Happy Thanksgiving

II Corinthians 9:15 -- "Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!"

It's a bright, sunny, fifty some odd degrees in the Sunshine State this morning. I can't help but feel the season from my head to my toes as I look out over the pond. I watch the ducks eye me, paddling over to beg for food. I'm excited, because for the first time in AGES the Dalton Gang will get to celebrate with my entire family - this wonderful day dedicated to the act of taking pause and giving thanks. 

The list of things for which I have to be grateful is high in number - so I shan't go into the tedious but pleasurable detail of putting it on paper. Instead I want to simply BE thankful.

In II Corinthians 9 verse 15 [one of my favorite short verses] Paul is describing his gratefulness for the precious gift of grace. It really all starts there, doesn't it?  Without that precious and amazing beginning - noting else would really have any meaning. Jesus bought me with his own blood. He paid the price - the bounty on my head with his own death and claimed victory over that death by rising again. How thankful I am for His indescribable gift! One day isn't nearly enough time to express this much thanks!

As we gather round our feast, settle in to a football game with full tummies and droopy eye-lids, every cell and muscle fiber of that which is me - fills up even more with gratitude. It just CANNOT be expressed often enough, deep enough, sincerely enough -- thank you, Father, for Your indescribable gift!! 

And thank you all, readers of this blog - this new endeavor to be grateful every day - for taking time out of your lives to read it. Thank you for your comments, your questions and your requests. I am deeply grateful for each of you and wish you a most wonderful - and THANKFUL - thanksgiving day. 

I'll "see" you again on December 2nd. Until then, may the Lord continue to bless you and keep you always safe.

Avoiding Creepers

Galatians 3:4 -- "Did you suffer so many things in vain-if indeed it was in vain?"

I had just completed the most intricate, the most glorious, the most fully stocked and adventure-ready house I had ever built using nothing but pixilated squares and computer generated textures in the game of Minecraft. Diamond armor donned and enchanted pick-axe in my very square hand, I headed out the door to discover treasures in deep carved out cube-shaped rifts. The door had barely "clicked" shut behind me when I heard it. That awful sssssssss sound that is ALWAYS followed by a huge "BOOM"! I tried to run away from my newly finished house, I tried to lure the bright green Creeper away from all of my hard work - but it was no use. He exploded behind me, taking out most of my front entryway with him. 

Grrrrr. All of that labor, the perfect use of square space, the unique decor, and innovative use of water blocks ..... down the tube in a mere fraction of a second. Again, I say Grrrrr. 

Lucky for me, I can load back to my last save point and my house will be just as I completed it - minus the huge hole in it caused by those nasty, sneaky Creepers. I could generate a second chance for my square Minecraft character. All was not for naught!

If only our lives could be reset so easily. If only WE knew how to use our lives - our experiences, our grief and victories - in a way that made the going through of them worth while. Paul was worried about this as he addressed the church in Galatia. He could see some behaviors pop up that made him angry enough to write to them at great length.


Ever make the same mistake twice? Ever wish we could reset to the last save point?

I know of a woman who is about to go through her third divorce. I ache for her and feel angry for her all at the same time. She DOES know Jesus. She IS in church. And while she can probably pick out several Bible verses regarding faith and healing - she finds herself riding the same emotional roller coaster that she's managed to ride two times already. The question popped into my head ... "did you suffer so many things in vain?" Was all of your pain and anger and frustration acquired by the experience of two previous divorces NOT worth anything at all? 

How easily we forget. 

When we make mistakes, God is amazing for us - He comes through and finds a way to grow our faith and heal us in spite of ourselves.  Every single time. No matter how many times we make the exact same mistake. However - He also wants us to learn from the things we've experienced. He wants us to use the mountains that we've climbed in our lives to encourage others through the climbing of their own. If we don't do that - we've gone through all the effort, the pain, the grief and healing for nothing. 

Back in my Minecraft universe, I knew that if I walked out the front door again, I would most likely bump into that same explosive Creeper -- so I used the back door instead and avoided him. My character discovered a huge rift with iron, gold AND the ever illusive diamond! My previous explosive experience had not been in vain.  I learned to take a different rout. 

Let's not be quiet. Let's not sit back and watch others endure the spiritual and emotional train wreck that might be waiting for them just around the corner ..... we need to reach out. Encourage. Share. Fellowship. And should we be granted the opportunity - let us open up a little bit and give from our own pain that a fellow brother or sister in Christ might not have to endure it for themselves.

