The pastor plans his sermons as far in advance as a year at our local assembly. That makes the timing of yesterday’s text providential.
The text? Jesus is speaking…
“But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you,bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tuniceither. Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back. And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.
“If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount. But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.Luke 6:27-36 ESV
A Federal election was announced this weekend here in Canada. South of us, the President is making massive changes, many impacting our country. The result? Panic, anger, hatred. The politicians demonize their opponents, and their followers drink the proverbial Kool-aid. It is happening on all sides of the political spectrum.
People we have known for years are suddenly our enemies. Civil discourse is tossed out the window. Our social media pages are filled with horrific hate and fear-filled rants.
I’ve had to snooze many people’s posts because of it. I read their posts and want to retaliate in a similar manner. I confess it is a struggle for me. I couldn’t hold back without the Holy Spirit working in me.
I can easily forget that conspiracy theories aside, most of these people are well-intentioned and want the best for others. They often want a solution radically different from the one I see as correct. I can struggle to keep from throwing out relationships because of these differences.
The text made a dialogue between myself and the Lord happen in my head. Perhaps you can relate to this to some degree.
Love them? But Lord, do you know what they stand for?
Bless them? But Lord…?
Pray for them? Okay, Lord… smite them! No, Kevin! Pray for them to be drawn to me. Pray blessings, not curses. Remember, I love them, and they are created in my image.
Pray for them? You mean so they think like I do? No, Kevin! Pray so that your heart is changed and I’m magnified.
Lord, don’t you know how hard that is? Of course, I know. That’s why I have given you my Word and my Spirit.
Lord, I don’t want to! Kevin, I didn’t ask if you wanted to. I commanded you to do so. You show your love for me by following my commands and loving. So you want us to “love your enemies.”
Fine! If I have to. I guess.
So my friends, I will strive to trust in Him. I will do my best to love you and pray that you are blessed, even if (especially if) we disagree and somehow see each other as enemies.
His ways are not my ways. His ways are always right. I’m going to need a lot of help from the Holy Spirit.
I pray that you join with me in praying for those you find it difficult to love.
Let us be known as people who love no matter what.
My desk has a clear glass top. Under that, I keep various pictures of family and some of our pets over the years. Among them is this shot of Genni the Wonder Dog.
Genni was a border collie, basset hound cross we got at eight weeks. It was an accidental breeding, and the owner was en route to the SPCA with them. Genni adopted me on the spot and lived with us for many years until she passed.
They say (whoever the great “they” is) that dogs resemble their owners. I saw this image of Genni and realized that the saying has some truth. There is a lot of truth in that saying. She’s long in the body, short in the legs, and has big fat feet. We’re three for three there. Fortunately, I’m the taller of the two and walk on two legs so that people can tell us apart.
The resemblances between us got me thinking about the fact that we’re created in the image of God.
Then God said, “Let us make man[a] in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth. So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.Genesis 1:26-27
What does that mean? It doesn’t mean we look like Him, since we have physical bodies, we all look different and God doesn’t have a physical body. So it must refer to something else.
We’re unlike all the other things or beings that God created.
We’re the only beings that Scripture describes as being created in His image (imago dei). We were made with a higher purpose, to rule over all the earth. Being created in His image is both an honor and a huge responsibility. When creation looks to people, it should see the image of God.
What part of Him were we designed to reflect? His character and His personality. We were created to walk in holiness and righteousness. We were designed to walk in faithfulness and integrity. We were to have passion and compassion, loyalty and levity, love and light, and more. We were designed to be wise and selfless.
Since the time of the Garden of Eden, we’ve been sinful people with sinful nature in a sin-filled world. We don’t reflect much of the image of God. Yet, for the believer, there are ways we can begin to resemble the one in whose image we were created.
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. Galatians 5:22-23
When we begin to exhibit the fruit of the spirit, we start in a small way to show the image of the Creator.
That fruit comes with maturity (as indeed does all fruit). We mature in our walk through testing and trials, through worship, through giving, and through service. We mature when we spend time communing with Him in prayer, and in meditating on and studying the Word. The fruit doesn’t just happen; it must be nurtured.
Until next time, rejoice in the fact that you were designed in His image and open your heart to being more like Him.
I was headed home for Christmas. In December 1975, I had been laid off from my job in Northern Alberta, along with what seemed like half the community.
