Christmas of Love and Hope

I hope your Christmas was wonderful. Ours was. We traveled to our son and daughter-in-law’s home on Christmas Eve and stayed with them. We got to attend Christmas Eve service at our old church. Every time we make the journey to attend there, I understand more and more how precious that little church and its people are. The attendance was smaller than past Christmas Eve services. But the warmth that we felt from our loved ones there really allowed me to fully engage the Christmas Spirit.

Today, the day after Christmas we received a few more cards from friends. One was from an old college friend who lives in Portland. His family typically constructs a state of the art news letter that is always fun to read. We don’t see them anymore so we look forward to their newsletters. After the typical blah blah blah stuff, Joe summed up his letter by saying, “I won’t close this year with a wish for world peace, because it increasingly seems like a wasted wish and a lost cause. Humans will never get along while there is organized religion to keep us at each other’s throats, and as long as we have a government that is more interested in stirring up trouble than really working for cooperation.”

No sooner did I read that, then an old Christmas Carol popped into my head. I googled it and I knew it was the Holy Spirit who prompted it. The song was written by a man who had just received news that his son was wounded in the Civil War. His wife was killed in a fire two years earlier. But the Spirit of Christmas so profoundly touched him that he wrote this:

I heard the bells on Christmas day

Their old familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet the words repeat

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And thought how, as the day had come,

The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along the unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head

“There is no peace on earth,” I said,

“For hate is strong and mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail

With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Over 160 years later, the belfries of Christendom still declare that hope of Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men.

Here's Looking at You, Kid

I remember a movie plot one time that revolved around a scene where a man was peering though a telescope across the skyline of a city. He focused in on a window of a tall building across town only to see a man peering through a telescope back at him. That’s what I thought of when I came across this picture taken by the Hubble Telescope. It is appropriately named The Eye of God.

I know that I sometimes forget that He always sees me. While we are diligently searching for him, he is always very aware of us. If for a brief moment we could focus a telescope on God, would we find him busy working on something else? I don’t think so. I think we would see him looking at us – not missing a thing. Sometimes we would like it if we could hide from him. I remember when our daughter was just two, she would cover her eyes, thinking that it blocked our view of her. Having been caught getting into her mother’s dresser drawer, she wanted to disappear. But she had little understanding that when a parent looks upon his child, he does it with love.

Under the Bridge

I was all alone as I waded down the Ninilchik River in Alaska. The sun was shining and the weather was warm. My waders kept my feet and legs insulated from the icy water that rushed passed me to the Cook Inlet about a mile downstream. In the week that I had been on the Kenai Peninsula, I had fished several rivers and caught Halibut on a rolling deck in the ocean. I had experienced “combat fishing” on the Russian River and fished late into the evening on the Kasiloff River. My two fishing buddies, Norm and Ray took an opportunity to go out for one more halibut fishing trip, so I dropped them at the charter launch point and headed for the Ninilchik. Now I was standing in the middle of it all alone. I was awe-struck by the beautiful setting. The river, about as wide as a big one-lane road meandered through meadows and around big rocks. Upriver it passed under the highway bridge. Downriver, it meandered back and forth through a meadow that led through a village and the mouth.

The beauty, warmth, and solitude allowed me to think about a recurring dream that I had as a boy. I hadn’t thought about it in years, but it was fresh again, prompted by the desire to catch a fish. The dream was a scene where I as a young boy was pulling a fish from a stream that ran through our pasture. As I was pulling the fish from the stream, without looking, I knew my Dad was walking up behind me. I grabbed the fish, turned around and held it up for him. I was laughing and he was beaming. I loved that dream. The problem was that it was just that. My Dad was a wonderful father, but he never took me fishing. My whole childhood, he worked 6 days a week. The one day he got off we worked to keep the farm going. He promised but we never went fishing. Other boys my age went fishing with their dads.

So as I stood all alone on the Ninilchick, I called out to God. “Father, this place is so beautiful, would you spend some time with me, here? Would you walk with me? Would you show me what to do; where to go? Do you have time to spend with me? I know you must be busy but can we go fishing together?”