A Stitch In Time Saves ..... ALL Of Them

Ephesians 5:15-16 -- "Therefore be careful how you walk, not as unwise men but as wise, making the most of your time, because the days are evil."

Claude Eugene Saunders was a very well-known and highly respected member of our church in Orange Park. He was there to help in whatever capacity was needed of him - every single time the doors were open. In fact, once the doors were open, you couldn't get through them without a firm handshake from him because as one the ushers, he manned the entrances and greeted people as they headed in for worship. AND - if one were to really get down to brass tacks - much of Orange Park wouldn't be what it is today if it weren't for men like Claude and his colleagues. An independent contractor and owner of  Claude Saunders Builder, Inc. - Claude very literally helped build Orange Park from the ground up and was living there long before it became the sprawling cluster of suburbs that it is today. Dotted across the OP landscape are homes and office buildings that he built brick by brick, layer by layer, window by window -- and -- one dream at a time.

Claude was called friend by many, professional by more people than one could count without the use of a calculator, and an outstanding pillar of the community. But none of those titles could ever come close to matching the one for which he was most cherished by a privileged few. It is what I called him - Grandpa.

When I think of Grandpa words like tall, stoic, patient, quietly authoritative, and gentle come to mind. And of course - I'll never forget hearing him laugh.

Shortly after my twenty-fourth birthday my then fiance', Steven Wayne Dalton, and I hopped into his car and headed out to watch a movie with my Grandparents. We ate dinner, had cake of some sort, and then nestled into the living room to enjoy a rented film called "Down Periscope". [If you've haven't seen it - go get it. It's wonderful!] Part-way through the picture an intense moment in a cramped diesel submarine has us at the edge of our seats. The submarine is hiding from an enemy by laying quiet at the bottom of the ocean - and then - the tension is broken by - [drum roll, please] bodily function humor. My Grandpa erupted in a deep and rumbling laughter that I could feel in my ribcage. I remember turning my focus away from the television and onto Grandpa. It was the first time in my life I had ever heard him laugh that hard. It surprised me. It tickled me. And to this day that movie is my favorite of all films. I can't watch it without thinking of Grandpa. I even have a framed print of the theatrical poster hanging on my wall at home.

Those precious moments gently planted in a dimly lit family room, all of us content with tummies full of dinner and birthday cake - were the last moments I was able to spend with my grandfather. Just a few short days later he was taken home to our Lord by way of a massive aneurism. It was a shock to all of us, and that experience forever etched in my heart the truths in Ephesians 5:15-16.

My grandfathers were suppose to give me away at my wedding. I was going to walk the isle with a handsome grandpa on each arm. I was gracefully gifted a bridal walk down the isle with my Dad's Father, something that I will always remember with pride - but I felt the empty space to my left where Grandpa Saunders would have been.

Make the most of your time.

We don't know what tomorrow will bring. I will forever be grateful of the time I was able to spend with my Grandpa Saunders just before he died. That precious and most cherished gift will always remind me how important family ties are - and how fleeting can be the life we have on this earth.

As the long line of funeral attendees attempted to wind our way through the church parking lot and pull onto Kinsley Avenue - I was struck by two things - One: An ambulance heading in the opposite direction of our motorcade stopped, the EMT's stepped out, turned the lights on and took their hats off - holding them over their hearts with heads bowed in respect. Two: As we pulled into the Jacksonville Memory Gardens on Blanding Blvd. - people were STILL pulling out from the parking lot at First Baptist Church. That's 3.10 miles. Grandpa's funeral stopped Orange Park traffic dead in its tracks. Businesses in the area flew their flags at half mast. People walking down the streets stopped what they were doing and bowed their heads in shared grief. EVERYONE knew my Grandpa. To this day, my Grandfather's funeral procession was the single longest non-military funerary motorcade in Orange Park.

Be careful how you walk.

You may have no idea who might be watching you live your life. My grandfather was careful in his step. He prayed about business transactions, put forth an honest foot, he stood for what is right in God's eyes and served our Lord faithfully until the very end. People recognized him for his quiet dignity and Godly spirit.

We who follow Christ are charged to provide a positive representation of our Savior. When we wear the name of Jesus - it's important that we behave accordingly. It's been said that a stitch in time saves nine. This could not be more true now. As we - members of the body of Christ - stitch together the nets with which we shall be fishers of men - it's crucial to use our efforts wisely.

Wanted: Brand New Slate

II Corinthians 2:7 -- "so that on the contrary, you should rather forgive and comfort him, otherwise such a one might be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow."