On the spur of the moment and using most of my meager supply of cash, I hopped on a Greyhound bus. It was a seven-hour ride to Edmonton, then a several-hour layover, followed by a milk run that took another five hours or so to Fox Creek. In those days, the bus stopped at every community and often at spots in the middle of nowhere for anyone who flagged it down.
The bus rolled into the downtown station around 1 AM. It was as dark and cold as an Alberta winter morning can be, and no businesses were open. I grabbed a cup of vending machine coffee, every bit as awful as you imagine, and sat down to wait. The place was pretty much deserted.
A pair of drunks sat off in one corner, sharing something from a brown bag. An ancient-looking janitor was half heartedly mopping the floor. A young teenage girl sat cowering in a corner, clutching a backpack, and there was me, barely 18.
I nursed the coffee for a long time while several buses came and went. The drunks left, and the janitor finished and left as well. Finally, out of boredom, loneliness, and desperation, I walked over and said hi to the girl.
We chatted a bit, and I asked her where she was going. She told me that she didn’t know, but as far as $113.00 would take her. She was 14, pregnant, and had been dumped by her so-called boyfriend when she told him the news. She was terrified to go home and face her parents. She had no plan except to run away as far as possible.
That scene has played out countless times in every corner of the globe for millennia. In this case, the story is fictionalized to a degree; I was far to shy to go over and talk to the girl at the station. She caught a bus to some unknown destination about an hour after I arrived. I did have a sense that she was running away.
It came to mind when the pastor preached yesterday.
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. And the virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, O favored one, the Lord is with you!”But she was greatly troubled at the saying, and tried to discern what sort of greeting this might be. And the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” And Mary said to the angel, “How will this be, since I am a virgin?” And the angel answered her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born[e] will be called holy—the Son of God. And behold, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son, and this is the sixth month with her who was called barren.Luke 1:26-36 ESV
Mary, a young virgin, was about to be pregnant. She could have faced the same rejection or worse as the girl at the bus stop that early morning many years ago.
She didn’t hesitate. She stepped out in faith and accepted the Lord’s plan for her despite the risks.
In our prayers this Christmas, let us remember the blessing of the incarnate Christ and Mary’s courageous faith. Let’s also remember all the frightened girls (and women) who find themselves pregnant and alone. They’re not carrying the future Messiah, but they are in need of love, comfort, and hope.
Names are important. They identify us to one another. At church, it’s much easier to know who someone is talking about when they say Kevin than when they say “the grey-haired guy with a mustache.”
Differing cultures have different name protocols. In the Bible, many names end with”el,” referring to God. This identifies the person with some component of their faith.
In the Bible, you will also sometimes see a name with the word “bar” in it. Bar means “son of.” Thus, Jesus would have been known as Jesus bar Joseph, Jesus the son of Joseph.
Many European-based cultures used something similar. The name Stephenson originally meant son of Stephan.
They also used occupations or place names as surnames. Bob Clark was Bob the Clark (clerk), and John Smith was John the Smith (blacksmith, perhaps).
My surname, “Corbin,” comes from a Norman name that refers to being under the sign of a raven. The ancient family coat of arms had three ravens on it. Today’s image is one rendering of the crest.
Sometimes, we are called names that hurt us.
What names have you been called during your lifetime that hurt you? Perhaps they had to do with appearance, fatty, four eyes, flat chested. Maybe they had to do with something you had done: thief, drunk, killer.
Or perhaps they were names you gave yourself: lazy, stupid, useless. It could be as simple as four kids in your class with the same name, which led to confusion: Bob, Sally, Tom.
It doesn’t matter in the long run because God sees believers in a different light because of Jesus. There is a new name for those who believe. What an incredible thought.
He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, with a new name written on the stone that no one knows except the one who receives it. Revelation 2:17
I don’t know what your name will be—a precious child, a faithful servant, or something far more intimate and personal that Jesus is saving for His new bride. I do know that whatever name you are given will not hurt you.
It will be your name alone, prepared for you in advance by the creator of the universe. No more hurt, no more anonymity, no more confusion. A unique name for you from God.
Enjoy it.
Hallelu Yah / Praise God
Kevin
Gleanings From The Word
Experience an extraordinary God in ordinary life.
