had men such as Hitler and Stalin and Mao who wanted to force their radical fascist or socialist ideas not only on their own populations but to expand and dominate other countries as well. We can credit Stalin and his leadership with over 35 million deaths to establish the communist Soviet Union and Mao and his leadership with over 50 million deaths to establish communism in China. And though it is true that some people are motivated by their lust for power the hordes that are unleashed by the few to do the killing and raping and pillaging and destruction include many.
Despite this mass amount of death and suffering liberal religion assures us that all people are basically good and that there probably is not a Hell but if there was then only men such as Hitler or Stalin would be there. Liberal religion does not take the Bible seriously and so it defines God from the context of human logic and philosophy. If the Word of God is even considered it's words can mean whatever they want it to mean and may the best arguments win.
But I am not theologically liberal. I know without a doubt that the Bible is the inspired Word of God and that there is power in it's pages to instruct, to inspire, to correct and to encourage all that would eagerly and earnestly mediate on what is written therein. I do not need to argue the existence of Hell or debate who will go there.
The Word is clear from Jesus own words in Matthew 25 that when the Son of Man comes in His glory He will sit on His glorious throne and judge the nations, splitting people into 2 groups. To one group He will say inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world and to the other He will say Depart from Me, accursed ones, into the eternal fire which has been prepared for the devil and his angels.
In Luke 16 it is also Jesus who tells the parable of Lazarus and the rich man. Lazarus dies and is carried away by angels to "Abraham's bosom" and the rich man dies and goes to a place of torment called Hades. Then talking about the rich man it says: In Hades he lifted up his eyes, being in torment, and saw Abraham far away and Lazarus in his bosom. And he cried out and said, 'Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus so that he may dip the tip of his finger in water and cool off my tongue, for I am in agony in this flame'.
Notice a few things from these verses. From the beginning of time God created a good place for man to live out eternity. I believe that this was His desire for all spiritual beings like us who would be born of flesh and blood. God also created at some early point in time a place described as "the eternal fire" which was prepared for spiritual beings that had rebelled against God, i.e. the devil and his angels. The devil and most of his angels do not currently reside there but it is their sure destination. And because man too would rebel against his Maker this has become the sure destination for those who reject Jesus as their Lord and Savior.
Hades is described as a place where the rich man is in agony because of the flame and which is a place of no escape and no intermingling between the righteous and the unrighteous dead. It is not just a place without the presence of God. It is a place of torment. It is terrible and was designed with a purpose.
Any arguments I can make for the purpose of Hell would not make one iota of difference to the skeptic or unbeliever and to be honest, I cannot comprehend eternal suffering either. But this is the harsh reality. We do not know the heart of another person but we are all aware of the condition of our own heart. We instinctively know that we are by nature selfish, that we cannot live a perfect life and that there are areas of our heart that we do not want exposed to the holy light of an awesome and fearful God. God has a will for us and we all know that we fall short.
To be out of the will of the Creator is a terrible thing and not just for us. It affects the society we live in as well. The rebellion of the evil one cast the Earth into darkness. The rejection of the first man and woman to follow what God commanded got them cast out of Eden and affects the physical and spiritual nature of every single man, woman and child ever born, save One. The disease of sin caused the ancient world to be judged and destroyed by water and our current world awaits a judgment as well.
Then why hell for fallen man? Why eternal suffering for the body/soul/spirit (remember, there is a resurrection of the body for both the just and the unjust)? I suspect it has to do with a creation that is bigger and more complicated, intricate and far reaching than we can imagine. God prepared a place for the evil one and the angels that rebelled with him but they are not there yet. When rebellion entered creation He could have wiped them out completely or imprisoned them right away but didn't. God is letting things play out so that He will achieve what He has always planned.
It is the same with man. God is patient and will let rebellion run it's course but there will be an accounting. He designed us so that we, anyone on this planet, could freely choose to love and serve Him and He provided His Son as Savior so that we could freely choose to become part of His eternal family. But He does not force this on anyone.
And for those that have not heard of Jesus? This I also know. God is both just and fair. Redemption came through the shed blood of Jesus at a particular point in time and there is no other way. How God handles men of good will in all the false religions is up to Him. But the charge for us who have experience His redeeming grace is to proclaim to the 4 corners of this world and to our neighbors as well that the Almighty Father, through His Son Jesus, has provided salvation, not through works or religion but through grace.
Why eternal torment? I don't know but I do know that in God's economy sin and rebellion result in corruption, suffering and death, not just for the individual but our sin affects others as well. He is both just and merciful but it is not up to me to judge God.
The universe does not revolve around us and we cannot comprehend the mind of God.
Religion exists in this world because man knows that he is a sinner and so religion is man's attempt to justify himself to God and/or to control the spiritual, social or natural world around him. Religion teaches that man can do something on his own to justify himself. Unbelief is the same philosophy except that it rejects the gatherings, rituals and references to a deity.
But religion cannot justify man before God. Sacrifices and good works and lighting candles and saying special prayers do not change the heart of man. To change the mess that we are in and that the world is in God is looking for hearts that are open. It is His grace that saves alone so that we will have nothing to boast about. It is His Son that comes into our surrendered and open heart to change us and to live in us. It is His Spirit that moves in power to change the condition of our hearts and this world.
Look at the hope and promise that is provided in the words of Psalm 107 opening this post. It talks about those who lived in darkness and in the shadow of death, prisoners in misery and shame. It talks about those who had rebelled against the word of God and His counsel. Those statements pretty well describe us. Because of those things God humbled us and we found that there was no one that could help us.
Perhaps at first you thought this was describing the condition of Hell and indeed it could. Hell is a place of darkness, death, misery and chains. But it really describes the condition of men in the world today who rebel against the holiness of God. In Hell there is no way out but for us there are these encouraging words;
Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble;
He saved them out of their distresses,
He brought them out of the darkness
and the shadow of death
and broke their bands apart.