The mouse indicator hovers just above my answer to the friend request notification on Facebook. As I sit there, looking at a face with which I am none too happy, I contemplate just clicking no and moving on. Instead, I check out of Facebook all together and lean back in my office chair. I decide to put the deciding off. I don't want to deal with this now. I actually don't want to deal with it at all - but I know running away from the issue isn't going to do either party involved any good. 

When I see that face, I think of all the pain it caused. I think of the broken family, the betrayal, the just plain WRONG etched in the subtle age lines on it's forehead. Part of me feels that clicking to confirm friend request will be a betrayal all of my own. But then I remember - I am forgiven. 

My slate is caked with the dust of old chalk-marks, many - some of them so deep that white powder from fresh strokes clings to the scratches left behind - it would break my heart if my own friend requests were refused because of them. In fact, I seem to recall that there were many people in my immediate proximity that felt that my awesome and amazing husband should have tucked tail and run instead of dating a divorced, single mother. [that's what happens in a small-ish town, I guess]

I re-open Facebook. I check my messages - again - and look deep into the eyes of the requesting party. I think of II Corinthians 2:7. 

I'll never forget the first time I "came home" after multiple chaotic chalk marks had been scribbled across my slate, erased, re-scribbled, and finally scrubbed. Dropping my two-year-old off at his Sunday School Class, I all but hid behind my baby sister's skirts as we ventured into our own and took our seats. Intimated would not BEGIN to describe the way I felt. All those bright, shiny familiar faces looked up at me in surprise, in curiosity, and perhaps a little judgement. 

But then the hugging began. Never before had my slate felt so new.

I take the computer mouse in hand and click accept. 

The thing is - MOST people who find themselves in a spot where they have to carry around an old, beat-up and slightly scarred life slate KNOW that in order to BE in that particular situation - they have, somewhere along the way, made a pretty bad mark or two upon it. Sometimes brief moments pass before we messy slate holders realize we've made a terrible mistake. Sometimes years pass and it takes true redemption a while to get through our stubborn skulls and walled up hearts. WHEN that moment comes, however, it would be devastating to have journeyed through all the mess only to find that fellowship is impossible due to lingering judgements. How can messy slate holders move forward and grow if no one in their peer group is willing to let them? [and let's face it - we ALL have messy slates! the individual marks that made them so aren't really the issue.]  

To quote one of my FAVORITE movies: "every time I see you, you seem to go out of your way to make me feel like a complete idiot. And you really needn't bother: I already feel like an idiot most of the time anyway." The truth is - most people don't need additional judgement or "friends" pointing out that they have made a mistake in order to be sorry for the messiness. Most people with really messy slates already feel badly about the mess.

As I surfed my Facebook pages it occurred to me that so very often I confuse forgiveness with trust. I realize I do not have to proclaim that this new/old face friend is my life-long BFF. But I CAN forgive. Otherwise, will I not be causing "my brother to stumble"? Does a deeply scarred and slowly healing soul REALLY need MORE sorrow? Isn't moving forward through a sloppy, muddy, sticky mess overwhelming enough on it's own?



 

A Walk On The Light Side

I John 1:7 -- "But if we walk in the Light as He Himself is in the Light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, His Son, cleanses us from all sin."

As a Noreaster lumbers across the south east, I take in a deep breath, and before you know it, there it is. That sigh. That full body, muscle tired, bone aching sigh - that starts at the hair follicles on my head and ends with my crooked pinky toe. The thing is - I LOVE winter! I want to move to a state that has actual changes in season where I can witness the explosion of bright colors and major dips on the thermometer, but I have to admit, the gray gets to me on occasion. Even down here in Florida.

An amazing and controversial study in human depression recently published at psycheduction.org resulted in the discovery that people need light. Not just any light will do, either - but the real thing - raining down from that giant orange fire ball in the sky. The amount of photons collected by our eyeballs plays a huge part in sleep cycles, mood changes, and over all well-being. Statistics further prove this point by showing that more suicides happen in the states that get the most rainfall per year, manic/depression disorders tend to dot the map in clusters where winter is longer than in other places, and during a typical winter here in the US, more antidepressants are prescribed than during any other season. 

Ever notice that in movies it nearly always rains during a funeral? The fact is - people FEEL darkness. This applies to our physical nature AND our spiritual one. 

