Nets and All

The situation was grim (Luke 5:5-11 MSG). Simon Peter and his business partners had fished all night and caught nothing, not even a minnow, in their nets. Jesus showed up and suggested they try one more time. After some excuses and negativity, they made one more toss into the sea. Immediately so many fish were in the nets that the catch strained them past capacity and almost swamped both boats.

What an amazing fish story! I've never had that level of success fishing. As a young boy growing up in New Orleans, I spent time on the banks of the bayous in City Park with a cane pole and shrimp or biscuit dough for bait. My brother and I would fish for perch, trout, or bass. We rarely got a nibble. I remember we even tried using minnows on our hooks to attract the larger fish. We would dip a Dixie cup in the water near shore and scoop up several of the tiny fish at a time. Often the cup was our best fishing pole and those minnows our best catch of the day.

As a teenager I graduated to the much larger lake catfish. They could be up to two feet in length. We walked a quarter mile out on the I-10 bridge to Slidell that was under construction.Why "they" let us do that was always a mystery to us. We would toss our lines over the side to the water about 15 feet below. It usually didn't take long to hook "a big one." Then we would give a pull and hoist the cat up and over the railing of the bridge bringing it down hard on the cement. This would either stun or kill the fish. We worked quickly since dazed catfish had a habit of awakening suddenly and "finning" their attackers. Wearing gloves helped protect our hands from those stinging wounds. Once that catch was off the hook and in the cooler, we tried again.

Years later I was privileged to help guide groups of teens (sometimes including my son Matt) on treks to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. On these trips I seldom fished. I was better at maneuvering a canoe than casting. I enjoyed paddling from the bow of the canoe while Matt sat in front and cast his lure for bass, walleye, or northern pike. We discovered that pike made an elusive move when hooked. They would swim straight up the line and under the canoe. Their goal was to cut the line on the sharp seam of the hull. To overcome this sneaky play, Matt learned to yank on the pole to set the hook and then crank the reel like crazy. That was much more fun than my earlier adventures in fishing.

Remember earlier in this fishy tale, we left Simon and Company with nearly swamped boats. Teamwork got the catch to shore safely. They realized Jesus was also fishing that day. He was fishing for followers who would become part of his team to cast nets for men and women. Those fishermen were overwhelmed with awe at Jesus' miracle. Scripture states, "They pulled their boats up on the beach, left them, nets and all, and followed Him."

The message of the gospel is inspiring as it explains our mission as His fishers (I Peter 3:15 MSG): "Through thick and thin, keep hour hearts at attention, in adoration before Christ, your Master. Be ready to speak up and tell anyone who asks why you're living the way you are, and always with the utmost courtesy." We must be ready to leave nets and all and follow Him. 

Light It Up!

Lights are important. They illuminate dangerous darkness and the path to safety. A night light can make a strange place feel a little more secure. Motel 6 advertises they will leave a light on for us. The Bible proclaims followers of Jesus to be the "light of the world." Luke 8:16 (MSG) declares that "no one lights a lamp and then covers it with a washtub or shoves it under the bed." No one, that is, except Gideon.

Judges 7:16-22 relates the story of Gideon's conquest of the much larger force of Midianites. His 300 chosen soldiers were armed with trumpets and jars with torches hidden inside. At the appointed signal they blew the horns, broke the jars, and shouted. The sudden lights and noise startled the enemy into killing one another. God's plan worked. Israel was victorious.

In 2011 I took a solo road trip from Tennessee to Alaska. Yes, I had my wife's blessing. She had no desire to travel that distance by car, and I'd always dreamed of traversing the entire Alaska-Canadian Highway. I can attest that it takes five days to go from Tennessee to Alaska by car if you average 1,100 miles each 24 hours. Before you ask...I slept when I got tired wherever I found a safe-looking spot with a nearby bathroom. I pulled over into rest areas, campgrounds, parks, marina parking lots, and spaces at trailheads. This latter place caused my only anxiety of the entire 21 nights sleeping in my Nissan Sentra.

I had just spent some hours investigating favorite author Jack London's hometown of Dawson City, Yukon. I drove a few miles east and then turned north on the Dempster Highway. As it got late and I got tired, I looked for a resting spot. I turned off at the sign for Grizzly Trailhead. I backed into a vacant space near the porta-potty. It was about 11 p.m. About 2:30 a.m. I was awakened by a loud rustling in the bushes behind me. I started the car, pulled forward, and turned around. The headlights were now shining into the noisy flora. In front of me illuminated in my high beams was the biggest, darkest, loudest, scariest porcupine I'd ever seen in the wilds. I got out and snapped a few photos that didn't turn out too focused. My amateur photography skills were spoiled by low light and the creature's waddling away as fast as its stumpy legs could carry it.

As on that night I am usually very appreciative of light. It can be the brightness of the sun, a glorious full moon, or any of the many man made devices that illuminate the way to safety. I am especially thankful that Jesus promises in John 8:12, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."

A famous poem/hymn by Cardinal John Henry Newman begins, "Lead kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead thou me on." Join me as a Light of the world. Let's unveil, break the jar, and LIGHT IT UP!

We Win!

Yesterday I wrote about Joel, an amazing Bible teacher at my current congregation. That blog made me reminisce about another incredible teacher many years ago in Phoenix. Truitt was teaching a summer series on the book of Revelation. I don't remember much from that study except for one scripture. Truitt stated that the entire book can be summed up in Revelation 17:12-14.

That passage speaks about the ultimate battle of good versus evil or the Lamb of God (Jesus) versus  the Beast (Satan). Verse 14 (NIV) puts it this way, "They will wage war against the Lamb, but the Lamb will triumph over them because he is Lord of lords and King of kings - and with him will be his called, chosen and faithful followers."

Did you see it? Jesus triumphs! Those with him, his faithful followers, are victorious as well. The fight rages our entire lives. Remain true to the Lamb, and WE WIN! Hallelujah!