If you have not yet, choose now. Cry out to the Lord and leave the darkness. Experience the daily peace and joy that comes by knowing Jesus in your heart and trusting in the grace of the Father. Enter into the kingdom that was prepared for you from the foundation of the Earth.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
Saturday, January 3, 2015
The Cats And Rats Plan
My dear old dad once told me about a poor sap's idea on how to make a lot of money with very little investment. It was called the cats and rats plan.
The first thing you have to do is find a few stray cats. These you train to catch rats and then bring the rats to you. The rats are butchered and fed to the cats who are very happy with their reward and so they go out to find more rats but you get to keep the rat fur which the cats don't want anyway. The rat fur is sold to companies that put stuffing into things like chair cushions or to China which uses rat fur for doll hair and other items then sold for export to stores like Walmart. If you run out of rats you just cut back on how much is feed to the cats and set out the rest of the meat for a day or two which will attract more rats for your half starved cats.
It was all very simple and as everyone knows, the simpler the plan the better.
I thought of this the other day when someone who is a friend of mine on Facebook commented on a "news article" sent their way by a friend of theirs. The article showed a photo of a 85 year old women dressed in an odd looking fur coat getting booked by the Waco, Texas police. The caption says something like - Woman Arrested For Making Fur Coats Out Of Cat Hair.
The article goes on to say that neighbors were noticing that quite of few of their pets were missing and a lady in their neighborhood was wearing a fur coat that had some parts reminding them of their precious lost one. The neighbors hired a private detective who happened to see this little old lady luring an unsuspecting cat into her home with a bowl of milk. He found out that after she would entrap the cats and kill and skin them she would use the cat fur to make her coats. The cat carcasses were fed to the newly arrived victims so the fur could be harvested at the right time. The article goes on to say that it took 30 cats to make one coat and that the lady had 6 other fur coats. The 85 year old lady was sentenced to 15 months in jail for her actions.
My cousin Gretel loves puns but I've always had a soft spot for tragic cat stories. After reading the article I checked the comment section of the news article and found the most horrible but kinda amusing remarks. These are not quotes but they went something like:
15 months! She should get 15 months for each cat! #no more animal cruelty
That lady should burn in hell for eternity and beyond!!!!!! The life of every living thing is precious. #peta for all
And my favorite:
Someone should skin that lady and make a coat from her! #waco neighborhood association
And then you have the remarks about the remarks:
Burn in hell for eternity? Don't you think that is a little much? Maybe you animal loving ******* can hold her hand while she burns in hell! #springtime is wonderful
I checked the source of the article and found that the photo and article were taken from an online site which purports to be a news site but in truth is a satire site. I've seen other of their stuff posted by outraged friends before so I didn't even need to check the Urban Legends fact checker for this one. I mean really, in the photo she didn't look a day over 79.
The first thing you have to do is find a few stray cats. These you train to catch rats and then bring the rats to you. The rats are butchered and fed to the cats who are very happy with their reward and so they go out to find more rats but you get to keep the rat fur which the cats don't want anyway. The rat fur is sold to companies that put stuffing into things like chair cushions or to China which uses rat fur for doll hair and other items then sold for export to stores like Walmart. If you run out of rats you just cut back on how much is feed to the cats and set out the rest of the meat for a day or two which will attract more rats for your half starved cats.
It was all very simple and as everyone knows, the simpler the plan the better.
I thought of this the other day when someone who is a friend of mine on Facebook commented on a "news article" sent their way by a friend of theirs. The article showed a photo of a 85 year old women dressed in an odd looking fur coat getting booked by the Waco, Texas police. The caption says something like - Woman Arrested For Making Fur Coats Out Of Cat Hair.
The article goes on to say that neighbors were noticing that quite of few of their pets were missing and a lady in their neighborhood was wearing a fur coat that had some parts reminding them of their precious lost one. The neighbors hired a private detective who happened to see this little old lady luring an unsuspecting cat into her home with a bowl of milk. He found out that after she would entrap the cats and kill and skin them she would use the cat fur to make her coats. The cat carcasses were fed to the newly arrived victims so the fur could be harvested at the right time. The article goes on to say that it took 30 cats to make one coat and that the lady had 6 other fur coats. The 85 year old lady was sentenced to 15 months in jail for her actions.
My cousin Gretel loves puns but I've always had a soft spot for tragic cat stories. After reading the article I checked the comment section of the news article and found the most horrible but kinda amusing remarks. These are not quotes but they went something like:
15 months! She should get 15 months for each cat! #no more animal cruelty
That lady should burn in hell for eternity and beyond!!!!!! The life of every living thing is precious. #peta for all
And my favorite:
Someone should skin that lady and make a coat from her! #waco neighborhood association
And then you have the remarks about the remarks:
Burn in hell for eternity? Don't you think that is a little much? Maybe you animal loving ******* can hold her hand while she burns in hell! #springtime is wonderful
I checked the source of the article and found that the photo and article were taken from an online site which purports to be a news site but in truth is a satire site. I've seen other of their stuff posted by outraged friends before so I didn't even need to check the Urban Legends fact checker for this one. I mean really, in the photo she didn't look a day over 79.
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Honor
About a week or two before Christmas, all on the same day, Jackie gets separate calls from 3 of our daughters. Does dad have such and such a book asks one and then an hour later another call with a question about a different book and then 20 minutes later by the third girl asking about yet another book.
It turns out that I didn't have any of their choices and so last Sunday when our family got together to celebrate Christmas I was blessed with: 41, A Portrait Of My Father, by George W. Bush, - Made In America, an autobiography by hockey player Chris Chelios - and Killing Patton. by Bill O'Reilly from daughter Becky who was kind enough to "scan" the book ahead of time for me.