When I said that last bit, I could feel a bit of anger that I had held for all those years towards my Dad. As I sat and retied my salmon rowe bait, I repented of that immature resentment that I had somehow harbored all these years. The emotion of the moment caught me by surprise. Sitting there in the sun, with that beautiful river flowing by, I felt God’s tender presence and the strong desire to be with the Lord. I told him that His presence, enjoying this stream with me was what I longed for. Actually catching a fish was not nearly as important. As I stood up, I asked Him which way we should go. I had been heading downstream, but I sensed the desire to go upstream, wade under the bridge, and follow the river as it turned left and headed east.

I made my way slowly upstream, sometimes on the bank, sometimes in the water. I fished the holes and still water as I went. Earlier, downstream I had caught two steelhead. Normally I would be elated, but I had to release them as I was after 30 lb. king salmon. Upstream I was not even getting steelhead bites. I entered the shade of the bridge and stepped into deeper water. As I did, I was still directly under the bridge when I glanced up ahead of me and saw an odd looking little man on far bank about 40 yards ahead of me. Beside him sat a very large black dog with white eyebrows and a grayish white muzzle. It was staring at me, not with any kind of alert, but with eyes that indicated I was of no threat to him.

The little man had seen me first. He was pacing back and forth on the bank, alternating glances at me and glances into the river below him. I kept slowly approaching him, but I had to walk from the middle of the stream to the opposite bank. The bank he was standing on was about 6 feet higher than the water level. My bank was more like a beach, directly under the bridge.

As I walked up it, he spoke in such a manner that almost sounded like we were in the middle of a conversation. “There are 5 right below me. I can see them. There are another 4 where you are, under the bridge.” He was now kneeling and pulling pieces of a small fly rod out of his backpack. “We’re all alone,” he continued. “There are a bunch of people at the mouth of the river digging clams. Wasting their time. Here is where the real action is.” Now he was plunking his hook in the water, allowing it to go to the bottom and then jerking it up. “I’ll show you they are down there. Then you will believe me,” he said with excitement in his voice.

At that point, several things were running through my mind. This little man was very odd looking. Everyone on the river wore the same uniform. Fishing vest, sunglasses, ball cap, and hip waders were all the standard wardrobe. This little man was wearing a blue wool plaid jacket, blue coveralls, and an odd looking black hat. His hair was long and curly as was his full beard. Even though there was no gray in his hair, the skin on his face was very wrinkled and looked like he had spent many an Alaskan winter out in the elements. His eyes were large and dark. Fishermen wore sunglasses so we could see the fish in the water. He wasn’t wearing any, but he was claiming he could see all these fish below us. I wondered if he wasn’t looking at logs below the water’s surface, or perhaps he had spotted some more steelhead.

He continued to plunk his line into the water and jerk up. “We’re the only ones here,” he said again. “I’ll show you that these fish are here.” Suddenly, the still water below him exploded. A good sized king salmon leapt into the air, hit the water and raced to the opposite shore. He let out a whoop as his little fly rod became a lightning rod and he hung on as it jerked up and down, left and right. The fish’s energy was only increasing as it crisscrossed the little river in an effort to get unhooked. Suddenly the water stopped churning and went silent. The fish had succeeded in losing the hook. “Whoo hoo,” he yelled. “I hooked that one in the ass! Now do you believe me?”

I admit I am not a very good fisherman. But I have learned a couple of things. One thing I learned was when you see something like what I just saw, you rig your hook with the same setup and you get it in the water, fast.

“Bait won’t work,” the little man said. “Do you know how to do the Kenai flip?” The Kenai flip is a legal snagging cast used by the locals for fish that are not responding to lures or bait.

“Yes, I know how” I replied as I sat down to rig my pole with the right hook, leader length, and weight to do the Kenai flip.

“That fish stirred up the others,” my new friend told me. “Some of them are headed towards you beneath the bridge.” As I waded back beneath the bridge, he caught another. “I got this one in the mouth!” he yelled as he played it along the bank. I was now below the bridge flipping my line into the water and jerking it up when the weight hit the bottom. I could see ripples in the water; proof that he was right. His action was moving the fish down river.