The Right Mouthwash

Joel is one of the best Bible teachers I have ever experienced. We attend his Sunday morning class on Luke/Acts and his Wednesday night study of some of Paul's epistles. He really does his homework. He always has a study guide for us including research and background. His presentations are filled with energy and enthusiasm. He uses the right mouthwash.

This is an acronym I taught my prospective teachers as a professor of education at Martin Methodist College for 16 years before my retirement in 2017. Teachers must use the right mouthwash:

• Submission to the policies of the district or school and to the laws of the land. In the Bible class setting this would mean following the Bible and the approved education plan in that congregation.
• Creativity and variety will maintain the interest of students and encourage study and participation.
• Organization can bring an atmosphere of "decently and in order" to any classroom.
• Preparation of more interesting content than can possibly be covered in the allotted time will help maintain student interest and keep a lively pace.
• Enthusiasm is the energy that brings life to the lesson. A smile on the teacher's face can augment a passion in the tone of voice.

Yes, SCOPE is the acronym that turns a good teacher into a great one who amazes multitudes as Jesus did. The Master Teacher was an incredible story teller, held the interest of audiences, and baffled the authorities who questioned him. I'm proud to sit at Joel's feet as he emulates Jesus by exhibiting the right mouthwash in all his classes.

Don't cry over spilt...

My blog topics usually come from an idea file. I jot down thoughts that come to me as I read scripture, listen to audiobooks, converse with friends, or remember the past. Most are days old or at least several hours. Tonight's came from minutes ago.

I am home alone while my wife attends her Monday night ladies Bible group. I had just prepared my supper of eggs topped with melted cheese, turkey sausage with mustard, and a piece of toast with butter and jelly. Is your mouth watering yet? Mine was. I carried my water glass and plate from the kitchen through the living room. My destination was the upstairs bonus room to watch an old movie that I had begun earlier.

As an afterthought I stopped by the lamp table between our downstairs recliners to get my phone. Fortunately it was the glass that slipped from my fingers and not the plate. Even though the glass was only about a third full of water, it still made a mess on one recliner, the table, and the nearby floor. I set my plate back on the dining room table just as the phone rang. It was my son from Texas returning my call. I quickly explained my dilemma. We agreed to talk in 10 minutes. I got several dish clothes from the kitchen and mopped up the spill.

I stayed downstairs and hurriedly ate my supper. Then I called my son. After concluding the call, I went upstairs, but not to watch the DVD. I had decided on my blog idea for the day: don't cry over spilt...

First thing I did was research the old adage "don't cry over spilt milk." Its meaning was easily ascertained. There is no use complaining over something bad that happened in the past and cannot be changed. The origin of the phrase is a little less precise. One idea was that it is an historical reference that appeared in a document written by British historian James Howell in 1659. He apparently was commenting on an event from European folklore.

Another source was that "don't cry" was likely to have come from faery lore. In days when people believed strongly in fairies, it was common to lay out a shrine for them consisting of small quantities of food and drink. The preferred drink of faeries was purported to be milk. Whenever milk was spilled, it was considered to be a little extra offering to the fairies and nothing about which to worry.

Getting upset and crying or crying out over any spill is a fruitless waste of time and energy. As the Serenity Prayer begins, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." When you create a mess, clean it up quickly and quietly and salvage that time and energy.

Follow the Leader

I played many active games in my childhood. Among the most popular were Tag, Not It, Hide and Seek, Capture the Flag, Red Rover, Steal the Bacon, and Tackle the Man with the Ball. These usually had specific rules to which all players agreed to adhere. All except Tackle the Man with the Ball. That was simply a free for all. Injuries happened. It was rough. Girls were excluded. We boys didn't want to get hurt.

Follow the Leader had more variations than any of these games. Someone was chosen to lead. The leader would set the pace as the others followed over, under, around, into, and sometimes even through obstacles. It was somewhat like the basketball game of H-O-R-S-E. Others had to closely imitate the exact manner in which the leader passed each barrier or hurdle. Sometimes we played if you made a mistake, you were out. It wasn't much fun to sit out. More often we played if you messed up on any part, you went to the rear but continued in the game.

Reminiscing about these games reminded me of the story of Gideon in Judges 7:17-18 (NIV): "Watch me," Gideon told them. "Follow my lead. When I get to the edge of the camp, do exactly as I do. When I and all who are with me blow our trumpets, then from all around the camp blow yours and shout, 'For the Lord and for Gideon.'"

Through this intriguing and intricate game of Follow the Leader, Gideon and his 300 followers were able to surprise a much larger force. Outnumbered 450 to 1, the Israelites defeated the Midianites decisively. Their secret to absolute victory was to follow precisely their Leader's instructions.

They did exactly what God had told Gideon. They blew the trumpets, broke the jars, shouted the shout, and they won! In life if we Follow the Leader (God), we win!

Home Is Good

Home is a topic of movies, songs, books, and blogs. Directors, producers, screen writers, composers, authors, and even road-tripping bloggers have discovered the way to the hearts and imaginations of their viewers and readers often winds through a place called home.

While tapping her ruby slippers, Dorothy recited, "There's no place like home." "Home on the Range" is where cowboys  never heard a discouraging word. Upon leaving Mississippi today, we passed a state line sign proclaiming "Sweet Home Alabama!" The country group Alabama sings one of my favorite Christmas songs "Homecoming Christmas." The sentiment in this verse is heartwarming:

It's a Homecoming Christmas,
Goin' back to where it all began
Homecoming Christmas,
I wanna be there once again
Memories so sweet and strong
And I've been gone too long
It's Christmas time and I'm goin' home.

Home is where the heart is. Home is where memories are made. Home is my recliner. Home is my wife's amazing cooking. Home is my own bed. Home is comfortable. Home fits. As John Denver sang, "Hey! It's good to be back home again."

Fostering Old Friendships

Our last day in New Orleans began with a small breakfast in the room. We packed and called for the car and a luggage cart. Once loaded we drove around the Crescent City. We went by my old schools beginning with John McDonogh High School (10th and 11 grade) and then Ganus School (6-9 grade). Both schools had changed names and grade levels.