It amazes me how often we perceive intimacy in dark spaces behind closed doors. True, honest, and pure human connection happens in wide open spaces with light blazing from all directions. Perhaps not from a physical aspect, but real fellowship happens when we stop wearing our masks and allow the light to come in AND to shine outward. Verse seven of I John chapter one tells us this. When we walk in the light, as God is in the light, we will be granted fellowship with one another. 

Far, far too often we tend to hide. Whether it be because we're slightly insecure or a little ashamed, our true self tends to be tucked away behind the guise of politeness, fake laughter, and yes - even service in our community. That's not how God designed us. He created you and I to walk in the light. To share and to be shared WITH. 

I happen to bump into an old acquaintance of mine a while back and something she said to me took me full-on by surprise.  We talked about husbands, hearth and home, and of course - our kids. She mentioned that she didn't understand what was going on with her youngest daughter. I asked her - "Have you talked to her? Have you asked her what's going on?"

You would NOT believe the look on her face. She resembled a deer in headlights before she stuttered - "What? No. I can't do that."

WHY!? Why can't we TALK to our kids, our husbands, our parents, or our friends?

Our time is so short on this planet. I don't want to spend it hiding in the shade. We need light. I want to walk in the light and I LONG to share the light with others. Can't you FEEL the warmness of the sunshine on your skin as the rays surround you in bright? Walk there. Linger there. Grow there. And most importantly - SHARE there.

All I Can Do ...

Matthew 18:20 -- "For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them."

As my dearest friend and I pilfered through a few home goods during our usual thrift shop hop, she mentioned to me that at one point in her life, she felt  that she really wasn't offering much when she said: "I'll keep you in my prayers". She told me that she felt powerless in some cases when that's all she could do for someone in need. She then stopped walking and looked me right in the eye as she said - "but wait a minute, I'm on my knees asking a very Mighty God to intercede. That's not a small thing."

No. It really isn't a small thing at all. 

And we should never use those words unless we really mean them.  

While anxiously grasping at news snip-its that might give me detailed information about what's going on in the Philippines, I too felt a bit powerless as I was introduced to images and descriptions of the devastation caused by the worst Typhoon ever to bare down on that beautiful cluster of islands. Fellow missionaries and mk's [missionary kids] posted fervently on Facebook - granting me updates and shared concern for those that we love in the country we called home for so many years. I could not help but be moved to tears. I felt like my hands were tied and that there was nothing I could do for those hurting and injured people whose families have been ripped apart.

But my friends words echoed around in my head - I'm on my knees asking a very Mighty God to intercede, to comfort, and to provide. I know that when I give to the SBC and the International Mission Board funds are provided where help is most needed in the country of my childhood. My hands are anything BUT tied. 

When it feels like hitting the ground with our faces in humility, knees to the floor and hearts outstretched toward Heaven as we pray to our Creator on behalf of some one else is "all we can do" -- remember, "all we can do" is a very powerful thing, indeed. In the book of Matthew Jesus tells us that where even just two or three are gathered in his name - there he is, also. THAT my friends, is HUGE! 


In Romans verse 26 of chapter 8 - we are given an even stronger example of God's promises in our prayers: "In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words;"

In the aftermath, deep in the rubble and the debris that was once somebody's home or livelihood, in the faces of children who can no longer find their parents, in the broken communication lines that block families from hearing the voices of their loved ones - the Spirit Himself also helps with groanings too deep for words. 

On our knees before a very Mighty God isn't "all we can do" .... it's EVERYTHING we can do. 

Incurable Hearts

Jeremiah 17:9 -- "The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure."

If I've heard it at all, I've heard it a million times. Played over and over again in movies, a desperate some one calls out the old phrase "the heart wants what the heart wants."  This seems to be all that's needed to defend the wrong actions of a character in the film: "of course it's alright that I slept with your husband, the heart wants what the heart wants" or, "naturally I stole the priceless painting, the heart wants what the heart wants."

Unfortunately, this IS actually true. We humans have some pretty powerful "I wants" and THAT is the reason it's in the Bible so many times. But along with some pretty strong human desires, Jesus tells us that we have also been given an escape route that, if followed, will lead away from our temptation. And it's not usually hidden to the point that it may be difficult to find - no - it's usually right in front of our faces with huge spot lights and giant neon arrows pointing the way. I Corinthians 10:13 lets us know that "No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it." 

Our incurable hearts often provide us with creative ways to talk ourselves OUT of making the RIGHT decision. Jeremiah hits the nail on the head when the book calls the heart deceitful. And the book of Proverbs shows the reader that "there is a way that seems right to man", but in the end, that way usually gets us into trouble. 