Soli Deo Gloria (For the glory of God alone)
Never let the enemy tell you that you are worthless or insignificant. Your value in God’s eyes is so great that it was worth dying for. You are a blessing to the world. You are so precious to God that his plan for heaven will not be complete without you.
Since it’s Remembrance Day and a holiday, I opted to dig out a back issue from 2004. It isn’t about Remembrance Day, but I want to take a moment to thank all who have served and are serving.
Now, onto talking about scars.
On the lower part of my left leg is a divot. I got it many years ago when the ground and I had a disagreement after a skydiving accident. My landing wasn’t very smooth, and I caught my leg in a gopher hole, smashed it against a rock, and gave myself a greenstick fracture.
The leg has long since healed, but the scarring remains. In this case, there is not so much of a visible scar as most of the damage was below the skin, but it is scarring nonetheless. That’s not abnormal. Scarring is part of the healing process.
I have plenty of other scars from surgeries, accidents, and life in general. Some are visible, others not. Jesus forgives us our sins, and he heals us.
If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. 1 John 1:8-9 NIV
Jesus understood scarring. He bore many injuries and indignities for us.
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. Isaiah 53:5 NIV
Yet often, when we’re healed, physically, emotionally, or spiritually, and even when he’s forgiven us of our sins, the scars will remain.
Often, the scarring isn’t visible on the surface, but it’s there nonetheless. There are the scars of damaged relationships, divorces, broken families, criminal records, loss of employment, ruined reputations, loss of credibility, and more. Our bad choices can leave a lot of rubble behind, even when Jesus has brought us into the right relationship with Him and healed us of our part of the damage.
Our forgiveness doesn’t give us license to keep on sinning. Each time we mess up, we have the potential of leaving a scar on someone else. We can leave the debris behind, cluttering the way for someone else.
We walk by grace, not by law, but we can learn much from the moral portions of the law. The ceremonial law was for the Jewish people, as was their criminal law, but the moral law still has something to offer us. The law no longer binds us. Our sins are forgiven, but there is danger when we drift away from its precepts.
Learning and obeying God’s truth can keep you from much of the damage that leaves scars. It’s not a guarantee because other people are always in our lives, but it will make a huge difference.
Until next time, when faced with the opportunity to sin, remember that Jesus forgives and heals, but you can still carry the scars. Flee the temptation and avoid the damage altogether.
Praise the Lord for His guidance, patience, and mercy.
Hallelu Yah / Praise God
Kevin
Gleanings From The Word
Experience an extraordinary God in ordinary life.
Soli Deo Gloria (For the glory of God alone)
Never let the enemy tell you that you are worthless or insignificant. Your value in God’s eyes is so great that it was worth dying for. You are a blessing to the world. You are so precious to God that his plan for heaven will not be complete without you.
On this day, five hundred and seven years ago, one of the most transformational events in history occurred. A then obscure, devout Roman Catholic monk, Martin Luther, Attached what would come to be known as the “Ninety-Five Theses” to the door of the Wittenberg Church in Germany.
At that time, the Roman Catholic church was in the practice of selling indulgences.
The church believed that a believer ascended into heaven only after an appropriate amount of time was spent in Purgatory, facing cleansing and punishment for sin. To reduce this suffering, the church sold indulgences, reducing the time spent there. A living person could also purchase reduced time or skip Purgatory through a guaranteed mass performed at their future funeral.
These indulgences were a huge money-raiser for the church, and Luther was concerned that such practices did not match up with what the Scriptures taught. He compiled a list of 95 theological issues for debate and attached them to the church’s door. That was the equivalent of posting the challenge on social media today.
This act would eventually lead to him being declared a heretic, sentenced to death, and eventually to the formation of the “Lutheran” church. The Reformation was underway.
Around the same time, other believers also questioned various doctrines taught by the church, and a move was made to reform the church’s teachings. Not all
The Reformers did not agree on every issue; in fact, there was great diversity and even animosity between them.
This clumsy, diverse movement led to the establishment of what would be called the protesting or Protestant Church in all of its diversity. Although numerous “pre-reformers” were working to recover the gospel of salvation by grace alone through faith alone in the work of Jesus Christ, this October date is generally considered the start of the Reformation.
Many of the reformers were martyred or spent their lives hiding as “heretics.”