Next we drove along the Pontchartrain lakefront and out to Gentilly East. On our way to the house where I grew up, we stopped for an early lunch at Wendy's. We took one last spin around City Park before heading across the Causeway, a 24-mile long bridge to the North Shore of Lake Pontchartrain. We checked into the Marriott in Covington and awaited THE phone call.

We had arranged to have supper with a very special family. Jerry had lived with us for two years in the 1970s along with  his older sister and younger brother. They were three of 31 foster kids we kept in group homes in Shreveport and Tulsa. Now he lives with his wife and three children in Ponchatoula, LA.

The  phone never rang. He did text to meet them at 5:30 p.m. at East of Italy in Hammond. We spent an hour and a half eating pasta and reliving memories. I had coached the middle school football team on which he was the star tailback. He married a lovely lady, and they have three priceless kids.

I found myself singing along with Maria Von Trapp in the Sound of Music, "My day in the hills has come to an end I know." I adjusted the words slightly, "Our days in the swamp have come to an end we know." Tomorrow we head home. It has been a tiring but very rewarding week of making new memories in the Big Easy.

Anniversary Getaway Day Four

D-day! No, we didn't return for a repeat performance of the Normandy Invasion at the WWII Museum. Today was actually our 49th anniversary. As with that episode on the beaches of France, we awoke to overcast skies and a steady drizzle.

Our first destination was the Audubon Butterfly Garden and Insectarium. We spent two hours learning about insects, spiders, butterflies, and beetles with a few birds and reptiles thrown into the mix. There were things to see and touch. There was even a concession stand where the braveheart could sample cricket king cake, chocolate-covered waxworms, and various bug dips. That experience left us hungry for some real food.

We walked several blocks to the IHOP on Canal Street for a hearty pancake and eggs lunch. After feasting our plan was to ride the trolley to the end of Canal Street and then walk the short distance to the Riverwalk Mall. Because of a barricade set where the Hard Rock Hotel partially collapsed last fall, we were beyond where the RTA ran. Once we figured that out, we decided to walk to the mall. It started raining again. By the time we made it to that destination, I was tired.

We took our time window shopping. Upon reaching the food court at the other end, we sat and watched the Mighty Mississippi. The walk back to our resort took what energy we had left. We rested the remainder of the afternoon and watched Hallmark movies until bedtime. Happy Anniversary to us!

Anniversary Getaway Day Three

Day Three has been good. There were no long walks, no changing plans, no broken-down buses. After a short bus ride to the World War II Museum, we spent several hours exploring an amazing place. Tom Hanks narrated the introductory movie. We toured the exhibits and videos about the Home Front, the Road to Berlin, the Pacific sector, D-Day, the Manhattan Project, and the dropping of the atom bomb.

Why is there a museum to remind us of the event that brought more death and destruction to the world than any other episode in history? Viewing details about that type of experience leaves me with numerous questions and feelings of sadness. How could the charisma of a sadistic Fuhrer and a self-proclaimed divine emperor bring the free world to the brink of enslavement? While historians try to explain each how and why, they fall short in accounting for the gullibleness that allowed it to happen.

We had lunch at the Soda Shop on the premises. It was a short bus ride home and one-block walk to our resort. A relaxing afternoon was followed by supper with what was left in our refrigerator.

Tomorrow will be another day. We have no plans except to spend our 49th anniversary together. It is supposed to be rainy. Good thing we don't have any agenda that requires sunshine.

Anniversary Getaway Day Two

We woke up late with a plan. We were going to take the RTA (Regional Transit Authority =  trolley/bus) to the French Market. Then we would walk from there back to Canal Street and catch the trolley to the World War II Museum. The best laid plans of mice, men, and senior citizens...

We decided to walk to the French Market. Then we went to the Jazz Museum to find a nonexistent recording of my boyhood jazz hero trumpeter Al Hirt playing Sleigh Ride. His New Orleans roots inspired my learning to play trumpet at a young age. I was a second grader when I started with horn and music theory lessons. The museum didn't have what I wanted but informed us that perhaps the National Park Service office might. It was on the way to Aunt Sally's and Cafe Dumonde. We didn't find Al Hirt's album, but we sampled pralines and ate beignets. Powdered sugar was everywhere.

We also found the perfect souvenir of this trip. We purchased a tray at Aunt Sally's Praline Shop. We made a further deviation from our opening plan by walking back to our resort to rest, eat lunch, and rethink the afternoon. On the way I made an error of several blocks when my memory of street layouts in the French Quarter took a wrong turn. This increased our state of tiredness and shortened our time left in the day. The WW2 Museum was no longer an option. That would have to wait until tomorrow.

We decided to take the RTA to my favorite place in New Orleans during my time growing up there. We went to City Park. We started on the trolley, transferred to a bus, then back to another trolley. There was an impenetrable barrier across the entirety of Canal Street because of last October's collapse of the Hard Rock Hotel. We made it to the park for an hour walk-about. We saw the bayous, water fowl, giant live oak trees, Sculpture Garden, Storyland, and other spots I frequented as a boy.

When we were finally settled in to the trolley for the return trip to our resort, we thought the day's surprises were over. That was until we transferred to the bus which almost immediately broke down. We waited about 20 minutes before we got off to walk "home." That uneventful last mile was only interrupted by a brief sojourn into a corner Starbucks for a couple of scones.

Fifteen minutes later we were in our room relaxing and getting ready for supper. It had been another long day. It was worth it. Tomorrow will either go as planned...or not!

Anniversary Getaway Day One

We awoke just after 5 a.m., unloaded the dishwasher, ate a banana, took our meds, loaded the Kia, and pulled out of the garage at about 6:15. We backed right into a blizzard! That's right; the smallest, infrequent flakes were lazily wafting from the sky. It was the kind of morning event in Southern Middle Tennessee that would close schools and send the adults to Kroger for milk and bread. Trouble was that Maury County was already out for MLK Day.

