tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17743701365056196742024-03-27T01:35:18.927-05:00Post Mod PilgrimDiscovery on the road less traveled...THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.comBlogger110125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-17380888663281101102024-01-27T10:33:00.000-06:002024-01-27T10:33:04.887-06:00buried<span style="font-family: Nunito Sans; font-size: large;">"Unless a seed falls into the ground and dies..." Tough words. Nothing, nothing good comes easy. Being saved is easy from the pilgrim perspective. Confess with your mouth and believe in your heart. The evidence is everywhere. There is nowhere that you can look without seeing the Designer's signature. "Only a fool says in his heart there is no God." There it is. But, to go beyond that, beyond the altar of forgiveness, it takes something more. What is this seed anyway? Every person is given a gift, something that is deep inside us, that dream, that fire, that passion, that when it is tapped enables us to do more, reach further, to come into a level of living that is beyond what seems natural. This gift is given to us by the Designer and it causes us to hunger for eternal things. If we begin to engage it, it brings us into the eternal realm. Once we go there, we are forever marked, changed because of it. This gift, this seed is faith.<br /><br />Much has been said and written about faith. People who talk about having faith can mean confidence in their own ability and persistance to attaining some their goal. Others' ideas about faith has to do with some mysterious afterlife, some out-of-body experience that caused them to "have faith" that life on this side is more than we make of it, more than we can see. But those are only shadows, cheap imitations of the real gift that still lies deep within each individual. "Broad is the way that leads to destruction..." </span><div><span style="font-family: Nunito Sans; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Nunito Sans; font-size: large;">The vast majority of us never even begin to search for it. Most of us are consumed with trying to please surface demands-measuring up to family expectations, our own expectations, or just getting by and having at least a little superficial enjoyment here and there. It is so easy to go the way of the world, not questioning, not pressing for truth or reason. Its comfortable and very deceptive. But, underneath all that self-satisfied effort and "progressive" dribble, there is the real question of life and the Answer waiting to reveal Himself.<br /><br />But we keep busy, running around, doing our job, providing for our families, doing some charitable giving, going on vacation, etc. We keep the most amazing, humbling, fulfilling, audacious gift buried under a mountain of musts that never really brings us to the place where we know we have done something that matters, something with roots in the eternal.<br /><br />"But narrow is the gate and straight is the way that leads to eternal life..." For those few who have dared to dig down into themselves, to find the real kind of faith and to engage it, eureka! Nirvana! All that stuff and more. It takes guts to find it. But it takes more guts to use it, because once its found, it has to be buried in a different place, a place of His choosing, not ours. And to do that, we have to be willing to bury ourselves. We have to die to our dreams and allow them to be buried along with our "old selves" like a kernel of corn dropped into the ground. We have to trust in the promise that He will make it grow and bear fruit. Which will create more seed. What to do with my seed of faith? I have to bury it.</span></div>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-48406411715647394422024-01-27T09:50:00.001-06:002024-01-27T09:50:54.859-06:00blink<span style="font-family: Nunito Sans; font-size: large;">She used to tell me I'd think this way, that I would be dazed and amazed about where the time went. Blink. "Prepare for the future you want, don't just let it happen," she would say, or something like that. Blink. "When do you think you'll start having kids?" Blink. "You have 2 now, trying for a girl?" Blink. Now we do not talk very much. She was right about the time thing. I can see why parents try to live vicariously through their children. But my life is not interesting enough, nor is it one of grand influence that a parent would relish boasting about. I did not prepare for my future near as well as I could have.<br /><br />I was young when youth was in the throws of death, the generation after "if it feels good, do it." That was what we were all weaned on in the '80's. Our M-TV generation accelerated the boozing, sexing, and doping, and coined the motto "whatever." "If you want to dress like a woman and wear panty-hose, man, whatever." "If you dig communism, whatever." "If you want to worship the earth and say God does not exist so you feel better about your twisted lifestyle, hey, who am I to judge? Whatever."<br /><br />When I had questions, I could not find the words to ask. Once I found my words, I was convinced no one cared to listen. There is the problem in communication. I think this was the epidemic of my generation, the curse. The ones who should have engaged our questions were too busy working on the cure for the epidemic of their generation. And the ones who did listen to our questions and dared to give answers were, themselves, full of questions, thus, highly unqualified to give real answers. We took their que and modified the parts of their answers we did not like. This could be how our once God-fearing nation is being reduced to a paltry piece of what it was.<br /><br />Now, phew! Time sure flies. What's that, son? You need to talk?</span>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-36921208185015379532023-12-31T09:51:00.003-06:002023-12-31T09:56:37.130-06:00audit 2023<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Script"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Today is the last day of this year, 2023.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is 31*F and sunny at 0710.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am having a cup of coffee and sponging the
tranquility of this morning moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
is my favorite time of day, I think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or
at least I think so at this moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
dew is still glistening on the roofs and ground because the sun has not risen
above the tree tops on the eastern horizon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All is quiet and still, and it is good.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Script"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Christmas has come and gone for the 53<sup>rd</sup> time in my
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>New Year’s celebrations have mostly
been a bummer because, well, either too religiousy, too drunky, or too
dull.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe five times in my lifetime
have I experienced a joyous ringing in of the new year, and been properly
motivated to face the unseen challenges of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I can’t remember which years or even where it was. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time of year feels more hollow than
most.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can remember a hundred Christmas
mornings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no interest in remembering
New Year’s nights, rehearsals for disappointment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, that sounds a little dark, but
honestly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Script"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I do have New Year’s traditions, processes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But they are all inward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s the yearly audit of significant
events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s the yearly audit of
significant triumphs, and defeats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel
the frost of mundanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Vanity, vanity,
all is vanity.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did I make more
money?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did I spend too much?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What increases have I?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What increases may come?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have I been impacted by the life of
another?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have I made an impact on the
life of another?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What have I created?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What have I destroyed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What have I hated?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What or whom have I lifted?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have I been a better husband to my wife?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have I been a better father, son, brother,
uncle, cousin, nephew?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How many times
did I put my foot in my mouth? How many times did I lie (for those interested
in cold, hard truth)? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What sins have I grappled
with most this year?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where have I become
unfeeling?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whom have I, perhaps
unconsciously, cut off from access to me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Who has cut access off to me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remedy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Script"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A mountain of disappoint in myself pulverizes down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some audits bring a glint of satisfaction,
some nausea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all settles down,
driving, pressing, pushing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I groan
under the weight of pressure trying to crush me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I want it to crush me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every year I screw up enough to deserve to be
crushed entirely, and sometimes, I wish to surrender to it. Then I remember
those who are counting on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever
trespasses I have committed, (and there is always more than good deeds done), I
have to maintain a certain mental and spiritual stability-for them. The only
shield between my immediate family and utter chaos is me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sins are mine, not theirs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must stand and fulfill my vows, my
responsibilities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let the mountain try to crush me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m dumb like a rock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where sin abounds…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Script"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The giant orb of energy does its thing to the earth. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m reminded that God brings sunshine and rain
to the just and the unjust alike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
sun will come out tomorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a reminder
to my dismal auditing that there’s another Auditor Who’s reckoning is more
perfect-and His mercy and grace pierces my darkness like the rays of the sun
bringing warmth and energy to sleeping earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The standard He uses in calculating my life is not transgressions versus
good deeds as it is with humankind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
the Son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the rays of the Son break my
tree line I have to respond to His mercies (withholding deserved punishment)
and accept His grace (endowing unmerited favor).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Script"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Whatever your audit turns up, the only thing that matters going
into this new year is the Son arising on your situation, and you receiving the
energy of His life into all the areas of your yard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next time you sit with a cup of coffee on
your front porch surveying your lawn, maybe you will think about how God
blesses because of His great love for us all, and how He sent His Son to
invalidate our audits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as the giant
orb of energy in the sky just keeps doing it’s thing, God loves simply because
that’s just the way He is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s what He
is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s Who He is.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Script"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Happy New Year.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-42715783037921989522023-11-21T10:11:00.002-06:002023-11-21T10:22:28.570-06:00yourself<p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">You have to be yourself. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">You.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have
to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">You have to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">You have to be yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You can never authentically be anything until you understand that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be yourself you have to know
yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To know yourself, you have to
try different things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have to strive
for something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have to eff up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have to give yourself room, latitude,
permission to grab something that calls to your deepest place. Try, strive, mess it all up, assess yourself with brutal honesty, and do it again
differently with what you have learned from your experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have to be brave to step out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can be careful, but sometimes you just
have to throw yourself into it, really give it a full-on edge-of-insanity
whirl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“A man’s gotta know his
limitations,” goes the old movie quote.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For sure that goes for women, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A person has to know their limits, and the only way to do that is to
answer that call from your deepest place with reckless abandon.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I’m not taking what God desires for you out of this
discussion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God made us, and we’re all
His original ideas from the start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Godless folks try unnaturally to keep God out of everything, and
religious folks try to unnaturally insert God into everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rule of thumb:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>whether or not you believe in God, just shut
up about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m talking about the human
experience here, not Ministry or Marxism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Living is learning how to use the tools in your bag to bring about the
most contented outcome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whether or not
you believe it was fate, God, or a roll of the cosmic dice that gave you your
respective “bag of tools” is immaterial.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">To be content…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some call it happiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some call
it Zen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nirvana was a 90’s band that sang
about smelling teen spirit, I think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Paul of Tarsus wrote, in the first century A.D., that he had learned the
secret of being content in every situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Rich, poor, favorable, refugee status, in every situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He had to learn how.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Contentedness
did not fall out of the tree of over religious zealots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It did not come with a membership to the Free
Masons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nor did he achieve it through
any religious, political, or environmental ideology.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being content, being happy is something you
have to LEARN.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s like ‘Getting To
Know Yourself 201.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I know you religious folk are hyperventilating about now
because you think I am trying to remove God from an article about being
yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No doubt you Godless folks are
flipping out because I used an illustration out of the New Testament in the
Bible. Track with me here:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I go
camping, and I do every chance I get, I go for many reasons- rest, restoration,
rejuvenation, natural beauty therapy, to test my skills, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I am camping I am not reciting those
goals a loud to myself or the world at large.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am not reminding myself to breathe the air, or to smell the flowers,
the pine scent, or the freshness of a cool breeze rising off the water next to
the trail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not proclaiming my meals
to the forest creatures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is this an
absurd enough picture?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The trees are
there, and were long before me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do not
have to proclaim their glory to revel in the things of nature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mountains I may be hiking through have
been standing tall for thousands of years, and they are there for anyone to
see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Likewise, if you are all about God
and going to church, etc., then be about it and shut your mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God is no less God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone who is looking will see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you are all about…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>not God… that will be quite obvious to anyone
paying attention as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one has to
proclaim or shout any of that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will
be obvious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Living is not demanding
others think, believe, or act as you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Being yourself is finding what you think about all those questions,
studying a little to make it valid in your own mind and to be able to give an
answer if someone asks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s going
through life marking down questions and making notations in your mind about
what you observe, tapping knowledgeable sources, and coming to some solid
conclusions within your own consciousness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yeah, sorry Bible-thumper folks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t mean it to sound “new age-y.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is what it is.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Living contentedly is a learned skill, and it is
parallel to knowing yourself and being yourself. Tragically, so many succumb to the ambush of
the environment they grew up in, society, their education, etc. A really huge enemy to living contentedly and
being yourself are <i>expectations</i>
placed on you by others and/or you. What
do you know and how do you know it? Was
it drilled into you by your parish priest?
Your hyper-expressive Pentecostal pastor? Your parents?