I've just finished reading 41 which I found really enjoyable. It received almost unanimous praise on the review sections at Amazon and Barnes and Noble but of course got the expected raspberry from it's review in the New York Times. I did read the review and thought it reflected the expected hate and vitriol that they always have had for the author.
I have a personal story about George W. Bush. When President Bush was running for his second term he took a bus tour in South West Michigan and one of the stops was to give a speech at the Ottawa County fairgrounds. At that time we were living just across the road from the back of the fairgrounds and that morning I look out the window of our house and notice snipers checking out possible positions from trees that are no further than 30 yards from us. You just don't see that everyday.
The President is supposed to come for his appearance sometime between 1 and 3 pm and I have road tests scheduled and our test site is a couple of miles down the road from where we were living. It is a beautiful September day and I'm at our office when a police car pulls up and parks at the corner of Aniline and Ottawa Beech Road to block any traffic. I walk over to join a small crowd at the corner to check things out and after a few minutes we see driving by a formation of about 20 motorcycle police followed by an armed personal carrier carrying a dozen men with combat gear and then what looks like a truck equipped with surface to air missiles.
The caravan stops and we look back 100 yards and see 3 big blue buses parked in front of Capt'n Sundae, a local and very popular north side ice cream eatery. Sweet memories from Capt'n Sundae are what every north side kid will have fondly when they grow up. There is a large outdoor seating area located underneath a tree shaded canopy where on a typical summer evening both winners and losers in their little league and T ball uniforms mix with bathing suit clad high school and college guys and girls returning from a day at the Holland State Park waiting in line behind grandma and grandpa, mom and dad and an occasional biker and biker babe dressed in their do rag, leather and tattoo.
A dozen high school kids clad in the blue capt'n shirts frantically prepare the soft serve cones, slushes, Hudsonville ice cream, and speciality ice cream concoctions. One of the most favorite dishes is the Tommy Turtle which is a bowl of vanilla soft serve topped with hot fudge, hot carmel and pecans.
But this is about 2 in the afternoon and the story is that President Bush gets out of one of the buses, strolls up to the order window and asks what's good. They of course make him the Tommy Turtle, offer it gratis but the President insists on paying. He then takes his time and eats the treat and talks with anyone who happened to be there and has his photo taken with anyone else who has a camera. One of the photos is still on display there today.
Unfortunately I am not there. I am still at the corner hoping that my customer would come in the back way to our location. And when he did I didn't want him not to find anyone there. After about 20 minutes, without my customer coming of course, the buses fire up their engines and drive past me and I wave, but you can't see into the buses and the President might be in any one of the identical buses so I smile and wave at all three.
Two of my daughters went to the rally at the fairgrounds. They were way back in the crowd, the President was standing on a flat bed trailer giving his speech and there was another flat bed trailer between him and the crowd and my girls could hear the speech but could not really see the President.
My oldest daughter at that time was a morning DJ at the local Christian radio station. Her co host (interestingly enough named Tommy) really wanted to see the President but like my girls he ended up way back in the crowd. His wife wasn't as interested so she had dropped Tommy off at the fairgrounds and then stopped with her 4 year old twins for some ice cream at the Capt'n. A lot of time in life and in politics timing is everything and she ended up eating ice cream with President Bush and her twins had their picture taken with him. They eagerly showed the picture to their dad when he picked them up. However the next day when their mom asked them if they wanted to take the photo for show and tell at their play school they said no, we'd rather bring our Sponge Bob Square Pants character.
Politically I am to the right of Bush 41 and Bush 43 and also to Bush 45 if that happens. I do find in the story of Bush 41 though qualities that you just do not see anymore in politics or for that matter much in the world at large. There are many words that can describe what I am talking about, such as hard working, loyal, honest, humble, forgiving, encouraging, doing your duty and finally, trusting that if you do your best God will take care of the rest and leave it to Him to ultimately defend your character.
These I will sum up in one word - Honor. The sense of duty one has to serve God, family and country to the best of one's ability, to admit one's mistakes and to try to do better the next time. George Herbert Walker Bush had all of that in spades. 41 is first of all a son's remembrance of the values he learned from his father. It reminded me so much of how my father would tell us these little stories and sayings that reflected what it meant and how it worked to do things the right way.
Many will say that 43 was not the same man that 41 was and I don't know if I was tested like my father that I would have matched up any better. I can only do my best and try to learn from my mistakes and fight the good fight and trust that God will defend my character.
And of course stop at the Capt'n from time to time with my grand kids to make memories.
It turns out that I didn't have any of their choices and so last Sunday when our family got together to celebrate Christmas I was blessed with: 41, A Portrait Of My Father, by George W. Bush, - Made In America, an autobiography by hockey player Chris Chelios - and Killing Patton. by Bill O'Reilly from daughter Becky who was kind enough to "scan" the book ahead of time for me.
I've just finished reading 41 which I found really enjoyable. It received almost unanimous praise on the review sections at Amazon and Barnes and Noble but of course got the expected raspberry from it's review in the New York Times. I did read the review and thought it reflected the expected hate and vitriol that they always have had for the author.
I have a personal story about George W. Bush. When President Bush was running for his second term he took a bus tour in South West Michigan and one of the stops was to give a speech at the Ottawa County fairgrounds. At that time we were living just across the road from the back of the fairgrounds and that morning I look out the window of our house and notice snipers checking out possible positions from trees that are no further than 30 yards from us. You just don't see that everyday.