We headed to New Orleans. For breakfast and lunch we ate the food we had prepared the night before. We crossed Alabama and Mississippi and then entered Louisiana. We arrived at our resort a half block off Canal Street about 2:15 p.m. Check-in wasn't until 4, so we drove around part of the French Quarter to get a feel for the old city again. Though I had grown up here, it had been years since our last visit.

After check-in we took a walk. We visited two Walgreens, a CVS, and two little markets. Our most important purchase was four bananas.

Returning to our room, we ate dinner and settled down to watch the Hallmark Channel. The long day and the long drive had taken their toll on us. Together we are 169 years young. I'm tired just thinking about it. Good night. Zzzzzzzzzzz...

From the Past

It's been a busy day with worship fellowship, food, the first half of the Tennessee Titans loss (all I needed to see of that one), and packing for our 49th anniversary getaway. I have been thinking all day of a blog idea and simply ran out of time. Since that has happened, I gave myself permission to reach into the past for what inspired me decades ago. I needed a quick way to publish 19 days in a row.

Here is a phrase by phrase presentation of a most amazing verse, John 3:16 (NIV)...

For God ... the greatest being

So Loved ... the greatest action

The World ... the greatest multitude

That He gave ... the greatest deed

His One and only Son ... the greatest gift

That whoever ... the greatest selection

Believes in Him ... the greatest faith

Shall not perish ... the greatest ending

But have ... the greatest possession

Eternal Life! ... the greatest forever

John 3:16 ... the greatest message

Frogish Experience

Exodus details the interactions Pharaoh had with his adopted step-brother Moses. An unusual conversation is recorded in Chapter 8 as the frogs plagued Egypt. The slimey, squishy amphibians were everywhere and in everything. They were all over the people and their houses. The critters were in the ovens, cabinets, and beds. Can you imagine stepping on and sleeping with a mob of mushy frogs? That was the unbearable situation.

It was so intolerable that the king quickly summoned Moses and Aaron back to the palace. He promised to release the Israelites to worship their God. The Message records the dialogue like this:

Pharaoh pleaded, "Pray to God to rid us of these frogs."

Moses replied, "Certainly. Set the time. When do you want the frogs out of here?"

Without thinking the king suggested, "Make it tomorrow."

Moses said, "Tomorrow it is."

The next day the frogs died. Houses, courtyards, and fields were free of live, pestering frogs. Egyptians piled the frogs in heaps, so sanitation engineers of the day could dispose of them. For some time the country reeked of dead frogs. The stench lingered in the land but not in Pharaoh's mind. He stubborned-up and renewed his refusal to release God's people. That had become predictable.

The amazing part of this story is that the king could've picked today rather than tomorrow. Moses had told Pharaoh to "Set the time. When do you want the frogs out of here?" The obvious answer was, "Now, this minute, immediately!" Not Pharaoh. His choice was, "Tomorrow." I imagine that got some eye rolls, sighs, and moans from his ever-present magicians. These "yes" men were probably used to their king's thoughtless decisions.

Pharaoh's poor timing selection brought more hours of torture on an already troubled and soon to be ravished people. Consider how timing has played an important role in your life's everyday happenings. I hope there wasn't a frogish experience!

Pondering Favorites

I am a fan but seldom a fanatic. I enjoy a variety of sports teams, foods, books, movies, TV shows, and Bible versions.

Sports have always been a significant part of my life. Growing up in New Orleans, I was an avid supporter of both the LSU Tigers and Tulane Greenwave. I still cheer for those Tigers (and their recent NCAA national championship in football) and most SEC schools. As a child I liked the St. Louis Cardinals baseball club and even have a memory of seeing the great Bob Gibson pitch in old Busch Stadium. I was a Pistol Pete Maravich fan as well as that of Johnny Unitas and the Baltimore Colts. My favorite sport was baseball to watch, play, and umpire. Relief pitcher Lindy McDaniel was one of my heroes. After 21 years in the majors, he now is active as a blogger (Pitching for the Master) and a minister for the Lavon church of Christ in Texas. I would love to meet him one day as we seem to have a lot in common.

I enjoy lots of foods especially when my wife is cooking them. I am a fan of the homemade. We joke about our favorite place to eat being the Lee Family Restaurant. Through her masterful patience and tutelage, I have learned to help create in our kitchen. The best smell to savor in returning home from Sunday worship is the fragrance of a roast simmering in the crock pot since 5 a.m. That odor is better than fresh baked bread. Of course it is surrounded by potatoes and carrots and covered in gravy. Is your mouth watering yet?

My favorite book is The Black Rose by Thomas B. Costain. As an avid childhood reader, I enjoyed dog stories by Albert Payson Terhune, Jack London, Jim Kjelgaard, and James Oliver Curwood. I was also thoroughly entertained by the collected works of Edgar Rice Burroughs and nearly anything science fiction.

I have an extensive DVD collection. My prefered genres include science fiction and fantasy, westerns, sports, and those cheesy Hallmark movies (Christmas and otherwise). I also love the old musicals Sound of Music, Brigadoon, My Fair Lady, and others. I still enjoy replaying old television shows including The Andy Griffith Show, West Wing, and JAG.

On a much higher plain, I grew up learning from the King James Version of the Bible. In college I began using the Revised Standard Version and helped distribute the Good News for Modern Man on Campaigns Northeast during the summer of 1971. In my later adult years I have evolved through the New American Standard Version, New International Version, and English Standard Version. These days I listen to The Message on my phone. The fresh wording of familiar passages in this paraphrase often inspires my blog ideas. It presents a fresh approach that encourages my imagination.

My life favorites, whether trivial or serious, are varied just like yours. It is fun to remember preferences and choices stretching from childhood into "old" age. I am a huge fan of both memory and imagination.