Your extended family? The company
you keep? Expectations are fine, when
there is a reason for them, reasons like you have discovered your love for
business, studied it, practiced it, etc., and now you expect to see positive
results from pushing in that direction.
But blind, traditional, familial expectations are a total drag and
usually bind rather than liberate. Find out for yourself. Yes, you can trust the people who know and
love you. But do not take their word for it.
Go find out through observation, trial, and failure. Don’t
be afraid to “eff-up find out,” as my Gen-Xers are so fond of saying.</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-13101295054245496862023-10-09T03:37:00.001-05:002023-11-28T19:49:52.400-06:00desert<p> <span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Am I happy? Am I sad?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">In the in-between, I might be mad.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Mad as a hornet, mad as a hare.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Reinventing me, I lost that flare.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Youthful hope once broke through the pain.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">But in this now can it happen again?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">What I would be is what I have become.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">All the parts do not equal the sum.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Behind, only memories, ahead, the drum beat.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">I was purpose driven, but the years are fleet.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">The light in my eyes, the sparkle, the twinkle</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Grows dim with time and surrounded by wrinkles.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Never had as much as I have now.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Seems I was happier with nothing, somehow.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Nothing but a future that I grasped with both hands,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">When I had the pluck and mountains of sand.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">I used to know what it meant to be free.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">But I lost my compass in this desert in me...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">This desert in me...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">The sun passes over, and the stars, and the moon</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Day after step, I'll be dry again soon.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Those that follow have to see I'm a fraud.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">All I can do is keep pointing to God.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">I know He is true, I know He is real.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">If I have nothing else I am kept by this zeal.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Let God be true and every man a liar.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">In this cold world I stay warm by this fire.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Its all gone to shit on its way to hell</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">They know the true God but keep worshiping Baal.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">There are those who resist, refuse to comply</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Proclaiming the message that this world will die</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">To those who will not hear and stiffen their necks.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">They will be dashed on the rocks, souls shipwrecked.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">The cares of this world, the weeds, and the stones</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Choke me down again until my heart lies prone</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Until over sands in the desert, again, He sends rain.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">It trickles, then gushes through this dry plain.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Flowers of hope spring up, and I see</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">A garden is growing in this desert in me...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">This desert in me...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;"><b><i>Isaiah 35.1-10, Luke 8.4-15</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;"><br></span></p>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-60515970732017798422023-09-17T04:21:00.000-05:002023-09-17T04:21:12.760-05:00now<p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> Christendom is filled with stories of people who did not fit in. Stories in the Bible of those who were exiled from their homeland or society have become examples of how God used that time in exile to prepare them for some later work or ministry. But as I read of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, of Amos, of Timothy, even of Nicodemus, I see a pattern of God using people in the place they are in, where they do not fit in, even in exile. As Christians we hear a lot about the "next of God," the next ministry, the next season of life, the next moving of the Holy Spirit. Rarely, if ever, do we hear about the "now."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Moses was a high society rich boy, a prince of Egypt who, at 40 years old was exiled to what his circles would consider a wasteland, a desert. He was out there for 40 years. He was 80 years old when he finally got around to the "Let My People Go" thing. What was he doing out there? He was tending sheep, a job that was a rudimentary idea of what God was planning for him-tending the "flock" of Israel. And we are taught, even if indirectly, that his time was of no consequence other than preparation for the "next." But what impact may he have had in the middle of his "now" in the wastelands of the Sinai Peninsula? Might his coming to the Midianites have been a "next" kind of event for them? Might it have even been an answer to their prayers? Though not an Israelite people, they worshipped Yaweh. Moses met his wife out there. Her father was a priest unto Yaweh among those dwellers of the desert. What followers of God would not be praying for a Godly man for their daughters? Today we pray for revival. Might the followers of God in the desert have been seeking the Lord for a revival of sorts, for their "next" of God? Then this prince of Egypt shows up out of nowhere...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Forty years of exile, what we have been taught to think of as merely preparation for Moses, yet the whole time he was a blessing to them in their "next," in his "now." What events were heralded by Moses' showing up there? Whatever they thought or discerned of him, it was good enough for their leader to give his daughter in marriage to this stranger from the west. It was definitely significant, impacting, purposeful, not merely a preparation for Moses. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Growing up in an american pentecostal denomination I observed pastors who were so into the "next of God" that they moved from church to church like women trying on dresses at Bloomingdale's. The hit 'em and move on mentality was embedded into my psyche, and looking back from 52 years old, I am not pleased with the way I allowed this wrestlessness to invade, envelope, and enforce. I have never had a tattoo, but I feel like a wrestless chaos has been tattooed on my life. This has been a stronghold the enemy has used to keep me pinned in a place of uselessness. There have been many bright spots, when God was doing something thru and beyond me, that has born fruit, even many years later. But mostly when I was in a "now" place, where God was working, not only could I not recognize it as a "wait, chill, now" season and was always obsessed with the "next," it never felt like it was enough. I was not enough in my own eyes and it consumed my planning, relationships, even tainted my faith.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The truth is none of us are ever enough to become His idea of us. We are not even able to dream the right dreams without Him! But for those in Him, the fact that we are not enough has to be enough. Our fill, our enough is in Him, in Christ. Though we may be thought of by others as lacking, ministry partners, coworkers, perhaps even our children, even as we know emphatically that we are not enough, yet, in Him it is enough. In Him we are enough. Success? Yes! Good! It is enough. Failure? It digs, it hurts, it reveals, it teaches if we let it. Yes! It is enough.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">When we evaluate our lives, especially in the "now" season, no glitz, no glam, in the middle of the day to day and we feel that we are not enough on this plain, in our eyes, we are in His! You feel like you should be farther along in your career, ministry, what you are experiencing right now is so far from your plan of where you should be and what you should be doing, and you can't see the "next..." Rest in the "now." Just keep at it, work your job, cultivate relationships, keep at your ministry, outreach, whatever it is, just keep doing it because right now is the time you are being blessing to folks, you may be in the middle of being an answer to prayer for someone right in the boring, seemingly dead-end "NOW," even if you cannot see it! Rest in the "NOW!" Continue in the "NOW!"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Soon you will find your feelings have changed. You will find your definition of success has changed. You will find that you have changed and that you have been moving in the "next" of God and did not realize it. The "next" happens when the "now" is fulfilled. The kicker is we think we are allowed to make that call. Certainly, we are free to subvert what God is doing, and He will just bring us around to another "now."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">People who learned the "now" of God: Enoch, Abel, Noah, Job, Abraham, Samuel, Esther, Ruth, David, Ezekiel, Jeremiah, Daniel, Amos, Joseph and Mary, John the Baptist, Steven, Paul, etc.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">SELAH. It means think about it.</span></p>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-17069243256731692222023-07-25T00:15:00.002-05:002023-11-28T19:46:22.659-06:00rubbings<span style="font-size: large;">A V.I.P. among the influencers of my life is having a birthday soon. I saw the reminder and began thinking of how my life would be different if I had never met this person. I would still have the same parents I had, and I would still have lived in all the places that I have lived while growing up. I would have worn the same styles, went to the same schools, driven the same vehicles, and been that same wild dorky kid. The trappings would all be the same. But because I met this person at just the time I did, it made such on impact as to result in a sort of delayed influence. There was an initial "Wow! Cool person taking an interest in me," effect. But there was a seed planted in the garden of my heart that grew into a passion that has become the most noteable color of my life. There was a gifting inside that 7 year old me, but it took a 17 year old kid and his musical, eternity focused family to expose and ignite that gifting.</span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">There were others, progressively, through the formative years and into adolescence and adulthood, whose trajectory, focus, and passions rubbed mine and tinted the hue of the primary palette God is using in rendering this idea to the world: me. We are all His original ideas, you see, masterpieces. I am but one among His host of masterpieces. There was a sunday school teacher at my grandma's church, Ms Linda, who took my questions, answers, and far-fetched rantings and somehow twisted them into the lesson she was teaching. Of all the adults in my early years, the list is short of those I felt at perfect ease around; she was one, as well as my kindergarten teacher, Ms Spencer. Grandma Burke was one, too. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">My 4th grade teacher, Mr Roberts' bible teaching has stuck with me and influenced my direction in life. My 6th grade teacher, Mrs. Stiller taught me to think about what it means to "not waste your life." I see now that some of her remarks, her "rubbings" came straight from some ancient Stoic philosophers, whom I read much later in life, which I value. Mr. Sigmund, my jr. high shop teacher told us to develop an interest in people. I have worn the wheels off that one. There were pastors, youth pastors, high school teachers, a close friend's dad, a close friend's mom, aunts, uncles, cousins, my parents, in-laws, my wonderful wife and sons etc. And because I spent time with these people, because they saw something worthy, unique, or lacking in me and encouraged me, and because they won my respect and admiration, rubbing shoulders with these masterpieces of God, I count it a blessing and a privilege. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> Sometimes those meetings were uncomfortable, sometimes I flat got told! Sometimes they were so grievous God still has to do retouches. Sometimes, like that goofy song, they made me believe I could fly! But all of it was and is nourishment to my soul. I believe you were all God's very brush strokes upon this canvas. I want to say thank you all from the very bottom of my heart. This is not any kind of a deathbed declaration, I will continue being retouched by the Master for a while yet. But it is a public acknowledgement of God's beautiful handiwork, His idea of US, how He uses ALL things for good, how the Holy Spirit calls to the Deep in us that maybe we did not even know was there, how we call to the Deep in each other, how we impact and are profoundly impacted by each other, how we can lift, lift, lift and be lifted by another. When we realize it and make it what we're about, we CAN fly, that's "nirvana," it is the eternity leaking out that God has placed in every one of us. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">It is also the deepest, most integral and powerful worship to YHWH, God, Creator, Father, because when we do what God does, what He teaches us to do consciously, purposely, and patiently, we are mimicking Him. The gifting of that little boy me, music, that was sparked by that teenage musicician at youth camp, has led me to understand this definition of worship. Its not the music. Worship is doing, practicing, being what our Father is and what He does. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">So, be conscious of every soul that is around you. Never write anyone off. And when you feel certain someone is unredeemable or not valueable because they "rubbed you the wrong way," oh man! You better check yourself because it just might be God rubbing you the right way, the way you need!<br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">In the spirit of this post, and to plop a big fat cherry on top, consider these words, an idea, the stroke of another one God has brought me very close to: He said "embrace everything." The implication is to extract soul nourishment from all you get to rub shoulders with and all experiences in life, good, bad, and ugly. At the core of perfecting this life stroke is the complete dependence and practice of Romans 8.28. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">My interpretation of this verse goes as follows: </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> Don't be afraid to "get some on ya."</span></div>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-63741845290509366662022-12-02T21:09:00.009-06:002022-12-02T21:27:59.756-06:00magic<p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">Crawford Chronicles 2022</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">The more years I collect the more I see the
importance of the little things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
words we speak to each other, the manor in how they’re spoken, how we regard
one another truly in our heart of hearts, these are things I thought I knew the
importance of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when we’re young what
we see is often without depth and that genuine substance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Authenticity seems a far off concept, like
looking at the stars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We pour our time,
energy, creativity into making a living, raising a family, buying a house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it is not until 25 or 30 years later that
we see with deeper vision that we were pouring ourselves out for a career, a
lineage, making a home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can have all
the ingredients for a happy life and still not be happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is the magic that makes these
ingredients not merely goals or what we’re supposed to do, but kneads them into
a powerful sustenance that fosters true contentment?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">I have heard the mantra from my Gen Xers, “No
regrets!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve shouted it myself at
different times in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But truly, I
have regrets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have done things I wish
I did not, I have allowed things to slip, been neglectful, hurtful, and even
downright nasty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I look back on those
times and wish I would have been more thoughtful, more purposeful, had a deeper
vision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel bad, and sometimes I tell
myself I must <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">be</i></b> bad to have acted thusly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps you have too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But if that
were true, would we look with regret at such times?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regret is proof that we are learning, that we
are growing, that we are willing to view with authenticity those moments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do we have regret?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do we wish we would have acted
differently?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is because of that magic
that brings it all together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is
because of love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is like an instinct
in us that we discover deeper and deeper levels of as we collect years and
experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is in us like the need to
survive, to find meaning, to really live.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">Where did it come from?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We do not possess the perfection we see in
the stars, but we long for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a
reflection in us of the One Who made us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Where do we look for perfection, where do we look for rightness, truth,
integrity?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We look to God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God is love, and being made in His image and
likeness, it is in us, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life is the
process of perfecting that magic, kneading it like dough, burning out the
dross, becoming more and more like the Creator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is why we tend our infants, instruct our youth, give and receive
guidance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Love is the ingredient in life
that helps us to desire good things, that causes us to strive, that makes our regrets
into points of turning away from our baser instincts toward the fullness and
richness of contentment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">Remember the little things this Season, the
smiles, the touches, the hugs, the genuine interactions with each other that
spur us on to love and good deeds. If
nothing else I want to be an encouragement to those around me, especially my
loved ones-family. It is why we
celebrate Christmas, the time when our Heavenly Father gave all He had to bring
us from far away from Him into His embrace.
