Spurling Silver

The Voice. Angels pray. demons prey.

2012-02-01T05:55:00.014-06:00

CONTINUED FROM 1.30.12. The Voice. Eternity wears no watch.

Do you remember the post titled: The Voice – I love you? It’s about eight year-old, Ricky, and the moment of his salvation. He heard The Voice call to him and he responded with a quivering lip, and little boy knees hit wet tile floor. Little hands rose toward the man in the clouds. And a little voice whispered, “I love you, too.”

Well, in the Foyer where that story took place there was another story taking place – a story of Angels and demons. Today we continue with that story. So, take hold of the invisible zipper. Unzip the skin of this seen realm, pull back the flap and step through into the unseen realm. You’ll find the scene awaits…

Angel stared at demon. Eternity wears no watch. An eternity passed, as they faced each other. However, only one second clicked, off earth’s clock.

“Sing to me songbird. Remember? We use to sing HIS praise? ” David challenged the demon.

“stop” whimpered the smoldering dribgnos. mad that his name was reversed from songbird to dribgnos – a cursed reminder of his former being… and voice. once upon a time he sang like, well, like his namesake – a songbird. Now his voice sounded like a gravel-pitched, hoarse whisper.”

“How would you like us to change your name? How would you like…um, let’s see, how about – hoarse whisperer?”

dribgnos lifted his eyes and dared to look into David’s. he would like his name changed. maybe not to that, but anything would be better than the constant reminder, of the reversal in his destiny. every time his name was spoke, he had a flash back. one moment he was singing, the next he was stinging. he use to sing to The LORD, and what joy filled every fiber of his being. songbird’s place was right beside lucifer. but – little by little – lucifer inched away.

songbird liked the way his voice and lucifer's would blend to sing praises to their KING. he liked the sound so much when lucifer started inching away, songbird decided to inch with him. he liked hearing his voice and actually thought for a moment that he might sound a little better than lucifer. he thought he detected a bit of gravel in the otherwise silk voice of heaven's leader of praise.

and then, lucifer announced he was moving to a higher location of heaven. songbird chose to follow. maybe he would become the new worship leader. even when The KING reached out and asked him to stay, he didn’t. three times he was asked to turn around, he wouldn’t. but his name did. everything turned inside out the moment he chose to turn his back on The One True GOD, Creator of the universe.

but now he wouldn’t go back even if he could, he was too bitter, too cold, too angry, too heartless… too dead. just like he hoped his preying would leave Ricky – once he got through weaving his web.

Angels pray, demons prey. Angels sing praise. demons seek preys... Prayers defeat prey-ers – every time.

** TO BE CONTINUED.

The Voice. Eternity wears no watch.

2012-01-30T05:26:00.005-06:00

CONTINUED FROM 1.27.12: the voice. no.no.no.

Do you remember a recent post titled: The Voice – I love you? It was about eight year- old, Ricky, and the moment of his salvation. He heard The Voice call to him and he responded with a quivering lip, and… “little boy knees hit a wet tile floor. Little hands rose toward the man in the clouds. And a little voice whispered, ‘I love you, too.’ ”

Well, in the Foyer where that story took place there was another story taking place – a story of Angels and demons. Today we continue with that story. So, take hold of the invisible zipper. Unzip the skin of this seen-realm, pull back the flap and step through into the unseen-realm. You’ll find the scene awaits…

~

“I knew you’d ask” “Gabriel said, “And why not? It’s a simple message, from HIM.”

When Gabriel mentioned HIM, he looked toward heaven. dribgnos looked toward hell and cowered like a whipped pup.

“but wwwhy… you?” dribgnos stammered.

“I was told to go to this child and tell him simply what HE tells everyone; ‘I love you.’ It’s nothing new. But yes, this child is special. His voice will echo throughout the earth. He will carry The Voice of The One Who Sits on The Throne.”

dribgnos began pacing again, and whispering under his breath … “The Voice of one crying in the wilderness: Prepare the way of The LORD; Make straight in the desert a highway for our God.’ The book of Isaiah… or something like that, i think.” dribgnos clenched and unclenched his fists and teeth.

“Before the great and dr… dreadf… dreadful day of The Lord… hearts of fathers to the children… the crooked places shall be made straight, the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together; For the mouth of the LORD has spoken.”

dribgnos tried to quote every text from The Book his low lord lucifer told him to pay attention to, but, they were all mixed up. he continued to mumble to himself…“The Voice said, “Cry out!” And he said, “What shall I cry?”

dribgnos stopped. his eyes bulged red. he repeated; “What shall I cry. A wicked smile creased his ugly face. “What shall I cry…WHAT shall I CRY.” he shot a crooked finger toward the child, “HA…that’s it. He won’t have a voice, i’ll steal the word. He’ll stammer and stutter and drive himself crazy. ‘WHAT shall I cry, WHAT shall I cry? WHAT shall I cry,’ dribgnos danced. “He may feel the need, and hear the call, but he won’t heed; because, i’ll confuse his mind… and no words will come. HA!”

A putrid stench filled the unseen realm as laughter drooled from the bared fangs of the demon.

“So… you’ll try and make him turn out just- like-you?” David spit the words at the demon.

dribgnos ignored the Angel. his pacing turned to prancing; “oh… but he’ll cry. he’ll cry a lot. i’ve already taken care of that… ‘cry baby’s quiver – here comes the river.’ ” dribgnos strutted proud of his plan derived by perverting The Word – just like lucifer taught him.

Gabriel and David turned toward dribgnos wanting to spit on the wretched parasite, and squish him like the bug he was. David started toward the rodent. Gabriel didn’t stop him. He towered over the back pedaling demon and waited for the go ahead, to behead, this putrid being, and send him forever to the pit – but no such word was given.

Slow and calm Gabriel spoke. “Try as you may, dribgnos, The Word shut up in his bones will come. His voice will be heard. The Voice has spoken.” Gabriel was gone.

Angel stared at demon. Eternity wears no watch. An eternity passed, as they faced each other. However, only one second clicked, off earth’s clock.

TO BE CONTINUED

Mrs. Claus

2012-01-29T12:11:00.000-06:00

I climb a lot of ladders for my job. Kids must think it’s cool, because whenever they’re around, and I’m up on a roof-top, they point and stare. I usually ask their names, and then say “Nice to meet you, what’s my name?”

They giggle and say, “I don’t know.”

“My name’s Santa,” I tell them.

They giggle a little more, and before they can say anything, I say, “No, just kidding…BUT I do work for him.”

“Huh?” Wide eyes get wider.

“Yeah, I check out the best places for the reindeer to land and stuff so Santa doesn’t get hurt.”

“Wow!”

...And Mrs. Claus is my mother-in-law, or at least I think she is. Or, maybe, she just works for him – Santa Claus; Papá Noel....

Hi, thanks for stopping by!

The past few Sundays I've been honored to write for Kingdom Bloggers. You can see the rest of the story by clicking here.

Oh... almost forgot. I hope to see you right here tomorrow morning. We'll continue the story about Ricky and the Angels and demons in: "The Voice - Eternity wears no watch."
~

the voice. no.no.no.

2012-01-27T04:21:00.001-06:00

Do you remember a recent post titled: The Voice – I love you? It was about a little boy named Ricky and the moment of his salvation. He heard The Voice call to him and he responded with a quivering lip and a… “little boy’s knees hit a wet tile floor. Little hands rose toward the man in the clouds. And a little voice whispered, ‘I love you, too.’ ”

Well, in the Foyer where that story took place there was another story taking place. Today I’d like to take you there. You’ll have to reach out your hands before you and take hold of the invisible zipper. Unzip the skin of this seen realm and step through the flap into the unseen realm. You’ll find another scene awaits…

the voice screamed… “NO! NO! NO!”

In the Throne Room he stood, pointing an accusatory finger. the voice echoed from heaven, through the solar system, down through the atmosphere. All the way from The Throne Room to the Foyer – where a little boy kneeled, on tear splattered tile.

The Archangel Gabriel heard. He was sent to witness the awakening. He stood just to the left of the kneeling child, Ricky.

Another Angel from the Host of Heaven – Ricky’s Guardian Angel, David, stood by Ricky’s right side, and covered the ears of the boy.

Pacing back and forth behind the trio was dribgnos; the demon assigned to Ricky. dribgnos covered his own ears. The echo pounded in his head like a migraine, NO! NO! NO! he stopped six feet from the weeping child, pointed a trembling, crooked finger, and released the words that pounded. dribgnos tried to imitate the sound echoing like-a-lion’s-roar in his head, but it sounded more like a scared cat. “no. no. no.”

The child heard nothing, but Gabriel’s voice singing, “I love you.”

dribgnos screamed, “it’s not time, he’s too young, he’s mine, he’s mine. no. no. no. lucifer will have my head.” Squeezing his skull with talons he dropped to one knee. “not again.”

Gabriel looked and remembered the pathetic creature’s former self, before the rebellion, before the fall, before he was cast from heaven and before his wretched decision to turn – turned him inside out.

“Praying? songbird.” asked Gabriel.

“don’t call me that, you, you, you…” dribgnos grabbed his head acting as if some sudden pain pulled him away from the conversation. he was in pain, yes – but that was nothing new. he grabbed his head to hide two things: the fact that he couldn’t think of anything to say…and the quiver in his chin.

“Cat got your tongue, songbird?” David laughed. His voice flowed like a song.

“it’s not over, i’ll get him” dribgnos whimpered, and then looked at Gabriel, “why?”

“I knew you’d ask” “Gabriel said, “And why not? It’s a simple message, from HIM.”

When Gabriel mentioned HIM, he looked toward heaven. dribgnos looked toward hell and cowered like a whipped pup.

***TO BE CONTINUED

Happy Birthday Urijah

2012-01-25T06:17:00.000-06:00

~
Yesterday my grandson, Urijah Nathaniel Brooks celebrated his first birthday. Following is a repost from one year ago.

She worked a crossword puzzle to keep her mind off the discomfort. But soon it couldn’t be ignored. She’d put her hand on her stomach and whispered, “there’s another one.”

We started timing.

“Maybe we better go.”

“I’m not going in until I’m sure.”

Twice they went to the hospital. Twice they were sent home. This time Kayla wanted to be sure her contractions were the real deal.

So she waited…so we timed. Seven minutes apart, then five, then four, then more severe, then…

“Oh, I think we better go.”

10:30 p.m. Daddy drove – fast and furious. They unloaded at the now familiar hospital entry. I slid behind the wheel to park.

This time there was no wondering. She wanted to push.

The familiar elevator ride; beep – we ascended through second floor. Beep – we rose through third. Beep-beep to the top of the hospital; the place life began for many…and ended for some.

Room # 5406 became Kayla’s temporary home. Monitors attached and questions asked – lots of questions. Have you eaten anything? How far apart are the contractions? On a scale of 1-10 what is your pain level? Any tobacco use…medications? She’d answer when she could and gasped and grasped white knuckles to bedrail when she couldn’t.

With each wince from my daughter eyes would burn and jaw would clench; not hers – mine. I wasn’t having the baby but I felt it. Not in my belly but in my heart. I hoped they didn’t notice these contractions were tearing me up.

And then it got worse. “We’ll try to give you something for the pain but…I’m going to try the other arm.” Needles and nurses attempted to find a vein – in vain.

Contractions continued about two minutes apart topping the chart. When I heard: “I’ll check again to see how far you’re dilated.” I decided that was my cue to exit. “I think I’ll get some coffee and then…I’d probably be of more use in the Chapel.”

Coffee in hand I rode the elevator to the bottom; the Chapel floor. The nurses needed help finding a vein so I went over their head to get it.

From below – I looked up. Dear God…nothing eloquent or memorable would come; just a heartfelt cry for a needle to find a vein; a girl to dilate and deliver. The big white Bible lay open in the front of the chapel.

“Thus says the Lord who made you and formed you from the womb, who will help you: Fear not…” Isaiah 44:2

Her room was quiet when I returned; the atmosphere different. The only sound the beeping machine. Kayla lay still. A large arc appeared on the paper water fall documenting a big contraction; but not a wince from Kayla.

She had dilated from a three to a seven. The IV found a home. And pain meds were delivered...

God heard.

My faith grew.

The door should have been a revolving one. Nurse Lisa instructed Kayla to let her know if she felt the urge to push.

We waited and watched.

“He’s facing the side. He needs to turn.” They rotated Kayla from side to side and then on her knees.

Once more from Chapel below on my knees, prayers ascended to turn and to deliver.
From the belly of the hospital these words were read:

“For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given.” Isaiah 9:6

And five floors above Life pushed life from belly to world.
I'm pleased to announce to you. On 1/24/11 at 2:57 a.m. 8lb 2.9 oz; 20 ½”; Urijah Nathaniel Brooks was born.

And if I ever lost faith in prayer; tonight it was reborn.

***

The Voice - I love you

2012-01-09T22:01:00.003-06:00

Eight years old with freckles that cover, cowboy boots that kick, blond hair that glistens and little ears that listen …

“I love you,” He heard it as he ran by the picture.

Ricky only had one speed – fast. On his way to the kitchen he heard it – The Voice. “I love you.” By the time he slowed to a jog he was half way across the Living Room. Ricky tilted his head dipped his right shoulder and changed directions. Back to the Foyer he had just bolted through – where he heard, The Voice.

When he reached the corner, that turned left into the Foyer, he stopped. He stood at the edge of the carpet before it changed to ceramic tile. Like a hunter stops at the edge of the woods, before stepping into the clear, he surveyed the room. He stared straight across the Foyer. He looked at the landing, where he had just landed – after jumping most of the twelve steps from upstairs. He slowly scanned the right wall, the wood entry door was closed, his eyes looked again at the landing and then slowly moved up the stair railing – nothing.

Who said that? He scanned the left wall of the Foyer – closet door slightly ajar – aha. Sister must be hiding in there. As quiet as pointy-toed-cowboy boots could tip-toe across tile he approached. And all at once, with all he had, he swung open the door and let out his best lion’s roar(which sounded more like a scarred cat.) Nothing. Nobody in the closet. Nothing but coats – and stuff. But no Sis.

“I love you.”

“Huh?” Ricky jumped.

His eyes left the closet. He inched sideways, pausing between each small-sliding-step.

It was the first thing you’d see entering the house. Hanging on the Foyer wall, opposite the entry door, was a picture; framed in silver. A small light illuminated from the top. Actually, it was three pictures in one.

The first thing Ricky saw was the face of Jesus – staring, right, at, him. He walked slow, eyes glued to the eyes glued, to him. The 3-D picture changed to Jesus on the cross, as Ricky moved front and center. The little boys head tilted slightly as he gazed at the man on the cross. He had never really looked at it before. The man’s head was bleeding from what looked like pointy sticks wrapped around his head. And blood ran down his hands and feet and side.

The little boys chin started its little quiver, it always happened just like that. First his lips grew tight. The corners dropped. And the bottom lip pushed up, making a quivering, upside down smile. And then, three jerky inhales through his nose and an exhaled whimper caused his eyes to leak – every time, just like that. Ricky’s sisters always knew the dam was going to break as soon as they saw that quiver. Kids at school knew, too. And they were cruel. “Cry baby’s quiver – here comes the river,” they’d say. Ricky hated it, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes dropped to his pointy boots, and saw a tear hit the tile. I feel all mixed up, he thought, with his upside down smile.

He slid his sole across the liquid soul pouring out on the floor. He moved two steps to his left wiping his eyes with the tail of his tee-shirt. When he looked back the man wasn’t on the cross, but floating in the clouds – How come He’s looking right at me? A white robe –like a sheet – wrapped around Him. He had scars, holes in his hands and feet, but He wasn’t bleeding. His hands and arms were open wide as if to say; “I love you.”

The quiver quickened, and the river flowed. A little boy’s knees hit a wet tile floor. Little hands rose toward the man in the clouds. And a little voice whispered, “I love you, too.”

The little boy grew, into a man. The pictures long gone, but the man in the picture and His Voice live on…listen I think I hear Him now.

“I love you.”

***

Hopeeee New Year

2012-01-01T09:14:00.001-06:00

~
The clock struck twelve and the calendar did too – welcome to 2012!

Maybe it’s a sign of aging, but I didn’t stay up to watch the old year gone, however, I was up before the New Years’ dawn.