Overreacting

I was recently intrigued by the expression, "Don't cut off your nose to spite your face." Overreacting can be needlessly self destructive. Apparently the saying had its beginning as early as the 9th century. Wikipedia explains that there are numerous stories of pious women disfiguring themselves in order to protect their virginity.

One such legend is that of Saint Ebba. She was the Mother Superior of the monastery of Coldingham Priory in Scotland. In A.D. 867 news came of Viking pirates raiding nearby villages. She gathered her nuns and urged them to disfigure themselves to appear unappealing to the marauders. The goal was to protect their chastity. She demonstrated this by cutting off her nose and upper lip. Her nuns quickly followed suit. Upon arrival the Vikings were so disgusted that they burned the entire building to the ground with the nuns inside.

Pharaoh's overreaction had similar consequences centuries before. When faced with the threat of Plague #8, locusts, he repeated his first seven reactions to that bad news heralded by Moses and Aaron. After the duo left, the king's servants said to him (Exodus 10:7 MSG), "How long are you going to let this man harass us? Let these people go and worship their God. Can't you see that Egypt is on its last legs?" He refused to listen remaining hard-headed and hard-hearted through those creepy locusts, creepier darkness, and the final blow - death of his son. To save face he managed to lose everything of value in his country including his entire army.

Perhaps you can discover others in history who have made similar blunders. They could all join Pharaoh and Saint Ebba in the Overreaction Hall of Fame.

Hind Sight

Hindsight is generally 20/20. Coaches and armchair quarterbacks find it so when they evaluate a team's weekend performance on Monday. Pharaoh discovered that truth as his army drowned in the Red Sea.

We have the details of the first time Moses and Aaron appeared before the King of Egypt to deliver their divine message. At that point all they sought was the aristocrat's permission to take a three-day trek into the wilderness to sacrifice to their God. Without the benefit of foreknowledge, Pharaoh's response was a vehement "NO!" Exodus 5:2 (MSG) records his exact words: "And who is God that I should listen to him and send Israel off? I know nothing of this so-called 'God' and I'm certainly not going to send Israel off." He could've/should've left his reply at a simple "no." He was all-to-correct when he stated that he knew nothing of this God.

His stubbornness lasted from the bloody waters to the plagues of frogs, lice/gnats, flies, livestock pestilence, boils, hail, locusts, and darkness, all the way to the death of the firstborn. When Pharaoh lost his son, it knocked him for a loop. I'm guessing his mind wandered back to the moment he first viewed the blood-red Nile. If he had just listened then, none of these horrific events would have happened. Perhaps his wife's sorrowful nagging added to his temporary distress. He couldn't get rid of the Israelites fast enough.

It didn't take long for Pharaoh to regret his weakness. He summoned his chariots, pursued Moses, and caught him at the Red Sea. He could've/should've waved a last farewell and returned to the palace with his army intact. Alas, this dictator is a few spears below the learning curve. He sent his entire militia into the parted sea to kill or recapture the multitude of escaping slaves. The bad guys all died mired down in mud as the waters reclosed over their heads.

This story doesn't prove the step brother is always smarter than the true heir to the inheritance. It does, however, confirm that hindsight is 20/20.

Confidence

Moses was a brave but impulsive man. His courage led the people of Israel out of 400 years of bondage through the desert and across the Red Sea. He frequently conversed with God in Egypt and throughout the wilderness wanderings. There were times when his impulsiveness displayed itself negatively. He killed an Egyptian who was beating an Israelite. In anger he bashed the first tablets of the Ten Commandments on the ground. He once hit a rock instead of speaking to it as God had commanded. A search of Exodus will lead to the discovery of other times when he manifested either great courage or hasty impetuousness.

Throughout the entirety of his adult life, the confidence of Moses was revealed. This aplomb was most evident when God first announced that Moses was His choice to confront the leaders of Israel and Egypt with the Exodus plan. Moses stepped up to the plate rashly intending to talk God out of such a nonsensical notion. He began with "Why me, Lord?" He followed that with questions about his not knowing God's name, the people not trusting him, and his poor oratory skills. Finally his confidence wilted as he blurted out, "Oh, Master, please! Send somebody else!"

The when it's all said and done summary of the life of Moses is revealed (Hebrews 11: 24-28 MSG), "He chose a hard life with God's people rather than an opportunistic soft life of sin with the oppressors...anticipating the payoff." That payoff is explained, "He had his eye on the One no eye can see, and kept right on going." Had there been a tombstone with his epitaph, it might have read, "MOSES! Courageous and Confident Leader of God!"

More Questions

Any list of questions that can only be answered when I finally arrive at or inside heaven's gate is bound to be as endless as time itself. Here are a few more of my personal queries for eternity.

Who warned Jochebed? (Exodus 2:3) We know why Moses' mother put her baby in a bullrush basket on the Nile. It was to save him from Pharaoh's decree threatening to drown all Israelite male babies. There was no electronic warning system...no Amber Alert that Moses was in danger. It is easy to believe what occurred was simply God's plan to save the man destined to lead the enslaved people from Egypt to the promised land. Did Jochebed dream it or have an angelic messenger appear to her? It happened that way to others in the Bible, but we have no answer to how it occurred this time.

What became of the ear? (John 18:10) In the Mount of Olives garden on the night Judas betrayed  Jesus, Peter fought the mob. He drew his sword and wacked off the right ear of Malchus, servant of the high priest. Luke 22:51 relates that Jesus, "touched his ear and healed him." Trivial though it may sound, did Jesus pick up the sliced-off ear lying on the ground and restore it to the man's head. It is just as reasonable to think the Lord simply touched the spot where the ear had been, and all was made whole. If that were the case, was the original ear still in the dirt or...what?

Did Thomas actually put his hand in my Savior's side? (John 20:27 NIV) Jesus told the doubter to "reach out your hand and put it into my side." The King James version asserts a bit more dramatically that he was to "thrust it into my side." That effort by Jesus to make Thomas a believer again did not go unrequited. Thomas immediately exclaimed, "My Lord and my God!" I can suppose he said those words from his knees." I'd only be guessing.