But as I walked away from him, down river giving chase, something then occurred to me. The scene seemed surreal, that was plain enough. But my recent prayer suddenly came back to me. “Would you spend time with me? Would you have some fun with me? Would you show me what to do, like a dad would do?” Even though this man is pretty strange, I thought, “Lord if this is you, I am absolutely crazy to be walking away from you.” So I abruptly turned around and started fishing towards the little man who was still wrestling with his big salmon.

Now walking under the bridge towards him, I encountered the deepest water yet. I suddenly noticed that one of my waders was taking on ice cold water. I was in the shade, under the bridge working to about 20 yards from the little man standing in the sunshine when the water exploded around me. My rod bent over and nearly jerked from my hand as beside me, not 10 feet away a huge king salmon lunged to the surface. I had my drag set pretty tight but he easily stripped out line as he took off down river in an effort to get unhooked. I let out a yell and I could hear the little man yell back, encouraging me on.

Suddenly then the line went slack as I could see the big fish change directions and head directly towards me. I reeled as fast as I could to take up the slack, all the while backing up towards the beach under the bridge. But when the fish saw the bank coming up, he abruptly turned and headed across the river again towards a partially submerged log. “Oh no you don’t!” I yelled as I tightened my drag down some more and pulled with all my might. I knew if he got under the log he would be able to catch my line. I pulled again and just got his head turned in time. But there were more logs and he headed for the next one. Again I got his head turned in time and again he race towards me, causing my line to go slack. I reeled in as fast as I could. Things were looking good. I had him headed towards the beach and I knew he had to be tiring.

But I was also aware of the eventual fate of this fish. You see, it had a dorsal fin. It was a native and when I got him to shore, (if I got him to shore), I was going to have to release him. The rules were strict that we could keep only hatchery kings like the one that I had caught on the Kasilof River a few days earlier. This was a much bigger fish. He was mad at me for disturbing his peace. But at this point he was cooperating. I had him heading my direction a second time and I new I just needed to back up and bring him onto the beach.

But there is a funny thing about king salmon. I think that is why they are called kings. He took one look at the beach, turned his head down river and with more energy than even before, he took off. My drag on my reel was cinched down as hard as I could get it but it did no good. This king shot off down river, leaving a wake as he went. My reel was singing loud in protest as he shot past the two logs and over a little rock ledge to a pool below. Suddenly I saw my weight flip up in the air towards me with the leader and hook following behind. Somehow he had pulled off his hook. I watched his wake as he disappeared around the next bend.

I was far from disappointed about how this battle had ended. I knew he was destined to be set free. The fact that he did it himself only added to the thrill. The fish was huge. The battle was thrilling. I yelled out with pure elation only to hear the little man behind me adding to my cheers. “That was sure a lot more exciting than clam digging, wasn’t it!” he boomed out. I couldn’t agree more. I turned around to see him and his big dog on the bank behind me. He had real joy in his eyes as he spoke again. “Have a great Holiday!” Then he turned and stepped into the forest. His dog lingered just a bit longer, looking at me, then also turned, following on the little man’s heals as they both disappeared up a small trail.

It was suddenly quiet. I was standing in the middle of the river. Sun was bathing me in warmth and I was all alone. The water was quiet around me. I strained to catch a glimpse of the old man but he had vanished. I looked around to hopefully see another witness. I wanted to ask someone, “Did you see what just happened? But, there was no one.

If someone would have walked up then, he wouldn’t have understood. Here was a 56 year old fisherman standing in the middle of a river with tears streaming down his cheeks. A dam had burst inside of me and waves of emotion were causing me to let loose with some tears. I was remembering what I had prayed earlier. I was also remembering everything the little man had done and said. His disdain for the people digging clams at the mouth of the river when the real prize was here under the bridge was humorous. But I felt convicted, because I spend way too much time on and put way to much importance in my own version of clam digging. His ability to see the fish, his joy at showing them to me, and then his elation when I caught one were the things that I kept remembering.