Watching the night sky fade, I thought of 2011, and the eleventh hour. I felt the morning chill and longed for the sun. It waited. The dark clung hard. I shivered. A hunger for light, for warmth, gnawed cold.

Will the cold ever go? Will the darkness give way? How long must I wait?

Silence…and then quietly, stretching wings and heads tilting toward heaven. The birds started slow, short and sweet. Still in the dark, still in the cold – they started to sing. Like the echo of angels, from a long ago silent night, welcoming the Dayspring.

And then…the sky rolled back the black.

Shades of orange hit the horizon

Blue and grey splashed across the sky

Light rolled like a mighty wave, chasing darkness toward the west, leaving only traces of dark, hiding behind the trees.

And looking back and looking forward, I just have to say – Happy New Year.

Yes, we have hurdles and hills, but no matter what there is Hope.

No matter what you hear on the news. No matter what the doctors say. No matter what you see in your bank account. No matter how hopeless you may feel. There is hope for joy, for peace for fulfillment. There is a Light that can warm the cold, fill the hunger and chase the dark.

Where can you find such hope? Well…

My hope is built on nothing less

Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.

I dare not trust the sweetest frame,

But wholly trust in Jesus’ Name.

Refrain

On Christ the solid Rock I stand,

All other ground is sinking sand;

All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness seems to hide His face,

I rest on His unchanging grace.

In every high and stormy gale,

My anchor holds within the veil.

Refrain

His oath, His covenant, His blood,

Support me in the whelming flood.

When all around my soul gives way,

He then is all my Hope and Stay.

Refrain

When He shall come with trumpet sound,

Oh may I then in Him be found.

Dressed in His righteousness alone,

Faultless to stand before the throne.

Refrain

Crimson Lane

2011-12-26T09:41:00.001-06:00

~

He stopped blood red, at the Intersection of Crimson Lane.

He wanted left.

He could have left.

He could fight.

But He chose Right.

Not My will, but Thine, He said.

I’ll climb this hill

I’ll face this cross

I’ll bleed, I’ll die

But Father, please, don’t leave My side.

But hanging there, it seemed... His Father lied,

My God, My God why hast thou forsaken Me?
He cried.

Alone and scared,

Day went to night…

Into Thy hands I commit My Spirit

He died.

He left, but not far.

Hell’s gates to jar

Then, He did fight

The enemy of Light

And for what?

For who?

For me,

for you.

He won. He returned. He said

I AM with you always.

He could have chose left…But He chose Right.

~~
For prayer requests feel free to slip an e-mail to dougspurling@aol.com

part of ~

~ click for more.

Homonym Christmas Report

2011-12-22T07:35:00.002-06:00

~
Homonym Christmas Report

My colleagues and I submit to you this report after a careful and in-depth study using Palaeographists (those who study ancient writings), Anthropologists, (study of humankind), Papyrologists (study of ancient writings on papyrus).

And we hereby declare that an altercation to a word, a typo, if you will, has resulted in a delusion and distortion. The central theme and purpose of Christmas has been altered from its original and intended purpose.

Findings:

Our preliminary findings uncovered a jolly bearded fellow, quite plump indeed, flying reindeer delivering Old Saint Nick, as he’s called, to housetops, whereby he somehow manages to ascend and descend chimneys to deliver presents to all good boys and girls, and he doesn’t even get his red suit dirty. (Due to the fact that we have not been employed to research the nature of these events we will neither confirm nor deny the validity of such).

Our keen observance deduces that Christmas has become a celebration of giving of presents. By whatever the means; whether by above mentioned, jolly bearded fellow, or by over extending the master card and visa, in either case, the main purpose appears to be the giving of presents – and for many the reception of presents if of primary importance.

Our findings have determined that a homonym (words that sound the same, but are spelled differently and have different meanings) has caused a veering from the intended path and purpose of the original meaning of Christmas.

Prior to the very first Christmas ancient documents have clearly stated, the reason for the season is the word Immanuel; עִמָּנוּאֵל (עימנואל) in Hebrew, also spelled, Emanuel or Imanuel meaning: God with us; His Presence.

Due to the homonymic error humankind has replaced presents for Presence. Sounds the same, different meanings entirely.

Christmas Stress Syndrome (CSS): We have observed noted behavioral and psychological problems directly stemming from this diversion from Presence to presents. The increased pressure to provide presents and party has notably increased stress levels resulting in a substantial rise in depression and suicide during this period.

Conclusion:

We conclude that the proper methodology to reverse the trajectory of the Christmas Stress Syndrome (CSS) is to return to the original purpose and meaning of the word we mistook for presents. Immanuel, עִמָּנוּאֵל (עימנואל), Emanuel, Imanuel; God with us; The Presence Of God.

If we will change our function, plan and purpose from presents to a celebration of His Presence, we will be able to change Christmas Stress Syndrome into Christmas Phenomenal Phenomena. And then, if we choose to give a gift to another, we will be free to oblige with a heart full of, Joy to the World.

It doesn’t matter if we give many presents or few. The kids remember our presence more than our presents. And that is what God did when He started this whole Christmas phenomena. He gave His Presence. Now let's go and do the same.

Remember, don't sweat the small presents just Enjoy His Presence.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a God bless us everyone.
~

Endless Silent Night

2011-12-19T19:40:00.005-06:00

~
Like cackles from a henhouse, trivial comments fill the facebook page – except for his.

One here, “What did I do to deserve this,” and one there, “Why is this happening to me.” Lonely cries for help. Bobbing up and down, like flares from a lifeboat, in the middle of shark infested waters, he posts his comments.

You’ve seen him before, remember? He sat near the wall, all by himself. Everyone was smiling, eating and laughing – except him. He just pushed food back and forth with his fork. You wondered if you should do something to cheer him up, just say hi, or simply tell him to have a nice day. But, you were busy. Me too.

And he silently screamed for help, all alone in a crowded room.

He keys in questions, but what he really means to say is a statement, “I’m dying. Please help.” Desperate for an answer he rephrases and sends out another SOS. “I pray and pray every day for this pain to go away …this is so heartbreaking… not being able to see or hear or talk to my kids is killing me… I don't know what to do… I just wanna give up and forget everything.”

He pulls painful breath through heavy air, and prays for this endless silent night to end. Christmas glitter only rips opens and salts the wound.

Finally despair gives way to fear, and fear, to fight-or-flight: “I CAN’T TAKE THIS #!% NO MORE. I HOPE SOMETHING HAPPENDS SOON.

He spells happens: happends. Probably a typo, but an accurate description of his hearts’ cry: whatever is happening must END soon.

His friends reply with words of comfort… “Everything’s gonna work out… Stay strong bud…Hang in there…You’re a lot stronger than you think…Love You.”

I figured maybe we could talk, so I sent my own message.

“I just read you're goin' through a hard time - call me. I've been in your shoes and know the choking feeling of pain. There is a way to ease this and in the long run honor your children. I'll be praying for you.”

He called. I drove up to the little country church where it was quiet, and I could be alone, and talk on the phone. I sat in the parking lot and for an hour or so we burned up the phone. We talked, and talked and talked.

And then we prayed.

We finished praying. He said, “Wow, I’ve never heard one that long before. And um…maybe it worked.” And the phone went silent for a moment or two. “Because, I got a couple tears.”

I failed to stifle a chuckle and said, “The length of the prayer doesn’t matter, but the depth of God’s love does. And that’s, plenty, deep, enough to cross this river. And if I was better at prayin’ it wouldn’t have taken so long. Sorry.”

We cackled a little like facebook-chickens and said our good-byes. Sometime during our call, night had fallen. I stared out the windshield into the starry night, the endless silent night, and felt peace and prayed he would find the same.

Later that evening I saw him post again on facebook. Only this time it wasn’t flares from a sinking lifeboat, but fireworks from a Celebration Cruise: “I guess praying does work cuz I got a call from my kids. I talked to them for about an hour. I will be seeing them this weekend. They are coming to stay with daddy, I am so happy.”

Prayer works. God cares. He does, He really does.

But, I’m not so naïve as to think all of life’s problems are settled after one pep-talk and a prayer. Life isn’t quite that simple.

Life is like trying to wrap a puppy for Christmas. It doesn’t sit nice and quiet in a pretty little box, with a pretty little bow under a pristine tree. The puppy shreds the paper, pees on the presents and runs off with the angel-tree-topper knocked off the tilting tree by Uncle Bob and his eggnog. Wrinkled paper, bows and ribbons litter the floor and the kids play with the box more than the toy…

But, in the midst of all the chaos there is a song playing, a place of quiet rest, a place near to the heart of God where a Silent Night, is a Holy Night, where all is calm, and all is bright, where glory streams and angels sing, where Loves Pure Light brings sleep in heavenly peace.

God's gift is good tidings of great joy, to all people; Immanuel : God with us.

When we spend time with The Answer, the questions don’t seem so hard.

He cares for you, He really does.

Have a merry, a very merry Christmas.

This is a part of:

~

The First Christmas Tree

2011-12-13T08:57:00.001-06:00

The

First

Christmas

Tree…

Stripped of leaves – bare of branches

The Gift lay not under – but on that tree

The star

a cruel

crown

And

One

Light

hung

down

Red stripes dried

On that tree – the Gift died…

The First Gift given – for us, He Is Risen

The Train

2011-12-12T05:50:00.004-06:00

We're in Rising Fawn, GA. We're here to watch our son-in-law, Kenny, graduate from SLTC (Southeast Lineman Training Center). Since a boy he's always wanted to be a lineman, "It's just something I've always wanted to do" he says. His previous job had dwindled to almost nothing and he figured, "it's now or never." And so, here we are at the end of his four months of intensive pole climbing and electrical gobble-de-gook-learning. We're here to encourage, to congratulate but mostly to spoil the grandkids.

From the deck of this trailer, rented out for SLTC students, I'm surrounded by what looks like foothills to some mountain range, which I should know the name of, but I probably skipped that day of school. I lean against the rail and take it all in. The fading green grass, the grey remains of fallen autumn, the white house with the wrap-around porch on the distant hill, like brush strokes on a water color canvas they all sweep upward into the grey-blue painted sky. An icy wind slaps me from my warm musing of the mountain.

And I hear it, the thing that fascinates my two-year-old grandson, Peyton, most – the train. I decide to walk the hundred yards or so and see what fascinates this child so.

She whistles to me and I hustle down the hill. I feel her vibration when I reach the track. Now rather than a faint whistle she screams, "GET OUT OF THE WAY, I'M COMING THROUGH." I stand close and click camera's shutter as she clacks down the track like thunder. Her whistling wind blows off my hat and pushes me back. I can't believe how fast she flies.

Train cars slap by all in a blur…like the years of my life, the thought occurs.

I'm too close and they're too fast, to see anything clear. All I can do is feel the railcars wind pushing, and the rumble like thunder under my feet.

And then she's gone. Her thunderous rumble reduces to the hum of a slowing ceiling-fan. Her tracks lay bare, still and quiet, unchanged, exactly the same as before she thundered through tooting her own whistle in all of her glory. Nothing here to show of her passing. Nothing.

Is it that way with me? Will there be nothing here to show of my passing? Empty tracks. Empty.

Mountains un-climbable surround me, unbendable steel rails lie before me, cold and hard. I'm cold, and sad at the parallel. Life slaps by too fast like cold steel screaming through the night and no one is awake to hear – no one wakes to listen. I'm alone.

I wonder about those who have wandered this track before me. Have they too felt the brevity of life? After the whistle, the wind and the thunder, all remains are still and quiet. Two rails ramble through these hills as far as I can see. Where do they go? Where do they lead? Is there a destination? Or do they just ramble on eternally?

I decide to walk the track. And I find a big rusty nail, a spike. This spike is used to hold the track in place. The track is used to carry the train across terrain it could not otherwise travel. The track directs and steers and stays. It lays, unchanged, unmovable. It does nothing, it does everything. And now I see a beam, a discarded beam used to lay under the tracks, used to accept the spike that holds the track.

And now what's that I hear?
A-Still-Small-Voice, a distant thunder.
"I accepted the spike
and carried the beam.
To carry you across terrain
you could not otherwise travel.
I direct
and steer
and stay.
I lay down My life
to give you safe passage
over the hills and through the night."

And I hear it… again, the distant thunder down the tracks. I watch her one more time. This time I focus, I look close. I tie my eyes to one railcar coming fast. My eyes grasp and pull my head around as she speeds past. I see it clear, The Answer. In blood red the artist's graffiti fancifully written: Jesus Loves You.

And the rumble and thunder become a gentle familiar hum. I know that sound. The track taps out the chorus and the whistle keeps perfect tune. I sang it as a child in Sunday School, Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so…

Maybe that's what fascinates Peyton so, maybe he can hear the song too. He can't read, but he can see Jesus Loves You.

This post is also shared with a train load of inspiring posts at:

Young America

2011-12-06T17:20:00.002-06:00

~
“It’s across the road from The Depot Diner. You can’t miss it.” I hate it when they say that, because I can usually figure out a way to prove them wrong, and miss it. But this time I didn’t. Then again, considering the size of Rising Fawn Georgia it’s hard to miss anything, since you can stand in one spot and see from end to end.

“We’re so glad ya’ll are here this morning.” The small country church greeters made us feel right at home with their southern charm. We sat near the back but we were the center of attention when the singing ended. I think nearly every person in the church looped around to shake our hands and ask us “Where ya’ll from?” and tell us “We’re so glad ya’ll are here this mornin’.” Yep, they sure made us feel welcome.

Before the Preacher started preaching a young man from Young America Ministries out of Chattanooga Tennessee spoke.

“Young America Ministries is located at what you might call Ground Zero in the war for our teens. We go to the homeless, the orphaned, the gang-bangers and the street smart. Week after week they come, from the highways and byways, the alleys and street corners they come. Sometimes our task seems overwhelming and daily we are faced with situations that we can’t handle on our own strength, be we know where our help comes from, and we know The Answer His name is Jesus!”

“Our main focus at Young America is to meet young people where they are, show them the Truth of God’s Word, and demonstrate the love of Jesus. We are called to plant the Seeds of Truth and Love, and pray for God to give the increase.”

He told us about how the teens were so looking forward to summer camp. But due to a lack of funding the camp was canceled. They decided to reschedule a winter retreat. My wife and I didn’t need to pray about it, we didn’t need to talk it over, we said yes, when he asked if anyone would like to sponsor a child for the upcoming retreat.

That day was Sunday. Monday, several hundred miles away, a youth minister said he felt led-of-the-Lord to pay for our daughter, Kayla, to go to a winter conference in Kansas City, Missouri. Ironically, the costs for the two different youth events, was the same. Kayla didn't even consider going, figured she couldn't afford it. And who would watch her two small boys while she was away? They had it all worked out, sitters for the kids and all.

Some call this kind of thing coincidence I call it God-Incidence.

As Kayla told me the story, I heard a Quiet Voice say, “You take care of My kids, and I’ll take care of yours.”

We were just visitors, passing through, but God knew, He always knows. I love it when He shows up like that...I think He loves it too.

Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things shall be added unto you. Mt. 6:33

For more information about Young America Ministries click here.

~

This is a part to the new Wednesday gathering GOD-BUMPS & GOD-INCIDENCES at Jennifer Dukes Getting Down With Jesus. Click button below to read more God-Incidences.

~

Going Home

2011-12-05T05:00:00.006-06:00

In this place I stay

It doesn’t feel like home

So I know I’ll be leaving

To another place I know, because

This is not my Home

I’m just passing through

So I don’t mind

If the bed’s hard

Or if the foods cold

I’ll make do, because

This is not my Home

I’m just passing through

I’m from a place that’s Royal

There everything’s the Best

But for now it doesn’t matter

I’ll just wait here in Rest, because

This is not my Home

I’m just passing through

While I’m waiting

If I can help you

I’ll be of service

If there’s anything I can do, because

This is not my Home

I’m just passing though

You go ahead of me if you want to

I don’t mind the waiting

I’m in no hurry now

But soon I’ll be flying, because

This is not my Home

I’m just passing though

If you need it you can have it,

I have all I need at Home

There’s nothing here

I hold too tightly, because

This is not my Home

I’m just passing though

Why sure I have time

If you want to stay awhile

We can talk of where I’m going

Where Love wears no watch you know, because

This is not my Home

I’m just passing though

You want to come along?