As with my previous blog Questions, there are no definitive answers to any of these. There are no solutions at all...only cognitive apparitions in my mind's eye of why or what might've happened. I do enjoy imaginatively pondering some of the unwritten details. It is fun and gives me joy.

Questions?

In this era of global information, Siri and Alexa grant wishes and follow instructions. YouTube demonstrates how to create, fix, or assemble just about anything. The answers to many, but not all, questions are at our fingertips on the keyboards of our gadgets. Google makes every life better...or NOT! Many of us have a list of what we want to ask when we get to heaven. The solution to some queries can only be imagined. Allow me to mention a few of these.

First, what happened to the piece of bread? (John 13:30 MSG) "Judas, with the piece of bread, left." In the upper room during the last supper, Jesus dipped and then handed a piece of the dinner bread to Judas. Satan entered Judas, and he left the room with bread in hand. He may have eaten it. I'm pretty sure he didn't take it with him to meet with the Jewish leaders to "sign the betrayal contract." More than likely he tossed it to the dogs in a timely fashion.

Second, who started the hymn? (Matthew 26:30 MSG) "They sang a hymn and went directly to Mount Olives." We are not told the instigator. Perhaps Jesus led it needing some soothing music before facing what he knew lay ahead. Peter, who was always one of the first to speak, might have thought the occasion warranted something special. Any of the apostles could've played conductor. Truth is, we have no clue.

Finally, who folded the kerchief? (John 20:7 MSG) "Simon Peter arrived after him, entered the tomb, observed the linen clothes lying there, and the kerchief used to cover his head not lying with the linen cloths but separate, neatly folded by itself." Did Jesus initially remove and neatly fold the face cloth then hurry with the other garments dumping them to the side as Mary Magdalene approached? There certainly was no maid service or gadget that would respond to, "Alexa, fold the face cloth." Possibly angels assisted him in those first minutes of rebirth.

Given these Biblical scenarios for which there are no recorded answers, what do you think? We know little, but we can imagine a lot.

Lunatic?

In Acts 2:36 Peter asserts, "God has made this same Jesus whom you crucified both Lord and Christ." When it comes to our belief in who this Jesus is, there are only three possibilities. None of these includes prophet, great teacher, or really good man. Yes, He was all three of those and much more. It's the more that's on my mind today. I believe Jesus was Lord. For you who disbelieve that, there are two choices left. Either the man was a liar or he was a lunatic.

Through Jesus' own testimony and that of many others in scripture, He was and is Lord, Messiah, Son of God, Emmanuel, etc. If not, then he was lying. In that case His pants (if he ever worn any) should've caught on fire. The trousers of apostles and other Biblical authors should've blazed up as well. We have no record of any such fires. Jesus did not lie.

Perhaps He was a lunatic, crazy, insane, mentally ill, of unsound mind, etc. I suggest that a loony would not have been able to perform all those miracles. Neither would He have been able to manifest 
actions of love and kindness while living a perfect life as a human. That simply makes no sense. In addition to being nonsensical, the idea is illogical, irrational, unreasonable.

With that I rest my case. Jesus was neither lunatic nor liar. He is my Savior and Redeemer. In the words of the familiar contemporary hymn:

Jesus is Lord; my redeemer;

How He loves me; How I love Him.

He is risen; He is coming.

Lord, come quickly! Alleluia!

Silence

In Psalm 46:10 God encourages us to, "Be still and know that I am God..." Sometimes I try to be stationary and silent to know God better. Whether watching the sunset or squirrels frolicking across the street, it works. I feel closer to my Creator when I am inactive and listen.

I remember my senior year of high school as if it were 53 years ago. I transferred that fall (1966) from my New Orleans public school to Harding Academy in Searcy, Arkansas. I was destined to enroll at the college the next year. I lived in a campus dorm. Since my parents didn't move with me, I was ineligible for participation in interscholastic sports. I did serve as manager. My love of music and an ability to carry a tune in a bucket qualified me for singing the bass part in the academy's chorus. It became the highlight of my senior year.

One of my fondest memories is opening our choral performances singing the hymn The Lord Is in His Holy Temple. We immediately repeated it humming softly as someone recited the poem In Silence:

In silence comes all loveliness.

The dawn is ever still.

No noise accompanies the dew

That glistens on the hill.

The sunrise comes up quietly;

The moon is never heard.

And love that animates the eye

Surpasses any word.

And prayer is best in solitude.

It seems so very odd

That long before I did not know

In silence I'd find God.

This poem is still very special to me. I remembered most of the words even five decades later, but I was unsure of the precise rendition. Thanks to Google, I discovered the original version and its author Marianne Moore (1887-1972). She was a modernist poet of her era. Thanks to God, Marianne, and Google for help as I composed this blog.  In Silence is public domain. Use it as you wish when you search in silence for God.

The Wasp in the Window

Wasps! 😨Actually nearly anything with wings and a stinger...they have always been my greatest phobia. When I was a child of about six years, a few friends and I used to go wasp hunting with rubber band guns. We made our weapons from green Lincoln Log roof slats with a clothespin secured at one end. We would then stretch the rubber band bullet from the end of the wood to the mouth of the pin. When triggered, the missile would project way up to the second story apartment awning where the wasps had their paper nests.

I remember one Saturday when one of the large fiery red wasps dive bombed us after its house took a direct hit. Before I could react, it stung me in the middle of my right cheek. I cried all the way home. You might imagine I learned my lesson. Surely at least one of my higher IQ elementary-age friends would dissuade me from similar adventures in the future. NOT! The very next Saturday our unofficial gang went on safari again. You guessed it! We got the same result. Why that angry insect picked me as its target on consecutive weekends, I'll never know. The first sting had not even healed when this bug's bite landed in the same spot. Fool me once...and all that. I never went wasp hunting again.