Now I wrestle with this next part. Probably a good fisherman would have turned back into the water to see how many more he could hook. But I made my way to the bank, sat in the sun, embraced the solitude and simply enjoyed what had just happened as I inconspicuously wiped tears from my eyes. I also allowed my logic to take over, thinking that if the little man was not a divine being, he certainly was someone who God used. But why does everything that he said have a depth of meaning for me? Why do I remember bits of our conversation days later only to realize that each thing he said speaks deeply to me?

Leaving is Leading

Last month I said good-bye to some people that I had been with for many years. My role at the bank had changed so that I was needed in another town. So, after over 25 years at one location, I was changing to one that was about 90 miles away. I had commuted for over a year and it was evident that my move was inevitable. Although the signs were clear to me, it was a shock for many people that I had worked with for a long time.

One by one, I was able to have a private conversation with many of them. There were some very sincere, very touching moments. I had hired most of them. I got to be with them as their boss when several had gone through some very tough personal times. One, a very successful loan officer told me that my hiring her, my believing in her changed her life. Another reminisced about the time a decade ago when I had put my own position on the line to fight to save her position. Several told me that they had a certain security just knowing that I was always there. A gentleman, over drinks even got a little emotional and was able to tell me how he had relied on me.

It all got me questioning the move. There is no question, I was relied upon. I was the one who steadied the ship, no matter how severe the storm. They all knew that I am Christian. I never tried to wear that, but I always tried to live it. Quietly praying with a fellow worker who was facing a crisis was not an unusual event. I never preached at them but it was well known that I was always there for them. My relationship with all of them was not perfect, but it was real.

I could have stayed. I have enough equity with my employer that I could have claimed the right to stay, and made them send someone else to the new territory. But the most powerful part of leadership is the part that gets up and faces the new challenge first. My role here was to go to the new town, develop a new line of business for my bank that did not exist there, and make it pay. There were no guarantees that it would work. There was just the need for it to be done right.

If you are a true leader, you might be facing the same dilemma right now. The challenge put ahead of you has no guarantees. The people around you now love you, respect you, and would all love for you to stay. None would condemn you for turning down the unknown.

One of the words in the New Testament for leader is a military term that literally translates, “The first one out of the foxhole.” It means that you could order anyone else to take the assignment, but you are the leader. You do it. In Iraq, the hardest part of training the Iraqis is the part where the soldiers teach them that the captain leads his company into enemy fire. In Iraq, it was traditional that the captain ordered his troops forward while he stayed in the rear. Our soldiers are teaching them just the opposite. The captain leads. He is seen leading. When he gets reassigned or promoted, or goes down, then the next one leads the same way. He knows precisely how, because he saw his captain do it.

Be a Truth Seeker

In earlier posts, I have written about the fact that we are at war. My first posts were about Jesus saying, “Know the truth and the truth shall set you free.” That verse is inscribed upon the famous Clock Tower building on the University of Texas campus in Austin. I am sure that there are many people who have attended UT and have thought that this inscription was a challenge to gain knowledge. But Jesus was actually giving an invitation to really know Him. And he was giving a promise that to really pursue and get to know him was to pursue the ultimate truth and to do so was the door to real freedom.

This is what the Pope will see when he visits Turkey.



So this war that we see being carried out with bomb blasts and words of hate and condemnation really is not about border disputes or traditional war prizes but is all about the real truth and who the real truth is. This has become really evident in the protests that are now happening in Turkey.
Fortunately, Muslims believe that prophets, especially Prophets of Islam, do not lie.

They should then ponder the fact that their prophet Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except by me.” They should reconcile the fact that Jesus left no room for any definition of who He is but the Son of God. To say he is merely a prophet of God then makes this statement blasphemous. And for Mohamed to claim that a blasphemous person is a Prophet of Islam makes Mohamed, himself blasphemous.

But wait, before we take the speck out of the Muslims’ eyes, lets look around at ourselves. People in our culture hoist up similar signs all the time. The inscription on the Clocktower in Austin can be read the same way.

Muslims, Christians, good people, sincere people, and those who reject religion altogether will all have the same opportunity one day. Jesus told about that day. He will be approached by people who will plead with him and will say, “Don’t you remember? I even prophesied in your name.” And Jesus will say, “Be gone, for I do not know you.”