Jesus came that we all may have life-the ingredients, and that we may have
it to the full-the magic! Have a magical
Christmas!</span><span face="Candara Light, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-25059379844877271412022-10-28T11:18:00.003-05:002022-10-28T11:23:44.680-05:00zenbox<p><span style="font-family: Nunito Sans; font-size: medium;"> How is it that we think we know what we want? When we get it we are disappointed, almost always. An object, a feeling, a mindset, we are reaching, striving for this thing, place, idea, whatever it is. And when it comes within our grasp the joy of it spreads its wings and flies away like a bird to a better perch. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Nunito Sans; font-size: medium;">We stretch, we contend for it, for this... let's just call it the "zenbox." Be it an object, place, or feeling, we feel if we can achieve it, get it into our hands, then we will be in an accomplished state. We will have arrived to that place of peace, zen, we will be satiated, satisfied, fulfilled. And, indeed, there is an electric tingling in the solar plexus when at last we hold the zenbox in our hands. It is an abbreviated fusillade of that coveted feeling, joy. But then, it dissipates so rapidly we almost forget it immediately, and all we remember of it are all the moments leading up to that burst of exultance. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Nunito Sans; font-size: medium;">Toiling all week at the steering wheel of an 18-wheeler hauling between 1 and 23 tons, all I can think of is the amount of time I spend away from home in order to be able to afford to have a home to return to-is it worth it? I know a house does not make a home, etc. But our spot in this current space/time continuum allows us to exist only in accordance with a level of servitude-that level corresponding directly to the quality of existence we may enjoy-that we must constantly maintain.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Nunito Sans; font-size: medium;">My "zenbox" is going home. I get to be at home between 1 and 3 days a week, sometimes less. All week I am moving at 70 mph for 11 hours of the day. All week I am moving goods to customers, from point A to point B. It is a lack-luster employment. There is a purpose in it, but it is painfully banal. I rise, I drive, I eat, I sleep, 4 to 6 times in a week, all the while thinking about the little round table in my breakfast nook, sitting there looking out of the picture window, drinking my coffee in the quiet of the morning, and writing in my journal. I would be thinking of spending time with my wife, about not being alone in my space. And in my mind I put all these things in such a place of desire that everything becomes nothing compared to the object, the zenbox. I cannot wait to be at home, in my home, watching my t.v., sitting in my breakfast nook, opening my refrigerator, coming home to a hot meal my wife has made for me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Nunito Sans; font-size: medium;">I pull down the drive in my car, wondering what all has taken place in my neighborhood in my absence. I smile at the view of my house with the manicured shrubs and lawn, etc., and I am, in that moment, pleased, grateful, satisfied. I greet my wife with a kiss. I smell the home made everything. I eat the soup. I watch the t.v. I write in the book and watch the leaves outside fall into ground cover. And in that moment... in that moment... I see the leaves need to be raked up, the limbs need to be trimmed, the yard machines need to be maintained so that I can work on all this... this... did I say "zenbox?"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Nunito Sans; font-size: medium;">My wife starts in with the list of things I need to do while I'm home. I begin thinking about all the money I'll need to make to accomplish it all. I will have to work. I will have to... I will have to be gone on the road to make this money... on the road, by myself, far away... from these lists...</span></p>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-31970521688793197462022-04-16T10:23:00.000-05:002022-04-27T10:59:03.125-05:00stand<p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">"The battle cry is getting louder. The count-down's close to the final hour. The enemy's on every side. Still no match for the Crucified! ...Stand up! Take a stand for Jesus! Stand up, so the whole world sees us. Following Him, Serving Him, and fighting the fight that we know we will win!" -Petra, from <i><b>More Power To Ya.</b></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Reading <u style="font-weight: bold;"><i>1984</i></u> in high school launched several impromptu class discussions about things that were happening currently (in 1987) that pointed toward a "big-brother" society. The new and controversial seatbelt law in Texas was first from my lips. There were varied reactions to that. One classmate piped, "If the government can tell you what to do in your own car-your own property, what's to stop them from telling us what to do in our homes..." To this one of the more progressive minds in the class retorted, "But studies show that seatbelts save lives!" "Its not the government's job to keep people safe, its none of their business!" I replied. Another chimed in, "the government's job is to keep our rights safe-the Constitution, not our persons!" The debate roiled for another 20 minutes, waxing hot, then cooling. Any of this sound vaguely familiar? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I remember walking out of the classroom with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach at the thought of how this new law was the start of many like it. In my 11th grade mind I saw it would be the proverbial thread that would be pulled to unravel our very way of life. The government did pass laws about how you can and can't act in your car, your house, on your own property. They got us to take sides and think our side was the right one. They made us believe that we were guilty of the sins of our forefathers. They got us loving money, possessions, games, and T.V. shows. <i>They </i>told us it was impossible to legislate morality when it came to drugs, abortion, and gay rights. Then they legislated morality by creating "hate crimes," which was a sly and damaging stab at freedom of speech, and a hard lurch for thought control. In the mid-90's there was pressure to get certain vaccinations in the healthcare arts in order to "stay safe" and "keep others safe." Frog in the pot, dude. And we don't know just how cooked we already are.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span>While <i>they</i> have been very busy getting us all used to being herded toward ultimate compliance, <i>their</i> plans went beyond forcing vaccinations, to chipping us all, and ultimately to invading our minds. Public education has been a cornerstone of our American life for at least 100 years, and also a pillar of the communist manifesto. Wow... How long have we been schmoozed, lulled, pacified... </span> <span>Our information, news, and intel is and has been disseminated through the filtered funnel of the heinously twisted p.c. dystopia-mongers, so that we will think and believe what they want us to. If a disturbance is made in the wavelength of the plan, those responsible are quickly branded as free speech deviants-cancer to societal health, evil. It's all very <i>Truman Show-</i>esque. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A whole new ethic (anti-ethic) has been puked up from hell, and because of old political allegiances, good people are deceived into taking the pill and are turning against the Constitution of the United States, common sense, free rational thought, and anyone who would take a stand for the freedom that made this country great. That freedom is rapidly dissipating. Even as some languish under the ostracism and reproach of friends and family who have sold themselves to this demonic force, I can see it all has to happen. It is, indeed, meant to happen. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i>"Take heed that no one deceives you. For many will come in My name saying, 'I am He,' and will deceive many. But when you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be troubled, for such things must happen, but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom, there will be earthquakes in various places, and there will be famines and troubles. These are the beginnings of sorrows. But watch out for yourselves for they will deliver you up to councils, and you will be beaten in the synagogues. You will be brought before rulers and kings for My sake, for a testimony to them... Now brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child; and children will rise up against their parents and cause them to be put to death. And you will be hated by all for My name's sake. But he who endures to the end shall be saved." </i>-Mark 13 NKJV</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Anything that stands against freedom, love, safety, truth, justice, redemption through Christ, is antichrist. We were a God-fearing, free country, people still believed it in 1987. That is why people balked at the things mentioned in George Orwell's book. Now, in 2022 we are watching it play out right in front of our eyes. The time is coming when everyone must take a stand on what they believe. We just have to make doubly sure that we are standing on the unmoving truth of God in Christ Jesus.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br></span></p>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-86647709793038421032022-02-21T16:20:00.003-06:002022-02-21T16:50:49.245-06:00river<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Candara, "sans-serif""><br />Vacationing with my mom, dad, and little sister in
North Carolina’s Smoky Mountains in the summer of 1978, Dad rented a two person
raft from a sketchy-looking hill dweller.</span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"">
</span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"">We put in at the upper landing on the Nantahala River.</span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif""> </span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"">Life vests secure, we pushed off the bank
into the bold current that was slowly accelerating as the gate at the Fontana
Damn was opened just enough to get her flowing and filled.</span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif""> </span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"">For an 8 year old boy, it was exhilarating to
feel and hear the water and rocks passing under the raft, the cool misty fog
hanging in the air just over the water, and the sunshine lighting it all up
through the spaces between the tree branches in the canyon.</span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif""> </span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"">It was sublime.</span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif""> </span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"">I was watching a hawk swoop down across the
water, banked hard downstream-ward, and lifted.</span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"">
</span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"">In that moment I felt myself lifted-up and over the gunnel as the raft
smashed into a rock.</span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif""> </span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"">When I broke
surface I couldn’t seem to get my feet in front of me, or under me.</span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif""> </span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"">My little sister floated serenely through my
line of vision with little alarm.</span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif""> </span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"">But
the sound coming from the still-pinned raft indicated excruciating panic-the
mom.</span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif""> </span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"">I still couldn’t get my head up
completely out of the water and turned to see Dad’s hand holding my foot.</span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif""> </span><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"">Mom screaming from the boat, the battle with
Dad, and my sister floating further downstream without a whimper-it was a
hilariously harrowing episode for sure!</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiqujSYnG2DXJCsqbgLlXuo-FiBtK2wll_9QzetSLnOrH-wF2Jg8v28UB7QJUp_cpXtmBw8eTzPgi-FOgp43J_0Db6hug2NvcKC-sg_6xI7bs0dUyFzKLtugUVkOAM3tJOjAcM5WDs77Oi3mFEtNQ0jaZ3wYtobjoZFO55r4wtQcATYyM5THFUprvQ1=s881" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="881" data-original-width="797" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiqujSYnG2DXJCsqbgLlXuo-FiBtK2wll_9QzetSLnOrH-wF2Jg8v28UB7QJUp_cpXtmBw8eTzPgi-FOgp43J_0Db6hug2NvcKC-sg_6xI7bs0dUyFzKLtugUVkOAM3tJOjAcM5WDs77Oi3mFEtNQ0jaZ3wYtobjoZFO55r4wtQcATYyM5THFUprvQ1=s320" width="289" /></a></div><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In January of 2020, life was going better for me than
it ever had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The nest was emptying of
our messy little birds, my wife was enjoying the comradery and fellowship of
her job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was trucking back and forth
across the great American divide making more money than I ever had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time at home was fleet, but satisfying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day I was sitting in the cab of the
Freightliner in the shadow of Mt. Hood, Oregon, watching two bald eagles
scouting for fish in the Columbia River.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The rain had just dissipated and the first warm rays of the sun were
cutting through the wisps of clouds still leaving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was sublime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three days later, as I pulled into Madison,
WI, I learned what “shut-down” really meant!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were riots in many towns. I had to change my route coming in
because of rioters throwing cinder blocks off of interstate overpasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mood had changed rapidly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You couldn’t even walk into a store without a
gestapo agent chasing you and demanding you put on a mask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The raft had slammed into a rock, and I
couldn’t seem to get my head above the turmoil.<o:p></o:p></span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I went over the events of the past ten years in my
mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mainstream news outlets had shown
their despicable true colors dealing in the smoke and mirrors of corrupt
politics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elected officials were not
only NOT doing their job, but were making feeble excuses of why they had to go
docilely along with policies completely opposite to their campaign
platforms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The solid future I had seen
weeks earlier was flipped over and floating quickly downstream of certainty,
and it all seemed to be slipping away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"" style="line-height: 115%;">By early April, 2020, I had reached my limit on
shut-downs, and mask “mandates,” and quarantining, and sheltering in
place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My son, one of his friends, and I
loaded up the truck the 3<sup>rd</sup> week in that month and headed for the
obscurity of Angostura State Park near the Black Hills of South Dakota.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The park services were not open, and there
was only one ranger anywhere around and only in the daytime, but camping was
permitted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So after we had set up camp
and gathered enough driftwood to keep a fire going for several days, we settled
down around that fire under a light snow, cracked a beer, and watched the stars
peeking out from under the blanket of clouds on the western horizon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The silence was greatly ameliorative, like