To this day I am watchful and wary whenever one of those creepy critters is nearby. During my first faculty meeting as a new professor of education at Martin Methodist College, a wasp became trapped in the room with us. I appeared to be the only person dazed and befuddled by the presence of this unwelcome visitor. I followed it with my  eyes as it flew among the overhead lights during the entire meeting. I don't think I gleaned much from that hour. You may ask, "So what's new. It was a faculty meeting?" It seems to me a fairly immature way for a middle-aged man with two graduate degrees to act. All I can say is that this is my lifelong phobia.

Somewhere betwixt these two events, I found myself driving my car alone one day when a wasp decided to land on my neck and tread lightly down my shirt. It was all I could do to ease the car to an abrupt stop, reach behind and somehow squish the intruder to death in the folds of that garment. I jumped out of the vehicle, hurriedly untucked, and dumped the bug on the roadside.

All three of those stories came to mind recently when I discovered a wasp on the outside of the dining room window of our home. No, it couldn't get at me. The window was locked impenetrably. Scary memories still permeated my psyche. Over the next few days I spied the same insect on that window again and later on the living room glass. I wonder if wasps can be reincarnated to return and renew past acquaintances with humans? Haunting! Alas, that's the way with the shelf life of any irrational fear or phobic fixation.

Overwhelmed

My impatience is rearing its ugliness this New Year in my renewed efforts at blogging and working out. As James 1:19 states, I try to be "slow to become angry." The entire verse from The Message suggests, "Lead with your ears, follow up with your tongue, and LET YOUR ANGER STRAGGLE ALONG IN THE REAR." I do a reasonably good job of fulfilling that command with others, not so much with myself. I'm like the story of the man praying for patience who adds, "And I want it right now, please!"

Generally I seek knowledge and understanding of new endeavors BEFORE I engage in them. I have mistakenly deviated from that path with my Facebook blog postings and the correct use of the myriad exercise machines at Planet Fitness. This has caused my New Year to become much more overwhelming than anticipated.

In figuring how to post blogs, I inadvertently destroyed the My Story facet on Facebook. When I click it...nothing! I've tried everything I know including reporting the problem to FB and phoning (texting) a friend. As stated above, I'm not a patient man especially when feeling frustrated. At least I have not as yet resorted to throwing, kicking, or yelling at my three sources of Facebook: phone, Kindle, and computer. Praise God for the small favors.

Then there is the issue of my using the exercise machines at Planet Fitness. Meeting with the trainer yesterday was extremely helpful if a little overwhelming at the same time. When she finished she confessed, "I know I've thrown a lot at you." Did I mention feeling OVERWHELMED? As with the gadgets I use to edit and post blogs, I neither kicked nor yelled at any machine or person at my new "gym." They are all way too heavy to throw (small favors again).

Today's plan of attack is two fold. First, wait patiently for solutions from Facebook or my blog mentor. Second, ask for help from the Planet Fitness staff or my wife when the machines don't perform in the way I expect or prefer this afternoon. "Lord, bestow on me patience, and I'll try not to be in too much of a hurry."

City Park

One of my favorite places growing up in New Orleans was City Park. According to Wikipedia it is 1300 acres and is the 20th most visited urban public park in the nation. It is 50% larger than Central Park in New York City. Amazingly I had this urban greenspace as my personal playground on many Saturdays.

Some of the my many adventures included the following:

• Taking art lessons in the Delgado Museum of Art (although I never really liked art; I was more of a music kid)
• Renting bicycles and exploring the many side roads and pathways
• Fishing the bayous for perch, trout, and bass
• Recycling pieces of whatever we caught to use as bait for alligator gars (there was a bounty, but I don't remember ever snagging one)
• Climbing the massive oak trees just like Tarzan (although there were no grapevines)
• Playing tennis
• Chasing turtles, swans, ducks, and geese around the waterways in rented canoes, peddle boats, or skiffs
• Puttering at golf
• Swimming in the large public pool and jumping off the 10 meter high dive
• Wandering through the colorful maze of Storyland
• Catching chameleon lizards in the beautiful rose garden
• Picnicking in the shade of the live oaks
• Riding the "toy" train
• Swinging high in the playground and popping the seat chains or baling out from 20 feet up
• Racing after my brother or other friends in games of tag, not it, or hide and go seek

Ah! The childhood mysteries and memories of that mesmerizing place. I could almost become Peter Pan or one of his boys as I lost myself in the real and pretend worlds of City Park.

Comfort Part 2

I read and watch "old" movies. If I liked the book or film the first time, I invariably delight in it the next. Revisiting the story line and characters seems like a reunion with old friends. It is similar to eating my wife's cooking. The meal is usually amazing the first time and often better as planned-overs (our name for left-overs) once the flavors have time to blend overnight. Recently she made blackened chicken and rice. I indulged four times over the next few days. Yum!

Whether I'm stressed or simply tired, I enjoy lounging in my oversized recliner listening to my favorite book on audio. The Black Rose by Thomas B. Costain is an historical fiction novel. Oxford student Walter of  Gurnie flees the Norman oppression of England and joins Kublai Khan's conquest of China. He returns home a wealthy hero. It is an enthralling mix of adventure, travel, science, and romance. Our first meeting was decades ago in junior high school. Now I have a personal reunion with Costain's best about every other year. I feel the same about the more than two dozen Tarzan books by Edgar Rice Burroughs and the numerous Sunnybank collie stories of Albert Payson Terhune.

Similarly I get special comfort from watching old films for the umpteenth time. The Fifties science fiction classic Them is at the top of my favorite's list. Despite its black and white format, I marvel as giant ants challenge Matt Dillon and Santa Claus in the sewers beneath Los Angeles. Additionally John Wayne westerns (Hondo or Big Jake) and James Stewart big screen treasures (It's a Wonderful Life or Broken Arrow) can relax me after a busy day. I can slip comfortably into nap time in my recliner during any showing. When I awake, I know exactly where the movie is. There is no need to rewind. No, it's not a total waste of time. It is simply comfort.