Know him. Seek Him out while He may be found. He made that possible by sending the Holy Spirit who “will lead you to all truth”. It is His greatest desire and your greatest reward.

Crossroads in the Sky

Have you ever looked up in the sky on a clear day and seen con-trails crisscrossing the sky? Commercial aircraft have certain lanes they travel in. On a clear day when the atmosphere allows the con-trails to remain, you look up and see big X’s or crosses in the sky. I wonder about the many lives crisscrossing, intersecting without knowing it. It makes you wonder about events that shape and direct our lives. Occasionally we recognize a crossroad and we approach it with the opportunity to analyze, discuss, pray, and decide which course is best to take. However, I believe that sometimes crossroads come and go when we are least aware. Like the contrails, the people in Airplane A never new that the people in Airplane B crossed their trail at 500 miles per hour headed a completely different direction.
Today for me was one of those days. I didn’t see any contrails, but it just seemed to be a day when I was able to observe lives crossing in front of me at tremendous speeds. Some believe they had chosen their course. Others are more aware of being compelled a certain direction by factors well beyond them. My reason for documenting this is that I am aware. Like the guy on the ground seeing the contrails, I am aware. The 700 people on the move are unaware that they just zipped through a crossroads. But from where I sit, I can see it clearly. So the following are simply my observations of the what I saw on the crossroad

I am away from home. I am in Yakima, living in a hotel, taking care of construction business for the Bank. I do this weekly, spending a couple of days a week away from home. My son Jeff and his wife, Charity have been trying to set up a meeting where we could pray for a man who is losing his battle with hepatitis. They envisioned the four of us visiting him and his wife, taking communion and praying for this man. Charity, who is aptly named, has such a heart of compassion. Jeff is faithful and generous. Charity is compassionate. They wanted Helen and me to lead the prayer. Someday they will know that by virtue of how God made them, they can access the spiritual power they want to see loosed. However, Pastor Tom has graciously agreed to step in on my behalf. Shane, the man who is attacked by hepatitis, is in a battle for his life. The Doctors are recommending that Hospice be called in to look after him. This development is after years of Shane having hope for a transplant. That is now not an option. Hospice is the best suggestion the Doctors have.


While in Yakima, I work out of a small branch on Summitview Avenue. I also have an office in the main Yakima building, but many times I prefer the quiet and relaxed atmosphere in Summitview. Vanessa, a young pretty teller there asked me, “How was your weekend?” Thinking that she was simply posing an obligatory conversation opener, I responded, “Fine, how was yours?”
She began, “Saturday was the annual parade in Selah. (Selah is a small town just west of Yakima. I don’t know the history behind its name, but I like it). As a former princess, I accompanied the Queen’s float. It has the Queen and 4 princesses on it. The Queen stands on this high perch. The only way she can get up there is by a ladder. Just as the parade started, it started to rain. It poured buckets the entire length of the parade. At the end it took them an extra 20 minutes to find the ladder and get the Queen down. Just after it was all over, it stopped raining, the sun came out and it was real nice.”
Vanessa was half-smiling as she told the story. What a picture! What a slice of life. If you were a filmmaker you couldn’t have asked for a more intriguing scene. The Queen of Selah being drenched in rain the entire parade route.

