It's a ghost!

“…Night fell while he was there alone.

Meanwhile, the disciples were in trouble far away from land, for a strong wind had risen, and they were fighting heavy waves. About three o’clock in the morning Jesus came toward them, walking on the water. When the disciples saw him walking on the water, they were terrified. In their fear, they cried out, “It’s a ghost!”

 But Jesus spoke to them at once. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Take courage. I am here!”

Then Peter called to him, “Lord, if it’s really you, tell me to come to you, walking on the water.”

“Yes, come,” Jesus said.

So Peter went over the side of the boat and walked on the water toward Jesus. But when he saw the strong wind and the waves, he was terrified and began to sink. “Save me, Lord!” he shouted.

Jesus immediately reached out and grabbed him. “You have so little faith,” Jesus said. “Why did you doubt me?”

When they climbed back into the boat, the wind stopped. 33 Then the disciples worshiped him. “You really are the Son of God!” they exclaimed." (Matthew 14:23-33)

Trick or Treat

There are those who read the above story and think it’s just a trick. The whole God thing is just a trick to get-my-money. And others think the story is a treat. They think the whole God thing is a treat all about bless-me-bless-me-gimme-gimme; make me walk on water but don’t give me no stormy sea.

The truth is: night will fall and we’ll be alone. Sometimes we’ll walk on water and other times we’ll fall. Storms will come – no doubt about it. But there’s one thing for sure I know. If we only cry out like the sinking disciple “Save me, Lord!” a nail scarred hand will reach out to save.

As the story goes they climbed back into the boat and the wind stopped. The night may still be dark and we may still be in the sea. But if by faith we will only believe that Jesus truly is the Son of God and He’s in this boat with us, we can truly begin to feel the calming of the wind, the waves and the sea.

Jesus comes to us when we are in trouble and far away, fighting strong wind and heavy waves, in the dark of night, and we, like the disciples, may not recognize Him, we may be terrified and think He’s a ghost. But, if you listen I think you’ll hear Him say, “Don’t be afraid, take courage, I am here.”

He's listening...are you?
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Boneyard Captain

I got her from my dad and now I’m passing her down to my son. And he has big plans. New carpet, new paint, fix her all up; restore everything; make her like bran new – a great winter project.


We drove through the gate and saw her. There she sat in the middle of the gravel parking lot, a bone yard of sorts filled with abandoned, wrecked, impounded and towed vehicles of all shapes and sizes. And the place I had her stored; a twenty-one foot Dura-Craft with a seventy horse Johnson, two live wells, closed bow storage, depth finder and electric trolling motor. Not too pretty but the best fishing boat in the world – at least I thought so.

But then we saw it.

We stared at it lying on its side in the dirt. Evidence of something bad – real bad stared back. The left side was pretty much gone. Gas tank, handle bars, foot peg, saddle bag - mangled metal and leather baring scars that won’t heal; wounds that ran deep – too deep for repair.

I could almost smell, and almost hear, the burning of screeching rubber; the collision of bone and metal; could almost feel the ripping of flesh and leather.

My son, Josiah read my mind and gave it voice; “You’re looking at the bike of a dead man”.

His words startled, yet I knew they were probably true by looking at the twisted hunk of what was once a Honda motorcycle.

I looked at the sun, my old racing partner, as she rounded the bend on the back side of the day. Guess he’s done racing the sun – and now, maybe he’s facing The Son, I thought.

“Oregon, he was a long way from home. But now, well, I suppose he’s home… for good.” I said tapping the license tag with my foot.

We walked away in silence and resumed our mission to commission Josiah as the new captain of the ship. His big dreams and big plans for the boat hadn’t changed but the mood went bitter-sweet.

We hooked onto boat and drove away. The bike stayed there on its side in the dirt, but the memory followed me home.

Later we were told the story: A seventeen year old driving a one ton dually fell asleep at the wheel and drifted into oncoming traffic. Two out of state bikers passing through, on vacation, both died. The pickup driver was admitted and released unharmed – at least not physically. But, I suppose, emotional scars will run deep and perhaps last a life time. The newspaper report had little detail about those involved; a pickup driven by a juvenile, two out of state cyclists…not much more.

Around here it’s harvest time. I wonder… Junior’s sleepy. He pulled an all-nighter in the field bringing in the harvest – thought he’d give Dad the night off to get some rest. But, as his thoughts drifted toward his bed his truck drifted to the left and…life happened, ended, jaded.

In the evening quiet I see my reflection and hear a revised version of Josiah’s words play in my head: “You’re looking at the life of a dead man.”