Comfort

The title and key verse of my blogging adventure this time from The Message in Luke 11:25 is the phrase "swept and dusted but vacant." Jesus teaches that when conquering any sinful, addictive, or unhealthy behavior, we need to replace it with something or someone productive and beneficial.

There have been times when Delores left for a professional trip or to care for grandkids, and I did not accompany her. On such occasions it was my habit to make a Kroger run to buy comfort foods...ice cream, cookies, pound cake, cashews, etc. I'm hoping to let Jesus put an end to that unhealthy custom.

I remembered Paul's writing about comfort. Amazingly I found that passage without Google or a concordance! In 2 Corinthians 1:3-7 (NIV) that traveling author uses the word comfort nine times. He begins  with "the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort." God is the answer to my emotional eating. He has recently led me to daily meditation, prayer, Bible reading, and back to blogging. I have asked Him to help me use healthier ways instead of comfort food as the answer to stress or loneliness.

He has given me an additional solution for healthy living: Planet Fitness. In the past a three-mile walk in the forested hills of Maury County Park has helped me relieve stress and added a comforting behavior. During wintry months this proves challenging. Working out at my new "gym" would seem to be another God-given response in my journey to a healthier lifestyle. Thank you, Lord, for filling the vacancy!

4 = 2

Mathematics can seem magical. When does four equal two?  So far in the New Year I've fulfilled 100% of my major resolutions. I've worked out all four days. If I get this finished and published before midnight, I will have blogged every day this year. I've also eaten right so far. So how does the number two fit into this riddle? Yesterday my wife and I joined a gym. We have worked out both days so far...all two of them.

Planet Fitness seems to be our new home away from home. Even though we don't follow the same workout routine or use the same machines, we have been there together (sometimes side by side) every minute of the way. It hasn't been that hard, only different. Many choices are available to help us get fit and lose weight.

It reminds me of a conversation between reporter Danny Concannon and White House press secretary C.J. Cregg in the last season of one of my favorite TV series, West Wing. Danny asks, "So if I'm gonna jump off the cliff, and you're gonna get pushed off the cliff, why don't we hold hands on the way down?" We want and need to get healthy for longevity, quality grandkid time, and ease of travel. Regular time in a gym seems like the edge of a cliff we have not heretofore approached. We figured the rewards of holding hands as we jump off will be well worth it. I am hopeful that 5 = 3.

Squirrels

As a child did you ever play the game "imagine you are an animal?" What kind would you be? I did play. Sometimes I still play. I like to start my day listening to an audio version of the Bible. My wife and I sit in our living room recliners and focus on 2-3 chapters most mornings. I confess to being easily distracted. My seat is strategically placed to view the front yard and the neighbor's very large tree just across the street. On sunny mornings there can be up to five squirrels rummaging in the grass searching for home building materials or breakfast. They chase one another up, down, and around the tree's trunk. I enjoy watching their antics and acrobatics as they scurry limb to limb. On mornings such as these, I think I might like being a squirrel.

Then one morning we saw a large, ugly buzzard-type bird in the middle of our street. Upon closer examination it was eating road kill...a low-IQ squirrel that just happened to lose a game of chicken with a fast-moving vehicle. I like the way squirrels play. I never said they are always smart about where they do it.

Time Matters

As the old hymn implies, "Time is filled with swift transition..." and with many crossroads, points in life for pondering which path to take whether Robert Frosts "road less traveled" or the more trafficked ones. Monumental moments for me were selecting a college and major, marriage and starting a family, shifting careers from high school teacher to principal and lastly college professor, and ultimately retirement. Each phase had consequences ranging from simple to severe. After about two and a half years of retirement, I have come to realize that It's All About TIME!

My perception of the calendar has changed. My wife and I don't get concerned about bedtime these days (or nights). We often stay up until 11 p.m. or later reading, relaxing, or watching cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies. The rationale is we no longer have to awaken by 6:15 a.m. to get ready for work. Time has changed. We joke about our weekly calendar's main evolution. Sunday hasn't changed much. It is still a day of worship, nice dinners, visiting with friends, relaxing, and resting. The other days though...oh my those other days! They have all become like Saturdays. We have a Monday Saturday, Tuesday Saturday, Wednesday Saturday...all the way to the Real Saturday. When we both worked, Saturday was the day for doing...chores, errands, shopping, or even gallivanting around the neighborhood or countryside. Things piled up, to do lists kept getting longer. The limited number of hours in our Saturday caused us to ignore lots of the important and deal with only some of the urgent. Now we have literally six times as many minutes to choose to do or not to do. Yes, we still have routines, plans, and those sometimes dreaded lists; but most items aren't as pressing as when Saturday stood alone as THAT day.

So if retirement is on your near or still somewhat distant horizon, prepare for a cool notion. You will have six Saturdays in every week. It's GREAT! It MATTERS!

Revolution

"Welcome to the revolution!" Tommy Lee Jones threatens the nation with those ominous words in the 1995 Steven Seagal sequel Under Siege 2 Dark Territory. Fortunately Jones and his cronies lost that battle, but it made me think.

On this newest of Happy New Year Days, I'm thinking a revolution is one letter better than my customary annual resolutions. These have included getting healthy, losing weight, exercising more, etc. This year I'm hoping for a real lifestyle change rather than just a vow for self-improvement.

I have titled my rejuvenated efforts into the blogging world as "Swept and dusted but vacant." In Luke 11:25 (MSG) Jesus relates the story of a demon-possessed man who kicks out the sin in his life by sweeping and dusting his house. He then mistakenly leaves it vacant. He could've filled it with Jesus, Bible, prayer, song, fellowship, and a host of other spiritual elements. When the demon returns with friends, the man is more miserably sinful than ever.

The revolution I make must include filling the vacancy with a spiritually healthy agenda. I resolve to make regular blogging a piece of that plan. Therefore I announce to the handful of people who might read this (notice the optimism), "Happy New Year and welcome to the revolution!"