Great, but the ride’s not free

You must exchange all decaying

For that which you cannot see, because

This is not our Home

We’re just passing though

When all around is sorrow

How do I hold onto Joy?

It’s not too hard to find

If you look beyond what you can see, because

This is not my Home

I’m just passing though

Soon I’ll be leaving

And I pray that you’ll come along with me too.

The Midnight Cry

2011-12-04T05:04:00.001-06:00

~
No man knows the day or the hour

but watch because you can know

the eleventh hour.

The times and the seasons click by

like a clock tick -tock, tick-tock

Love doesn't wear a watch

But in the fullness of time

the clock will strike stop

and eternity will begin

Make ready for the Midnight Cry

The Midnight Cry By Greg Day, Chuck Day

I hear the sound

of a mighty rushing wind

and it's closer now

than it's ever been

I can almost hear the trumpet

as Gabriel sounds the chord

at the midnight cry

we'll be going home

When Jesus steps out

on a cloud to call His children

the dead in Christ shall rise

to meet Him in the air

and then those that remain

will be quickly changed

at the midnight cry (at the midnight cry)

when Jesus comes again

I look around me

I see prophecies fulfilling

and signs of the times

they're appearing everywhere

I can almost hear the Father

as He says

Son go get your children

at the midnight cry

the Bride of Christ will rise

When Jesus steps out

on a cloud to call His children

the dead in Christ shall rise

to meet Him in the air

and then those that remain

will be quickly changed

at the midnight cry (at the midnight cry)

when Jesus comes again

And then those that remain

will be quickly changed

at the midnight cry (at the midnight cry)

when Jesus comes again

at the midnight cry (at the midnight cry)

when Jesus comes again

when Jesus comes again
~

~

If you'd like prayer leave comment below or email: dougspurling@aol.com

God Thing

2011-11-30T12:30:00.000-06:00

~
I woke with The Thanksgiving Prayer on my heart and transferred it to paper and ink. After reading the poem/prayer my wife suggested I ask to lead the prayer for our Thanksgiving meal. It wasn’t that easy since our meal is shared with a hundred or so residents of Whispering Pines RV Park. And I was sure they already had asked someone to pray, and I wasn’t sure I wanted too. I’m not real big on speaking in front of lots of people – even though I do it often enough.

As we walked to the clubhouse, carrying the turkey we’d prepared, I told my wife: “We’ll just leave it up to the Lord, if He wants me to pray, He’ll find a way and someone will ask.”

Our RV Park is not a Christian park by any written rules, but is one by action. We don’t ask if we can say a public prayer before our meals, we do it. We don’t ask if we can hold Bible Study every Wednesday morning and Sunday night sing-a-long, we just do it. We don’t ask if we can include prayer requests in the newsletter, we just do. We have many ministers and Godly people filled with wisdom and grace and gifting for offering an inspiring prayer. Mrs. Johnson has been in charge of organizing the meal for years. She already had everything planned out and I wouldn’t be asked to pray – I was sure of it.

After several minutes of folks chatting themselves up and sitting themselves down, I heard a voice. “Would you mind leading us in prayer?” I turned and saw Mrs. Johnson with her precious smile and glistening eyes.

As we were cleaning up after the meal, I told Mrs. Johnson about the poem/prayer I had written that morning and that her asking me to pray was, in my opinion, a God thing. This led to Mr. Johnson telling me a story about how God uses little things in big ways.

There are these moments we call coincidence, but right when we need it the most, God pulls on the chords of our heart, rolls back the curtain and allows us to see the finger print of a nail scarred hand and hear the breath of The-One-Who-Calls these things God-incidences.

He is here and He hears. Won’t you give Him a listen.

This is a part to the new Wednesday gathering GOD-BUMPS & GOD-INCIDENCES at Jennifer Dukes Getting Down With Jesus.

~

My Name's Peter

2011-11-29T09:00:00.000-06:00

Here I am again

Out on a limb

Well more like water

Deep deep water

And I can’t swim

The wind’s against me

And the waves are high

Why risk the wet

When I was dry

What was I thinking

Why would I try

To do the impossible

To attempt to fly

But I’m doing it just that

Water walking to The Son

And all because

Jesus said “Come.”

This blog is part of a fabulous blog carnival hosted at: One word at a time by Peter Pollock

Come check it out.

Soon "Holy"

2011-11-28T03:20:00.001-06:00

Dear friend, I bow my knees today

for this dream to come true

for you and I to bow before

The King and cry "Holy"

I Bowed on My Knees and Cried, "Holy"

Words and music by Jimmie Davis

I dreamed of a city called Glory,

So bright and so fair.

When I entered that gate I cried, "Holy"

The angels all met me there:

They carried me from mansion to mansion,

And oh what sights I saw.

But I said, "I want to see Jesus,

He's the One who died for all."

Chorus

Then I bowed on my knees and cried,

"Holy, Holy, Holy."

Then I clapped my hands and sang, "Glory,

Glory to the Son of God."

Then I bowed on my knees and cried,

"Holy, Holy, Holy."

Then I clapped my hands and sang, "Glory,

Glory to the Son of God."

I thought as I entered that city,

My friends all knew me well.

They showed me the streets of Heaven;

Such scenes too numerous to tell;

I saw Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,

Mark, Luke and Timothy.

But I said, "I want to see Jesus,

He's the One who died for me."

Mr Johnson

2011-11-26T01:12:00.000-06:00

~
“Mom had told us all along we would have $60,000 to split between my brother and me. But, after Mom died things must have changed.” Rick Johnson said it flat with a shrug of the shoulders and no emotion either way.

“Dad, my step dad, always liked my brother Curt better.” His blue eyes drifted downward but only for a moment. “I always attend my high school reunions. We stay with my brother Curt.” He spoke the words with no animosity no hurt, but with a breath of excitement like a grandfather telling a story to a child.

I could be his son considering our difference in age. His seventy-five years only showed in his skin. Deep-blue-skies were his eyes, hair, thick and silver as a tinsel tree, and his teeth, his own teeth, were still a pearly white. His face wore a permanent smile like a Christmas morning child.

And then he continued, blue eyes shining. “Curt was in charge of settling the estate after Dad passed. I never brought it up, but wondered about the money. Finally, Curt spit it out. ‘You know, Dad left all of the $60,000 to me.’” He shifted his feet transferring his weight from one foot to the other, he looked toward heaven, and his smile broadened. Then he looked at me straight and clear. “God has always taken such good care of me.” Blue skies spilling clean over. “When we drove to the reunion I told my wife, it hurt. Not because I wanted the money. But, being loved less, hurt.” I nodded in understanding and then shook my head as if to say that’s just not right. But he didn’t tarry…

He planted both feet solid and spread his arms with palms open wide toward heaven, “But God. He takes care of me. He knows what I need.” Then his blue skies opened wide and he couldn’t talk for a moment because that big smile was in the way. “When we got to the reunion, someone I hadn’t seen in twenty-five years poked me in the chest and said, ‘Rick Johnson, you saved my marriage. The last time we were here my husband Bob got so drunk I was going to divorce him. But you took him aside and got in his face. You told him he better stop that drinkin’ and start followin’ Jesus or he was gonna lose his wife and maybe his life. Well, that talkin’ to turned him around and although it was an uphill climb, we’ve been on a honey moon walkin’ with Jesus ever since. Thank you.’”

He simply took an exited breath and kept going his face all alight “Before too long Tommy Barns walked up, I remembered him, but he didn’t think I did. Tommy’s dad had died and they were dirt poor. I use to sneak pencils and erasers on his desk, ‘cuz I knew he didn’t have any. The other kids, they were mean. They’d tease him because his clothes were ragged and most of the time dirty. I just tried to be his friend, although he wouldn’t talk much. Well…” He laughed right out loud as he put both hands over his ears and continued. “He sure made up for that lack of words. He about talked my ear off that night. Besides telling me about his wife, his kids, grandkids and career as a preacher, he told me about the first time he saw me sneak the pencil and eraser on his desk. ‘Ricky, I was gonna kill myself that day. Your simple act of kindness saved my life.’ “

Now, he crossed his arms and hung his head. I’m sure he was trying to keep the tears at bay. For a long moment we just stood froze in time. The room we were in was noisy and crowded, over a hundred people enjoying Thanksgiving dinner, but to me and to him it was silent and still.

He finally spoke shaking his head in amazement. “Billy Cards, oh my Lord, he could curse a blue streak and had a temper that wouldn’t quit. Well, I hadn’t seen him since he got mad and walked off the job. We were working construction. One day he blew a gasket, I don’t even know why. But he didn’t have to have a reason; he just blew and took a swing at the crew leader. And that was it, he was gone. Well, anyway the reunion was pretty much wrapped up and we were walking out the door when I heard him shout. I heard Billy shout everyday on the job for about ten years. I’ll never forget that voice. I turned and there he stood. All smiles. ‘Hey Rick, hey man how’s it goin’? Bet you don’t remember me, I knew you’d be here.’ He ran up and gave me a hug. A hug from Billy Cards, who would of thought, a slug maybe, but a hug – no way. He use to get so mad at me. I must have told him at least a thousand times Jesus could help him tame that tongue and temper. He’d just get mad. But, there stood Billy, only strangely enough, he looked younger than the last time I saw him, some twenty years prior. Oh, I suppose there were more wrinkles, but his countenance was younger. After his hug Billy told me, ‘man, you led me to Jesus.’ Well, I didn’t know it, but he told me about the day he got fired; how he went out and got drunk, which was his customary style. But all that night he kept hearing my voice saying, “Jesus loves you” and “You need Jesus.” The next morning before his feet hit the floor he asked Jesus to help him and he said ‘I’ve never been the same. Thank you.’”

Now, a down pour from those blue skies, with a smile as bright as heaven, “God is so good, and His timing so perfect, He loved me a little more right then, just because He knew I needed it.”

Without blinking, tears streaming, this man of God, royal with years of wisdom from serving The King said bold and unwavering, “And that treasure, real-eternal-treasure is worth more, much more than anything money can buy.”

~
You can drop a personal note or prayer request directly to dougspurling@aol.com
~

Soon Behold

2011-11-25T03:32:00.001-06:00

Dear friend,

It won't be long now,

soon we shall behold Him

everyone of us.

The writer of this song

Dottie Rambo has already gone

She is seeing Him

face to face.

It's not a matter of if

It's a matter of when

you behold Him

will you be glad,

or sad?

You can know for sure

We shall behold Him

By Dottie Rambo

The sky shall unfold

Preparing His entrance

The stars shall applaud Him

With thunders of praise

The sweet light in His eyes, shall enhance those awaiting

And we shall behold Him, then face to face

O we shall behold Him, we shall behold Him

Face to face in all of His glory

O we shall behold Him, yes we shall behold Him

Face to face, our Savior and Lord

The angel will sound, the shout of His coming

And the sleeping shall rise, from there slumbering place

And those remaining, shall be changed in a moment

And we shall behold him, then face to face

We shall behold Him, o yes we shall behold Him

Face to face in all of His glory

We shall behold Him, face to face

Our Savior and Lord

We shall behold Him, our Savior and Lord

Savior and Lord!

If you need prayer you can slip me a personal e-mail dougspurling@aol.com or call 612-554-2522.

Thanks Giving Prayer

2011-11-24T08:01:00.001-06:00

~
Lord, we come so often with petitions and pleas

And I’m sure You’re glad we do

Because of who You are, You Love to meet our needs

But today we bring no list

And we know it’s not enough,

But please accept our thanks.

In Your word we’ve read,

And we’ve heard it said,

A thousand years is as a day,

And a day is as a thousand

So today as we give You thanks

May it be as a thousand

And if we may ask

Just one thing

We invite you to join us

As our Guest of Honor

And with each word spoken

With each crumb broken

Let us treat each other

As if we’re dining

With The King

Thanks.

~
this is part of "Faith Jam" over at Faith Barista. Click here to check out all kinds of cool Thanksgiving posts and more.

~

Soon

2011-11-21T03:11:00.001-06:00

Dear friend, one day soon this song will come true
On that day I hope you're not here to read this
but just in case you do
I want you to know
I've gone to be with Jesus,
and now His face I see.

Yes soon The King is coming
I can almost hear Him telling
the chariots, "Be steady"
before they leap from Heavens Home

Oh how I pray you'll be ready
for His face to see
And together we'll say:
"He's coming for me."

The market place is empty

No more traffic in the streets

All builders tools are silent

No more time to harvest wheat

Busy housewives cease their labors

In the Courtroom no debate

Work on earth is all suspended

As the King comes through the gate.

Oh, the King is coming

The King is coming

I just heard the trumpet sounding

And now his face I see

Oh, the King is coming

The King is coming

Praise God

He's coming for me!

All the railroad road cars are empty

As they rattle down the tracks

In the newsroom no one watches

As machines type pointless facts

All the planes veer off their courses

No one sits at the controls

For the King of all the ages

Comes to claim eternal souls.

Oh, the King is coming

The King is coming

I just heard the trumpet sounding

And now his face I see

Oh, the King is coming

The King is coming

Praise God

He's coming for me!

Happy faces line the hallways

Those whose lives have been redeemed

Broken homes that He has mended

Those from prison He has freed

Little children and the aged

Hand in hand stand all aglow

Who were crippled, broken, ruined

Clad in garments white as snow.

Oh, the King is coming

The King is coming

I just heard the trumpet sounding

And now his face I see

Oh, the King is coming

The King is coming

Praise God

He's coming for me!

I can hear the chariots rumble

I can see the marching throng

The flurry of God's trumpet

Spell the end of sin and wrong

Regal robes are now enfolding

Heaven's grandstand all in place

Heaven's choir now assembled

Start to sing Amazing Grace.

Oh, the King is coming

The King is coming

I just heard the trumpet sounding

And now his face I see

Oh, the King is coming

The King is coming

Praise God

He's coming for me!

By Bill Gaither

The Waitress

2011-11-16T09:57:00.001-06:00

See that girl right there? The one that just flew by like she was headed to a fire, the one with blond hair and braids wrapped like a gold crown – she’s our waitress.

Sixteen of us gathered for two birthday parties, here in this back room. Our tables are placed in the shape of a horseshoe. Everyone is seated around the outside edge, so we can see each other and talk. But right now I’m just watching. Watching them talk, but mostly watching the waitress.

She was doing fine, working the room from one side to the other, taking orders. She brought the drinks and didn’t spill a drop. Only had to ask once or twice what went where, I thought that was pretty good. Then came the salads, she did that well, too. Only forgot dressing on mine. I acted like I didn’t notice.

And then someone wanted more bread. And another wanted more of whatever it was they were drinking. And all of a sudden everyone was talking at once, asking for this and that. I felt a twinge, swallowed hard and bit my lip. The waitress nodded her golden crown and hurried out the door. How did she hear all that?

When she returned I could tell something was wrong. Her face was a shade closer to the color of her pink shoestrings and she bit her bottom lip. I heard her say, “I’m sorry but we’re out of the Red Snapper can I get you something else?” The Snapper man discussed different options, decided on the Salmon and out the door she flew.

When the food arrived some were disturbed because they didn’t get exactly what they ordered. And ever so politely they voiced their concern. I felt another pang and it wasn’t from hunger. After all the meals were corrected, delivered and delicious, two steak dinners remained on the delivery tray – they had no home.

Our waitress – her forehead shines, and a bead escapes like a jewel from her golden crown. She stands, and for the first time takes a deep breath and exhales slow as she stares at the steak dinners on the tray.

I’m watching her stare at the tray. And her forehead isn’t the only thing that shines. I see another bead as it escapes from the corner of her eye…and then I feel one escape from mine.

I know the rule. If she orders wrong, she pays for the meal. But it’s only her second day; surely they wouldn’t. But, just in case, I reach in my pocket and head her way. With no one looking I slip her a tip much too large. I figure it’ll calm her nerves. And then I offer to pay for the extra dinners so they won’t go to waste.

I return to my seat, and watch the waitress smile through tears.

Why would I do that? You may ask.