The President is supposed to come for his appearance sometime between 1 and 3 pm and I have road tests scheduled and our test site is a couple of miles down the road from where we were living. It is a beautiful September day and I'm at our office when a police car pulls up and parks at the corner of Aniline and Ottawa Beech Road to block any traffic. I walk over to join a small crowd at the corner to check things out and after a few minutes we see driving by a formation of about 20 motorcycle police followed by an armed personal carrier carrying a dozen men with combat gear and then what looks like a truck equipped with surface to air missiles.
The caravan stops and we look back 100 yards and see 3 big blue buses parked in front of Capt'n Sundae, a local and very popular north side ice cream eatery. Sweet memories from Capt'n Sundae are what every north side kid will have fondly when they grow up. There is a large outdoor seating area located underneath a tree shaded canopy where on a typical summer evening both winners and losers in their little league and T ball uniforms mix with bathing suit clad high school and college guys and girls returning from a day at the Holland State Park waiting in line behind grandma and grandpa, mom and dad and an occasional biker and biker babe dressed in their do rag, leather and tattoo.
A dozen high school kids clad in the blue capt'n shirts frantically prepare the soft serve cones, slushes, Hudsonville ice cream, and speciality ice cream concoctions. One of the most favorite dishes is the Tommy Turtle which is a bowl of vanilla soft serve topped with hot fudge, hot carmel and pecans.
But this is about 2 in the afternoon and the story is that President Bush gets out of one of the buses, strolls up to the order window and asks what's good. They of course make him the Tommy Turtle, offer it gratis but the President insists on paying. He then takes his time and eats the treat and talks with anyone who happened to be there and has his photo taken with anyone else who has a camera. One of the photos is still on display there today.
Unfortunately I am not there. I am still at the corner hoping that my customer would come in the back way to our location. And when he did I didn't want him not to find anyone there. After about 20 minutes, without my customer coming of course, the buses fire up their engines and drive past me and I wave, but you can't see into the buses and the President might be in any one of the identical buses so I smile and wave at all three.
Two of my daughters went to the rally at the fairgrounds. They were way back in the crowd, the President was standing on a flat bed trailer giving his speech and there was another flat bed trailer between him and the crowd and my girls could hear the speech but could not really see the President.
My oldest daughter at that time was a morning DJ at the local Christian radio station. Her co host (interestingly enough named Tommy) really wanted to see the President but like my girls he ended up way back in the crowd. His wife wasn't as interested so she had dropped Tommy off at the fairgrounds and then stopped with her 4 year old twins for some ice cream at the Capt'n. A lot of time in life and in politics timing is everything and she ended up eating ice cream with President Bush and her twins had their picture taken with him. They eagerly showed the picture to their dad when he picked them up. However the next day when their mom asked them if they wanted to take the photo for show and tell at their play school they said no, we'd rather bring our Sponge Bob Square Pants character.
Politically I am to the right of Bush 41 and Bush 43 and also to Bush 45 if that happens. I do find in the story of Bush 41 though qualities that you just do not see anymore in politics or for that matter much in the world at large. There are many words that can describe what I am talking about, such as hard working, loyal, honest, humble, forgiving, encouraging, doing your duty and finally, trusting that if you do your best God will take care of the rest and leave it to Him to ultimately defend your character.
These I will sum up in one word - Honor. The sense of duty one has to serve God, family and country to the best of one's ability, to admit one's mistakes and to try to do better the next time. George Herbert Walker Bush had all of that in spades. 41 is first of all a son's remembrance of the values he learned from his father. It reminded me so much of how my father would tell us these little stories and sayings that reflected what it meant and how it worked to do things the right way.
Many will say that 43 was not the same man that 41 was and I don't know if I was tested like my father that I would have matched up any better. I can only do my best and try to learn from my mistakes and fight the good fight and trust that God will defend my character.
And of course stop at the Capt'n from time to time with my grand kids to make memories.
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Sweet Freedom
The first thing you would notice about Charles is that he is missing most of three fingers on both of his 46 year old hands. I was wondering to myself if this was going to be a problem for him to keep his hands on the steering wheel during our test but Charles seemed to manage it just fine.
Charles is a black man who until recently has never driven legally because he always neglected to obtain the required driver's permit or license. Believe it or not I get someone around his age or older almost every day who has never had a license.
His father was a workaholic and successful businessman, now retired in Arkansas, who had owned 2 hotels in Chicago. Charles was a druggie and alcoholic who grew up in Benton Harbor, or Ben Harbor as the locals call it. He had been so for most of his adult years.
Charles tells me that one day he walked into a store in Ben Harbor to get some smokes and there was a guy giving a talk to a group of men in the back of the store and he heard the man say that if they didn't change the way they were living they were bound to die young. At this point in his life Charles felt that he was dying. It wasn't just the drugs and booze, it was also his lifestyle. If something was good, more was always better. He had always run around with the wrong crowd, men and women who were just like him, but now he felt his body wearing out.
The man giving the talk had a recovery home in Grand Rapids and told Charles that if he could make it, there would be a place for him. There was only one rule. He would have to totally swear off drugs and drink.
A few weeks later and not having any money at this point Charles goes into a Salvation Army store and explains his situation to the manager who believes he is sincere and has the store purchase a bus ticket to Grand Rapids for Charles. He gets to GR and is walking to the recovery home on a nice warm June day with 3 dollars in his pocket and on the way passes a liquor store. Nothing at this point sounds better than a nice cold beer. But Charles remembers his pledge to cut off what is killing him and makes it to the home without stopping.
He had been there for 4 years and now 3 months on his own at the time I meet him. He goal is to be able to console others like him and help them have a better life.
Charles asks me if I have had any problem with drinking and my reply is that I use to drink a little many years ago and even did for a couple of years after becoming a believer at the age of 22. My reason to stop drinking was that I like to try to be funny and one time after drinking I said something which later embarrassed me. I then felt the Holy Spirit saying, and this was for me personally, that it was not His will for me to be in a position where I was not responsible for what I was saying or doing.