And I wonder… How many times have I fallen asleep at the wheel of life? How often have I drifted off course in word or deed causing casualty; allowing words to drift out of line; slumbering prayers; apathetic action? Lord knows my scars run deep and the aging signs of a twisted mangled life stare at me in the mirror.

Hopelessness grabs me hard. I have to tell myself to breath.

Why does life happen so hard? And so unfair? And so random? Why even try to find joy when all around is sorrow; pain; lack – a bone yard of abandoned, wrecked imprisoned lives? What is the answer to this mess?

I think of the boat, my life. Its future was bleak – with me as the captain, another endless winter in a bone yard of death. But… now, all that has changed since it has a new captain, and he plans to make all things new.

And it becomes clear… The Captain of our soul has arrived. The word Josiah means the Lord understands. He understands our weakness, our failures, our sins and He has driven not truck but nails into His torn and twisted flesh to hook onto us and deliver us from this body of death and offer Salvation and make all things new.

And that boat’ll float all the way to heaven.

Sack-o-potatoes

She was hanging upside down from the monkey bars. Seeing me she dropped to the ground and ran. “Papa, Papa, Papa, Papa.” Without slowing arms spread wide she took to flight. I caught her. We hugged and I kissed her forehead.


As I set her to the ground I noticed a couple kids must have got caught in the updraft of her enthusiasm and followed her.

“Sack-o-potatoes, sack-o-potatoes, sack-o-potatoes,” She chanted with arms held high. So, as is our custom, I hooked her up over my shoulder like a sack-o-potatoes and then tickled her.

Her giggles spread to her friends. And I felt heaven near.

Her friends want to be “sack-o-potatoes” too…

And then I feel a tug on my arm. I follow the child pulling toward my truck.

“Papa, do you have any gum?” She knows I do. I open the door she climbs inside. Her friends are right behind.

“Can they have some too?” And gum for everyone.

With a hug and a “love you Papa,” they’re off to play.

Out of the mouths of babes thou hast perfected praise.

I wonder if I could live my life with such enthusiasm. What if I ran with such reckless abandon toward my Heavenly Papa? And with every step I breathed His Name. Would others be caught in the updraft of enthusiasm? Would the Joy of Heaven draw near?

Thank You Lord for the wisdom of The Child.




You will make known to me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; In Your right hand there are pleasures forever. Psalm 16:11.


** If you'd like prayer or would like to talk please feel free to contact me direct at DougSpurling@aol.com  **

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Affairs in order

Tornadoes, hail storms and straight line winds have a way of blowing a writer playing the role of an insurance adjuster off course – such has been the case with me for the past seven months. It seems like yesterday but it’s been seven months since I’ve written anything other than insurance claims.


Seven months of inspecting wrecked houses; water damage; blown off shingles and a whole lot of: “I want a new roof just cuz my neighbor got one.”

Much of the time it’s a rewarding occupation, helping folks who’ve been through a disaster. Other times it’s a wrestling match with greed.

In either case it can be all consuming. Working eighty to ninety hours a week leaves little time for anything else. And after several months I’ve found myself road weary.

And so, taking time off to help Grandma Mary get her affairs in order before another Minnesota winter was a welcome relief.

For a week I was weak. Just wanted to sit and stare at the lake. Rest, just wanted rest.

I watched the sun rise. I took pictures just before she crested the trees on the other side of the lake. First, an orange silhouette, then the glowing crown. And then, all of a sudden, just like that – in all of her glory, shining, dancing silver on the waves. Before I could snap another photo she had moved above the trees and started across the sky.

Amazing how fast she flies.

And then…I noticed the sun start her descent on the other side of the day. Before I could return with camera in hand she had already ducked behind the trees.

Amazing how fast she flies.

As fast as she goes it’s nice to know that tomorrow I’ll have another try, another chance to watch her fly, another chance to catch her rise and watch her dive.

Or will I?

Life’s tornadoes, hail storms and straight line winds have a way of blowing us off course. Of course – there’s always tomorrow…right?

My memory has a way of playing scenes with perfect timing – and this one just played:

Our inspection time at the little country church on the edge of town was specific; between 10:00 and 11:00.

Rain fell.

Canvas shelters were set on the hill in back of the church. One casket lowered.

Tears fell.

We didn’t know we were scheduled to look at tornado damage buildings between caskets being lowered for tornado victims.

Life - amazing how fast she flies.


Maybe Grandma Mary isn’t the only one in need of getting affairs in order before the dead of winter.


Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:12
If you'd like prayer or would like to talk please feel free to contact me direct at DougSpurling@aol.com
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