Because all I can see is a five year old girl serving me tea from a plastic teapot. I sit on a chair made for Teddy, but that’s O.K. because he’s taking a nap. She pours. First mine then hers. I start to sip, “Not yet Daddy.” And she rushes like the wind over to her bed and pulls out a pan of brownies, from her invisible oven. “Mmmm don’t they smell good Daddy?” Her nose wafts over the imaginary pan.

“Yes, I’ve never smelled anything quite like it. I reach for a brownie and she slaps my hand. “Not yet, they have to cool.”

“Uh oh, whose gonna clean up that mess?” I ask.

“What mess?” She puzzles.

I point at the floor, “The one you made when you slapped my hand. You let go of the pan and dropped the brownies.”

She giggles, “Oh yeah” drawing out the last word so it sounds like a distant siren, “oh yeaaaaeeeehhhh.”

I smile and take a sip of tea (imaginary tea). “Whoa, that’s hot” I say, waving my hand in front of my open mouth.

She giggles “I love you” and puts her hand on my shoulder, “do you want some water Daddy?”

“Why yes, thank you ma’am” I reply…

And there she stands – all grown up in her waitress attire, white shirt, black pants and black tie.

She giggles “I love you” and puts her hand on my shoulder, “do you want some water Daddy?”

“Why yes, thank you ma’am” I reply.

All grown up just like that.

Oh what love what wondrous love The Father has for His child. And oh how He watches and oh how He sees. He looks beyond the fault and finds the need.

His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me.

God's Song

2011-11-13T21:33:00.001-06:00

I’m happy to introduce you to a new member of our family. His name is Jonathan. Today we met him for the first time thanks to bestselling author Ann Voskamp. She introduced us, well kind-of.

You could find Ann and her bestselling book One Thousand Gifts any time in the Amazon.com jungle. But lately you could also find her in the Amazon – not virtual, but real live jungle, as in snakes, mosquitoes, big humungous bugs and people, beautiful real live people. My friend Glynn Young writes about this mission in his post The least of these.

Ann is part of a team for Compassion International helping introduce folks to children in need of sponsorship. Today I read Ann’s blog When Compassion becomes a Gold Rush and met a boy named Jonathan. Not the Jonathan I’m going to introduce you to in a minute, but a different Jonathon.

Ann's writing and photos take us on a journey deep into the Amazon:

“We wind around a thousand mountains and canoe up a river of gold to find him.

To find the boy someone named Jonathan.”

He’s a boy. Yet he’s a man. He’s fourteen years old and he lives alone because,

“My mother, she runs out on us when I was four.”

Jonathan tells the translator His father moved away to find work in the village.

“My father, he takes my brother with him when he goes….My brother is my Father’s favorite.”

The boy lights when asked about church and what he thinks of Jesus.

“Yes, yes. I go to church and sing to Jesus. It makes all the time go faster, looking forward to going to church each Sunday.”

Jonathan finally confesses:

“Sometimes, when I am very lonely… I lay in my hammock and …. I just sing these songs to God.”

That’s the part of Ann’s writing that put me over the edge. Later when driving my daughter to work, I told her about what I had read. When I got to the part about Jonathan being lonely and singing, out there in the jungle, all alone, singing to God, I had to stop. Because the words got all clogged up in my throat and made seeing the road difficult.

I couldn’t get the kids in the jungle out of my head. I thought about how good we have it here. And when I got home I went online to the Compassion International website and met another young man named Jonathan. As soon as I saw his picture I fell in love with that face, that… smile?

We sponsored him immediately.

So, like any proud Papa I couldn’t wait to show him off. Please say a warm hello to our new friend and family member Jonathan Paul Sayay Mullo.

And one more thing; tonight before you lay down in your warm bed, look out at the stars and listen, listen real close.You might just here the sound of a child, a lonely child, singing a song to Jesus.

Please remember Jonathan in your prayers.

And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’ Matt. 25:40

Off Road

2011-11-10T05:47:00.000-06:00

My daughter got a new car. Well, not new but used and not a car, a mini-van. But nevertheless, a first vehicle for her, and she was excited. Like all new toys are played with more – she drove that van, just for the joy of playing with her new toy. I was concerned.

Although I told her all the stuff Dad’s tell daughters about car maintenance. I’m not sure it took. I told her every mile driven is a mile closer to a break down, because stuff wears out. I know it sounds negative. But it’s true. In this world things get old. I know it more every day I look in the mirror.

So I started to write a letter. I wanted to show the wisdom in planning her trips. I had already asked her to diary her days, to journal her journey. I hoped this would be a way to log her travels and reveal any excess.

I also wanted to give a Bible example of how God miraculously kept stuff from wearing out. But even then each mile was directed by God himself.

I started out like this…

“Forty years walking the wilderness had to be hard on soles, and souls. Yet believe it or not – the shoes never wore. A miracle? Yes. But, they had to do their part. They didn’t move unless God said move. They parked when He said park. They drove when He said drive. Their GPS was a cloud by day and fire by night.”

Notice how my opening statement alludes to driving? But somehow I got off track. My GPS system detoured.

“Today our navigation is twofold, like the one of old. But written on paper to lead by day and written on heart to lead by night.”

I found myself writing about something unrelated to my daughters driving habits. We took an off-road detour, an uncharted path. If you rode along you’ll remember we bumped down a dusty road. And we got dirty and bloody. I saw things I had never seen before. Like; The Word on wood and blood in dirt. And the Bible is like a cloud by day for the easy stuff and The Word in our heart is like the fire by night for the hard stuff.

Maybe that’s His way. We start out with our good intentions to show someone else just how it is. And God happens. He takes us off road and shows us a thing or two.

I have a confession to make; the whole miracle thing bugged me anyway. Why did He make their stuff not wear out? I mean it was their own doggone fault for having to wander around out there anyway. Why not let them figure out how to get new shoes themselves? I probably would have - but not God. After all, I didn’t want my daughter to think: “Sweet! If I do everything God wants, and only go where He wants me to go, and stay where He wants me to stay – then my car won’t wear out.” But, maybe God doesn’t mind if she does.

Maybe He’s got other plans, maybe He doesn’t mind if she enjoys playing with the new toy she’s thankful for. And He knows some things can only be learned my living. The attitude of the heart is more important than knowing the dos and don'ts of life.

And maybe, if we let Jesus take the wheel we’ll find we’re in for the ride of our lives.

(PHOTO COURTESY OF PHOTO BUCKET)

Blood-Ink

2011-11-08T21:08:00.001-06:00

Forty years walking the wilderness had to be hard on soles, and souls. Yet believe it or not – the shoes never wore. A miracle? Yes. But, they had to do their part. They didn’t move unless God said move. They parked when He said park. They drove when He said drive. Their GPS was a cloud by day and fire by night.

Today our navigation is twofold, like the one of old. But written on paper to lead by day and written on heart to lead by night.

By Day;

Love written in black and white…and red,

on paper sliced thin, cut from a tree – The Word on wood.

Just like not so long ago:

The Word on wood hung from old rugged tree.

Where skin sliced thin and Love flowed red.

Flesh ripped raw across slivered beam.

Eternal blood-ink engraved wood and ground.

Grave’s unquenchable thirst drank each drop of Pure and Holy.

LOVE fertilized dirt from which we were formed

And LIFE sprung out of the grave reborn.

By night;

On hearts of flesh and blood,

mine sometimes made of stone.

On hearts that fear at night.

On hearts that turn death cold.

On those where God’s forgotten,

when hearts are hard and the only light is darkened.

Love breathes warm, kindles a flame.

Whispers life, spills Light.

I love thee.

I AM with You.

Do not fear.

The Fire by night still leads.

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. John 1:14

… I will put My laws in their mind and write them on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be My people. Hebrews 8:10

Your word I have hidden in my heart, That I might not sin against You. Psalm 119:11

Your word is a lamp to my feet And a light to my path Psalm 119:105

Thousands upon thousands are waiting in the valley of decision. There the day of the Lord will soon arrive. Joel 3:14

Soul worn? Do you park when God says park? Go?

Uncommon

2011-11-05T10:33:00.001-05:00

We all have this one thing in common –we aren’t. We are in common in our uncommonness. We are indeed unique.

About seven billion people are breathing this planets’ air right now and increasing by about 3 people per second – or so they say. Out of all those folks and all the folks who have ever lived since dirt became Adam nobody is, has been, or ever will be just like you.

Think about that. Right now at this very moment in time, no person on the planet can do you as good as you . No one can do exactly what you can do exactly like you would do it. No one can reach out and help the people you can exactly the way you can. No, they can’t do it better either, (in case that’s what you were thinking.) No one is better at being you than you.

Soon we will go back to dust. A memory is all that will remain. Today, right now,

do you with all your heart – and have no worries that it’s not like anyone else. It’s not suppose to. Just be you.

Ask for help to be who you were created to be. Even if you don't pray, now's a good time to take a moment and say, "God, today, I want to be me, I want to be happy in my skin. Since you made me, then I guess you should know me, and who I should be. So, I'm going to give it a try, will you help me find my way to me?"

Make a list, even if it's just in your head, of everything you have to be thankful for as you go through the day.

Today, right now, this moment, be You. And think: You are one in seven billion, a super star at being you.

Say to the smiling face in the mirror, “today, you’re the best in the world, no one can do you better than you. Go get ‘em.” As you walk away say, “watch out world – here I come.”

Have the greatest day because you are.

No matter what comes your way remember you are first class, top of the world, created in the image of God – You-nique.
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United We Stand

2011-11-04T12:09:00.000-05:00

Veteran Edward Zivica Faces Eviction For Raising Flag

SPRINGFIELD, Ore. -- Edward Zivica, a 70-year-old who served in the Navy in the 1960s, faces a hard choice come Veterans Day next week: He can obey the rules and remain in his apartment complex, or he can follow his tradition of hanging the American flag outside his place.

The managers at his subsidized housing project in Springfield, Ore., have given him notice he'll be evicted if he again violates the rules against putting anything on the exterior walls.

That notice came after the flag went up on Oct. 27 for Navy Day, one of several that Zivica marks by hanging it outside the community room near the main entrance. He'd gotten a letter from the management in June telling him to quit.

The flag, he said, was one the Army sent when his dad, a World War II veteran, died. Zivica says a brother also served, in Korea, as a Marine.

He told the paper he doesn't have many options for housing, so he would knuckle under and sign a compliance notice, which he called "a confession" and "an apology."

But he also said he finds it hard not to hang the flag on Veterans Day.

"It's one of the biggest days of the year for us," he said. "... I guess we'll see what happens."

(Taken from: Huffington Post 11/3/11)

~

Flying the very flag given in memory of a WWII veteran should be a great honor. Cause for celebration.

Yet, rather than counting it an honor they dishonor his memory, the memory of every fallen soldier it represents, and the very country that subsidizes their existence.

The housing project wouldn’t exist if not for what our flag provides. Management used the old illogical excuse that if they allowed this flag then they would have to allow others.

How is it that so many people believe the statement “if we let you do it then we have to let everyone do it”? That statement is not true. Where did it come from? It’s a stupid cowardly copout. It’s absurd to think everyone can do everything just because one is allowed to do it. That would be chaos.

But we can stand up and use our God given ability to think about what’s right and wrong. We can give honor to whom honor is due. Submit to the truth that this is America. We have special holidays to honor our country and those who have served her.

Where has patriotism gone? I don’t think on 9/12/01 management would have had the nerve to evict a 70 year old veteran because he decided to give his place of residence the honor of flying the stars and stripes. Now after ten more years of freedom have we forgotten?

If I could I’d like to bombard St. Vincent de Paul, the managing company of the Aster apartment complex with an outcry against their decision to put a 70 year veteran on the street because of his desire to honor this United States of America. I wish everyone in that complex would stand united and turn in their notice: “If Edward Zivica is evicted we all leave.”

United we stand, after all this still is the United States Of America.

United we can make a difference.

PS: I am pleased to announce that after writing the above post it appears I am not the only one outraged by this event and due to “a lot of attention” the complex is now allowing Mr. Zivica to fly our flag! Yes, this still is the United States Of America! United we stand. God bless you and God bless the United States Of America.

The following from: http://www.svdp.us/news/news-archive/st-vincent-de-paul-response-to-news-story/

St. Vincent de Paul Response to News Story

St. Vincent de Paul has received a lot of attention today regarding a tenant who was asked to stop hanging a flag from the side of the apartment complex without permission. We would like to share the following updated information.

This morning our tenant agreed to provide a list of dates when he would like to fly his flag. St. Vincent de Paul granted him permission to fly the flag on those dates, provided it is done in a manner that's respectful to the flag and our other tenants. In accordance with the rules of the complex, St. Vincent de Paul will be happy to grant permission to put an addtional American flag at the complex if tenants inform us in advance.

Our tenant feels this issue is resolved, and we are pleased to have reached a resolution to this issue.

It's a ghost!

2011-10-30T22:10:00.000-05:00

“…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

2011-10-19T11:45:00.001-05:00

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

2011-10-16T15:16:00.018-05:00

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

2011-10-14T14:14:00.001-05:00

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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Just a little more love

2011-03-17T06:53:00.001-05:00

courtesy of photobucket.com

Hi thanks for visiting – nice to see you again. Do you remember the last time we spoke I wrote about two words – and Peter? You see, although it’s only two words it makes a world of difference… to me anyway, and maybe you too.

You may have noticed in the last story, I shared the four gospel accounts of the resurrection from the perspective of a conversation between Peter and Mary Magdalene. In each gospel an angel appears with instructions to go tell the disciples that Jesus is alive and He’s going to Galilee. The last account I shared was the one found in the gospel of Mark; and my personal favorite. And maybe; two of my favorite words in the whole Bible – and Peter.

The law of first mention in theological circles states that which is named first takes precedence. With this in mind it is interesting that in all the line ups in scripture where the disciples are listed Peter always stands in front. He is always listed first. Except now in this case in Mark, Peter is added with the conjuncture, and. As if Peter didn’t belong to the original group of disciples. This would make sense if they were talking about someone not a part of the group. For example, “Go and tell His disciples and Lazarus” or “Go and tell His disciples and Zacheus.” But Peter? Surely Peter was already a disciple - why mention him?

The example that blurs my vision is, “Go and tell His disciples and Doug.”

You see, although a different time and place, like Peter I walked with Him, I talked with Him and I grew up hearing His name. The home I grew up in was far from perfect but Jesus was the center of my world. I grew to love His Word written and spoken. Yet after all of that, I denied Him. I looked the other way when the wind blew and the waves grew.

If anyone should have been a disciple – it should have been me. I had all the opportunities. I had Bible school handed to me on a silver… I experienced His miracles and felt His love…yet in my night, before the rooster’s crow – I turned the other cheek and walked away. And like Peter, I figured there’s no way I could be considered one of His own. Not anymore, not after all I’ve done.

But then one day I heard a scratchy voiced teary eyed preacher say… “People say God loves everybody the same. Well, I’m here to say, He doesn’t. Sometimes God loves some people just a little bit more. And Peter needed a little more love right about then. And God gave it. He does the same today for anyone who will receive it. Put your name in that spot in place of Peter’s and think about this; God knows your faults before you do them, He is not surprised at your sin, He meets you at your worst and ugliest place and lays down on an old rugged cross right there and dies the worst and ugliest death - just for you.”

But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8

Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends. John 15:13

If you’re feeling like you need just a little more love today. Well then, this was written just for you.

I’ve already prayed for you and if you’d like I’d be happy to pray with you. Direct e-mail is dougspurling@aol.com.

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and...

2011-03-13T11:14:00.004-05:00

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Tell me again.
I told you. He said He was going to Galilee…You should go too.

Who said, a man, an angel, Jesus, who?

A man, no wait an angel – actually two angels and then, Jesus! It was Him I know it!

Tell me exactly what was said; from the beginning. Word. For. Word.

Alright, just as we neared the tomb there was an earthquake; an angel rolled back the stone and sat on it. His face was like lightning, and his clothing as white as snow. The guards shook, and became like dead men. The angel said, “Do not be afraid, I know you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; He is risen. Come, see the place where the Lord lay. Now go quickly and tell His disciples that He is risen and He is going into Galilee.”

So we went out quickly from the tomb. And when we turned we saw Him. He, He, He looked so wonderful, He was glowing. But, at first, sorrow and fear blinded me. I couldn’t see The Truth standing right in front of me. But, then, my eyes were opened and there He was. Wonderful. Counselor. Prince of Peace. ALIVE. In the flesh! He is alive! You’ve got to believe me.