This afternoon, at the Summitview Branch, I looked out the window of my office and saw several police cars circling the branch. Sometimes this means that a teller has triggered a silent alarm. I jumped up and carefully observed the lobby. Just then, the Branch Manager came up and said, “They are blocking off the streets. A motorcade is coming through. Vicente Fox, President of Mexico is coming through here on his way to the airport.” I remember hearing that Fox was going to visit a big apple orchard near Yakima today. He apparently had done that and was on his way back.
We stepped outside to the sidewalk and noticed all the police cars blocking intersections. After a couple of minutes, a motorcade came down Summitview. First came about 7 motorcycles. Then came 3 police cars. Then came about 4 Suburbans. Then about 4 unmarked cars, then a bus with reporters. We figured the second Suburban had the important people in it. As it whisked by, a lady in the back seat looked straight at me and waived. I reflexively waived back. Eeeeuww! I just waived at Governor Christine Gregioire. President Fox was in Yakima because they had planned an event where an orchardist was going to tell him that he needed workers. I hope Fox told him that he already had a job.
I actually have some questions about this. What is the Mexican President doing coming up here looking for work? Are they all up here now? Did he turn out the lights when he crossed over to the US? Is he going to go back or just send money down to his family? This is the most hotly debated issue in America. It has more profound implications for the future of America than our war in the Middle East. I personally got to see the President of Mexico and his contrail of security vehicles pass by. Where most leaders find ways to increase employment in their countries, Fox is paving a way for US to employ his people; legally or illegally. His biggest employment initiative is to ensure that the emigration of his citizens from his country continues unabated.

Helen called and told me that a man out of my past was trying to reach me. John was a former building official for the City of Kennewick. He is about 70. He fell last year and suffered some bleeding of the brain. I had heard that he had undergone brain surgery in Seattle last year. But I had just lost track. Today he was calling from home. He had been undergoing rehab to learn to walk again for a whole year.
John has been a great friend. As a Kennewick Building Official, he would visit construction sites and either pass or fail the contractors job progress. I would periodically get visits from contractors who would come to me distressed because John flunked their project. The contractor would have all kinds of choice words to describe John. Indeed, John had a legendary reputation. He knew how to make millionaire contractors shake and beg forgiveness. In the middle of the contractor’s venting, I would let him know that I had no better friend than John. Then I would advise the contractor that if he took the same attitude, his troubles would disappear. “If John is telling you to change the way you are framing this building, then I would thank him for the advice and do it.”
Well, John’s message today was that he was very proud. His challenge was to take three steps on his own. After a year, he did it. It meant that he could come home. He proved the doctors wrong. His therapist never gave up. She worked with John for the entire year. His speech was slow, but we talked and laughed for about an hour.

I have reflected on these four incidents. Shane, the Selah Queen, President Fox, and John. Their stories all crisscrossed in front of me today. John and his ability to walk 3 steps seemed the happiest.
I know that we are all in God’s hands. There is nothing that happens to us that he doesn’t already know about. He helps us to endure. He laughs with us. He gives us individual strength all the while He is shaking the governments around us. Those crisscrossing contrails can be so complicated. I like it when they form a big cross in the sky. It is a reminder to me that I can fully trust in Him. And that is the truth.

Up to Jerusalem

My daughter is headed to Israel tomorrow. She jumped at the opportunity to go when John Paul Jackson announced the tour several months ago. I am excited for her because I went there on a Holy Land Tour just months after Desert Storm in 1992. It was a life changing experience.
She is already experiencing some of the same things I did. We talked about the way people react when you tell them you are going to Israel. There are three main reactions:
1. The non-believer: “What the hell are you going there for?” (while nervously laughing the same kind of laugh you would hear if you told them you were really a Martian).
2. The nominal believer: “Oh really? . . . Uh . . . that’s . . . . uh . . . . interesting. Aren’t you concerned about the violence?” (The answer to that question is, “Yes, I am, but the layover in New York is for only a couple of hours.”)
3. The spirit-filled believer: “When are you leaving? Is there still room to sign up?”

She could have gone anywhere in the world. Some friends even suggested they go to a resort destination like Cabo San Lucas or Puerto Vallarta. My daughter’s reaction was, “I’ve got money to go to one place. Why would I want to go anywhere else than Israel?”

I am excited for her because she will undoubtedly have some very unique and wonderful experiences there. As I remember my trip it is easy now to recognize that God was delighting in allowing me some experiences and showing me some scenes that he knew I would never forget.