"So you never had a drink after that?" asks Charles. I reply that I've had a few sips of champagne at wedding receptions but nothing more. "And how long has that been?" inquires Charles and my response is that it would now be 40 years. "Wow!" exclaims my new friend. "I can't believe you've been clean for 40 years!" I try to tell him that it's not like drinking was an addition or anything but my dear Charles keeps shaking his head. He asks me my name and then said; "I'm going to share that at our meeting tonight."
The test ends, Charles did well and passes and walks off to find the friend who loaned him the car for the test. Five minutes later he comes back with a white guy, same age, same look of hard years on his bearded face who walks up to me, extends his hand and asks; "Are you Bob? I want to shake the hand of a man who has been clean for 40 years!"
Initially this seemed pretty funny but then it dawned on me. For guys like Charles and his friend whose body chemistry's are addicted to what will ultimately kill them, every day is a challenge. They struggle so much more than I do to avoid bad company and to overcome life's setbacks and wrong turns by using the temporary painkillers of drugs and drink and sex. For them to actually meet someone who did not drink for 40 years was an inspiration. They were living day to day but I was hope that days could actually turn to years.
So I shake the friend's hand and smile, wish him merry Christmas and God bless and may the Lord be with him every day.
And may my gracious Lord be with you all as well this Christmas season.
Charles is a black man who until recently has never driven legally because he always neglected to obtain the required driver's permit or license. Believe it or not I get someone around his age or older almost every day who has never had a license.
His father was a workaholic and successful businessman, now retired in Arkansas, who had owned 2 hotels in Chicago. Charles was a druggie and alcoholic who grew up in Benton Harbor, or Ben Harbor as the locals call it. He had been so for most of his adult years.
Charles tells me that one day he walked into a store in Ben Harbor to get some smokes and there was a guy giving a talk to a group of men in the back of the store and he heard the man say that if they didn't change the way they were living they were bound to die young. At this point in his life Charles felt that he was dying. It wasn't just the drugs and booze, it was also his lifestyle. If something was good, more was always better. He had always run around with the wrong crowd, men and women who were just like him, but now he felt his body wearing out.
The man giving the talk had a recovery home in Grand Rapids and told Charles that if he could make it, there would be a place for him. There was only one rule. He would have to totally swear off drugs and drink.
A few weeks later and not having any money at this point Charles goes into a Salvation Army store and explains his situation to the manager who believes he is sincere and has the store purchase a bus ticket to Grand Rapids for Charles. He gets to GR and is walking to the recovery home on a nice warm June day with 3 dollars in his pocket and on the way passes a liquor store. Nothing at this point sounds better than a nice cold beer. But Charles remembers his pledge to cut off what is killing him and makes it to the home without stopping.
He had been there for 4 years and now 3 months on his own at the time I meet him. He goal is to be able to console others like him and help them have a better life.
Charles asks me if I have had any problem with drinking and my reply is that I use to drink a little many years ago and even did for a couple of years after becoming a believer at the age of 22. My reason to stop drinking was that I like to try to be funny and one time after drinking I said something which later embarrassed me. I then felt the Holy Spirit saying, and this was for me personally, that it was not His will for me to be in a position where I was not responsible for what I was saying or doing.
"So you never had a drink after that?" asks Charles. I reply that I've had a few sips of champagne at wedding receptions but nothing more. "And how long has that been?" inquires Charles and my response is that it would now be 40 years. "Wow!" exclaims my new friend. "I can't believe you've been clean for 40 years!" I try to tell him that it's not like drinking was an addition or anything but my dear Charles keeps shaking his head. He asks me my name and then said; "I'm going to share that at our meeting tonight."
The test ends, Charles did well and passes and walks off to find the friend who loaned him the car for the test. Five minutes later he comes back with a white guy, same age, same look of hard years on his bearded face who walks up to me, extends his hand and asks; "Are you Bob? I want to shake the hand of a man who has been clean for 40 years!"
Initially this seemed pretty funny but then it dawned on me. For guys like Charles and his friend whose body chemistry's are addicted to what will ultimately kill them, every day is a challenge. They struggle so much more than I do to avoid bad company and to overcome life's setbacks and wrong turns by using the temporary painkillers of drugs and drink and sex. For them to actually meet someone who did not drink for 40 years was an inspiration. They were living day to day but I was hope that days could actually turn to years.
So I shake the friend's hand and smile, wish him merry Christmas and God bless and may the Lord be with him every day.
And may my gracious Lord be with you all as well this Christmas season.
Saturday, December 20, 2014
Soap On A Rope
It was Christmas morning during my 8th grade year and opening the brightly colored package I got, SURPRISE!, soap on a rope. From that moment on I've been much more aware of the impact of unwanted smells.
This week it all came back to me. I'm doing a test for a guy from Saudi Arabia and after I get into the passenger seat Faheed tries to hand me a fist sized, round, black, dare I say bomb looking object that has a spray nozzle on it's top. "This is for you" says Faheed in his Saudi accent. "It is Arabic."
He clearly has the advantage because I have no idea what is going on so I reply with a no thanks I'm not allowed to take anything reply. Undeterred Faheed must have given the bomb a good squeeze without me seeing because all of a sudden the car is filled with an awful strong sweet cheap perfume smelling fragrance. I now am looking forward to 30 more minutes of this unless, if the driving gods are kind, Faheed like many of his countrymen tries to turn left in front of oncoming traffic and the test is shortened, one way or the other.
Alas, I keep making him do left turns but this guy turns out to be quite a good driver and we go the entire route.
After the test is done and I give Faheed his review he once more pulls out his little fragrance bomb and asks me again to take it. I still don't know if he is offering this as a gift or he just wants to squirt me but once more I politely decline, eliciting a sigh and response; "But it is from my country."