He said, “Rejoice!” We held Him by the feet and worshiped. “Do not be afraid. Go and tell My brethren to go to Galilee, and there they will see Me.” And then He was gone. Just like that.

Nothing else? No mention of…are you sure that’s everything?

Well, early this morning, like I already told you, the stone was rolled away from the tomb. We went in. And two men stood by in shining garments. Then, in fear we bowed our faces to the earth, they said to us, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen! Remember how He spoke to you saying, ‘The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again.”And we remembered.

And then, there He was standing outside the tomb, He was dressed in white; He didn’t look like He’d just been crucified. He was fresh, clean… He spoke with such strength, such love; it was as if He were speaking with His eyes. And now, I’ve told what I have seen and heard, but no one will believe me. You – of all people – should believe.

How can this be? What have they done? Why should I believe...who am I to believe? Where is He? What…

“Woman, why are you weeping?” As I wept, one of them asked why I was weeping. I said to them, “Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him.” And then I turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but, I didn’t know at first it was Him. “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?”

I thought He must be the gardener, so I said to Him, “Sir, if You have carried Him away, tell me where You have laid Him, and I will take Him away.” Jesus said, “Mary!” He said my name. He was smiling; His lips weren’t swollen like before…He was beautiful.

And He said, “Do not cling to Me, for I have not yet ascended to My Father; but go to My brethren and say to them, ‘I am ascending to My Father and your Father, and to My God and your God.’”

Mary – He said, Mary? Is there more? What about m...

His eyes were the same yet deeper, stronger…Sabbath was past, I carried spices. I was startled and I dropped them. “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He is risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid Him. But go, tell His disciples—and Peter—that He is going before you into Galilee; there you will see Him, as He said to you.”

Oh, now I see...

Mary’s eyes filled moist with understanding…and. She whispered.

He appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom He had cast seven demons. This same Mary once filled with demons but now filled with love, reaches out with both hands and lifts the hanging head of a dejected disciple.

“Yes, Peter He said your name. He said Peter. He said Go tell my disciples…and Peter.”

And He knows your name.

****
Whenever the disciples are mentioned in scripture Peter is positioned at the front of the line. He is always mentioned first. Except for now; this is the only time he stands at the back of the line. And not only does he stand in back; he stands apart “….disciples and Peter.”

If I had been the risen Lord, I might have found a Pharisee or two first and showed them a thing or two. Or maybe I’d have dropped something on the head of the soldier that fashioned the crown of thorns – but not Jesus. He chose the outcast, the one He cast demons from. He chose to say her name, Mary. And He directed the angel to make special mention of another, one with a broken heart, one that felt like a cast aside good for nothing; the one who needed a little more love. He is the same yesterday, today and forever. He still seeks to reveal Himself to the hurting. He still reaches out a nail scarred hand to those who’ve fallen, to those in need of a little more love.

If anyone is qualified to be a disciple it’d be Peter. But Peter felt disqualified. Has anyone else ever felt that way? Peter was the one who walked on water; the one to whom Jesus said, "Blessed are you Simon… upon this rock I will build my church"; he was close to Jesus. But…he’s also the one who looked at the wind and waves and sank; he’s the one to whom Jesus said, “Get behind me Satan.” And Peter is the one who denied the Christ, three times. Yet, he is the one the risen Lord calls by name.

Have you walked (or sank) in his shoes?

Has anyone else ever denied Him?

Have you ever sank at the sight of the waves?
Well, you’re not alone.

And the One who walks on water, calms the sea, defeats our enemy and forgives our sins…calls your name.

I've already prayed for you, if you'd like I'd be happy to pray with you. You can leave a comment or send an e-mail directly to me dougspurling@aol.com.

Wake-up

2011-03-10T10:09:00.002-06:00

courtesy of photobucket.com

I write and tell stories with purpose. After years of hearing and not understanding my daughter recently said; “Dad, I finally get why you told your stories. They never made sense – but now they do. Wow.”

Likewise, the stories I tell here, with you, have purpose. That purpose is not explained but left unsaid for the reader to ponder. However, insomnia has beckoned an explanation for the story we shared a few days ago titled I AM. I may regret this tomorrow. But here goes.

In that story I shared how I mildly rebuked a young man for driving like the devil just before pulling into the church parking lot. Thank-you for kind words of encouragement via comments and e-mail etc. But…

What about Truth? What about integrity? What about what’s right – just because it’s right? No one mentioned that he shouldn’t have been driving like the devil and that letting him know may have thwarted a future wreck – may have saved the life…of the next Billy Graham, or you, or Johnny, or…?

He was speeding – he was driving recklessly. If a police officer had seen him; giving him a ticket would have been the right thing to do. So why, was a mild rebuke from me - a thing to repent of? He was rude telling me to go back where I came from – and the behavior went unnoticed, even by me, why? He was using my correction as an excuse rather than a reason – to stay in mire rather than climb higher. He was using my rebuke as a vehicle to carry him away from rather that toward salvation – and we applaud his efforts and rebuke mine. Why is this?

And I’m not really talking about this young man. I’m not even talking about moving violations. I’m talking about sins of the heart. Selfish disregard for others while speeding full steam ahead. About complacency.

“For the turning away of the simple will slay them, and the complacency of fools will destroy them” Proverbs 1:32

“ And it shall come to pass at that time That I will search Jerusalem with lamps, And punish the men Who are settled in complacency, Who say in their heart, ‘ The LORD will not do good, Nor will He do evil.’ Zephaniah 1:12

1) Look-up. Was I wrong – yes. Was he wrong – yes. And that is the point. We all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. We all are wrong. And The Lord is All Right. The point I was trying to make was that I AM is The Answer. The answer cannot be found in us. We cannot be good enough or nice enough or whatever enough…it’s not in us.

2) Love-up. What I said was correct technically. However my sin was not walking in love. In assuming that Speedy was a Christian – love would assume that a Christian would not behave in such a rude and unlawful manner. A Christian should be held to a Christ like Christ –ian standard.(Yes – I meant to step on your toes if you back-slide when you drive; if you break the law you are not being a good example of a Christian. Period. If you’re going to drive like the devil take the “I Love Jesus” bumper sticker off your car, put an “I love Baal” one instead and witness in reverse.)Where was I? Oh yeah, about my rebuke. Love believes all things, hopes all things. Love would have prayed, and thought; this young couple must be in need of salvation and they’re in a hurry to get to it. God Speed! I could have more tactfully introduced myself… as a police officer and told them that since it was Sunday and since they were going to church – I’d let them off the hook. No, wait. I guess I shouldn’t lie while I’m discussing being a Christian example. O.K. So, I should have introduced myself, shook hands, apologized for pulling out in front of his fast self and extended grace and acceptance, love and forgiveness. Then if the love of God would allow I’d lay a Dougism on him, “If you take your time – you’ll get there faster.” I might have reaped better results.

3) Pray-up. Either way those kids have gotten a heap of prayer at least from me that they didn’t have before. Sometimes we’re put in positions to help others that rub us the wrong way just to smooth out our rough edges and help them through a rough spot. Most of the time this is a call to prayer. Discernment is necessary to know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em; when to speak and when to keep our peace. Prayer is the key.

4) Wake-up. Addressing sin is not wrong. Have we forgotten that the law reveals our wicked hearts? And in so doing makes us aware of our need for a Savior? The desire to just-fit-in and make everybody happy has caused Christianity to become watered down milk toast. And lukewarm looses in both arenas – neither hot nor cold is good for nothing but to be spewed out.

This post is not being written in parable. Let me say it in plain simple English.

If God is God then serve Him. If Baal is God then serve Him.

We are sinners. Period.

We need a Savior. Period.

Jesus is The Savior. Period.

It's high time. Period.

Some folks quit listening when they read words like this because they figure, “I don’t need that no more – I’m already saved by golly.” And they speed on by, head held high– no time for the world, a pious eye to the sky… they trip over pride. Others hear - not my voice, another sees - not my words; but the Words of Another. And that is why I tell my stories.

Today if you hear His voice harden not your heart because today is the day of salvation. Tomorrow never comes. Someone is driving like himself to take you out. The devil prowls about like a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour.

I’ve already prayed for you and if you’d like I’d love to pray with you. You can quietly slip an e-mail directly to me at dougspurling@aol.com
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i am

2011-03-06T14:15:00.001-06:00

i am so sorry

i am an idiot

i pray what i am

never keeps you from

I AM.

i wrote the note and wrapped it in a twenty dollar bill. i could see their backs perfectly, about ten rows up and to the left of the isle.

Inspired by the dance to I AM performed by our Youth Impact Ministry. And convicted by the impact i made on a young couple before church.

It all started on the corner of Egret and Thunderbird road. i pulled up and checked the traffic on Thunderbird; no one to the left and a pick up quite a ways off to the right. i hit the accelerator and at the same time calculated the pick up to be driving too fast and accelerating. It was too late for me to stop since i was already committed into the intersection. So i sped up quickly to the speed limit of 45 miles an hour before the pick-up caught up to me. We had about a quarter mile until we turned off into the church parking lot on the left.

i didn’t think he would do it because this road at this time is full of church traffic. But he did. In a gap between traffic he flew around me; hit his brakes to slow for the car in front of me. We were now only about two blocks from the church. He again sped around the next car – and again had to hit his brakes for a line of cars waiting their turn to cross into the church parking lot.

My wife said wouldn’t it be something if he turns into the church after all that. He did. Ironically we were directed to park directly behind him by the parking lot attendants.

Maybe it was because my friend’s twenty-one year old grandson Johnny recently got killed by a drunk driver. Or maybe it was because too many of my loved ones say they stay away from God because they don't want to be like those who claim to be His children - hypocrites. Or maybe it’s because i’m a great sinner. Whatever it was – i had to say something to Speedy Gonzales.

“Kind-of in a hurry to get to church huh?” i said to the young man with the lead foot. He appeared to be about the same age as Johnny.

“Yes sir.” He said very politely.

i said; “You know, it’s not a very good Christian example for you to drive like the devil and then pull in here acting all holy.”

He said to the young lady with him, “Let’s go. I don’t want to go here if this is what it is.”

She said; “Sir, you pulled out in front of us. We’re running a little late and.”

Then it occurred to me. Maybe this was his first time coming to church; maybe his girlfriend or wife or whoever she was had been praying for this moment for years and now she’s finally got him to come and my holier than thou attitude is about to chase him off. He could be the next Billy Graham and i just kicked him out of the church. i’m an idiot i thought.

“i’m sorry, you’re right. Please don’t leave. It’s my fault.”

He got out of the truck and started walking toward the church. “He said to me; “You’re not from around here are you? You need to go back where you came from.”

Then he must have changed his mind; “No I’m leaving.” He got back in the truck, his girlfriend followed. As she started to get in her side of the truck she turned to me and said in a not so pleasant tone; “Thanks a lot!”

“Don’t go.” i said. It was too late. i watched them drive away.

As my wife dropped our granddaughter off in children’s church it was all i could do to keep the tears at bay. And i was praying so furiously i’m sure it looked like i was talking to myself. i walked to the side of the church to spy the parking lot and to my relief i saw their pick up easing back in the lot.

Now, if only i could talk to them again. The church seats some five hundred folks and it was packed as usual. i waited outside watching for them to enter but couldn’t find them. Finally the service started and i went in, and back out again. The lights were down and i couldn’t see where my wife was seated. She saw me looking like i was lost, found me and we sat down.

And then i saw them, wrote this note and waited for the service to be over. i don’t know what the preacher preached about. i was too busy praying for God to forgive me and bless that young couple i had offended.

i was relieved to see that he didn’t raise his hand when they asked for all first timers to do so. i was also relieved to see they clapped their hands and acted kind-of “churchy” so i figured they must be somewhat familiar with the church setting.

But i still felt like a great sinner in need of a great savior. i felt like a scum-bag.

The service ended. i waited. They had to walk by me to exit. They didn’t. They just vanished. i looked when everyone stood to be dismissed and they were gone. i couldn’t find them anywhere. i stood by the exit door. i even held the door open for hundreds of folks as they exited, but they were nowhere to be found. Did they see me and exit another way? i don’t know. Maybe i could find their truck and stick my note on the windshield. i looked – no truck.

On the ride home i suppose i waited at each intersection so long a camel could have gotten us home quicker. But i didn’t pull out in front of anyone – you can be sure of that.

If only i would have thought: “Maybe they’re going through a hard time…maybe they’re not Christians…maybe they need acceptance not a sermon…maybe i should put myself in their shoes and not judge – Lord knows when i was his age i’d have been driving just like him.”

i wish i could have found them and given them my note and we would have become fast friends. A great testimony of forgiveness would be written and he would go on to be Billy Graham.

But i didn’t.

So what’s the answer…

If anyone is in need of I AM...i am.

Lyrics to:

I AM
(by Eddie James)

Verse 1:

I am the Lord, I’m the Almighty God

I am the One for when nothing is too hard

I am the Shepherd and I am the Door

I am the Good news to the bound and the poor

Chorus:

I am, I am, I am, I am

Verse 2:

I am the righteous One and I am the Lamb,

I am the Ram in the bush for Abraham,

I am the Ultimate Sacrifice for sin,

I am your Redeemer, the Beginning and the End

Chorus:

I am, I am, I am, I am

Verse 3:

I am Jehovah, and I am the King,

I am Messiah, David’s Offspring,

I am your High Priest, and I am the Christ,

I am the Resurrection, I am the Life

Chorus:

I am, I am, I am, I am

Verse 4:

I am the Bread, and I am the Wine,

I am your Future, so leave your past behind.

I am the One in the midst of two or three,

I am your Tabernacle, I am your Jubilee.

Chorus:

I am, I am, I am, I am

Verse 4:

I am the Bread, I am the Wine,

And I am your Future, so leave your past behind.

I am the One in the midst of two or three,

I am your Tabernacle, I am your Jubilee.

Chorus:

I am, I am, I am, I am

Verse 5:

I am Hope, I am Peace, I am Joy, I am Rest,

Oh I am your Comfort, and Relief from your stress,

I am Strength, I am Faith, I am Love, I am Power,

And today I am your Freedom, this very hour.

Chorus:

I am, I am, I am, I am

Verse 5:

I am Hope, I am Peace, I am Joy, I am Rest,

I am your Comfort, and Relief from your stress,

I am Strength, I am Faith, I am Love, I am Power,

I am your Freedom, this very hour.

Verse 5:

I am Hope, I am Peace, I am Joy, I am Rest,

I am your Comfort, and Relief from your stress,

I am Strength, I am Faith, I am Love, I am Power,

I am your Freedom, this very hour.

Chorus:

I am, I am, I am, I am

Ending:

I am

Psalm 91

2011-03-06T06:59:00.002-06:00

Psalm 91

Safety of Abiding in the Presence of God

1 He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High

Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

2 I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress;

My God, in Him I will trust.”

3 Surely He shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler

And from the perilous pestilence.

4 He shall cover you with His feathers,

And under His wings you shall take refuge;

His truth shall be your shield and buckler.

5 You shall not be afraid of the terror by night,

Nor of the arrow that flies by day,

6 Nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness,

Nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday.

7 A thousand may fall at your side,

And ten thousand at your right hand;

But it shall not come near you.

8 Only with your eyes shall you look,

And see the reward of the wicked.

9 Because you have made the LORD, who is my refuge,

Even the Most High, your dwelling place,

10 No evil shall befall you,

Nor shall any plague come near your dwelling;

11 For He shall give His angels charge over you,

To keep you in all your ways.

12 In their hands they shall bear you up,

Lest you dash your foot against a stone.

13 You shall tread upon the lion and the cobra,

The young lion and the serpent you shall trample underfoot.

14 “Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him;

I will set him on high, because he has known My name.

15 He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him;

I will be with him in trouble;

I will deliver him and honor him.

16 With long life I will satisfy him,

And show him My salvation.”

Near To The Heart Of God

2011-03-05T21:00:00.001-06:00

There is a place of quiet rest near to the heart of God.

There is a place of quiet rest,

Near to the heart of God.

A place where sin cannot molest,

Near to the heart of God.