I was given the opportunity to speak with a youth recently that found herself in the middle of a theatrical after party where drugs were being dolled out like candy. She was broken-hearted that most of her friends were involved in the partaking of these drugs. She found herself in a very uncomfortable situation - as did the person with whom she arrived at the party. These two girls were both presented with some pretty great temptation. They were both handed free "candy", they were both given a tour of the party house, and both were forced into to making a choice. The difference between them - was that one of them left the party immediately. The other one did not. The friend that stayed behind ended up on a bad high that made her terribly sick. She explained that after being offered drugs for the umpteenth time while trying to have a good time, she finally decided that one try wouldn't do any harm and gave in to the onslaught of invitations. When she asked her fellow actress how she'd managed to get through the evening unscathed, the young woman simply replied - "I left."

The way out, is so very often very truly - THE WAY OUT. Just walk out the same way you walked in.

My oldest son wants to remain celibate until marriage. He - just like the rest of us who follow Jesus - finds this commitment difficult at times, especially now that he's about to become engaged to the woman that he plans to marry.  He asked me for some advice. He wanted to know the very best thing he could do to avoid temptation. He asked me if giving in would really be so terrible since he and his girlfriend are going to be married, anyway. His heart is incurable. He wants to be with the girl he loves so he's provided for himself a great argument, a way to talk himself out of making the right choice. I answered him by saying: the best way to avoid temptation is to avoid temptation. He just looked at me with a puzzled expression.  I explained - don't place yourself into a situation where you are faced with great temptation. If you know this is going to be an issue, don't create an environment that forces you to fight this battle. Avoid the temptation altogether. 

Each one of us is faced with a moment or two that provides a seemingly irresistible enticement. It could be drinking. It could be gambling. It could be spending too much money or over-eating. It could be laziness. It could be complacency. There is no shortage of things on this planet that can trip us up. Even Paul mentions a persistent "thorn in his side". But the truth of the matter is, God really is faithful. He really DOES provide us with an escape route. So many times, we simply don't want to see it. It's a lot easier to give in. A whole lot easier. After all, we have deceitful, incurable hearts. 

But, consider this old adage: a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. Quoted to women who want chocolate [or any other wicked food ;) ] while trying to shed some pounds - the words are meant to make you think of the long term consequences that can follow a fleeting moment of weakness. I know, our incurable hearts may focus solely on the wonderful moment when the chocolate melts on our tongue - but is it worth the crying that follows a step onto the scale? Is giving in to our temptation really worth what pain usually follows? We just arent very good at seeing the big picture. God IS - and He's promised to be faithful. He's promised to provide us an alternative to giving in. We need but to cling to Him. Tightly.

Just walk back out the way we came in. God will help us do that - if we let Him.

Performance Prayer?

Matthew 6:1a -- "Beware of practicing your righteousness before men to be noticed by them . . ."

I'll never forget the big moon shining that bluish tinted light in through the Rover window as we rounded the corner to descend the hill in Davao City, Philippines. Our hill. Part way up we'd take a right turn down Oak Street and wait for our house keepers to open the big metal gates and let us pull in. The sound of the hot engine would pop, four car doors would open and shut as we all went inside. Family, home, and comfort awaited us. We could tuck into a bed with a roof over our heads and walls to keep us safe.

Just before the turn at the bottom of that hill, there was a beat up tin roof that partially covered a make-shift seating area where people would wait for public transport in the hot tropical sun. They would gauge the traffic and watch for Jeepnies - if they were lucky, they could spot one quickly - one that wasn't too full to flag down. I always peeked out of my window behind Dad, checking to see if "HE" was still there.  I always hoped- prayed - he would be - hunched over in the dark underneath that tin roof, sitting almost too still. No one sat there when he was there. He was avoided at all costs. It was a make-shift shelter to them, not truly necessary as they hurried on through their busy lives. It was where he called home. 

When I could catch a glimpse of him I'd sigh in relief, glad to know that he'd made it through another night - but my heart would break at the same time. He had nowhere to go. No one to love him. No one to help him. I once asked Dad if we could just give him some water or a blanket, a mosquito coil - maybe a pillow. After all, isn't that what we were doing there? Sharing the love of Jesus? But Dad brought something to my attention that had never occurred to me at eleven years old. It wasn't safe to help him that way.

It wasn't safe for him. People would rob him of the things we'd try to give him. It wasn't safe for us because people would soon line up at our gate and expect the same kind of help. Even if they didn't really need it. 