America has it's own customs, at least the America I drive with. They are the Christmas trees or other symbols that hang from the rear view mirror, heavily impregnated with odors that smell nothing like advertised. If one is good then a half dozen must be better! Of course if you want to be a little more sophisticated about it then there are those tiny little perfume bottles that fit into the dashboard blower vents (always a fun ride).
All these things make me wonder if what they are trying to cover up is actually that much worse than their solution. I mean, the original bad smell must still be there as well, right?
But then I had a guy this week who didn't need vent bottles or mirror hangers or Arabic hand bombs. Roy, who looks like a good old country boy comes with a beat up 1998 Chevy Impala. His brother Lester gets out of the passenger seat and apologizes for the brown paper shopping bags laying on the floor that I will have my feet on. "Sorry for the bags" says Lester, "I just cleaned up the car and parts are still wet."
Let me tell you about the dreams that strong bleach odors will give you if you spend 30 minutes with them. I mean, I really don't think that was a dead squirrel tucked underneath the front seat.
This week it all came back to me. I'm doing a test for a guy from Saudi Arabia and after I get into the passenger seat Faheed tries to hand me a fist sized, round, black, dare I say bomb looking object that has a spray nozzle on it's top. "This is for you" says Faheed in his Saudi accent. "It is Arabic."
He clearly has the advantage because I have no idea what is going on so I reply with a no thanks I'm not allowed to take anything reply. Undeterred Faheed must have given the bomb a good squeeze without me seeing because all of a sudden the car is filled with an awful strong sweet cheap perfume smelling fragrance. I now am looking forward to 30 more minutes of this unless, if the driving gods are kind, Faheed like many of his countrymen tries to turn left in front of oncoming traffic and the test is shortened, one way or the other.
Alas, I keep making him do left turns but this guy turns out to be quite a good driver and we go the entire route.
After the test is done and I give Faheed his review he once more pulls out his little fragrance bomb and asks me again to take it. I still don't know if he is offering this as a gift or he just wants to squirt me but once more I politely decline, eliciting a sigh and response; "But it is from my country."
America has it's own customs, at least the America I drive with. They are the Christmas trees or other symbols that hang from the rear view mirror, heavily impregnated with odors that smell nothing like advertised. If one is good then a half dozen must be better! Of course if you want to be a little more sophisticated about it then there are those tiny little perfume bottles that fit into the dashboard blower vents (always a fun ride).
All these things make me wonder if what they are trying to cover up is actually that much worse than their solution. I mean, the original bad smell must still be there as well, right?
But then I had a guy this week who didn't need vent bottles or mirror hangers or Arabic hand bombs. Roy, who looks like a good old country boy comes with a beat up 1998 Chevy Impala. His brother Lester gets out of the passenger seat and apologizes for the brown paper shopping bags laying on the floor that I will have my feet on. "Sorry for the bags" says Lester, "I just cleaned up the car and parts are still wet."
Let me tell you about the dreams that strong bleach odors will give you if you spend 30 minutes with them. I mean, I really don't think that was a dead squirrel tucked underneath the front seat.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
The First Day
There is pain in the front of my forehead
intense, fierce, unrelenting
starting this morning with the first call
Gone! Missing! We haven't heard!
All day, phone in hand
computer on lap
watching TV
and I am scared shitless
TV doesn't say
Google's gone berserk
friends and family asking me
but I can't tell them
I am a coward at heart
At 11 or 12 the world opened up a crack
At 17 or 18 the ground started shaking
At 19 or 20 I gave in to logic and ran
When you are young running's easy
There was once a glimmer
like the shimmer of a mirage in a dream
it seems I almost had it
I would often sleep just to catch that dream
but it never came back
and I eventually forgot it's beauty
Someone once told me about this day
as if, yes, as if you could know
something so outrageous and wrong
we sent men to the moon for christ sake
and your little backward mind is living
in a fairy tail
a borrowed one at that
why why why if what you say is true
would this ever happen
I can't like this
Fear is gripping me
sweaty palms and blurry eyes and shallow breath
I am so worried I will pass out
and someone will find me
and take me away forever
there is nowhere to hide
and no one left who really cares
they are all running and I can't go with
because I know
Somewhere, far off
a train is approaching a crossing
and I feel the vibrating moan that warns beware
startled I jumped clear out of my seat
the first time in hours I could move
the TV and computer were blank
the phone was dead
day had turned to night with no progression
and staring at me from the corner of a grand bookcase
was a dusty book with shinny pages
Years ago I had stored an unopened letter inside it's pages
I did not have to read it
I'd known it's author for years
and I knew that one day I would die
that I would have done my best
that it would be good enough
but coward that I am I now needed something
even just to help me breath
and clear my mind
and think
Dear friend, it said
if love could hold you
and keep you safe for a thousand years
and every moment your heart beats you would have joy
so is my wish for you.
That's all it said
well, and - love, your friend
p.s. enjoy this book
That was the first day
it all came back clearly as I kneel here so comfortably
shaved head on the block
waiting for my joy to be complete
praying that now those well worn pages
will be found
by a coward
like me
intense, fierce, unrelenting
starting this morning with the first call
Gone! Missing! We haven't heard!