strong medicine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We talked, sipped, and
puffed cigars in such a sublime tranquility I had not experienced since my
summer in Alaska.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Drinking up the solemnity of that moment, I thought
about the scene on the Nantahala in 1978.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had to break away from Dad’s attempt at securing my safety so that I
could at least breathe air and not river.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I finally got righted, put my feet out in front of me and scanned for a
solid rock easy to climb on to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Mom
continued her panicky, screeching commentary of this comedic unfolding of
events, Dad saw a couple of canoes further downstream, and paddled toward my
sister as I climbed out of the water onto a large, flat, steady rock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After what seemed like an eternity (only
about 2 minutes), Dad had reached my sister, and with the help of one of the
canoeist, reached the opposite shore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The other canoeist had to tack upstream to position his craft to float
by the rock I was shivering on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally,
after Dad retrieved the raft and its remaining occupant, we all met on the
bank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sister had made no shrieking,
or protests, no alarm seemed to be with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I, on the other hand, was a mess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our hearts were racing with the adventure of it all, but still glad to
know that this river trip would have to be completed at another time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have always been conflicted about that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"" style="line-height: 115%;">Sitting on that campsite bluff high over the north end
of the lake, feeling the light snowflakes hitting my face, I thought about all
the mishaps and adventures I have had on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this river</i></b> I had been riding for 50
years-at that point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I began thinking of
all who braved its dangers before me, my own father making only to the 31 year
mark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought of my grandparents, some
of whom were blessed to see the third generation beyond them putting in for
this wild ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought of teachers,
pastors, friends, all braving the rapids and enjoying the serenity of the
peaceful sections.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought of the
struggles we all encounter, smashing into big rocks, getting flipped around,
tossed out of the boat, beaten, frozen, and almost drowned by the currents we
find ourselves in. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought of the
foolish evil things men in power were trying to do to other men, without
compassion and bent on destruction and power-grabbing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sorrows we have met, the elation, the
mundane, all mingled together on this <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">river of life</i></b>. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"" style="line-height: 115%;">In the days and nights I spent frolicking in that<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>South Dakota wilderness, I weighed the forces
pressing on my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the silent,
obscure beauty of that wild place I felt God whispering to me, “Don’t go dark
on your Faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t fade out…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my frustration of the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">current</i></b> events, I had
sort of gone dark on God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lifted my
eyes to the Black Hills northward, and remembered Psalm 121.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the midst of such troubling times, if
there is not a rock to cling to, solid and immovable, we are in danger of being
swept away and beat upon the currents and obstructions of these times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The writer of Psalms knew where to look, to
the north, to the hills, to a God Who loves us and more than anything wants us
to cling to Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On these ripping
currents he sends His canoeists, His angels to take charge in our dire
situation, gliding smoothly over the wrenching waters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yahweh, our God is the solid rock, immovable,
unchanging, and all-powerful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have to
relinquish our plans, our idea of us in these times and scan the surface for
the Rock and cling to it for our salvation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We may well be battered, bruised, soaked, and shivering from the cold of
loneliness and frustration, but if we can just cling to the Rock…</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Several years later I went back and conquered that
river.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I came to know every drop, every
eddy, every hydraulic through the years as my family returned over and over for
some adventure and the memory of that day when nothing went as planned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every time we return I am reminded of the only
thing that does not change, where I can find sanity, safety,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and even tranquility in the midst of
everything falling to pieces:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Rock. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face="Candara, "sans-serif"" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from
whence cometh my help. My help cometh
from the Lord, Who made heaven and earth.
He will not suffer your foot to be moved; He Who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold He Who keeps Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is your keeper. The Lord is your shade at your right hand. The sun shall not smite you by day, nor the
moon by night. The Lord shall preserve
you from all evil; He shall preserve your soul.
The Lord shall preserve your going out and your coming in from this time
forth, and even forevermore.” Psalm 121</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-4941708313708957742021-12-13T21:37:00.000-06:002021-12-13T21:37:49.476-06:00Paul<p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> Paul was the first real-life person I ever heard use the term "broad" in his everyday lexicon, as in, "There was this broad..." (pause for comedic effect). </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Soon after Beth and I were married we went to a Milwaukee Brewer's game, to the old County Stadium-the $5 seats. It was here that my idea was confirmed -that my father-in-law, Paul, was a walking microcosm of all things Milwaukee. As the players took the field, I was astonished to discover the Brewer's had chosen Paul Rossman as their mascot!! Of course, I soon learned that Bernie Brewer was in the likeness of Rollie Fingers, not Paul Rossman. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I heard him before I saw him. He was helping folks in wheelchairs and walkers board the hay wagon at the annual Special Touch Corn Roast by Tomahawk, WI. I don't know anyone else who's voice and personage match so perfectly. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">In the years that followed I watched and learned much from both the voice and the person. They taught me how to serve even in extremely uncomfortable situations, serving at Special Touch Camp, so that people with disability could have a week of Christian fun and fellowship, and their caregivers could have a week of respite. I learned the paradox of Paul Rossman while serving with him in this camp ministry. This same guy who annoyed me with his blunt coarseness amazed me with his capability, fluidity, and readiness to handle the vastly varied challenges Special Touch Camp generates. In a word, grace. He was gracious in his prompt dispatch, he was gracious to every camper who was in need, making them feel at ease, and the way he could adapt to every situation was nothing short of graceful. His ministry seemed art to me, and much about him I have striven to emulate in my ministry, relationships, and Christian walk. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">His rearing and early life seem to have been as 1950's sitcom as can be. His mother, Marion, or Gigi as we called her, regaled me with tales of teenage Paul and Jim in Wauwatosa. It seems they became as well acquainted with local law enforcement as they did with chemistry and fast cars. It was "Happy Days" meets "Rebel Without a Cause." </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">After serving in the Navy, his relish for fast cars and "broads," conducted him to the Elk Hart Lake Speedway, where his life made a hard right turn. It was here he met Patricia Makal, and they were married in the fall of 1968. See, you have to be careful doing the things you enjoy. You start down that path and never know where you might end up. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Paul and Pat settled in Sun Prairie, shortly after. After being invited by a friend, Pat began attending Royal Oaks Assembly of God, now Focus Church. This fellowship and the people in it that became family were instrumental in Paul's decision to abandon his own idea of life, and to embrace Christ's idea. I don't have to guess what he would say on this day of celebrating the man and life of Paul Rossman. He would tell you it doesn't matter what your religious affiliation, background, or your past, the best life is lived in pursuit of Jesus Christ, Who's idea you are.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">He had started a job that he would have for many decades, he had married and became a father, and he was finding out the "gusto" in life is not what you can grab, but what you can give. Paul and Pat went on to become very instrumental in the success of Special Touch Ministries, not just in Wisconsin, but in many states all over the country. They have been part of the bedrock of this fellowship, serving in many capacities. They have watched their children become parents, and as grandparents they have celebrated in the weddings of some of their grandchildren. Paul was a man blessed by God. Very blessed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I'm sure some of you are filling in all the gaps I have left out with the things you know of this man's life. That's ok. Paul would tell you all about his failings. He endeared himself to the teenagers of this fellowship a few times by giving them some of the more shocking details, because he wanted them to know the truth of what another Paul once wrote in <b><i>chapter 1 of 1st Corinthians:</i></b> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><b>But God chose the foolish things of this world to put the wise to shame. He chose the weak things of this world to put the powerful to shame. What the world thinks is worthless, useless, and nothing at all is what God has used to destroy what the world considers important. And God did this to keep any human from being able to boast in their own power. </b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Anyone here ever heard Paul Rossman boast? Hear him boast now:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><b>You are God's children, God's idea. He sent Christ Jesus to save us and to make us wise, acceptable, and holy. So I boast, as the scriptures say, I boast in the Lord.</b></span></p>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-6906078248775481742021-10-21T15:37:00.004-05:002022-11-02T20:46:16.167-05:00exhausted<span style="font-size: large;">He carried the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. Too few victories and staring down a long cold winter in Valley Forge, PA where his men suffered without adequate clothing and shelter, George Washington tromped through the snowy, frozen woods looking for seclusion. Kneeling in the snow he began to pour out his burdens to the One he knew could give rest. There has been a lot of controversy over this scene, but General George Washington, Commander-in-chief of the U.S. Continental Army, wrote and spoke publicly many times of the necessity of petitioning God Almighty in and out of need. There's no doubt the stalwart father of our country knew God, worshipped Him, and called out to Him for guidance, provision, and for victory over those who would crush the burgeoning champion of freedom.</span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">"These are the times that try men's souls," wrote Thomas Paine in his pamphlet <b>Common Sense</b>. It was an attempt to rouse American Patriots to action and to educate the world on beating down tyranny. We have entered into yet another such "time." Mothers and fathers are being strong-armed into complying with enslaving measures merely to continue providing for their families. The things that James Madison, Thomas Jefferson, and John Adams warned about our government have come to pass now, 245 years later.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Our own elected officials are acting horrendously against We The People, who have created the wealth in this country that has blessed the world with freedom, by God's hand. Now we daily carry the burdens our forefathers so terribly wrestled into usefulness. Perhaps our burdens are even greater in a sense. False reports, criminal illnesses, all out treasonous behavior from our government, foreign terrorism in our borders, a rekindling of racial dis-harmonies, sexual perversion taught in our public schools, and the hatred toward those who worship God; these are but a few of these current burdens. Parents are worried for their children. Children and youths are discouraged for their future. Business owners are persecuted by a government seeking to squelch the creation of wealth, a government eager to steal by overtaxing and creating false emergencies. There is a Biblical groaning in the land. We know the scripture tells us these times herald the end of the age, but this does very little to slacken the pressure. We The People are exhausted in every way from dragging these shackles around. We need this foolishness to stop! We need rest.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">There is no rest in continuously playing the scenes of hopelessness over and over in our minds. There is no rest in listening to the messages of increasing despair and lies on the news channels. There is no rest in pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps, nor is their refreshing in ignoring the truth of it all. We cannot ignore what is taking place, obviously. The alarm is sounding. The enemy has breached the walls. Battles are raging. Suffering has come upon us increasingly. But if we do not rest ourselves in the truth of God's Word, if we do not turn away from our fruitless deeds, the lust of the eyes, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of life (1st John 2.15-17), we will pass away along with this world. For so long we have been so busy running after these things that we have forgotten or denied God's hand in it all.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">"Return to me and I will return to you," is essentially God's message for his people in Zechariah 1:3. Jesus said it like this: "Come to me all you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11.28,29) We need to evaluate our lives, realize our foolish striving in our own strength, and we need to confess our sins and return to God. We have assumed a burden that isn't ours. We need to take up the yoke the Creator meant for us, an easy and lighter one, so that we can be taught by Him of humility and gentleness. That is where rest can be found.