Why should we care?
As Protestants, we trace our lineage not to the reformers but to the teachings of Christ himself. The true doctrine of “by faith alone” was recovered by not invented by the reformers. It was always foundational to the bible but has become lost in church bureaucracy and tradition. Still, these men and women paid a high price for the truth. Their sacrifice is worth remembering.
The truth is, as the Scriptures declare,
But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved. Ephesians 2:4-5
For by works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight, since through the law comes knowledge of sin. Romans 3:20
Are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ. Jesus Romans 3:24
Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Hebrew 11:1
For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God Ephesians 2:8
Salvation belongs to the Lord; your blessing be on your people! Psalm 3:8
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved. Ephesians 1:3-6
We don’t merit redemption. We can’t earn it, and we can’t buy it. It is a gift of love and mercy.
Praise God for the salvation he freely offers.
Hallelu Yah / Praise God
Kevin
Gleanings From The Word
Experience an extraordinary God in ordinary life.
Soli Deo Gloria (For the glory of God alone)
Never let the enemy tell you that you are worthless or insignificant. Your value in God’s eyes is so great that it was worth dying for. You are a blessing to the world. You are so precious to God that his plan for heaven will not be complete without you.
Yesterday, Kathy and I went for a country drive in the rain. I’ve been stuck at home the past two weeks fighting a nasty bug and was going stir-crazy. The “atmospheric river” plaguing us and causing localized flooding didn’t improve my disposition. I did manage to sneak out for a few minutes on Saturday to vote, but other than that, I have been housebound.
I needed out before cabin fever set in, so rain or no rain, we took a drive. We saw a few eagles and plenty of little waterfalls. This photo looks a little grainy and unclear, but that’s because the rain was coming down in wind-blown sheets, obscuring our view.
I was grateful to get out for a few hours despite the weather.
Can I let you in on a secret? Life can be like the weather; some days, it’s great, and others, it’s downright oppressive and miserable.
Some so-called Bible teachers will tell you that if you have enough faith, you can get everything you ever wanted from God, and everything will be perfect. They are wolves in sheep’s clothing and deceivers.
God is more interested in our holiness than in our temporal earthly happiness. His goal is to make us more like Jesus through or despite the circumstances surrounding us.
Even Jesus, fully God and fully man, and sinless in every way, experienced the hard side of life. He was rejected, mocked, hated, rebuked, tortured and killed. Why should we expect any different?
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7 ESV
Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.Isaiah 41:10 ESV
Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.James 1:2-4 ESV
In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.1 Peter 1:6-7 ESV
When the clouds roll in, don’t despair. Jesus still has your back. Tough times are part and parcel of the fallen human condition.
Whatever we face has a purpose, and Jesus will shine in our lives through it. He will never leave or forsake us, no matter the weather.
A break from the Seven Sayings of Christ on the Cross. We will return to them on Monday.
Here’s a short story I wrote years ago. It’s one of several with a Christian theme set in Buckman’s Books.
Business had been good that morning, but it slowed down a little just after lunchtime. Enjoying the brief break between customers, I poured myself a coffee and sat down in one of the wingback chairs at the front of my store. The late fall sun silhouetted the name of the shop against the window: Buckman´s Books.
An old pickup truck that had seen better days slowed down and coasted to a stop in front of my shop. There was no way to know the truck’s original color since it was made up of salvaged body parts replacing damaged ones.
All of the pieces seemed to be held together by rust. The rear box was closed in with four-foot-high sideboards made of recycled plywood. Painted on the side, in letters barely discernible through the dirt of a thousand gravel roads, were the words “Jackson’s Salvage.”
The driver, a tall, thin man, stooped at the shoulders from a hard life, slid out of the cab slowly, and headed for my door. He was on the far side of sixty. His hair and beard were long, grey, and unkempt. He had a long, hooked nose that looked like a beak and bushy eyebrows that resembled a set of wings. His bib overalls and plaid shirt were dirty and had seen a lot of use.
“Worn out and tired” came to mind as I looked at the truck and its driver. Appearances could be deceiving, though; I knew he was a shrewd businessman, a haggler. The man would grind you mercilessly for the joy of bargaining.