All day, phone in hand
computer on lap
watching TV
and I am scared shitless
TV doesn't say
Google's gone berserk
friends and family asking me
but I can't tell them
I am a coward at heart
At 11 or 12 the world opened up a crack
At 17 or 18 the ground started shaking
At 19 or 20 I gave in to logic and ran
When you are young running's easy
There was once a glimmer
like the shimmer of a mirage in a dream
it seems I almost had it
I would often sleep just to catch that dream
but it never came back
and I eventually forgot it's beauty
Someone once told me about this day
as if, yes, as if you could know
something so outrageous and wrong
we sent men to the moon for christ sake
and your little backward mind is living
in a fairy tail
a borrowed one at that
why why why if what you say is true
would this ever happen
I can't like this
Fear is gripping me
sweaty palms and blurry eyes and shallow breath
I am so worried I will pass out
and someone will find me
and take me away forever
there is nowhere to hide
and no one left who really cares
they are all running and I can't go with
because I know
Somewhere, far off
a train is approaching a crossing
and I feel the vibrating moan that warns beware
startled I jumped clear out of my seat
the first time in hours I could move
the TV and computer were blank
the phone was dead
day had turned to night with no progression
and staring at me from the corner of a grand bookcase
was a dusty book with shinny pages
Years ago I had stored an unopened letter inside it's pages
I did not have to read it
I'd known it's author for years
and I knew that one day I would die
that I would have done my best
that it would be good enough
but coward that I am I now needed something
even just to help me breath
and clear my mind
and think
Dear friend, it said
if love could hold you
and keep you safe for a thousand years
and every moment your heart beats you would have joy
so is my wish for you.
That's all it said
well, and - love, your friend
p.s. enjoy this book
That was the first day
it all came back clearly as I kneel here so comfortably
shaved head on the block
waiting for my joy to be complete
praying that now those well worn pages
will be found
by a coward
like me
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Perspective
Jackie and I are out driving and some heavy fog has set in. I say to my dear wife; "How much visibility do you think we have here? A quarter mile, maybe a half mile?" She answers that it is perhaps a half mile. We continue on in silence for another minute until Jackie breaks the quiet. "Well, I guess I was wrong. We've driven over a mile and I can still see for maybe a half mile!"
This is how you entertain yourselves after over 42 years of marriage. Sometimes reality is all a matter of perspective.
I had two interesting clients this morning, both with an African connection. One was a lady who had come here from Rwanda. She spoke passable English but her 21 year old son was helping her out with a few words during our parking lot portion of the test. After Basilissa passes that part we no longer need her son for the drive so he wishes his mother "Bon chance". Recognizing the French phrase for "good luck" I say out loud; "Oh, bon chance!" which Basilissa interprets as me also wishing her good luck and so she tells me thank you.
"So you speak French!" she says excitedly and I respond that no, I don't speak French but that I did understand what her son said. Not having learned my lesson we are about to leave the parking lot and I give the instruction to turn right at the approaching street, but because I had someone from France a week or two ago and remembered the French word for right I added, "turn right, dwot."
At this point Basilissa almost demands; "What is your name?" and I tell her "LaBarge" and apparently no longer believing that I really don't speak French she blurts out a couple paragraphs to me in French. I smile sheepishly and from then on just speak English, even when we are nearing our first left turn and I want to yell out in the worse way, "goosh".
Later on in the test I ask Basilissa if her parents are with her or still back in Rwanda. Sadly she tells me that both parents, along with 20 other family members "passed away during the genocide". I tell her I am very sorry and we go on to talk about the Michigan weather and she tells me that for her and her son the cold has been very difficult to adjust to but that her younger son not only loves the cold but complains when it gets too hot. She then goes on to say; "And the schools are very good here. A little cold is a good trade for not having to worry about someone killing you."
My next client Samuel was a college student whose parents were missionaries for the last 20 years in Kenya. His mother runs a village medical dispensary there and his father does things like teaching how to build wells for clean water and they both share the gospel. Things for them are much easier now than they were 20 years ago when his parents hacked their way with machetes 20 miles into the wilderness to get to the village they reside in now.
"Wanting to live just like the locals do for the first 10 years our home was a corrugated metal shack only a little bigger than 10' x 10'. This was fine but eventually other tribes learned that there were white people living in our village and white people must be rich so every few months an outsider would be traveling through and find our hut and then rob us. Our village leaders decided that they really needed to build us a brick home for safety purposes."
Samuel goes on to tell me that although there are a couple of dominate ethnic tribes there are also over 1000 different tribal groups in Kenya and because a lot of them don't get along in parts of the country things can get quite violent. His family for now is lucky because they are far enough back in the bush to avoid most of the trouble.
Last week I tested an African American lady who was in her fifties. Carmen was dressed very nice, wore bright purple lipstick, and gave me a look when she drove up that said; "Don't you be messing with me boy!" I figured she was probably just a little nervous but with everything that had just happened with Ferguson and New York and all I wasn't totally sure. So I decided that my secondary goal (the primary goal would be to conduct a good driving test) would be to make Carmen laugh.
I smiled and asked Carmen if she was a little nervous and she glares at me and says; "I suppose so." That didn't break the ice. As we are driving I ask Carmen if she is from the area and she informs me that she moved here the last year from Detroit. "Have you found a good church yet?" I ask. Carmen perks up and tells me that she has a brother-in-law who pastors a small church and that she has really been enjoying it there.
This leads me to share that I have a son-in-law who is a pastor. I tell Carmen that a couple of weeks ago he was preaching and said that his favorite holiday was Thanksgiving because with all the other holidays like Christmas and Easter there is so much hustle bustle and other things to do but Thanksgiving is not like that and is so much more relaxing. Someone then yells out from the congregation; "You must not be a woman!" Suddenly Carmen gets a great big smile and says; "That's right. I be up all night long before, just cooking and cooking and then cooking all the next day and all the men folk want to do is watch football and eat and eat and then moan about how full they is and then eat some more."
Now we are buddies. Carmen passes the test and thanks me for being so nice and I am amazed at how complicated and yet how simple life can be.
There is so much hate in this world. I am convinced that there are evil spirits that promote racial hatred and hatred between people groups and religions and hatred even between men of good will who should otherwise call themselves brothers. Anytime one group demeans another group, or a person demeans another person for some type of perceived gain, that is a spiritual problem.