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">We The People are exhausted, broke down, and punched down because we've been trying to carry burdens that are not ours. There are times of refreshing in Him, there is rest in Him, only in Jesus. The forefathers of our country knew this and practiced it, and they watched the greatest nation on Earth be brought into existence by God's miraculous hand. God is no respecter of persons. He has done it before and he can do it again. We can rest in that. Perhaps, amid our need and battles lost, we need to take a tromp through the frozen woods...</span></div>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-26724299080918419732021-04-28T14:03:00.007-05:002021-08-07T10:10:55.024-05:00slavery<p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Nothing raises cockles in America like the word slavery. In American minds, it is a word synonomous</span> <span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">with the struggle in the Civil War. Since that time, the issue of slavery in pre-Civil War has been distorted in history, used as a bludgeon in politics bleeding over into social thought and behavior, and has been a rallying cry for the modern civil rights movement. In current times, the word has been resurrected by radical political pundits along with all the social prejudices </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">that were almost dead in American society</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">, mainly racism against African Americans. The ignorance, both of the history of slavery in America, and of the word itself, has invited a plague of warped and detrimental ideas in the minds of those who make a career of government dependence, but also in the minds of the working class. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Recently, I have had many conversations with people about how the "working man" is a slave to the system. The complaint that those who work and pay taxes, which the government demands exponentially more of to pay welfare to an ever-expanding non-working group of people, that these working people are slaves to their jobs, to employment, and to the "system." They bemoan the unfairness for those who work and cause the upward mobility of the country to have to shoulder the burden of the ignorant, impoverished, and incurably lazy. The gripe goes like this: that the working class is in slavery to the "system" and in turn, in slavery to the (perceived) descendants of those pre-Civil War African American slaves, and now to hoards of other foreigners. This idea is so oppressively divisive and emotionally charged that instead of throwing a lifeline to everyday American people in this vulnerable time, it is a narrative pushing us relentlessly over the edge of insanity! This kind of thinking is flame to the gasoline poured on us all these days! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">NEWSFLASH, homies: For </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">millennia</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> mankind has had to work to provide sustenance, for daily life, for their descendants, to achieve, to discover, to flourish, to dominate. Work. Its all work. It has ever been work-whether your belief in human origin is Biblical or darwhimsical, mankind has had to work in order to survive. In the not very distant past, life for "ordinary" people was brutally hard in the extreme. Death was an acquaintance to all and visited frequently and unannounced, more than can be conceived in the post-modern world. <b>Slaves</b> had the added burden of being owned-property-like a tractor, a cow, or a popsickle stick, and were treated in almost exact accordance with the value to the owner their work could provide. "Free" folks have always done as they wished in this country, and have prospered or perished because of it. Slaves, as property, as chattel, had to do what their owners wished, to the slaves' prosperity or detriment. They did not get to choose. Work is the only binding thread between today's working class Americans and yesteryear's slaves, if you can stretch it out that far.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Americans of all classes, finances, and ethnicities would do well to stop talking and read. Read history, read the ancient philosophers, read the classics. Turn off your idiot screens and pick up a book. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">African Americans would learn it was their own people who sold them into the slavery that poisoned America. They would learn the very first legal owner of slaves in the United States was an African American in Virginia. They would learn that as property, the owners of those slaves cared for them as the valuable property they were, and those slaves were whipped as much as the owner would whip a tractor. Yes, there were foolish and stupid owners of slaves back then, as there are foolish and stupid owners of tractors today. They would learn that slavery was on its way out at the time of the Civil War, being replaced by, well... tractors. They would understand the wisdom of celebrating the people who labored for the true betterment of the African Americans as an ethnicity, such as George Washington Carver, Booker T. Washington, Benjamin Banneker, Harriet Tubman, etc., instead of wallowing in the poverty of mind and spirit today's "civil" rights practices have become. They would learn that they are not slaves today, and that they do not have to prescribe to the violent ideas about their identity as an American ethnicity, and have the freedom to do and to be what lofty dreams call them to.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">"White" or (perceived) working class Americans would learn that their lives of work, taxpaying, and "slavery" is the most comfortable, plush, most iridescently effortless slavery that has or will ever exist. They would learn that without work, they would quickly turn into a despotic, perverted, and blood-thirsty society that would be treated by death, pain, and destruction like a used-up whore. They would learn that Old Abe's Emancipation Proclamation freed southern slaves only and was not even enforceable at the time, and that northern slaves not only existed, but were utterly overlooked. They would learn that giants of the Confederacy such as Gen. Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson rebelliously taught slaves to read, write, and taught them the Bible against his very church's and county's law, and that Gen. Robert E. Lee was vocal in opposition to slavery in his day. They would be grateful for this, what they refer to as their "slavery" today, and would have to rethink the meaning and purpose of their seemingly drab, worker bee lives.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">If you are human, you are made in the Image and Likeness of Elohim, God Almighty. No matter who or what claims ownership over you, YOU ARE HIS. And He gives you the freedom to act and react and learn and move and have being according to your will, your mind, your strength, your creativity, and in whatever circumstances you may be. STOP HATING! HATE HATE, if you must hate something. See God's likeness in all ethnicities. Also, work with your hands, and teach your children to do likewise. Those who do so give glory to God, even if they do not believe, and are esteemed by everyone around them. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Stop listening to the mainstream media. They are the devil's nasty little hooks. He's fishin' for you. </span></p>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-10973455820436790042021-02-04T03:13:00.007-06:002021-02-04T03:34:42.093-06:00dreams<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">When I was in my twenties I had dreams in which I saw myself an old man. My looks and stature were strangely familiar, appearing to be as I would actually look in my twilight years, and I knew it was me as an old man. Things that I remember in my dreams have either given me peace because they are as I always thought they would be, or they been very unsettling. At 51 years old, I see those dreams were hauntingly accurate. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">On my Mother's side of the family dreams have always been a source of foretelling. My grandmother (Enice Bare Burke) had a dream of my father (Douglas Gene Crawford) knocking on her door. When she answered the door he was standing there in a white suit and gave her a bouquet of roses, then hugged and kissed her, said good bye, and walked away. This was two days before the explosion on the the offshore oil rig that killed him and 7 other men. I tell you this so you will not dismiss the dreams that you remember. God gives us dreams so that we will be prepared for what is going to happen in our lives. The physical needs in our lives we must always be prepared for-food, clothing, shelter, transportation, etc. But the spiritual needs should always take precedence. <b>Psalms 139.23-24</b>. Have the fortitude to always tell yourself the truth. <u style="font-style: italic;">BE BRUTAL!!</u> God is gracious and kind, but He is also a warrior and He is brutal when assessing SIN in us! We must be, also. <b>Psalm 92.15, Isa 6.3, Deut 32.4 <i><u>KEEP YOURSELVES FROM SIN!!</u></i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"<i>The time is coming when everything that is covered up will be revealed, and all that is secret will be made known." </i><b>Luke 12.2 </b>Granny Bea used to tell us that times were getting so bad that we should not have children. As a child I could hear the rumblings of the current political situation, and it seemed such a long, long way away. When I was studying for my ministerial license, I read Jeremiah and something pricked my heart, that we were living in like times-"Tell them the truth, but they will not believe you!" Before we moved to Alabama I felt so distressed in my spirit-the oppression of evil strapping us-that I felt I had to do something, but I didn't know what to do. Then Dad bought this land in Alabama and gave me the opportunity to live in this house. So we moved, even though I loved living in Wisconsin and did not want to move. I just felt in my heart it was what we had to do. I could not shake the feeling. Now God is speaking to me every night as I drive my truck in a job I do not want. I had fallen away from His voice, But now I pray every night and listen for the voice of the Holy Spirit!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I am steeped in sin, but God is speaking to me! I am now in a place where I am willing to LISTEN! He brought me here! My children, are you listening to God? Forsake your evil ways, turn to God. Quiet yourself. Hear. Listen. Obey. When you have a dream that you remember, do not take it lightly <b>Acts 2.17, John 14.26.</b> Get in tune with the Holy Spirit. Pray in the Spirit and with understanding. Pour yourself out before the Lord. DO RIGHT!! </span></p>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-42799430401955031742020-08-30T05:01:00.001-05:002020-08-30T05:01:24.708-05:00one<p> <span style="font-family: verdana;">Four years old, and he could sing the blues like nobody's business. His mom drove the 1972 silver Buick Electra with black vinyl quarter top across the 27 miles of the Causeway-a bridge across the brackish Lake Pontchartrain-from Mandeville to New Orleans, the Crescent City. The Big Easy. They were on their way to the Children's Hospital of New Orleans for an appointment with cardiologist Dr. John Oschner to setup little man's pending open heart surgery to correct a ventricular septal defect.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Everyone told him that Jesus took his Daddy, who was recently killed in an under-reported explosion on an offshore oil rig (June 15, 1974) that killed seven others, as well. And little man was angry. Very angry. One of his aunts tearfully watched, after telling him his daddy wasn't coming home because Jesus took him to heaven, as the boy ran outside the house and around the yard screaming at the sky, "Jesuuuus! You give my Daddy back!" with a raised little fist. He couldn't help but be angry. If Jesus was love, why would He take little man's dad? Fact is, Jesus didn't take him. The explosion did, resulting from a string of careless acts. His dad was just trying to find a quiet spot away from the smoking and dirty jokes to enjoy his lunch. He was blown far from the rig, and was the last one to be found, three days later, and identified by his older brother, David Crawford.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Standing up in the front seat of that squeaky clean and smooth running Elektra 225, the little man begged his mom to drive off that bridge spanning the Pontchartrain so he could die and go to his Dad in heaven. Heavy, man. That was the simple answer to his blues, from what he'd been taught in Sunday School. The blues. The irony was lost in that car crossing the Causeway to New Orleans. The blues.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Later, the crisis of identity was an aftershock of the that explosion in June, 1974. His teens were a blur</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">. Nothing felt real or right. He couldn't let go, he couldn't move on. It was not really noticeable, except for the underlying fuming anger, and he couldn't even put it in words. But it was there-under the surface. It didn't destroy him, but it was a major force in the shaping of the man he would become. Its taken 46 years, but he's finally beginning to put it in its place. Two words: regret and relish.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Later that year, just a few weeks later, little man laid on a table with every moveable part of his body strapped down as the surgical staff poked, cut, inserted, and sewed up, taking him through all the hell of pre and post operation of open heart surgery... in 1974... Imagine the Metallica video "One." You know, the one where the guy is in excruciating torment and he's trying to scream, but can't. Then it was all over, and little man thought life might be getting back to some kind of normalcy, but, nope! There were new horrors awaiting him... A lot of anger. A lot of anger.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Anger has been an overriding kind of staple emotion-for me. I was that little man. Even when I could find those moments of peace with myself, others, and God, the anger was just hiding out for a while. Like a dog, a bad dog chained in the backyard with "Beware of dog" signs, that was my attempt to keep it under wraps, to help me hold it all back from opening up all the way. Because I liked who was in my life at the moment and my situation, I knew if that dog ever broke loose it would be my disaster. Hurt feelings, disillusionment, and smashed relationships lay in that dog's wake, the bad dog. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Miracles began to happen travelling with a cousin of mine. He had been through his own version of hell on earth dealing with a disease that left him angry and despondent. After many surgeries and many years hating the life he found himself living, he felt the call of God, and surrendered all the hurt and anger to Him. We traveled and sang together in churches, camps, and conventions, and he preached about "when there is no miracle, He's still God!" It affected me in such a way that I had to relinquish my iron grasp on my life and surrender to the fact that, though I could not understand the "why" of my life, God saw it all from start to finish, and always had His hand in it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The passion to bring Christ's love and redemption to people with disabilities flung me onto a road that brought me to Wisconsin, to my lovely, steadfast wife and her stalwart family, to ministry and music and inner-city emergency work, and to grappling with myself and all the religious claws that raked my psyche and soul. God knew it all would go down as it has. He was never surprised at my rage, my hurt, my utter fear and weakness, or my brokenness. He had planned it, and has a plan for it all.