A lot of townspeople didn’t think much of old man Jackson. He was rude, crude, and cussed more than a pirate’s parrot. To make it worse, he had a particular smell about him that was hard not to notice. No one could describe the scent, but it came from a lifetime of digging around in dumps, junkyards, and abandoned buildings.
Despite all that, I liked him. He was a good customer who knew his books. He would spend hours looking through the latest acquisitions on my shelves, searching for true value. I say acquisitions, not new books because I sell used books.
Buckman´s Books is neither a fancy name nor a fancy place, but I sell a lot of books. Two wing-back chairs, a couple of small tables, and a pot of coffee welcome my customers to the store. Behind that stands a thousand square feet of space, filled to the ceiling with books of every imaginable kind. My customers know that if I don’t have it in stock, I will get it for them, and they show their appreciation by coming back time and again.
When he came in this time, Jackson had a package with him. That was usually a good sign because some of my best merchandise had come because of his sharp eye at estate sales and auctions.
The old man had a nose for good literature and saleable books. He’d bring them in and haggle with me for hours over the price. I’m sure that haggling was half the fun for him), and eventually, I’d break down and give him his price. With my network of special collectors, I never failed to make money on a Jackson deal.
He poured a coffee from the pot I always kept on and grumbled, “Buckman, you make the worst coffee I’ve ever tasted,” then sat down in his favorite chair.
“Thanks, Jackson. From you, that’s a compliment. Besides, it’s free even for a contrary old cuss like you. What did you bring me today?”
Handling the package like it contained delicate treasure, he slowly unwrapped several layers of newspaper. He pulled out a thick leather book.
“I think you’ll like this one, but it’s gonna cost you big time.” He laughed at the thought of the bargaining to come.
It was a well-preserved but obviously well-used Bible. A thick strap of tooled leather kept the cover closed. It was an original Geneva Bible, almost impossible to come by.
“Where did you get this?” I was so excited that I forgot who I would be bargaining with and almost drooled. “It’s a gem, one of the best I have ever seen.”
He laughed loudly and said, “I knew you’d like it. I bought it at an estate sale in Pierce County. The family was hurrying to sell the estate to get back to the city. I bought a truckload of stuff I thought I could make a few bucks on.
After loading everything, I went for another quick once-over to see if anything good was left. I rooted around some and saw the book in the bottom of a box under the cellar stairs. I almost missed it. I had to buy the whole box of useless junk to get the book.”
I slowly leafed through the Bible, caressing each page and stopping now and then to read a passage that caught my eye. The text was clear and sharp, although the pages had begun to yellow a bit. There is something about the feel and smell of an old book that I can’t describe and never grow tired of. Like people, no two old books are ever alike.
“I don’t know why anyone would want an old Bible,” he grunted, “ but I figured you would know who would want it. You’ll make a profit and still pay me handsomely for it.”
As I sat reading, he got up and perused the shelves. The Bible was almost identical to the one my grandfather had when I was a boy. I got my love of good books from Grandpa. He’d sit around and read us Bible stories for hours. I couldn’t help but sit and read some of his favorite stories.
More than an hour later, Jackson reappeared from among the shelves with half a dozen books in hand.
“You still sitting there reading that thing?” he asked. “Can’t imagine why.”
“It’s a long story, but I like old Bibles. I’m reading one of my favorite parts, the parable of the prodigal son.”
“Don’t know that story. What’s it about?”
“It’s the story of a boy who gets his inheritance early, spends it on the fast life, and ends up dirt poor, slopping pigs and sharing their food to have something to eat.”
Old man Jackson looked almost teary. “I know how that works. Dropped out of school, sold some of Dad’s stuff, and headed out on the road at fifteen. I went to the big city to make my fortune but blew the money pretty quickly. I ended up on the streets for a long time. Even did some jail time for a while.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Pouring another cup of coffee, he plopped down into his chair. “Not many people do. I keep my business to myself.”
After taking a deep drink from his mug, Jackson said, “I swear you make lousy coffee! I don’t know why I even bother to drink it. Never met anyone who makes coffee as bad as you do.”
“Jackson, don’t change the subject you were telling me about when you left home.”
“Right,” he said.
For the next two hours, he told me about doing time for stealing something to eat, about being unable to get a job because of his lack of education and criminal record, and about moving from place to place and ending up here in Pine Brook about forty-five years ago.