Anytime there is a root of bitterness or feelings of inferiority which blind a person to what reality is, that is a spiritual problem. Anytime there are breakdowns in family structures which will almost always lead to income and opportunity disparities, that is not primarily an economic problem. It is foremost a spiritual problem.
The evil one wants to destroy societies. He wants to enslave people and has a thousand ways to do so. He is called the lawless one, the father of lies and a murderer from the beginning.
But we have a heavenly Father who loves us. He sent His only Son Jesus to die for us so that we might be free. Free from the condemnation and enslavement's of sin. Free from the root of bitterness. Free from all the voices that say we are not worthy. Free from living a life filled with hate.
My perspective is that nothing will change in our society unless hearts are changed and evil spirits are driven out so that true healing can begin. Lord, give us your perspective!
This is how you entertain yourselves after over 42 years of marriage. Sometimes reality is all a matter of perspective.
I had two interesting clients this morning, both with an African connection. One was a lady who had come here from Rwanda. She spoke passable English but her 21 year old son was helping her out with a few words during our parking lot portion of the test. After Basilissa passes that part we no longer need her son for the drive so he wishes his mother "Bon chance". Recognizing the French phrase for "good luck" I say out loud; "Oh, bon chance!" which Basilissa interprets as me also wishing her good luck and so she tells me thank you.
"So you speak French!" she says excitedly and I respond that no, I don't speak French but that I did understand what her son said. Not having learned my lesson we are about to leave the parking lot and I give the instruction to turn right at the approaching street, but because I had someone from France a week or two ago and remembered the French word for right I added, "turn right, dwot."
At this point Basilissa almost demands; "What is your name?" and I tell her "LaBarge" and apparently no longer believing that I really don't speak French she blurts out a couple paragraphs to me in French. I smile sheepishly and from then on just speak English, even when we are nearing our first left turn and I want to yell out in the worse way, "goosh".
Later on in the test I ask Basilissa if her parents are with her or still back in Rwanda. Sadly she tells me that both parents, along with 20 other family members "passed away during the genocide". I tell her I am very sorry and we go on to talk about the Michigan weather and she tells me that for her and her son the cold has been very difficult to adjust to but that her younger son not only loves the cold but complains when it gets too hot. She then goes on to say; "And the schools are very good here. A little cold is a good trade for not having to worry about someone killing you."
My next client Samuel was a college student whose parents were missionaries for the last 20 years in Kenya. His mother runs a village medical dispensary there and his father does things like teaching how to build wells for clean water and they both share the gospel. Things for them are much easier now than they were 20 years ago when his parents hacked their way with machetes 20 miles into the wilderness to get to the village they reside in now.
"Wanting to live just like the locals do for the first 10 years our home was a corrugated metal shack only a little bigger than 10' x 10'. This was fine but eventually other tribes learned that there were white people living in our village and white people must be rich so every few months an outsider would be traveling through and find our hut and then rob us. Our village leaders decided that they really needed to build us a brick home for safety purposes."
Samuel goes on to tell me that although there are a couple of dominate ethnic tribes there are also over 1000 different tribal groups in Kenya and because a lot of them don't get along in parts of the country things can get quite violent. His family for now is lucky because they are far enough back in the bush to avoid most of the trouble.
Last week I tested an African American lady who was in her fifties. Carmen was dressed very nice, wore bright purple lipstick, and gave me a look when she drove up that said; "Don't you be messing with me boy!" I figured she was probably just a little nervous but with everything that had just happened with Ferguson and New York and all I wasn't totally sure. So I decided that my secondary goal (the primary goal would be to conduct a good driving test) would be to make Carmen laugh.
I smiled and asked Carmen if she was a little nervous and she glares at me and says; "I suppose so." That didn't break the ice. As we are driving I ask Carmen if she is from the area and she informs me that she moved here the last year from Detroit. "Have you found a good church yet?" I ask. Carmen perks up and tells me that she has a brother-in-law who pastors a small church and that she has really been enjoying it there.
This leads me to share that I have a son-in-law who is a pastor. I tell Carmen that a couple of weeks ago he was preaching and said that his favorite holiday was Thanksgiving because with all the other holidays like Christmas and Easter there is so much hustle bustle and other things to do but Thanksgiving is not like that and is so much more relaxing. Someone then yells out from the congregation; "You must not be a woman!" Suddenly Carmen gets a great big smile and says; "That's right. I be up all night long before, just cooking and cooking and then cooking all the next day and all the men folk want to do is watch football and eat and eat and then moan about how full they is and then eat some more."
Now we are buddies. Carmen passes the test and thanks me for being so nice and I am amazed at how complicated and yet how simple life can be.
There is so much hate in this world. I am convinced that there are evil spirits that promote racial hatred and hatred between people groups and religions and hatred even between men of good will who should otherwise call themselves brothers. Anytime one group demeans another group, or a person demeans another person for some type of perceived gain, that is a spiritual problem.
Anytime there is a root of bitterness or feelings of inferiority which blind a person to what reality is, that is a spiritual problem. Anytime there are breakdowns in family structures which will almost always lead to income and opportunity disparities, that is not primarily an economic problem. It is foremost a spiritual problem.
The evil one wants to destroy societies. He wants to enslave people and has a thousand ways to do so. He is called the lawless one, the father of lies and a murderer from the beginning.
But we have a heavenly Father who loves us. He sent His only Son Jesus to die for us so that we might be free. Free from the condemnation and enslavement's of sin. Free from the root of bitterness. Free from all the voices that say we are not worthy. Free from living a life filled with hate.
My perspective is that nothing will change in our society unless hearts are changed and evil spirits are driven out so that true healing can begin. Lord, give us your perspective!
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