For instance there is a famous Zion Gate that was the scene of a crucial battle in the 1967 Six Day War when the Israeli Army broke through and finally entered Jerusalem. The stones that make up this gate are filled with the pock-marked evidence of that battle. As we were huddled around our guide (a former IDF Major) and he was telling us the story, we start hearing the singing of what sounded like a youth group coming our way. Their choruses echoed between the buildings and grew louder as they approached. Male and female voices singing songs we couldn’t understand, intermixed with laughter reached us long before we could see the group. Finally they rounded a corner and headed past us. It was an army troupe. About 40 young soldiers, an equal amount of boys and girls, all fully armed with rifles or Uzi’s, marched, walked, skipped, past us in loose formation. They turned another corner and disappeared from site. Their singing and laughter faded as they went away. We were left there alone again, staring at Zion's Gate, with the old IDF major, our tour guide still talking about the miracle battle that happened there.
Now use your spiritual eyes and tell me what we saw. The significance of that whole scene affected us then. It affects me more now as I recall it. If I had do over’s I would have gone up to them and asked them to tell me who their captain was. I am not sure any of us were ready for the answer they might have given us. See Joshua 5:15.
In Israel it is not uncommon to be standing in a place where an incredible miracle had taken place. It happened in Joshua's time, and in Jesus time. At that very spot in 1967 it happened again. Were we seeing another before our eyes in 1992? I should have taken off my shoes.

My Favorite Holiday

So, wow, Easter is coming. I love Easter. For me, the holiday serves as a renewing of my mind. It is a fresh reminder of the reality of God’s overall plan for our salvation. I have been to the Garden Tomb. Peering into it, I got to see first hand that it was empty. He is alive!! And that fact separates him from every other person who ever claimed to be the way.
But there is another holiday coming up that I think deserves as much or maybe more attention. Good Friday. Wow. Now there is a holiday. We might acknowledge it. But we don’t give it the attention it deserves. Don’t get upset, but it, in my opinion of the three days, Christmas, Easter, and Good Friday, I think it should be the one we exchange gifts on. Can you imagine people going around this Friday, hugging each other, giving each other gifts, high-fiving, saying to each other, “Happy Good Friday? Jesus died on this day!” Only to get a reply, “Yes, isn’t it wonderful?”
Let’s think about this for a minute. Do you take communion at church? You can read about the first communion in the gospels. Paul gave us more insight in 1 Corinthians 11. There is a very interesting statement there. He says in verse 26, “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.”
Now I have to admit, every time I read or heard that verse, I really thought Paul was trying to say, “ . . . you proclaim the Lord’s death (and resurrection) until he comes.” I would hear it and think “That’s OK. I know what he really means. He means the whole Easter package.” I think I now have a clearer understanding of that. Speaking of communion, Paul encourages us to do it often. And each time we do it, proclaim his death. He then goes further and admits some there in Corinth haven’t been doing that. And the evidence of that is that some are sick and some have even died. What the . . . ?
I really like John Paul Jackson's understanding of this. In his new teaching on CD named “The Communion Effect” he goes into detail about the day of Jesus’ death. In Isaiah 53, it says “ He was wounded for our transgressions, bruised for our iniquity. By His stripes we were healed.”
Here are some questions for you. When you think about the answers, you might just high-five someone else on Good Friday.
1. Do you really understand and believe that Jesus was pierced for our sins? The thorns in His brow, the spear in His side were for all of our sins. All of them.
2. Do you have thoughts or habits that you know you shouldn’t? Have you done things that you hate to even think about? Do you feel guilty about them? Christians shouldn’t have those things, right? They are the kind of thoughts and actions that you can’t really share with anyone. Let’s face it. They are perversions. So do you really understand and believe that Jesus was deformed for our perversions? The beatings he took caused Him to be unrecognizable by the people who loved Him. The horrible stuff on the inside that deforms you doesn’t have to. It has all been paid for. God knew about your perversions. He provided for it. Jesus incredibly bore all the punishment for it. Friend, . . . . . they are all paid for.
3. Have you succumbed to the fear of sickness? We have all been attacked by sickness. Cancer attacked me. Crohn’s disease attacked my wife. No known cure for either. But we have not succumbed to the fear of them. They do not rule over us. Why? Because we know they too were paid for. Jesus paid the full price. When he took that horrible punishment, He took it for our sickness. Yours too.
So, on Friday, He did it. He paid the full price for you and me. All that nasty stuff that we did, we thought about, and we suffered were paid for completely on Friday. That didn’t happen on Christmas or Easter. Those holidays are wonderful and are all wonderful evidence of God’s plan. But Good Friday? We are free, completely free because of what Jesus did for us on that day. He died on that day. Paid in full on that day. It was the best day of our lives.
Now if you are like me, with the business of life, you forget. You get spiritually tired. You regress. You relapse. We need a reminder. Take personal communion. That’s not my theology; that is Jesus’ advice. He said “Do this often in remembrance of me.” Paul said, “Do it and proclaim His death.” By proclaiming His death we are proclaiming that it is done. When the enemy tries to bring it all back, take communion. Declare Jesus’ death. The enemy knows what that means. It’s paid for. That is the truth.