Refrain

O Jesus, blest Redeemer,

Sent from the heart of God,

Hold us who wait before Thee

Near to the heart of God.

There is a place of comfort sweet,

Near to the heart of God.

A place where we our Savior meet,

Near to the heart of God.

Refrain

There is a place of full release,

Near to the heart of God.

A place where all is joy and peace,

Near to the heart of God

(Cleland B. McAfee.)

He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart. Isaiah 40:11

And while we were yet sinners (black sheep) Christ died for us.

Oh Happy Day

2011-03-05T09:32:00.000-06:00

It's O.K. go ahead and have you one..A Happy Day. God's got it all under control.

That Moment

2011-03-03T08:52:00.000-06:00

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Blank. That’s what I see...

Until I write the words you just read.

This white electric paper is starting to fill with black electric ink. I download my heart onto page. Prayers for a reader I may never see.

When words flow faster than I can write when electric ink pours onto page just right – in that moment my world is at peace. That moment is my sweet spot. That moment I feel like I’m doing what I’m meant to do. That moment I’m in the zone.

We all have that moment – that place where the world is right. For some it’s singing, preaching or giving a speech – but that may scare the begeebers out of others. For a golfer it’s the perfect swing. It may be working on cars, carving wood, bending steel, pulling teeth, cutting hair, or coaching little league. That moment may be rocking a baby to sleep or teaching a kid to ride a bike. Whatever it is – we’ve all got one; a sweet spot. And to find that time, that zone, that spot, that moment is a joy.

Wouldn’t it be nice to make this moment that moment every moment? But that kind of moment; when we’re doing what we love doing is only a moment. We can’t swing the perfect swing continuously. We have to do other stuff. That sweet precious baby we rock eventually has a stinky diaper to change.

However, that moment, that sweet spot is just an appetizer for the real deal. There is a place of sweet release a place of quiet rest; a place where the world is right (even when the world isn’t right.)

I learned this from watching my grandkids. They play. They enjoy the moment, nothing else matters. And when something goes wrong, when they get scared or sad or tired when their world gets off just a little – to Papa they run.

We don’t have to do anything – just be. And their world is all right again.

We can do the same.

And we don’t have to travel to get there. We don’t have to be involved in a certain activity to experience it.

It is.

When Moses asked God, “Who should I say sent me?” God answered, “I AM.”

God is: Omnipresent – everywhere present.

Where I am God is.

I AM is where I am.

The name of the LORD is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe. (Proverbs 18:10). We have an ever present Papa we can turn to, abide with…in. In Him we live and move and have our being. (Acts 17:28)

In Him, our problems may not get smaller, but, we get bigger.

And then, when the golf swing’s a shank, the diaper’s runny and the hammer hits the wrong nail – we can know everything is still ok. Our world may be spinning, but not out-of-control, even if it looks that way. In the midst of the chaos we can be at peace, we can find joy. We can stop the clock and find our sweet-spot by making this moment that-moment-we-run-to-Him. And find rest for our soul.

Because Papa’s got it all under control.

Make this moment count my friend. The Best Company we could ever ask for is with us.

Ask and He will answer – I AM.

Where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom. (2 Corinthians 3:17)

You will show me the path of life;In Your presence is fullness of joy; At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. Psalm 16:11

For the eyes of the LORD run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show Himself strong on behalf of those whose heart is loyal to Him. 2 Chronicles 16:9

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I have prayed for you - I'd be happy to pray with you.
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Johnny

2011-02-28T14:36:00.001-06:00

See that man over there? That’s my friend Dan. Around here we call him Preacher. He doesn’t usually look so sad. Most the time he’s Mr. Outgoing. But, three months ago, he preached Johnny’s funeral – his grandson, Johnny.

Twenty-one years old, hit by a drunk driver.

He told me he was just on the phone with his son; Johnny’s dad.

“My boy said; ‘Dad, I have some bad days…’”

Preachers’ eyes squeezed shut; water leaked from under glasses. A strong tattooed arm groped. I grabbed. We held hands right there in the front yard, unashamed. He weaved a bit, then, steadied by our grip he continued….

“Dad’, he said, ‘I have some bad days…and the rest, the rest – well, the rest are horrible.’”

He removed his glasses with one hand and wiped his eyes with the back of the other. “Life is a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.” He said – his preacher kicking in…

I placed a hand on his shoulder. He continued.

“278 kids from Johnny’s high school were at the funeral.

I told them: ‘I want to tell you three things:

One; you don’t have to be old.’ And I pointed at my Grandson Johnny.

Two ‘you don’t have to be sick.’ And I pointed at his casket again...

‘But…you do have to be ready.’ And I pointed at all of them.

Now you find someone to hug. And if you can’t find someone, I’ll hug you.’

After it was over my daughter-in-law said. ‘Daddy, someone over there wants a hug.’

I looked and there was the longest line; kids, that, just, wanted, a hug.”

After crocodile tears and a bear hug. He composed himself and rambled on about other things for awhile. His cheeks dried and his quivering voice steadied. The conversation rolled back around to his grandson.

I eased into the question, unsure if I should even ask… “You mentioned being ready. Do you know about Johnny?”

“My wife and I wondered – his parents too. We prayed for an answer.”

He stood a bit taller, his eyes twinkled a bit brighter and the first hint of a smile crossed his lips.

“It was about 4:30 in the morning. I was sitting in the recliner – couldn’t sleep. My wife walks into the living room. ‘I saw Johnny. And he looked sooo good.’ He was holding an envelope; the big manila type. It was folded. He looked at peace. A word was written across the front of it. He didn’t say a word. But, I could read the word…”

Now his back was straight and his mouth was bent, into a toothy grin. His eyes twinkled as he breathed the word…

“FORGIVEN.”

“We think God in His mercy was letting us know. It’s still hard. We don’t blame God. He didn’t put that man behind the wheel. But that blessed assurance knowing Johnny’s in heaven makes all the difference.”

** You can know that you're forgiven. I've already prayed for you and would be happy to pray with you. Just let me know.**

I pray today you are hugged by the Lord of Life. Lord, teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:12)

For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away (James 4:14)

Indeed, You have made my days as handbreadths, And my age is as nothing before You; Certainly every man at his best state is but vapor. Selah (Psalm 39:5)
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Final Destination

2011-02-25T21:47:00.000-06:00

“This is our gate.” We look for a spot with two empty seats side by side. “How about there?”

My wife and I claim our seats and wait for the boarding call. We’re leaving Florida sun to find warmth in the heart of a Minnesota winter – the warmth of life; a new grandson.

Normally small talk is what happens here. But rolling tears changes everything.

She sat by herself across from us. She looked uneasy.

“Headin’ back to cold country?” I figured I’d break the ice.

“Yeah, we were on vacation but I…” She stares out the window. Tears start to flow. My daughter’s husband; mmmmyyy son-in-law." She stopped, looked at us and then away. "He committed suicide."

Sniff. Deep breath. “He’s…was 29. I’m going home to help my daughter and the kids – three of them.”

Silent prayers offered fast. Words offered soft and slow. Words that felt smaller than small-talk; inadequate, forgetful. A prayer, a hug, a tear and she was off to board the plane – she in her seat and we in ours.

I wondered about the weight she carried in her heart. Could this jet carry such a heavy load? But above the clouds we flew. The aircraft didn’t seem to notice the burden, nor did anyone. I know I watched. A few seats up she sat staring out the window. I watched and prayed for her daughter Jessica who will undoubtedly wrestle guilt, shame, anger and sorrow to name a few. I prayed for three children filled with unanswerable questions. And I prayed for this mother and grandmother to find strength and wisdom to be strong for them all.

We landed. We went our way – she went hers.

Our flights were the same. Same airport; same departure gate; same landing strip; same baggage claim; but our destinations were worlds apart. We were flying high excited to celebrate life. She was hovering toward a mournful death. We were moving toward a beginning she was headed to an ending. Soon she would shed tears of pain and we would shed tears of joy.

But maybe we’re not that far apart; us and her; me and you. Maybe the only thing that separates us is time. Maybe next time – should we meet again, she’ll be flying high and we’ll be carrying the load.

We share this flight together, you and I. We’re all headed to the same landing strip…Death. The only difference that separates one from the other is what’s on the other side. Will the destination be Eternal Life or eternal damnation? One word decides. It’s stamped on the ticket. The ticket is our heart. It’s written in blood; the blood of God’s Son.

The word?...Forgiven.

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PHOTOS COURTESY OF PHOTOBUCKET.COM
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Simple Life

2011-02-25T05:30:00.000-06:00

Have you ever felt overwhelmed? Has the thought “what difference does it make?” ever crossed your mind?

Well, it has mine. I wonder if my life matters – if it makes a difference. Does my existence help or hurt the planet – or does it not make any difference at all? I’m just one in billions upon billions. My input whether small or great is still small in the big scheme of things…right? So, what difference does it make? Why even try? Does it even matter? Who cares?

And to top it off – I know me. And that knowledge ain’t so pretty. I know the blunders, the downright disasters I’ve made in my short time on this earth. My contribution if added all up may amount to nothing and maybe worse than that maybe the place is worse than before I showed up. Maybe my being here has made things worse instead of better. So what’s the point?

You may have never had this conversation – but I have. Just did. Actually, that’s why I’m writing here in the dark, instead of sleeping.

And like always, I talk to God. Ask questions, seek answers. I wish I could hear Him better. But I ask and trust that He can figure out a way to get through and show The Answer.

Tonight as I wondered about the insignificance of my life. I thought of The One that indisputably has made the most difference of anyone who ever walked the planet. Whether you believe or not; whether you call yourself a Christian or not; no doubt about it Jesus is the undisputed champion of difference-makers on the planet.

This One Man changed the world. He lived a simple life, surrounded by simple folk. He came with a mission to change His world and yet He was never too busy to stop. In about 33 years of walking dusty streets He was ready to lay down His life and say “It is finished.” He completed His work.

As a child we sang, “The B-I-B-L-E yes that’s the book for me. I stand alone on The Word of God the B-I-B-L-E.” God’s Word with skin on is the Man, Jesus. All The Book is written of Him and in a miraculous event The Word became a living breathing being in the flesh – Jesus.

I’m a half-a- centurion and still wondering what I wanna be when I grow up. I certainly haven’t accomplished what I think I shouda-coulda-woulda. Why not? Life happened.

So where’s the answer? If Jesus is The Answer then the answer should be found in Him – right?

Since I can’t find sleep, I’m trying to find The Answer.

Jesus, how do I make a difference? How do I matter? How can I say at the end of the day… “It is finished; I’ve run my race; I‘ve done what I’ve come here to do?”

I see the worn old weathered band on my wrist barely readable in the dark; W.W.J.D.

The verse: Be imitators of Christ whispers in my mind.

Eyes fall back on words just written… He lived a simple life, surrounded by simple folk. He came with a mission to change His world and yet He was never too busy to stop.

He made a difference. His life mattered. And what did He do? He kept His life simple, manageable, and He stopped to keep it that way.

I can do that. We all can do that.

• Simply be – live inside our means financially and inside our world socially. A simple life with peace is great wealth. The best way to change the world is to change our world. Simple doesn’t mean easy, it may be hard, but it will be strong and stable.

• Stop the clock and be. We are a human-beings not a human-doings. Be with your family, be with your friends, be with your employer. That might take a splash of cold reality in the face – stop texting, e-mailing – tweeting – face-booking... Be present.

• Love is spelled T-I-M-E. And isn’t that what the B-I-B-L-E is all about? The Word made flesh? He put on skin. That which is Eternal put on T-I-M-E to be a human-being with us...

Immanuel = God with us.

You do matter. You are important. You can make a difference. No matter where you are or where you’ve been – you can change your world – for the better. And if you want you can start right now. The Greatest Difference-Maker of all times is ready and willing to help you change your world.

* I’ve already prayed for you – if you’d like, I’d be happy to pray with you.*

Whirlwind

2011-02-23T10:12:00.000-06:00

And God was not found in the whirlwind but in the quiet still small voice. Yet the appreciation for the quiet was birthed from the noise of the wind. So I’m thankful for both the wind and the quiet for each is a path leading to Him.

I’m exhausted – I think. December was December, Christmas and the whirlwind of activity it brings. January and into February was the birth of a grandson which involved a cross country flight to watch and wait and celebrate. Then after returning home for ONE day a 2,600 mile road trip for work. I’m exhausted – I’m pretty sure.

I returned home to our peaceful quiet little community late Sunday night. Before the dust settled; before I had my bags unpacked, before breakfast the next morning, my door bell rang. I was met by folks with hands full of notes.

“Glad you’re back…I took minutes for you…and this is what should go in the newsletter.”

I said. “Hi, thanks, um, you want some coffee?”

Nominated as Secretary of the R.A.C. Committee (not even sure what R.A.C. stands for – something to do with Recreation for our park) I’m responsible for keeping notes at the meetings. Also, I volunteered to write the bi-weekly newsletter. While I was away these privileges fell to others who were all too eager to relinquish the reins once I returned. Did I mention I’m plumb tuckered?

Monday get the newsletter written and printed. Go to grocery store…(I did. But I forgot to get toothpaste – I’m out. And I forgot to get the parts for the toilet – it’s broke.)

Tuesday get newsletter passed out, visit, visit, visit, answer same questions and tell same story a thousand times. “How was your trip? When did you get back? How’s the baby?

Wednesday…

Today is Wednesday I think. I’m sitting at this table writing, and you’re sitting at yours reading. My wife isn’t here. She walked to Bible study at the Clubhouse. I usually never miss. If I’m here – I’m there. But not today, I just didn’t have it in me. A room full of folks and smiles and hugs – too much today. Sitting here watching the grass grow, the birds fly and the windmill spin is just about all I can handle.

The windows in this room are open just a little. Can you hear that? Birds. They’re singing. What a beautiful sound. Did you see that? The blinds hanging over that open window swayed just a bit. And did you feel that gentle breeze that caused the sway? Nice.

Sitting here doing nothing after all the something I think I feel God.

The trees and the breeze and the grass and the sun and the shadow and the noise and the quiet, His creation, His handiwork, His presence presents His presents.

If not for the whirlwind I may never have appreciated this simple place of quiet rest.

And God was not found in the whirlwind but in the quiet still small voice. Yet the appreciation for the quiet was birthed from the noise of the wind. So I’m thankful for both the wind and the quiet for each is a path leading to Him.

Where are you today? I don’t know much but I know this: Wherever it is. God is there.

Oh and guess what… I don’t feel so tired anymore.

(P.S. In case you’re wondering. We have another bathroom to use while the above mentioned is out of order. And we found a spare tube of toothpaste. But thanks for asking.)

** Tired? Trapped? In a whirlwind? Having trouble finding God in the midst of any of it? If you’d like I’d be happy to pray with you. And since you’ve read this – consider yourself prayed for. I talk to God about you. I pray my writing will be His and He will touch those reading. I pray The Word will speak through these words **

Remember, I love you and more importantly Jesus loves you.

People Get Ready

2011-02-03T07:32:00.001-06:00

People Get Ready - Jesus is coming...soon.

Are you ready?

You can be.

You can know.

Now.

Today is the day, we don't have tomorrow.

It's not too late...yet.

But

One moment from now...

may be your first breath in eternity ~ where do you want to take it?

Are you ready?

Are you sure?

Let's pray.

Dear Jesus, there's a whole lot I don't know. But one thing I do know... And that's that I don't have it all figured out. I know there's got to be more to life than this, though.

And I need help.

If You can, and if You’re willing, well then, I'm going to take a leap of faith and ask You to help. I admit I've sinned. Will You forgive me for that? And since I’m being honest, You should know that I’m going to sin again – will You forgive me for that too?

If You’ll help me, I'll try to live my life for You from now on.

But, I need help, so I'm counting on You to lead the way.

Because quite frankly, I'm not sure how all this works and I don’t know if I can do it;

but I want to make a change, I want to be ready for eternity.

So, if You'll take me as I am - here I am.

I believe.

Thank-you Jesus.

Amen.

If there's anything I can do - please don't hesitate to contact me. I've already been praying for you & will love to pray with you. You are loved.
***

Innocent Child

2011-02-02T07:07:00.031-06:00

We’ve been in Minnesota for 18 days. Six more until we fly back to Florida. Forecast: cold – below zero cold.