He started work with a borrowed truck. Before long, he traded some scrap he collected for an old truck of his own and started in the junk business full-time to make a few bucks and keep a roof over his head.
Twenty years ago, an old friend had died, leaving him the pickup truck parked out front. It was an old truck then, but Jackson swore he’d keep it on the road in memory of his friend forever.
When he finished his tale, I asked, “Did you ever go home again?”
“No, I figured I made my choice and blew my chance. They would never want to see me again. I heard my folks died a few years back. Never even went to the funeral.” He swallowed the last bit of cold coffee with a grimace and asked, “So, what happened to the kid in the story?”
I read the story to him.
“So the father waited for him to come home, even though he knew the boy would mess up. I wonder if my old man waited for me to come home?”
“I don’t know if he did or not, but I know God does. He’d claim you as His child if you’d let him.”
“Not likely! I’ve had too many years of making mistakes for that to ever happen.” With his finger pointing at the Bible, he said, “Show me in that book where it says that God would want me.”
I did just that. We sat a read a few verses together. Jackson smiled at me, “How about that! God even wants an old misfit like me.”
Don’t take my word for it. Look the verses up yourself. If you are like old man Jackson and want to know if God wants you, grab a Bible or a New Testament and read the same verses he and I read together. Start with the story of the prodigal son in Luke 15:11-31. Then read the other Bible verses we looked at: Romans 3:23, Romans 6:23, John 3:3, John 14:6, Romans 10:9-11, and Revelation 3:20.
Until next time, rejoice that God even wants people like us.
Be blessed
Hallelu Yah / Praise God
Kevin
Gleanings From The Word
Experience an extraordinary God in ordinary life.
Soli Deo Gloria (For the glory of God alone)
Never let the enemy tell you that you are worthless or insignificant. Your value in God’s eyes is so great that it was worth dying for. You are a blessing to the world. You are so precious to God that his plan for heaven will not be complete without you.
Mount Baker, or Kweq’ Smánit in the local Nooksak language, dominates the skyline to the southeast in nearby Washington State.
One source describes it as a “10,781 ft (3,286 m) active glacier-covered andesitic stratovolcano in the Cascade Volcanic Arc.” It is one of the snowiest places on the planet; in 1999, the ski slopes recorded a world record of 95 feet of snow in one season.
I love to look up and see the mountain before me. However, I’ve heard people say it’s always the same view, and they forget it’s there.
Yes, it’s always there, but the view is never the same twice if you have the eyes to see. The view may be similar day to day, but it’s never the same.
The mountain’s weather pattern constantly changes, highlighting or hiding parts of the peak. The face of the mountain changes with snowfall and melt or with differing times of day.
Like many things in life, we can grow to become so familiar with something that we fail to pay attention anymore. This happens with Christians. Sunday mornings can become mundane. Bible reading can become tiresome. Prayer can seem as simply a ritual.
Even the gospel message and our salvation can become humdrum. I’ve heard Christians say things like, “Another message on salvation by grace, or becoming more like Jesus? Why can’t the pastor come up with something new and interesting ?”
When we become inoculated against the truth of salvation through Christ alone, by faith alone, our hearts harden. We forget what we were saved from and the cost of that salvation.
Our hearts have deceived us into thinking that we are okay or that we don’t really need savings. Sometimes, we can get so proud that we believe that we are somehow unique enough to deserve salvation.
Our hearts are dangerous things. How reliable is your heart? It changes like the mountain does.
The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?“I the Lord search the heart and test the mind, to give every man according to his ways, according to the fruit of his deeds.” Jeremiah 17:9-10
The world tells us to “Just follow your heart.” It sounds like wise advice, but it’s a lie straight from the pit of hell, and it smells like smoke.
My heart can tell me many things, some of which might be true. Yet, in the wee hours of early morn, if I’m honest and truly examine my heart and its desires, it isn’t pretty.
I’m a relatively nice guy, not a vile criminal. I care about others and am reasonably honest. At least, that’s what my heart tells me most of the time. The truth is I’m self-centered and predisposed to all sorts of sin.
How reliable is your heart? My heart would quickly lead me to destruction. It is a path I cannot risk following.
Would I want to stand before God based on the merits of what my heart says? Absolutely not.