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm still angry, just about other things. I still wrestle with my God, as Jacob did and came out on the other side with a new name and a new understanding. Most days, I still feel like its me against the world. But in the back of my heart, my broken, dysfunctional heart, I know there was One who knew and felt all the hurt, anger, and pain of a degenerate, fallen race and He never sinned. He knows my name. He knows who I really am, because I was HIS idea from the start! And I can cry my tears and sing my blues to Him and know He cries and sings with me. Then, He touches my heart, and makes all things new! </span></p>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-63343839050652392302020-01-17T12:16:00.002-06:002020-01-17T12:37:37.354-06:00baddespel <span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it." -Galadriel's monologue, The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Someone felt they had to remind me this wasn't cannonical biblical scripture the other day. It reminded me vividly of the damage closed religion has done to the world, especially to those who live the unimaginably blessed (cursed?) lives in the U.S.A. No, its not scripture. But it so harkens to the unbending truths of its commentary on humanity. Phrases from the Cannon touch off bridges of what I see today, like-"all we like sheep..." or "the Lord was sorry that He made man on the earth..." or "...the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men..." or "In the last days..." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I believe humanity has never had more information, never had such a firm grasp on wisdom as we do today, obviously never had the amazing technology that has the power to do so much good. Yet, we are as calculating, grasping, and as heinous as ever! Something is definitely different about this generation that has never had it so easy, and has been lazier in search of truth, perhaps, than any generation before it.<b><i> Matt. 11.16-19</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Two thousand years ago the Gospel made a provocative entrance with the emergence of Christ on the human scene. He lived in utter obscurity doing the work of his earthly father for 30 years, just like every other schmuck in any land anywhere, just like me, just like you. He bore through the labor, trials, joys and sorrows of life like any of us, except without sin. And at 30 years old, he launched a wave that has washed over this world many times since. The "Good News" is the translation of the old english word. And it was crazy good. People back then needed something good, anything good, because badness, they were only too aware, was not only around them, but<b> in</b> them.<b><i> Romans 3.10</i></b> It was easy to start with the Good News, because they already knew the bad news.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was watching a popular show the other day and on this episode a very young man, hunting with his father and grandfather, had killed his first buck. As the father was gutting the animal, the was looking shocked at the reality of his actions. His dad ask him what's the matter. The kid looked at the deer he just killed and mumbled something about death. </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The dad replies something to the effect of "Hey its alright. Its a big deal taking a life. Everything on this earth has to do it to survive. Even trees. The bigger ones kill all the smaller stuff beneath them."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The grandfather pipes up with something like, "Killing's the one thing on this planet we all share." The kid asks, "Will something kill us, too?" "Yes." says the grandfather, "It might be a bacteria so small you need a microscope to see it. It might be a big ol' bear. There's no such thing of dying of old age. Something kills us all." The ironic thing about this particular show is it presents a picture of man killing man, not for survival's sake, but for everything else, and delluding their own thinking about it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><i>Something. Kills. Us. All.</i></b> Its a message we don't hear today, at least without some twisted political agenda attached. We have had it so good for so long, we don't even acknowledge the truth about ourselves. Something kills us all, and that something is our <b><i>sin</i></b>. There is none righteous. Your sin is killing you. The politicians won't tell you this <b><i>baddespel</i></b> or bad news. Your high school or university won't either. But truer nothing ever was. Inside you is that killer bacteria that you don't even see, and the hungry bear with its ripping claws tearing jaws. You're imbedded with all of it. It all may not manifest in the most terrifying ways, but its all in there, in you. It is you. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Own it. You have stolen. You have illegally gratified, falsely testified, disrespected, hated, and even murdered with your words, if not literally. Own it. You love your kids, but in a moment of anger you hi-jacked their sanity. You love your wife, but when she won't you... You know. You love your husband, but "he ain't the boss of me..." It wasn't a moment of weakness. It was you. What you meant to do, you did. Yes, look at your ugliness, your lack, your evil, at you. Yes. "This Is Us."-reality version.<b> Something kills us all and that something is <i>US</i>.</b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Until we understand who we really are, what we are, Who made us, who reviled us, who rebelled, who brought the hell right into the living room of our daily lives,<b><i> There will be no saviour and no salvation.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">"Some of ya'll can't find peace because you the one causing the hell."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">As soon you own it, look up John 3.16 in the Bible and get on the road to LIFE!!! I hope you do. Because what you see happenning in our world today is only going to get worse. And that will happen because most will not accept this truth, this baddespel!</span>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-51066229762417975362019-12-09T17:13:00.002-06:002019-12-09T17:15:31.524-06:00plans<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After four thousand years of history repeating since the flood and before, at what point does human kind begin to honestly reflect on all the knowledge and experience and actually <i>learn</i> from its mistakes? There was a time the educational systems of the world were rooted in the time-tested morals and laser-accurate history (as we currently are becoming more aware through archaeology in and around the Fertile Crescent) of the ancient texts of the Bible. Once that was put out of the sphere of contemplation and circumspection, the monsters hiding in the human psyche began to rear their heads as never before. Hope, true hope in something beyond our knowledge has and is being replaced by cynical dream-yarns of Godless and efficient societies, the "utopia" of those who wish to remake morality in their own image. Its killing us, and its thrilled to do so!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Enlightenment in all its forms has done very little to move our hopelessly derogatory nature. But the one form that has affected more realistic and bigger leaps from baseness is authentic Christianity. In its infancy, the motley twelve fellows and other men and women who followed Jesus of Nazareth, were transported from their mundane and varied walks of life to a path that was very clearly antithetical to their former ways of living. Their stories are all about their flaws being the very tools God used to greatly affect their world. Their <b><i>flaws.</i></b> Really, think about what our world does to people with glaring flaws... Though, if it were possible for humanity to corporately grasp that God works like this in the lives of His creation, His ideas, would it also understand that is something only He can do, and nothing we as humans could ever hope to replicate? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Of all the religions, only one is wrapped around a character who said that He came from God, and that He was God. Only one religious character performed many healings and resurrections openly that were reported and recorded by many and varied audiences. Only one religious character disciplined a storm with his word. Only one spoke of his purpose in life, and then, having the power to stop mere men from murdering him, laid that power aside to fully complete that mission fulfilling his purpose. Only one. Many others spoke words that were very similar to the words he spoke, teaching, virtually, that same lessons of true morality and virtue as he. These are but reflections as rays of sun off the lapping waves. None are substantive, none are real, except Jesus of Nazareth. Historical record does not lie. The thread of Godliness woven throughout the history of man does not lie. If you ask Him to reveal Himself, and you seek Him with all of your heart, you<b><i> will</i></b> find Him (Jeremiah 29.11-14).</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Why do we continue in our bloody paths? Why do we "kick against the goad" as was asked of the Apostle Paul? Because we want to be our own authority. The child wants to be the parent. The creation defies it Creator. We want to be God. We may express it as wanting no God at all, but its the same. We are damned to folly and foolishness, corporately-you know, "narrow is the road, straight is the way" and all that... We think we know. But we are fools. God knows the number of hairs on your head right this instant. We can't even do this small task, yet we want to be God. "Heaven is my throne and earth is my footstool..." Isaiah 66.1. We do not even know where or how the spark happens that makes the union of the sperm and egg turn into a person. Yet we, corporately, reject Him.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Who could have ever thought up such a plan? A virgin conceives and bears the Christ child. The authorities catch wind of it and end up murdering every male child under two years old in the area! But the Child is preserved and grows into a very thoughtful, God-honoring, parent-obeying, focused young man. After 33 years, everything is set up for the fix of the universe, the healing of all man's woes. Who triumphs by death? Who resurrects and is seen by such a great number of people that it is recorded even in secular historical accounts? What kind of story, what kind of salvation goes like this:</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><i>For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him. There is no judgment against anyone who believes in him. but anyone who does not believe in him has already been judged for not believing in God's one and only Son. John 3.16-18</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The plan is simple. Believe. This is the season of believin'. Look around you. Lies darken the skies everywhere we can go today. But what is good? What is true? What is Holy? What brings hope, and light, and life, and clarity to this chaos we live in? Jesus. His birth. His life. His teachings. His death. His resurrection. His inevitable and soon return. We are covered in flaws. And our world would crucifies people with flaws. God sent His own Son to cover our flaws, and to save by mere faith in Him. What an audacious, crazy plan.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-27882206174401827952019-09-19T18:11:00.002-05:002021-10-26T20:57:25.493-05:00spearhead<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In the annals of greatness in the early 19th century is the story of one of the least heralded, most obscure, most humble, and one of the most responsible characters for the western 2/3 of the <span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">United States </span>map. He was born in 1809 in Kentucky and raised in Boone's Lick, Missouri Territory-a place so far into the American Frontier it was barely known at the time. It only became known in subsequent history because of its founders, Nathan and Daniel Boone, the sons of a man once humbly obscure in the same way, Daniel Boone. Daily life in this wilderness settlement was unimaginable to the sensitivities and comforts of our post-modern understanding. Death by disembowelment, torture, and scalping by natives was not out of the realm of possibility as a way of "leveling up" or exiting the gruelingly laborious frontier lifestyle. He was 9th of 14 children, a number as arcane as the place he grew up in. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">No one knew of a 14 year-old who became an apprentice to a saddle maker in St. Louis, MO in 1823. There were no headlines about a short, skinny 17 year-old who joined a wagon train headed for the even less-known town of Taos deep in the wilderness of Mexican Territory. No one could imagine hearing the name of a young man living and sharpening his skills as a trapper and explorer in the nameless wiles of California Territory, who married an Arapaho women, had children, lost children, lost a wife, remarried, moved to a fort in Colorado for a job as provisioner of food, who made several expiditions into hostile native territory in brutal landscapes. It was during these years, before the Mexican-American War of 1846 that he became good friends with John C. Fremont-later the first territorial governor of California.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The "leadership" and genius of the man known as Kit Carson was not the result of any high-born education, any intesnsive study of leadership and legacy, not any focused ritualistic or spiritual lifestyle. Kit Carson just wanted to be out in the middle of nowhere. He wanted to go places no one had ever been. He wanted to live a quiet life. He had no designs on fame, no focus on destiny. He was just an honest, hard-working, open minded, soul living his life, doing his thing. He had no idea he was in the cross-hairs of destiny while he was learning to tan hides and form them into useable material in St. Louis. He was oblivious to the grip history had on him as he passed through the trap lines and mountain man rendezvous in the northern Mexican wilderness. The one thing he did have was understanding of a thing called manifest destiny-the preeminant doctrine of American Expansionism. He may have had a small inkling that was a small drop of water in the lake of the settling of the west. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But he was not plunging after all that. His magnificent contribution to the settling of the west came through quiet persistence. He was no leader of men, but he was a ruthless yet beneficent ruler of himself. He was the spearhead that opened up places the leaders of men had not yet comprehended as valuable or meritorious, before the leaders of men could see the value of his life and work, and with no promise they ever would. He was humble and obedient to his superiors in the face of harsh circumstances. His indomitable courage raised his hand again and again to volunteer for impossible and life-risking tasks that yielded a harvest of destiny. Kit Carson's picture of leadership is one not heralded today because it is of that straight, narrow, non-glamorous and often brutal path.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There is a little value to some of the "leadership" training of today. Pastors and Denominations have their favorite figureheads and celebrity speakers who have made it their ambition to be known, who maybe have one or two things about leadership, destiny, fortune, (blah blah blah) worth hearing... at least once... maybe. But rarely have I heard any of these speak of servanthood. SERVANTHOOD. Of all the leadership gurus, of all their golden nuggets of wisdom and clever anecdotes that have been preached from pulpits... people are thirsting to hear the TRUTH of THE WORD:<b><i> </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><i>1. If you wanna be great in God's kingdom, learn to be the servant of all.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Pretty simple. Very humble. Glamourless. Extremely lack-luster. This is the leadership Christ exemplified, the Apostles lived and died for, and what the Bible teaches. Don't look to see if you're being watched. YOU ARE BEING WATCHED. Don't pursue fame or riches or vain glory. Just learn quietly. QUIETLY. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Q U I E T L Y ! ! ! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Just do your thang, man. Make THE MAKER happy. Whether or not you can handle it, whether or not He sees fit to drop you into the middle of some history-making situation, whether or not your name becomes known in the annals of history, if you can accomplish any one of the three things above, you will have the joy of knowing you are a spearhead of truth in this day. And as you pursue HIS Manifest Destiny, the legacy of contentment will be as abundant in your life as the possibilities and resources of an untouched wilderness. </span> </div>
THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-19803020280060724802019-04-21T05:15:00.003-05:002019-04-21T05:27:55.157-05:00death<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"...Well, I guess this is it..."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Nothing sure but death and taxes. For me, it was in that order, though, obviously, not my own death. I was four years old when my father was killed in an explosion on an off-shore oil rig. The welt that bastard left on me smarts to this very day. I know its not very Christian to say 'bastard,' but that's exactly what death is-a bastard. It wasn't supposed to be this way, the human condition, death and taxes, suffering throughout life. At least the Creator didn't mean for it all to happen, though He knew it would. And like all things, He turns the ugliest into something beautiful for those who trust in Him because, well, that is what He does.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">But since that day in mid June, 1974, I've been well acquainted with that bastard. It was a lot for a four year old to shoulder, it was and is more than I could handle. It has forced me to grapple with crisis of identity, a wilderness of loneliness, and crushing grief. It has affected my becoming as much as any of my best teachers and mentors. And, perhaps, somewhere in my depths, I am grateful for it. But it still hurts. I've lost four sets of grandparents, an aunt, two uncles, a nephew, a sister, and four cousins, all who were very dear to me. All of whom I know are together with the Lord.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Recently, I was reminded of my own mortality when some medical tests came back bearing the news that my corrective heart surgeries, performed in my very early years, were not complete. I'm not going to kick off tomorrow or anything, I suppose, but it was a serious check to my indomitability. However, it has shown me, again, that what matters in life is not the things we stuff in our houses and garages, nor is it the wonderful places there are to travel to, nor the money we acquire, nor our feats. What matters is the <em>vertical </em>and the <em>horizontal</em>, i.e., how we relate to God and how we relate to others.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">It is what caused our Wise Creator to already have a plan of action when death first reared its illegitimate head. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit were in harmonious union in the horizontal when the relationship with Human kind-the vertical-was challenged by original sin. Eve believed the lie and Adam stood aloof as it went down, then participated in what blistered God's original intention. But the focus of these remarks is on that Divine Plan, that was hatched before the foundations of the world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">The Son, with full agreement from the Father and Holy Spirit, entered this our cracked and decaying existence as a human baby. He grew up, just like all children do, asking the same questions, dealing with the same pressures and temptations and sufferings-yet, <em>without sin</em>! He began to teach the truth at age 30, which is something that doesn't sit well with our fallen state, knowing that it would soon cost him his human life. Then He went, willingly, to the worst death a man could die, innocent of all charges, bearing the sin of all human kind. Then they planted him in the earth. Now, I do not know about the how's and where's of his black ops raid on the underworld, but I like to think that He kicked in the door, knocked some heads, and walked out with the keys to death and hell. He then returned to earth and busted out of the grave to show His followers what it will be like after they passed through. Its because of the Son, Jesus Christ, that all the suffering in this life makes sense.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">My mother was sitting with my Grandpa Burke in the hospital when he began coughing on blood flooding his lungs from a ruptured aorta. He turned to look at my mother and then uttered those words, "Well, I guess this is it..." and he died. It seemed, for him, it was just time to leave for work or go to the supermarket. He was departing, he knew it, yet there was no worry in him. He knew all the work had been done by Jesus Christ, and he was merely passing from this existence to the next, like stepping through a door, crossing a threshold. Praise the Name of the Lord!! Oh, that all my family and friends have that kind of peace.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Easter is a time to remember that it is all taken care of, that all the crazy stuff happening in this life will soon pass. Its a time to reflect and get your affairs in order if you have not, so that you can be numbered in that Heavenly Throng. And its not so far away. If you believe in heart and confess with your mouth that God raised Christ from the dead, you will be saved. The Horizontal-relationship with God through faith in the work of Jesus Christ. The Vertical-relationships with those in the here and now. That's what matters. That's all that really matters.</span>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-56320909969564626422018-11-26T03:28:00.002-06:002018-11-26T03:28:16.955-06:00blessing
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<span lang="en-US" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 112%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Its Christmas 2018. Recently, I was asked what I thought my life would look like at this stage in life. Beth and I had our 25th wedding anniversary this past August. Both our children are grown, out of high school, launching into what will be their life. Beth has been administrating at our church, which has again changed pastors, and names, and everything else, apparently… Lots of changing happening. I have to say I am not a fan of that. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="en-US" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 112%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I used to be. New things were interesting because I had very little experience. When you’re young, people see possibilities, hope in you, in your gifts, in your zeal. So much talk about leadership was going around, and I just thought, “wow, what a time I live in!!!” I read it all, talked to the ministry and leadership gurus, implemented as best I could in my own groups. It was exciting getting people to get involved in churchy stuff. And indeed, I really learned some good, boots-on-the-ground lessons. But the most important things I learned came from when I botched it.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="en-US" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 112%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My answer to the question about what I thought my life would look like seemed to be anomalous to the one asking: I had no idea, just never even thought about it. What I did think about is that being older might be difficult, might slow me down, might stifle me. But all that goal-oriented strategically visualizing living crap I never could get ahold of… mainly because I didn’t care. And now, knocking on 50, I still don’t. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="en-US" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 112%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I think we are taught to spend so much time dreaming and thinking and training for what we want our life to be like that we never take adequate time learning who God made us to start with. You see, He is the architect of life, and of every life individually. And you are HIS idea. So all those cool things you can do, your natural gifts and interests, they were carefully designed and installed for you to learn, use, and enjoy-a blessing to you from God! I have always been very uncomfortable hearing very churchy people talk about others “missing” God’s plan. I think that is an over simplification of the matter that has been used to manipulate and even psychologically brutalize. There was only ONE who was part of His plan, and only He could have “missed” it. But He didn’t. Adam and Eve “missed” God’s plan after God had already planned the remedy to their failure. We are His idea, not His plan. Please understand the distinction.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="en-US" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 112%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Ideas are really cool because they have potential. And that potential has even more… potential. Like computers, ideas can do many, many and varied things, even though they all basically look the same and come with the same hardware. We don’t look at a computer in a kids room and say, “man, that computer has so much more potential…” Its purpose is to be used, to connect to a higher power, to teach, and to give pleasure. And as long as it is doing those things, it is fulfilling its purpose. Ask any theologian what purpose do humans have. They will answer, “To know God, and enjoy Him forever.” That’s big and complicated, but its also small and simple. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span lang="en-US" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 112%;">The ancient stoics believed the best way to not be disappointed is to have no expectations. They did their best and when the results were </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 112%;">good they were happy. When they were not, they were at least content. Having things turn out the way we want is not the blessing. The blessing is simply in the ability to give it a whirl. And when we are spending time knowing God and learning to enjoy Him, peace will reside in our hearts because we are using what God implanted in us to learn, teach, and enjoy-no pressure, no coercion, no hassle. Life is good because God is good. </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 112%;">Simply good.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="en-US" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 112%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Almost 50, I drive a truck for a living. I make better money than a lot of educated people I know who are “disappointed” I didn’t get a degree. As I know God, I connect with people everyday who may only see a good God because of me. Same with you. Its Christmas. Let your worries roll on by. Connect with God. Connect with His Plan-its His Plan’s birthday (Jesus)!! And if you are not happy with where you are in life, remember: 1-its no one’s business but your’s and God’s, 2-You are His idea, 3-Lean into your natural gifts and abilities. You’ll find that YOU are the blessing!!!</span></span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-6917577586904708292018-10-06T04:30:00.000-05:002018-10-06T04:31:43.913-05:00Camelot<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The dreams of old are hard to kill. It was in the decade before I was born that a leader arose whose illustriously dichotomous life branded a declaration of the real American dream into the heart of everyone that watched his drama unfold. His youthful vivacious wife brought an effervescence to the White House that had not been in at least a generation, perhaps longer. In the eyes of the public, their relationship and leadership were inextricably linked. In the eyes of the Secret Service, it looked more like the House of Tudor than Camelot. But it was their favorite movie. And it was the dream that, even as he floundered as a President, a husband, and a man, changed him from a lustful rogue into a devoted husband grasping at his Catholic roots before his untimely death on that fateful street in Dallas, Tx on November 22nd, 1963.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">She called it Camelot. It meant all that was right with the world, all that was being righted, the experientially melodious dream. To her, it was not just a perfect and harmonious country overcoming the staggering odds against it and becoming Utopia. It was the reflection of perfect fidelity. And she seemed to understand that one would lead to the other. On the outside, there were parties, alcohol, cigarette smoke-tinged hours of previously unimaginable disquietude over nuclear war, racial equality, uncanny friendships, cabinet in-fighting, familial tragedies, etc. On the inside she held firm to the dream. And in the end, after an exorbitant amount of drama, struggle, and grief, he finally saw the dream, her dream, in all its glory. And its brilliance evoked a profound metamorphosis in him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">No amount of pre-marital counselling could have ever prepared me for all the challenges of twenty-five years of marriage. Early in my marriage there was a ground-shaking clash that scared me so much I called work and told them I wouldn't be in for several days. We had to get away from all the daily pressures and evaluate what was happening. The daily grind of working, bills, unfulfilled expectations, stuffed frustrations, and just two different visions of what married life was supposed to look like fell in on us all at once, and the one we promised to love, honor, and cherish all our days had suddenly begun to look like the enemy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">We were two extremely independent, individualistic social cowboys, the oldest of our siblings, take charge, no-holds barred stubborn people. She was Union, I, Confederate. She was conservative, I liberal. She was one-city dwelling college graduate-conformist, I, a nomadic rebel. It looked bleak. For a moment I thought, "No solution for this one..." We took several days and did whatever. Nothing. Whimsical travel. We talked. We prayed. We took the microscope to the ugly truth about ourselves and our marriage. It wasn't easy, wasn't pretty, wasn't orderly. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">One early morning in our cheap, pine and musk smelling motel room, I was having coffee and devotions with the Gideon's Bible in the night stand, and I read Ephesians 5. The first verse said, "Therefore be imitators of God." It had my attention. How? What is the scope of definition of that verse??? That's a T A L L order. It went on to describe what absolutely IS NOT acceptable to God. It admonished me to walk in light and wisdom-which concepts were perpetually dawning upon my intellect as I studied, prayed, and served God. Then there were 3 verses specifically to wives, and NINE to husbands! NINE!!! My mind was racing with the significance of the number 3 as the number of verses allotted to wives was 3 and the number of verses allotted to husbands was 3 times that for wives. The significance of it, for once, slammed home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">Eve looked at the forbidden tree. Eve conversed with that damned snake. Eve picked the fruit and bit into, then handed it to her husband, Adam. What the hell was Adam doing while all this was going down??? Obviously, his attentions were elsewhere. My question is, how many years had gone by while Adam was caught up in his own world neglecting the fact that God had given him a helper? Eve had obviously had a sense of independence (not the good kind) for a while to just go pick some fruit off the forbidden tree while Adam looked on. Probably checking his fantasy football picks, or buried in the stock-market reports, or shining the chrome on his collector donkey... Whatever it was, his second priority (God was his first, and still coming down to visit twice a day) had slid down several spots. Eve handed him the forbidden fruit, and he ate it. It was his job to be her protector. It was his job to be her reminder of what was right. It was his job to provide for her. It was his job to not allow harm to come to her. He failed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">Camelot is HER dream. It is also THE dream. Togetherness is like an onion, many-layered. Marriage was created and sanctified by GOD to be between a man and a woman with specific unyielding roles. Whatever the wife's role, the husbands is 3 times that. The woman toils, bears children, nests, etc. It is the husband's job to provide for all that, to protect all that, to be vigilant in his relationship (priest of the home) with it all. Verse 25 of Ephesians chapter 5 is so heavy, so specific, so utterly sobering, and so clear: "Husbands, love your wives just as Christ also loved the Church and gave Himself for her." Let's bring into 2018, the year of our Lord: Suck it up. Shut up. Get down and dirty (literally). Do WHATEVER you have to do to keep her from having time and/or desire to run to the damned tree God said not to eat of. It is a tree of NEGLECT. It is a tree of EGO. It is a tree of EXCESS. It is a tree of MANIPULATION. It is a tree of SORROW. It is a tree of ALONE-NESS. It is a tree of DESTRUCTION. It is a tree of DEATH to your marriage. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Husbands, love your wives just as Christ loved the Church and gave Himself for her, that He might sanctify and cleanse her with the washing of water by the word, that he might present her to Himself a glorious Church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing, but that she should be holy and without blemish. So husbands ought to love their own wives as their own bodies; he who loves his wife loves himself. For no one has ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes it and cherishes it, just as the Lord does the Church. For we are members of His body, of His flesh, and of His bones. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And to her, this is the dream of Camelot:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. This is a great mystery, but I speak concerning Christ and the Church. Nevertheless let each one of you in particular so love his own wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The dream is the two becoming one flesh. Not just sex. Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars, 'tis true. But Camelot is the dream of everything working as it was DESIGNED to. Jaquelyn Bouvier Kennedy may have not been aware of it, she was just being herself, a daughter of Eve. Until a really difficult trial called the Bay of Pigs happened and made him take personal survey, JFK was acting just like his father, Adam. She had a dream of her marriage being one of true love, sacrifice, and fidelity-which was intertwined with JFK's dream of a strong and racially united country. Their ill-religious and drama filled marriage unwittingly points toward a dream when all men and women fulfill their purpose equally. When marriages are right, families are right. When families are right, communities are right. When communities are right, nations are right. When nations are right, there is... Camelot.</span>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-19862942623444187282018-08-13T04:00:00.003-05:002021-04-28T20:35:10.605-05:00To A Man From A Child<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The young man inside</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">calls out in the night</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">amid the millions of voices</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">And as the years pass by</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">he remains in the fight</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">to reconcile all his choices</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">He boasted of strength</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">celebrated his vigor</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">and chided restraint in the wild</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">But the years lost their length</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">And decisions grew bigger</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">As he shrank to a man from a child</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Though he strives to do right</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">living sober and civil</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">still hears the call of the wild</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">But he gathers his might</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">rejecting the drivel</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">and he shrinks to a man from a child</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Why the young mock the old</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">experienced and wizened</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Is the tragedy of all the ages</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Why heartless and cold</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">creating much schism</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">and find themselves locked up in cages</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">they fashioned, constructed</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">by fleshly desires</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">the din can be heard in their revel</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Wrong thinking inducted</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">and careless with fires</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">becoming enslaved to the devil</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">The young man inside</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">still wails in the night</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">amid the millions of voices</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">As the years pass him by</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">he is caught in the fight</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">to reconcile all his choices</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">So where goes he</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">to discover some peace</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">and escape the guilt of his sin</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">His wanderings flee</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">No paying his lease</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">and time passing tells him to repent</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">To the Crafter of souls</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">to the Lover of men</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">he makes his plea with a whince</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">The young man in the old</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">repents of his sin</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">realizing that God's love makes sense</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">And he strives to do right</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">living sober and civil</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">still hearing the call of the wild</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">He gathers his might</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">rejecting the drivel</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">and he shrinks to a man from a child</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Written by D. Aubrey Crawford, 8.13.2018 0400</span>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-82556892851468680682018-08-13T03:37:00.001-05:002023-07-25T08:27:26.710-05:00reject<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was 21 when I gave my life to Jesus Christ. I've taken it back little by little since then. There was a time I was so in awe of God's invincible, extravagant love and His Majesty, I lived for His whisperings and obeyed, little by little. The Old Testament speaks of the Father's desire to call His children to Him. It is also a metaphor for my walk with Him. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Lost, torn, void of conscience outside of my own corrupt desires (Gen. 1.2), then found by God's grace (Gen. 1.3), established in His mercy and loving kindness, and purified in the fire of the Holy Spirit. Then, bored like King David on his rooftop when he should have been fighting his enemies, I was lured away by the false beauty of temptation, sinned, and was plunged into the hell of trying to keep it concealed. Little by little, I fall back into the lost, torn, void I was pulled out of. The jagged history of Israel mirrors this, as well: living in blessing, being tempted to be like all the other nations, little by little being pulled away, then being snatched into captivity by those they thought were friends. In its deepest darkest despair they grasp the life-line God is throwing them, get hauled out of their troubles, only to fall into the cycle again and again.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">We are human. Just like Adam and Eve, God gives us the choice to choose the Tree of Life or the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. We always seem to want to KNOW, and we have a habit of rejecting LIFE! The history of the world can be summed up in this cycle: Void-dark times. Enlightenment-blessing of a better life. Prosperity-flourishing empires (ushered in by war, but ultimately brought better quality of life). Then, little by little... and it all starts over again. Why? Why? Why do we keep doing that??? Its insanity, foolishness. As the writer of Ecclesiastes penned, "a chasing after the wind."</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I have felt, at times, beyond God's grace. I have done and said some stupid, stupid things, and the enemy of our souls, the devil, likes to plunge the knife of guilt in deep and then twist with smile of delight. Its hard to fight back against his prosecutions. He tells me, "You're no good." "So what if you get up from this, you're only going to do it again." "God can't fix stupid." Ironically, we easily forget what we know he is a liar, and an accuser of those whom God has redeemed. Even though we know this, the devil makes it FEEL so true. Little by little I begin to pull away from God's grace. I stop fighting my enemy. I think because I stopped fighting, my enemy will leave me alone. I even go so far sometimes as to become comfortable to the point of ignoring his schemes. But the devil is still your enemy, and if you stop fighting him, you become a more terrible enemy than he is. In <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">a tired state-because I've stopped talking to God, I fall prey to temptation and into that ugly cycle-little by little. </span></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">We need to repent. We need to get back into the practice of rejecting ourselves and accepting Christ. Our flesh is always against what God wants, so we cannot trust it. We cannot trust our own reasonings. God's Word says we don't even know our own hearts because it is so wayward! We need to reject the idea that we've "made it" in faith, that we've arrived. We need to stay off the roof when its time to be fighting. </span></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"I've never gone so far that I've forgotten my way home," is a line from an old popular song. "The best things always bring me back again, over and over," is the succeeding line in that song. The best things is what God has for us. We have to reject ourselves in order to receive what He has. Lost, confused, bound up in a bunch of mislead decisions? Here's an old turn of phrase that needs to be revived: "Grab hold of the horns of the altar and don't let go until something's different!" Translation: Repent and go back to practicing righteousness, and rejecting your self! </span></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"> </span></span>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1774370136505619674.post-41072224964178950512018-05-21T00:20:00.001-05:002023-04-12T06:55:36.142-05:00opposing<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sitting on the front porch this evening I observed a strange truck park just ahead of my van on the street. A minute later a strange new Camry pulled up behind it. A mid-forties man got out of the truck, walked to the Camry, and entered on the passenger side. A young man who appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties was in the driver's seat. I thought to myself, "This is very strange." So, I approached the Camry and said to the two in the car, "What is going on here? Do you realize this looks like a drug deal? Are you dealing drugs in my front yard?" I pulled my phone out and called the cops, gave them the license numbers and vehicle descriptions, and watched as the two bolted like scared rabbits.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I walked inside and turned on the T.V. The Royal Wedding was on PBS. I watched the end of the ceremony that segwayed into a carriage ride through the streets of Windsor with two million adoring Britains cheering and offering their ascent along the way. It was a magnificent spectacle to behold, this modern day Royal wedding with magnanimous pomp and circumstance, like out of a fairy tale of old. This vision portrayed everything that was right in the world: the union of a man and woman in holy matrimony, the patriotism of a nation proud and celebratory, the magnificence of an actual "Camelot." And in my mind I couldn't recall observing two more opposing scenes that close together.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Two opposing visions: the first of a diabolical and lawless existence leaching the life and hope out of people, the other of beauty, magnificence, and hope of a bright future. The first, a vision of the hard and ugly reality-the twisting and perverting of freedom. The second, a bonafide real life fairy tale.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">These visions, so antithetical to each other, evoked the need in me to express the angst, sadness, disappointment, and hope that rises up in me from all I observe around me these days. The cynicism that pervades our thinking today is because we have taught ourselves societally and institutionally to keep our heads and eyes down in order to <em>not</em> see the brutal injustice that surrounds us. We have become comfortable with evil living across the street or even right in front of our own dwellings. "As long as it doesn't knock on my door, it doesn't exist," we convince ourselves. Then some kid jacked up on hurt and hate lets loose inside his school, and we're forced to raise our head and eyes and see what is trying to master us-what <strong>is</strong> mastering us. One of my neighbors told me I should keep my head down because I or one of my family members might be harmed by these bottom-dwellers because of my boldness. This is true, future conflict may result. But if I allow this blatant malevolence to take place in my front yard for fear, then I have become a slave to it. Damn that!!!</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">What vision do you live for? What moves you to rejoice and celebrate? What urges you to draw a line in the sand and say, like Gandolf the Grey, "You shall not pass!!" We cannot trust our leaders as the embodiment of righteousness and justice as the picture of Prince Harry and Princess Megan conveys. But you can be part of the process and hold your representatives accountable. And you can stare wickedness right down when you see it taking place in close proximity and tell it to get the hell out of your neighborhood. If you do not, the fairy-tale will always be a myth, and you will have been mastered. Its a scary thing to do what is right in our day. You almost have to be like one of those knights on horseback riding in front and behind the Royal couple... its exactly like that. Its foolish to think doing nothing and playing deaf, dumb, and blind will keep you safe.</span><br>
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Arise, for this matter is your responsibility. We also are with you. Be of good courage and do it." -Ezra 10.4</span></em>THE PILGRIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14255769078334097625noreply@blogger.com0