I’m glad we were here for our grandson’s birth. Although, I wish it’d been warmer. The Minnesota kids are supposed to have babies in warm weather; like Robins in spring. They just don’t listen.

The birth of a child is a miraculous event we never want to miss. And it was so nice to see the family. But now, I’m cold and tired and ready to go.

We traded comfort and cozy to enter a cold and icy Minnesota winter; to help and witness the birth of a child.

Here we have no home.

Jesus, you did this. You left there to come here. Why?

You must have longed for the comfort of Home.

Is that why You often slipped off alone – to call Home?

Is that what caused You to rise early and stay up late?

Why would you do it?

Why leave the warmth of a love filled heaven to witness – no, more than witness, to be; the miraculous birth of a Child?

Why would you come to a world so cold?

We came for a visit to help and to witness the birth of an innocent child.

But You came for us, for me.

And I’m not innocent, at all.

How could You do it?

I held the spike.

I drove the nail.

Why would You choose to come?

Choose to die?

Why trade your innocence?

For my guilt?

So you too can be innocent. As you weathered the cold to welcome this new born child into your world ~ I did so to welcome you into Mine.

***

John 3:1-21

1 There was a man named Nicodemus, a Jewish religious leader who was a Pharisee. 2 After dark one evening, he came to speak with Jesus. “Rabbi,” he said, “we all know that God has sent you to teach us. Your miraculous signs are evidence that God is with you.”

3 Jesus replied, “I tell you the truth, unless you are born again, you cannot see the Kingdom of God.”

4 “What do you mean?” exclaimed Nicodemus. “How can an old man go back into his mother’s womb and be born again?”

5 Jesus replied, “I assure you, no one can enter the Kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit. 6 Humans can reproduce only human life, but the Holy Spirit gives birth to spiritual life.7 So don’t be surprised when I say, ‘You must be born again.’ 8 The wind blows wherever it wants. Just as you can hear the wind but can’t tell where it comes from or where it is going, so you can’t explain how people are born of the Spirit.”

9 “How are these things possible?” Nicodemus asked.

10 Jesus replied, “You are a respected Jewish teacher, and yet you don’t understand these things? 11 I assure you, we tell you what we know and have seen, and yet you won’t believe our testimony. 12 But if you don’t believe me when I tell you about earthly things, how can you possibly believe if I tell you about heavenly things? 13 No one has ever gone to heaven and returned. But the Son of Man has come down from heaven. 14 And as Moses lifted up the bronze snake on a pole in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, 15 so that everyone who believes in him will have eternal life.

16 “For God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. 17 God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him.

18 “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. 19 And the judgment is based on this fact: God’s light came into the world, but people loved the darkness more than the light, for their actions were evil. 20 All who do evil hate the light and refuse to go near it for fear their sins will be exposed. 21 But those who do what is right come to the light so others can see that they are doing what God wants.”

Snow Tapestry

2011-01-31T17:55:00.000-06:00

photo courtesy of photobucket.

Today I went for a walk; through the snow; through my memory... and through what once was my town.

I grew up here.

My reminiscing resurrected a post.

Join me for a walk in the snow.

**
Before me; white snow. No tracks. Pure. Unblemished. White. Perfect.

Behind?

That’s another story.

Tracks everywhere, leading nowhere, it seems. Indistinguishable tracks litter the landscape. Places I’ve fallen mar the view.

Yesterdays pure unblemished white now, un-pure, blemished, grey-white; a mess…

At least to my eyes.

But then I climb on the roof. I see a bigger picture, a pattern in the snow. A trail leads from shed to deck to driveway. Less of a mess.

Then it happens... I’m lifted higher. Up above the tree top view, then above the bird’s eye view until I reach a place I now call, God’s Eye View.

From here I see life’s tracks. From birth to one second ago. Everything. First step, first fall, failures, victories, tears, laughter, joy, sorrow all woven together; it's beautiful. The blood and tears add color, the times I’d fallen and times I’d risen add depth.

From this view it doesn’t look a mess, but like there’s a plan, a purpose a unique design.

And it occurs to me there is a Master Design. My life is more than a maze of indistinguishable tracks that litter the landscape. There is a purpose for my existence.

Although from Doug’s eye view it looks as if my life is just a mess. From God’s Eye View it looks like everything is going to be okay. Better than okay. A masterpiece.

I can see it’s not finished. There’s still unpainted canvas, untracked snow. But I know God’s in control, and He can take what appears to be a mess and weave a life packed with joy and promise and purpose, not without pain, but with purposeful pain.

All it takes is yielding to the touch of The Masters’ Hands. I like the view. You too are a unique master-piece in His hands.

You are, You-nique. Your life has a plan, a purpose a unique design.

Your future is as white snow, no tracks, pure, unblemished. Allow the Master Designer to direct your steps and show you the beauty and purpose He has woven into the beautiful tapestry of your life.

He who dwells in the secret place of the Most HighShall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. Psalm 91:1

“ Come now, and let us reason together,” Says the LORD, “ Though your sins are like scarlet, They shall be as white as snow..." Isaiah 1:18

**

Delivery

2011-01-26T23:31:00.002-06:00

She worked a crossword puzzle to keep her mind off the discomfort. But soon it couldn’t be ignored. She’d put her hand on her stomach and whisper “there’s another one.” We started timing.

“Maybe we better go.”

“I’m not going in until I’m sure.”

Twice they went to the hospital. Twice they were sent home. This time Kayla wanted to be sure her contractions were the real thing.

So she waited…so we timed. Seven minutes apart, then five, then four, then more severe, then…

“Oh, I think we better go.”

10:30 p.m. Daddy drove – fast and furious. They unloaded at the now familiar hospital entry. I slid behind the wheel to park.

This time there was no wondering. She wanted to push.

The familiar elevator ride; beep – we ascended through second floor. Beep – we rose through third. Beep-beep to the top of the hospital; the place life began for many…and ended for some.

Room # 5406 became Kayla’s temporary home. Monitors attached and questions asked – lots of questions. Have you eaten anything? How far apart are the contractions? On a scale of 1-10 what is your pain level? Any tobacco use…medications? She’d answer when she could and gasped and grasped white knuckles to bedrail when she couldn’t.

With each wince from my daughter eyes would burn and jaw would clench; not hers – mine. I wasn’t having the baby but I felt the pain. Not in my belly but in my heart. I hoped they didn’t notice these contractions were tearing me apart.

And then it got worse. “We’ll try to give you something for the pain but…I’m going to try the other arm.” Needles and nurses attempted to find a vein – in vain.

Contractions continued about two minutes apart topping the chart. When I heard: “I’ll check again to see how far you’re dilated.” I decided that was my cue to exit. “I think I’ll get some coffee and then…I’d probably be of more use in the Chapel.”

Coffee in hand I rode the elevator to the bottom; the Chapel floor. The nurses needed help finding a vein so I went over their head to get it.

From below – I looked up. Dear God…nothing eloquent or memorable would come; just a heartfelt cry for a needle to find a vein; a girl to dilate and deliver. The big white Bible lay open in the front of the chapel.

“Thus says the Lord who made you and formed you from the womb, who will help you: Fear not…” Isaiah 44:2

Her room was quiet when I returned; the atmosphere different. The only sound the beeping machine. Kayla lay still. A large arc appeared on the paper water fall documenting a big contraction; but not a wince from Kayla.

She had dilated from a three to a seven. The IV found a home. And pain meds were delivered.

I thought: God heard.

My faith grew.

The door should have been a revolving one. Nurse Lisa instructed Kayla to let her know if she felt the urge to push.

We waited and watched.

“He’s facing the side. He needs to turn.” They rotated Kayla from side to side and then on her knees.

Once more from Chapel below on my knees, prayers ascended to turn and to deliver.

From the belly of the hospital these words were read:

“For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given.” Isaiah 9:6

And five floors above Life pushed life from belly to world.

I'm pleased to announce to you. On 1/24/11 at 2:57 a.m. 8lb 2.9 oz; 20 ½”; Urijah Nathaniel Brooks was born.

And if I ever lost faith in prayer; tonight it was reborn.

***

First Bath

Already waving at Papa!

Mom & Dad

Contractions

2011-01-25T01:53:00.008-06:00

Kayla sat on the step with pain rolling down her cheeks… It had to be time.

The drive to the hospital was quiet and quick.

We stopped in front of the hospital entry doors only long enough to say a prayer. They piled out. I parked.

I continued to pray that this would be the time. Only days before they had taken this same route only to be sent home. “You’re not quite ready.” They told the young parents.

Mother-to-be seated in wheelchair. Nurse Rachel steered toward the elevator that would take us to the fifth floor; the maternity ward. We tagged along.

As father of the mother, I tried to comfort.

“Well Bug, the next time you’re on this floor you’ll be carrying baby in your lap instead of in your stomach.” She looked at me with; I sure hope so in her eyes.

I prayed the same in my heart.

Although I’d told her “no one is pregnant forever” she was six days overdue and beginning to think she would be.

She said the pains “are like menstrual cramps.” The nurse advised Kayla was dilated to a three; not enough to be considered active labor but they would monitor her contractions.

We listened to the beeping machine and watched numbers on the monitor reflect baby’s heartbeat and the timing and severity of contractions. The information was drawn like a graph on a stream of paper flowing from the machine.

After my statement about Kayla leaving the hospital with baby in her lap instead of in her stomach I felt confidence grow and felt this would be the time. Kayla wasn’t so sure, nor the medical staff.

We watched and waited.

I studied the graph and determined that two strong contractions within minutes of each other were reflected. I was about to make another bold claim that this would continue until she was in full fledged labor and the baby would be born, soon. But about that time the nurse walked in and advised that they were going to send Kayla home.

Disappointment filled the room like a fog. Kayla was frustrated, tired, hurt and just plain ready to deliver. I didn’t show it but I was mad – at God.

“I’ll go pull up the truck” I said.

As I walked I complained; inside my head until I got outside the hospital and then I whispered the words out loud to God: “Why don’t you just put her into labor? We prayed. I made bold confessions of faith in front of my daughter – Your daughter. Don’t you think this could hurt her faith? We prayed, now she may think prayer doesn’t work. And besides that she may lose her trust in me, since I said this would be the time. It would have been so easy for You to have just opened the door for this baby to be born…”

By the time I reached the Suburban I was running out of steam. Suddenly I remembered part of our prayer as we stopped at the hospital entry doors; “Lord, we submit to and ask for your perfect timing…”

. “Oh God, I’m sorry. It just hurts so bad to see my own child hurt. I’m not mad at you. I trust You.”

As I eased the vehicle around the circle drive to the entry I saw my family headed out the door. And Kayla smiled. Something told me everything was going to be alright.

And…God knew exactly how I felt. He’d seen His Son hurt, too.

And as far as prayers are concerned – I still think faith filled prayer in the hands of love is the most powerful force on earth. It’s just that God is under no obligation to fit into my logic. He knows what and when is best – I don’t have to.

The drive home was silent and slow…but peaceful. Knowing we’d pass this way again, soon.

As sure as there's a winter there's a spring. And as sure as there’s a conception there’s a delivery… but that story will have to wait until next time.

Hope to see you pass this way again, soon.

***

This post is part of the One Word at a Time blog carnival hosted by my friend Peter Pollock. For more posts about winter, please visit his site, http://peterpollock.com/

*

Mansion

2011-01-12T14:43:00.000-06:00

“And now approaching on your right was the vacation home of Al Capone…” The Captain’s voice sent us shuffling from railing to railing. His spotlight would shine and we would gawk at the mansions of the rich and famous. (Or infamous in the above mentioned example.)

“And on the left is the slip where Johnny Depp moored his boat just last week. And that boat house just ahead on the left; a mere $35,000 per month just to park your boat under that roof.”

As we floated the canal our ooows and ahhhs must have sounded like a group watching Fourth of July fireworks. Boats twice as big as my house and ten times more expensive were docked in front of houses, or I should say mansions. Both lit in Christmas grandeur, making the evening cruise all the more awe inspiring.

I wondered why out of all the houses and all the boats only one had actually displayed what the displays were really all about; a Nativity depicting the Christ Child. I also felt a bit sorry for these poor folks who spent millions to have a place on the canal only to become center ring to this floating circus.

“And now if you’ll look at this empty lot on our right, do you see the large wooden play gym?” The owners of the adjacent house purchased this empty lot for 3.2 million to have this play gym built for their kids to play on. Only thing is, we’ve never seen any kids out there… Ever.” The Captain laughed, and so did most of the folks on the boat. I didn’t.

I thought. I wonder why? Were the kids just spoiled rich kids and they didn’t want to play outside? Or maybe something happened. Maybe we should pray for and not laugh at, them.

“Here we are folks; Jungle Island.”

We ate a wonderful meal and watched hilarious entertainers. One guy juggled sharp swords, bowling pins and bowling balls.

Our boat ride back to the bus was more of the same spotlighting. But for the most part we were too full and too tired to shuffle. We just sat and talked and enjoyed the cruise.

It was my daughter and I and about fifty other friends from our little village. We loaded the bus and settled in for a two hour trip back to our little RV Park. The tour guide talked and played games and BINGO. We sat in the back seat. I watched it all.

I watched how these folks talked with one another. I marveled at the abundance of laughter and the smiles all around. Eyes sparkled like the twinkling Christmas lights on the million dollar mansions.

Upon arrival we unloaded, like sand through an hour glass. Since we were in back, we waited. I stared out the window and wondered if my daughter thought less of me after seeing all those big fancy houses and then coming home to, well… to this. The entire park cost less than one of those mansions.

And then I noticed the folks walking home. Arm in arm. Smiling faces. And this thought occurred to me: The wealthiest folks we met tonight were right here on this bus.

They may not live in big fancy houses – they live in homes. And the only mansion they may ever have is the one “just over the hill top”, but with that, they’ve got it all.

The Stick

2011-01-11T13:58:00.001-06:00

We’ve had it for years. It’s old and weathered. It doesn’t do anything but sit there. It has no earthly value. We couldn’t sell it if we tried, no one would want it.

I know it was an accident. Diamond didn’t mean to drop it.

If it was anybodies’ fault it was mine. I placed it there on display, in the way for anyone to bump – especially a six year old. She did. It fell. And it broke.

“It’s just a stick” said Roxy. But I saw a tear trying to escape before she turned away.

It was a simple gift. It was fragile. A life time of memories lay there… broken.

Roxy found it in the woods and used it as a walking stick during a family vacation. Her brother secretly brought it home, attached a wind chime, and gave it as a gift.

Roxy loves wind chimes, and is especially fond of this one. Every time the wind causes it to sing she’s reminded of her brother.

But really now it’s just a stick, right? Or is it more?

Maybe our simple gifts are more than just sticks for fire wood. Maybe a kind word can change a life. Maybe a phone call can save one.

And maybe the reverse is true as well.

We may say “I was only joking.” Thinking our words and deeds of little consequence; nothing more than dried up old sticks. But, in reality they hold the keys to winning or losing a wounded soul.

I stare at the broken stick and wonder about the one who gave it. I think; “Maybe, if we’d have reached out to the-stick-giver more… he wouldn’t have taken his life.”

I don’t know for sure but I wish I had another chance…

I remember a story about a man who had a stick. He raised it. The Lord chimed in with a wind that parted the Red Sea.

I can’t part the Red Sea. Neither could Moses. But, he offered what he had, if only a stick. God took the gift of obedience and saved lives.

Another Man was obedient unto death. He said, “Not my will but yours be done.” And on a simple piece of wood His life was broken.

And that old wooden stick was used to save us all.

My Lord let our heart break for that which breaks yours. And thank You for Your promise that You heal the broken hearted.

‘Tis So Sweet…

2011-01-10T18:16:00.001-06:00

'Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus

'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus,

and to take him at his word;

just to rest upon his promise,

and to know, "Thus saith the Lord."

Refrain:

Jesus, Jesus, how I trust him!

How I've proved him o'er and o'er!

Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus!

O for grace to trust him more!

O how sweet to trust in Jesus,

just to trust his cleansing blood;

and in simple faith to plunge me

neath the healing, cleansing flood!

(Refrain)

Yes, 'tis sweet to trust in Jesus,

just from sin and self to cease;

just from Jesus simply taking

life and rest, and joy and peace.