Honestly examine your heart and then consider what Jesus did for you despite that. Marvel at what it cost Him to pay the penalty for your sin.
May the recognition of His great love and mercy cause you to rejoice. May that joy never become stale or old news.
Be blessed
Hallelu Yah / Praise God
Kevin
Gleanings From The Word
Experience an extraordinary God in ordinary life.
Soli Deo Gloria (For the glory of God alone)
Never let the enemy tell you that you are worthless or insignificant. Your value in God’s eyes is so great that it was worth dying for. You are a blessing to the world. You are so precious to God that his plan for heaven will not be complete without you.
This morning, just for a change, I thought I’d share a short story. It is one I wrote a few years back and needs some work. If you have ever lived or worked in a small town, you might recognize some characters.
I have written a number of the Buckman’s Books stories, one of which got made into a radio play and broadcast in the Caribbean. A lot of work is needed, but there might be a collection of those stories some days.
Enough preamble, here we go.
I stood, shivering outside by the gravesite. While we waited for the pastor, my thoughts drifted back to the last time I had seen my friend alive … I was sitting in my shop enjoying a cup of coffee between customers. I own a used book store in Pine Brook, one of the finest in these parts, Buckman’s Books.
A brand new, bright red pearl coat, Ford F350 Supercrew pickup pulled up outside. The logo, painstakingly detailed on the side of the door panel, read, in large letters,
SOS
Underneath that in smaller letters was,
Slim’s Oilfield Service
Pine Brook
Got a disaster? No one’s faster!
Slim’s was the local oilfield disaster outfit. If you had a blowout, a spill or a fire, Slim was your man. He had a reputation for doing exemplary work at a fair price.
Slim also had an unquenchable hunger for knowledge and devoured incredible quantities of books. In short, he was one of my favourite customers.
Slim looks like his nickname; he isn’t a big man, maybe 5’6 and weighs 145 pounds. He’s in his mid-fifties and is clean shaven with a greying
crew cut.
Slim always wears the same thing, a white tee-shirt, blue jeans, steel-toed work boots and his red jacket, with the boldly embroidered SOS logo. Unless he was suited up for a job, I don’t think I have ever seen him wear anything else.
The young fellow with him, Slim’s physical opposite, Tobias Tyler, called Tee or Big Tee, by most folks around here.
He stood 6’6, weighed about 290, all of it muscle. He was always dressed like Slim but wore a bushy moustache and hair as long as the safety guys would let him get away with.
Big Tee was about thirty and had worked for Slim since graduating from high school. Tee was a minor celebrity in these parts.
He was an all-around good athlete, the rare kind, without an inflated ego. In high school, he played baseball, basketball and football well enough to get offered several full athletic scholarships to college.
Big Tee chose not to go because fighting fires seemed more interesting than more time at school.
Tee was one of those guys you could always count on being there. If something needed moving, you called Big Tee. If you wanted a hunting or fishing partner, Tee was always up for it.
I’d heard stories from reliable sources; Tee helped
a few locals with loans when they were between jobs or in a bind. He never seemed to hold it over anyone’s head, just kept it quiet. Just your basic decent sort of fellow.
At times, Tee played up his jock image. I guess he held on to the idea that it wasn’t cool to be smart, but he was one of the brightest, well-read men in these parts. Big Tee was almost as big a spender in my shop as Slim.
They walked in and poured themselves a coffee my pot. Slim drawled, “How’s it goin’, Buckman?”
“Good, as always. Pull up a chair guys, and tell me what’s up with you these days. Nice new wheels Slim!”
“Should be for what a truck costs these days!” he said as he sat down in one of the two wing-backs at the front of my store.
Big Tee grabbed a wooden chair from beside the counter and eased himself onto it. Big Tee never did anything quickly unless it was on a playing field. He was deceptively fast when he wanted to be.
“Awful coffee, Buckman,” remarked Tee. All my customers complained about the coffee, but I liked it, and they never refused a cup.
“We’ve had a couple of slow days, so I’ve been trying to catch up on my reading,” Slim remarked.
“Wondered what you had got in that was new and
interesting. Got anything exciting since we were here last?”
“I saved a couple of books on steam engineering for you, and a first edition Agatha Christie. I also just got a whole stack of stuff on fishing the other day. Never saw so many fishing books in one place before. A collector over in Devon passed on and his wife would have thrown them out, if her friend hadn’t persuaded her to call me. Go back 200 years almost.” I laughed, “The books that is, not the widow and her friend.”