Quest

The scene was 10 years ago. I was a 45 year old student for a month on the University of Texas campus. Campus activity looked the same as my own school (University of Oregon) 25 years earlier. I had changed though. As a 45 year old, I was aware of the spiritual atmosphere and confident of my place in it. At Oregon, when I was a young student, I was self focused and unsure of my world. Any confidence I projected, any resolve I espoused were merely generated out of the need of the moment to project and espouse confidence and resolve. Twenty-five years later I could see the same fragile masks on some of the young students as we walked through campus between classes.
On the Texas campus, there is a big lawn crisscrossed by sidewalks. Between classes it teems with a sea of students as they cross through it for the next class. At the far end is the tallest building on campus. It is at the same time famous and infamous. It is the “Clocktower Building”. If you are old enough, you might remember the first real sniper killing in our country that was covered live on television across the nation. A man had made his way up the Clocktower Building’s 23 stories with a rifle and started killing students as they crossed the lawn on their way to class. Many more would have died if it wasn’t for a couple of brave patrolmen who, armed with only a pistol and a shotgun, climbed up the 23 flights of stairs and put an end to the carnage. I was about 15 when it happened. I had not remembered or thought of it since, but when I walked on campus 30 years later and looked up to see that building, I instantly remembered. This was that building.
However as I approached it, remembering the black and white TV images, I saw something that I was not prepared for. Engraved in the marble across the face of the huge base of the building was the quote, “Know the truth and the truth will set you free.” Young students walked past, oblivious of the building’s infamy and unmoved by the huge message carved in stone before them. The scene was surreal. Oblivious students walking past a structure that had all the impact of Golgotha. A place made infamous by the mass murdering of innocent students. The same place had the message of ultimate freedom emblazoned on it.
I watched the scene before me and realized that the students represented all of us. We are all on a quest for truth. We all walk the path that represents the quest for truth, oblivious of the fact that death itself can scour the same path, seeking who it may devour. We all are somewhere between the realization of death and the revelation of the truth.
The irony of the scene was that the author of the building’s inscription was not a sponsor of academic pursuit at all. And his statement was not about the pursuit of knowledge. Nor was it a simple platitude. After all, what he was talking about is so powerful that it is the only certain and successful defense from the clocktower killer. I wanted to walk through the square, point to the inscription and ask the students, “Who do you think first said that? What do you think that means?” What was he talking about?” I didn’t stop anyone. They all had just minutes to get to their next class. They were all too focused to pay attention to some middle aged stranger.
But you’ve got time? What do you think it means?

Know the Truth

Engraved on the big clocktower building at the University of Texas campus are the words, "Know the truth and the truth will set you free." That is a great challenge for college students to have in front of them every day. I wondered when I read it if some students walk under this invitation for four years without knowing who said it or what he was saying.
We live in a time where knowledge is increasing exponentially, but truth is held hostage to the word "relative."
My purpose for this blog is to use it as a tool to find the essence of truth in issues that are important to me. Your comments are essential because "iron sharpens iron."
At this point I feel a desire to include the following topics in my discussions:

• The spiritual landscape
• The political landscape
• Marriage and family issues
• Investment comments (especially commodity technical analysis)
• Oregon Duck sports

My hope and my goal is to use the process of discussion and mutual discovery to arrive at truth that endures the circumstances of the moment and guides us as we encounter the future.