(Refrain)

I'm so glad I learned to trust thee,

precious Jesus, Savior, friend;

and I know that thou art with me,

wilt be with me to the end.

Do you want to know Jesus?

Guilt or Passion?

2011-01-10T04:23:00.001-06:00

People far and wide inquire. They wish to see me again. Voices from the past may not remember my name – but they remember the ministry.

I suppose this should be cause for joy. And evidence of the Lord's leading; an open door to run through. So, why do I hesitate? Why do I feel that chapter is closed? Instead of walking through I'm walking away.

Am I rejecting the call of God?

This robs my sleep.

I wonder if setting this down is like the man burying the talent. I don't want to be called a wicked and lazy servant. I don't want to bury my talent – or my head in the sand. Yet, I don't want to build yesterday's dream only to realize it's a sandcastle and the tide has changed.

If I am burying my talent, why would I do such a thing? Fear? I think not. I am confident of success if I pursue. Then what? Guilt? I wouldn't think so…at least not until today. But I don't want to think of that… yet.

As these thoughts stole my sleep, I prayed. Seeking answers I sought The Answer.

Is not success and approval all I should need to point the direction I should take?

Not necessarily. You think of success as some rare event that stands as a pillar to build your life around. It is not. Success should be a normal standard, a simple milestone of many along life's journey. And success isn't measured by popularity.

Although sent with honest regard. Accolades can be deceiving when they enter your ears.

Consider your work. Hour after hour you prayerfully and passionately choreographed every nuance. So why wouldn't it be a success? How could I not but bless it?

The tide may change, but not the ocean. Where's your passion? Why have you stopped pursuing a dream? Guilt will cause hesitation even though passionate pursuit is desired.

Yes, I think I understand. I see what I should pursue and then remember the times I've failed… and the past gets in my eyes.

Remember the ocean? It's got the best sunrise and sunset on the planet… showing simultaneously. And yet – you can't even notice your sins buried under all of it.

The tides change but always draw from the same well. You may change pursuits of happiness but draw from the same ocean of passion; a well of Living Water placed in you that never will run dry.

The tide may change but the ocean is still a success.

Keep the passion but leave the past. You are forgiven. Your dreams were placed by Me. I knew you were going to fall, and I knew I would be here to pick you up.

I know you think what you've done is too ugly a stain to ever put you on display. You think you should sit in the back unseen, unnoticed, unimportant. And you may sit in the back unseen and unnoticed, and that's ok. But you're never unimportant.

Understand that under Me you are made clean. The sin no longer remains. Not a stain, not a spot not a blemish. I've done it all.

Do you believe Me? Now it's up to you.

Prayerfully pursue passion and peace and your well never will run dry.

Psalm 37:4
Delight yourself also in the LORD, And He shall give you the desires of your heart

Micah 7:19
You will have compassion on us. You will trample our sins under your feet and throw them into the depths of the ocean!

Psalm 103:12
as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us

Foxhole

2011-01-07T04:26:00.000-06:00

I almost didn’t write this. Why? The Florida room was cold. That’s where the lap top was sitting. And I didn’t want to get out of my warm bed and go get it. But then, I thought of a hungry shivering soldier in a fox hole keeping me safe tonight.

Do those fighting for us on the battlefront need to fight for us on the home front as well? Are we the ones hiding in a foxhole? Following is an e-mail I recently received...

CINDY WILLIAMS was appointed by Obama as an Assistant Director for NATIONAL SECURITY in the Congressional Budget Office..... Military Pay. This is an Airman's response to Cindy Williams' editorial piece in the Washington Times about MILITARY PAY, it should be printed in all newspapers across America. Ms. Cindy William wrote a piece for the Washington Times denouncing the pay raise(s) coming service members' way this year citing that she stated a 13% wage increase was more than they deserve.

A young airman from Hill AFB responds to her article below. He ought to get a bonus for this.

"Ms Williams: I just had the pleasure of reading your column, "Our GI's earn enough" and I am a bit confused. Frankly, I'm wondering where this vaunted overpayment is going, because as far as I can tell, it disappears every month between DFAS (The Defense Finance and Accounting Service) and my bank account. Checking my latest earnings statement I see that I make $1,117.80 before taxes per month. After taxes, I take home $874.20.. When I run that through the calculator, I come up with an annual salary of $13,413.60 before taxes, and $10,490.40 after.

I work in the Air Force Network Control Center where I am part of the team responsible for a 5,000 host computer network. I am involved with infrastructure segments, specifically with Cisco Systems equipment. A quick check under jobs for "Network Technicians" in the Washington, D.C. Area reveals a position in my career field, requiring three years experience in my job. Amazingly, this job does NOT pay $13,413.60 a year. No, this job is being offered at $70,000 to $80,000 per annum............ I'm sure you can draw the obvious conclusions.

Given the tenor of your column, I would assume that you NEVER had the pleasure of serving your country in her armed forces. Before you take it upon yourself to once more castigate congressional and DOD leadership for attempting to get the families in the military's lowest pay brackets off of WIC and food stamps, I suggest that you join a

group of deploying soldiers headed for AFGHANISTAN; I leave the choice of service branch up to you. Whatever choice you make though, opt for the SIX month rotation: it will guarantee you the longest possible time away from your family and friends, thus giving you full "deployment experience.

"As your group prepares to board the plane, make sure to note the spouses and children who are saying good-bye to their loved ones. Also take care to note that several families are still unsure of how they'll be able to make ends meet while the primary breadwinner is gone. Obviously they've been squandering the "vast" piles of cash the government has been giving them.

Try to deploy over a major holiday; Christmas and Thanksgiving are perennial favorites. And when you're actually over there, sitting in a foxhole, shivering against the cold desert night, and the flight sergeant tells you that there aren't enough people on shift to relieve you for chow, remember this: trade whatever MRE's (meal-ready-to-eat) you manage to get for the tuna noodle casserole or cheese tortellini, and add Tabasco to everything. This gives some flavor.

Talk to your loved ones as often as you are permitted; it won't be nearly long enough or often enough, but take what you can get and be thankful for it. You may have picked up on the fact that I disagree with most of the points you present in your open piece. But, tomorrow from KABUL, I will defend to the death your right to say it.

You see, I am an American fighting man, a guarantor of your First Amendment right and every other right you cherish...On a daily basis, my brother and sister soldiers worldwide ensure that you and people like you can thumb your collective noses at us, all on a salary that is nothing short of pitiful and under conditions that would make most people cringe. We hemorrhage our best and brightest into the private sector because we can't offer the stability and pay of civilian companies. And you, Ms. Williams, have the gall to say that we make more than we deserve?

A1C Michael Bragg, Hill AFB AFNCC

God forgive us for allowing those on the front lines go hungry, while paying fat cats who kiss babies in front of the camera and vote to kill them behind it. God forgive us.

Forgive us for allowing those we don’t trust to lead us. For allowing greed to fuel the system we have voted in; it’s all consuming lust devours everything it touches. It has swallowed the past present and future and has sold us into bondage to a nation that’s against us.

We have allowed this to happen by our complacency. Forgive us for allowing smiling faces and pretty speeches to lie us to sleep and pick our pockets..

I wish we could reverse the fortunes and pay military the salaries of the fat cat politicians. I think our country could turn around if our priorities did.

Lord, help us wake up, stand up and speak up… “Up” being the operative word. Help us to look up to You – the only place where our help can come from.

Help us right here, right now to make a decision to do what’s right in our sphere of influence. To do what’s right before You even when no one’s looking. To hold ourselves accountable to do right and be right – that means holding those entrusted to us accountable as well.

We acknowledge we are messed up. It’ll take a miracle. It’ll take a united front. But that’s not too hard for You. And that’s not too hard for a country named for it’s unity; The United States of America.

She can stand tall again. She can stand strong because her foundation is strong and just and true. As pure a nation as has ever been born is the red the white and the blue.

Lord, it is written. “By Your stripes we are healed.” We pray Your scars and stripes will heal our stars and stripes.

Amen.

Heavenly Peace

2010-12-27T09:03:00.011-06:00

At the end of the day

After all the holiday hustle…

Take time to be silent

Remember it's about a Child.

And sleep in heavenly peace…

Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
Holy Infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace

Silent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!
Christ, the Saviour is born
Christ, the Saviour is born

Silent night, holy night
Son of God, love's pure light
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth "

Suicide

2010-12-22T03:31:00.006-06:00

It’s 2:48 a.m. I’ve been trying to go to sleep since around eleven. Can’t sleep; keep praying for someone I don’t know. If you’ve read my last couple blogs you’ve had the privilege of meeting my daughter Shyloh. Yesterday the darkness Shyloh thought she left behind reached out its knife and pieced her soul. An acquaintance from her school attempted suicide. The tangled knots Shyloh wrote about seem to be too much for some and they try to escape.

Details are purposely omitted and may be added at a later date, but let it suffice to say a freshman girl from Lakeville Minnesota and her family are broken tonight and could use your prayers and the Lord’s healing and comfort. The family will ride the emotional roller coaster steep with pain filled with whys and curved sharp and hard with guilt.

My daughter sat quiet most of the day untangling the questions in her soul. But one knot was tough. She wrestled with it but couldn’t seem to find a place to grab and work it free. Her voice was quiet and kind-of shaky when she asked.

“Dad, if a person commits suicide do they go to hell?”

Now I was the one who wrestled with the knot. Silently I waited as I asked The One Wiser than I about how to answer this tender young lady.

A religious self righteous self holier than thou voice said, “Well your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit and thou shalt not murder and if you kill it’s a sin and…”

But The Still Small Voice said otherwise.

A snap-shot of people leaping from a burning tower on 9-11 appeared in my mind and I listened to these words cross my lips.

“Do you remember 911 when people jumped from the towers to escape the pain of being burned to death?”

Shyloh nodded.

“Sometimes people think life is like that burning building and the only way to avoid the pain is to escape from it… Only God knows the conditions of a persons’ heart and the trauma they’re in. God is good and He will judge accordingly…”

We talked about alot of other things and the signs that usually but not always accompany suicide attempts and what we can do to help. For now, I just want to thank you for praying for this young girl and her family and many - too many others like them.

Lord God Of All Comfort we humbly ask for you to do what only you can do and bring life out of death light out of darkness and bring health and healing in body, soul and spirit to this family. Thank you, In Jesus Holy Name we pray, Amen.

Following are some contacts of your or someone you know needs help:

http://suicidehotlines.com/national.html

USA National Suicide Hotlines

Toll-Free / 24 hours / 7 days a week

1-800-SUICIDE Hope line

1-800-784-2433

1-800-273-TALK Suicide Prevention Life Line

1-800-273-8255

TTY: 1-800-799-4TTY (4889)

Tangles shoestrings & life ~ guest post

2010-12-21T12:15:00.000-06:00

Today it's an honor to bring you a special guest post from my sweet precious daughter. Shyloh; you're right - He had the birthday and we got the gift...one of His greatest gifts to me is you. You make your Dad proud and your Heavenly Father smile. Thanks for allowing me to post this. I love you.

by Shyloh Spurling on Tuesday, December 21, 2010 at 12:56am

I once held the key to each level of my future, but there comes a time in our lives where the end is truly the beginning. Soon we see where our home really is, by passing through this journey we call life.. but why is this called life?? Why are we HERE right now?? Is it not the end we sit around and wait for,, because we become closer and closer to death by every second counted in time.

Our destiny has a future.. our home is eternal life. It's like a bunch of tangled knots in our shoestrings.. it seems impossible to un-do those loops and tight twists.. but if you look real close the directions are right there for us to untangle those strings.. every knot that is undone in a matter of time is another step we take in life,, ((this is where we make the mistake though)) have you ever walked with tied shoe laces all tangled up?? By doing this the knots become tighter.. so we stop.. do the next step in the directions.. then we repeat ourselves because we get in such a rush to overcome our problems.. that's why things may seem to over power us to the point where everything seems to be getting worse. Like those tangled shoe strings..
God gave us all the answers.. the directions to overcome all things! not so we would read the first part, do it, then move on and keep starting over again.. We get no where by taking little steps and then going backwards to where we started repeatedly.
The point is to why be in a hurry?? when everything is right there in front of us, why not read through the directions and UNDERSTAND before we start to journey through.. Life can take us so many places.. and by not being focused, having to step, go down, re-do what was just done, and so forth will lead to confusion on where to go next..

There's always an answer.. and if the directions are followed through every step of the way will surely be the pathway to everlasting life. Which we call our True home. The beginning of an end. and like my daddy always says to me:

"take your time, and you'll get there faster"
Merry Christmas

~and~

Happy New Years

He had the birthday, We got the gift!
-Shyloh Lee Spurling
.

Shyloh

2010-12-18T13:55:00.001-06:00

.
Almost to the airport, I can’t wait to see her. I wonder if I should have shaved… maybe I should have gotten a haircut… I wonder if this shirt looks stupid…Why am I so nervous… I’m not – just excited. Yeah that’s it. Did I take a shower this morning? Lord I pray this goes well…help. Touch Shyloh’s heart oh Lord, move her I pray.

It’s been several months since we’ve seen Shyloh. She’s 17 now and well, visiting Dad isn’t exactly at the top of her priority list. She’s got work and school and friends and that four letter word…boys.

It sure wasn’t on the agenda, but her plane will be landing soon...I hope these butterflies do too.
Leaving Minnesota in the winter isn’t all that hard, what’s there to miss? Slipping on ice and getting stuck in the snow or low temps and high drifts – not so much. But family – yeah that’s the warmth a person can miss, even if it’s in the coldest of climates.

Shylohs’ visit is about more than escaping slippery roads and deep snow. She’s found herself sliding down life’s slippery slope about to be buried. Like the moment in the Garden when death entered mankind – her eyes have been opened to the harsh reality of life and she’s found it colder and deeper than any winter wind. So, before her heart froze solid she chose an escape. And now she’s almost here. Dear Jesus help.

What’s wrong with me? I used to think I knew exactly what to do, what to say. But now the only thing I’m really sure of is… I don’t know squat. Well, I know God is good and He loves me – I know that. And that’s about all.

We picked Shyloh up at Orlando International and had a pleasant ride home. She looks good…slightly sad, tired, but good.

Now, it’s 3:00 a.m. I should be sleeping, but oh well… Lord thanks for my daughter’s safe arrival. Let Your presence fill this place. You know how to reach, to heal… You love her more than I. She’s yours… I pray you’ll move her.

Today progressed in simplicity. No miracles lit the scene. Nothing profound crossed my lips. I hadn’t felt any inspiration; no great ideas, no fatherly advice or Godly examples penetrated my mind. Everything was normal – peaceful, plain… I was beginning to wonder if the Lord would to show up – if He heard my prayers, if He was going to bring light to my daughters night.

When children grow into adults the hurt in their hearts can’t be cured with a kiss a hug and a giggle. But the Lord moves in the silent night of His children. He is near to those who have a broken heart and rescues those whose spirits are crushed.

And with facebook as her manger she birthed these words:

“Shyloh Spurling December 15 at 10:48pm

If you asked me 2 years ago where i think i would be right now.. I definitly wouldn't have thought I'd be here with my dad.

but I am. I'm tending to surprise myself.. Honestly.. I think it's only right to say it all.. I've messed up a TON through the past few months.. I lost all my faith.. some amazing people in my life.. and the biggest one of them all is i lost myself..

I thought there was nothing left for me.. but WHAT was I thinking?? This world is so big.. for such a short life..

The Lord moved me today.. It's like a whole new world..I know who I am and what I want in life now.. It's amazing when you finally find yourself…”

The truth of God's love, of His existence is evidenced by our feeling lost when we drift away from Him and our knowing that we are found when we decide to return to Him.
Welcome home Shyloh – I love you and I’m proud of you.

The greatest of presents is His presence ~ Immanuel; God with us.

The First Christmas Tree

2010-12-10T14:35:00.002-06:00

The

first

Christmas

Tree…

Stripped Of leaves – bare of branches
The Gift lay not under – but on that tree

The star

a cruel

crown

And

One

Light

hung

down

Red stripes dried

On that tree – the Gift died…

The First Gift given – for us, He is risen

Have a Merry Christmas and remember His presence is the greatest of presents.