Slim and Tee both loved to fish, so the mention of the bass books piqued their interest. Wheeling a dolly with three big boxes on it over to them, I encouraged them to check the contents out.
Making short noises of approval and tearing through the boxes, like kids on a Christmas present, or as Slim would put it, like a wildcat on a rabbit. After the first run-through, they began to sort in earnest. Books were piling up on the tables and on the floor.
As he lifted the Bible I always keep on the centre table, Tee asked, “Buckman, would you put this old Bible someplace, so we’ve got some room?”
“No problem.”
“Don’t know why you need a Bible anyway. You know that if there is a God, he surely doesn’t care about us.
“Why do you say that Tee?”
“I figure he built this world and moved on. Too many problems for him to have stuck around.”
“You do think it was God who created this planet then?”
“Sure. How can a man be out on a lake fishing at sunrise or out in a tree stand during hunting season, without knowing someone had to have created all that beauty? Right Slim?”
Slim grunted his agreement and went back to reading the leather-bound classic that had caught his eye.
We talked for a couple of hours about God and about Jesus. I shared with Big Tee that accepting Jesus was the only way to heaven, and we debated the whole issue frontwards and backwards.
“Well, I’m a young guy Buckman. I’ve got lots of time before I have to make those kind of decisions. What you said makes a lot of sense. I will give it some serious thought.”
Slim admonished him, “You’d better! Buckman is right on about Jesus.”
Getting up to serve another customer, I left Slim and Big Tee, continuing their diligent perusal of the fishing books. They bought all three boxes at a price that would pay all my expenses for the next few months. I could have got much more for them at a collectors auction, but I like to give my regulars first crack at the best stuff.
“We’re going up to Chipman Lake, on Tuesday.” Big Tee said as they headed out. “Gonna get some walleye. I hear they are biting like mad. You want come with us?”
“Love to, but I’m open on Tuesdays. Another time perhaps.”
When a week Tuesday rolled around, I regretted my decision not to go with them. I hadn’t seen a single customer by noon. The first couple of hours were great because I caught up on my mail orders and paperwork, but the time dragged.
I was even glad to see Mrs. Tompkins come in. I don’t know how old she was, but she was already known as
“old lady” Tompkins back when I was in high school.
She could talk your ear off and seldom bought much, but she could be counted on to know the latest scoop on everyone in a hundred-mile radius. If it happened, or someone thought it happened, you could count on Mrs. Tompkins to know about it.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Tompkins.”
“Good afternoon to you Mr. Buckman.”
We talked about a few of my regulars, and she looked at some of my latest acquisitions. She asked, “Are you going to the funeral tomorrow morning, or will you be open?”
“Funeral? Who died?” Sometimes, I felt like I spent too much time in the store.
“Big Tee. I was sure you’d know about it. An awful tragedy.”
“When?” I stammered, “What happened? I just saw him a week or so back.
“Four or five days ago. I guess he got caught in a back draft out at one of the well sites. Nobody told you?”
“Not a word.”
“He was over in the ICU at County for three days. Burns over 90% of his body. I guess he regained consciousness a couple of times, but not for long. They say he was in a lot of pain, so it was probably a good thing when he passed on. Slim never left the hospital the whole time.”
Still stunned, I said, “I’ll be at the service. Where and when?”
“It is at he First Evangelical Free Church of Christ cemetery; tomorrow at 9:00 AM. I’ll see you there.” she said as she headed out the door.
A tear formed in my eye as I heard the shovel of dirt hit the coffin. I wondered if Tee made the decision for Jesus during those three days.
I hoped so because the alternative wasn’t very pleasant. I guess sometimes we won’t know until we get to heaven ourselves. I prayed that Tee had made the right choice.
Wiping a tear, Slim nudged me, “Let’s go fishing. Big Tee would like that.”
“I think he would at that.” I agreed. “He’d like that a lot. I’ll get my gear.”
—
None of us knows the hour and day of our passing; that information belongs to God alone. Are you right with God?
If we are not born again in Christ, we face an eternity of suffering for our sin. Don’t delay; open your heart to Jesus today. Want to know more? Drop me a line.