It just wasn't safe - it would draw unwanted attention to him and to us. 

That's when Dad told me about the verse in Matthew. He explained that we did, indeed, have people in a network that could help him. There were centers and shelters that our mission had helped to establish. It was through those channels that we could help our community - because no one would know we had helped. He explained that it was better if no one knew we had helped. 

I learned to be content to pray silently for him as we drove by. There were nights when I'd wake up from a deep sleep and wonder if he'd managed to find rest. I could look out my bedroom window - above the other houses, the coconut trees, and out past the arena used for Cock Fighting every Sunday - I could see the moon shine on the waters of the Davao Gulf. I could see the flickering lights of the fishing boats as they were ready to pull in to market. I would wonder if he'd managed to find something to eat. And I'd pray for him.

One night, the skinny old man stopped showing up at the rickety make-shift shelter. His absence was a deafening sound to me. I determined for myself that he'd found home and peace. Perhaps a long lost loved one found him and took him in. I'll never know, really. But I'll never forget him. I'll never forget how he taught me to be a prayer warrior. It was the year I started to pay attention - no longer just the child of missionary parents - I was a member of the mission.

That was the year that my Dad was given a plaque of recognition with his name hand carved into the front. Beautiful coconut wood and other embellishments - a bird with a long feathery tail was perched next to Dad's name. It made a truly handsome thing to have on your wall. But my Dad never hung it on the wall. Not even at home in his small office. No - he kept it in a drawer. The sentiment meant everything to him - he cherished the ones who'd had it made. But he would not hang it. He would not show off. 

I'm proud of my Dad. When I send him cards I'll often include his full title, Dr. Karl Babb. He earned those letters. But he doesn't like for me to do that. He doesn't show off. From time to time - I show off for him, anyway. [just don't tell him .... ]

That summer I learned true humility. And I learned it from my Dad.

In the first chapter of Matthew Jesus points out that the things we do for him, we should do FOR HIM. Not for the benefit of praise or for recognition. There are some moments when I'm so excited that I've been able to do something for some one that I want to share my joy. I want to shout it from the mountain tops because I've found a need somewhere that I was able to fill through the love of Jesus Christ. I get excited. I'm needed. I'm able. Jesus used me! It makes me giddy. But posting it on face book or announcing it loudly would very truly take some of the joy away. It's Jesus whom I serve. Not myself - in spite of myself - to God forever be the glory.

False Alarm

Matthew 25:3-4 -- "For when the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them, but the prudent took oil in flasks along with their lamps."

One of the most devastating floods in American history took place on May 31st, 1889. No where near the size of the damaged levies during hurricane Katrina, the little earthen dam near the South Fork Fishing & Hunting Club nestled on the outskirts of Johnstown, PA ended up killing a staggering 2,209 people. The amazing and tragic thing about the Johnstown flood? The entire thing could have been avoided. 

The good people of Johnstown took weather seriously. They took to watching the skies and paid attention to most of the storms that passed through the valley - fully aware of the potential for flash flooding. The storms that rolled in on May 31st weren't any different from the hundreds of storms that  passed through before - so most people went about their normal daily lives in the manner to which they were accustomed. There HAD actually been some concerns voiced about the much neglected dam at the prestigious South Fork club, but those few complaints were largely ignored. Afte rall, the dam had remained secure through past floods. They saw no reason that this storm should produce different results.

A designer destination that offered the wealthy a place to play - to fish, hunt, hold parties, and hob-nob with the giant dollar bills resembling humans in tuxedos and fancy dresses - The South Fork Hunting & Fishing Club and it's owners were not interested in the bothersome task of maintaining the dam. Disaster was the farthest thing from their minds as they reveled in their giant industrial successes and the resulting growth of their wallets. I don't think tragedy by way of thousands of gallons of rushing water even crossed their minds for an instant. 

For that matter - it really didn't enter into the minds of Johnstown residents either. In fact, a small village near by wired a warning that the South Fork damn was likely to break as torrential rains continued to pour at the rate of one inch every ten minutes. But this warning had been issued before - more than once - and it was received with little caution - taken to be another false alarm. 

 A fatal reaction.

Most tragedies are not the result of any single mishap and the flood at Johnstown was no exception.  There were several horrible dominoes that had to fall into place to make the disaster what it was - but how different could the outcome have been had the flood warning NOT been ignored? What if the residents had been better prepared?

How many terrible events in history could have ended on a different note - had warnings issued been taken seriously?

The Titanic may have made it to port had the captain heeded the warning of icebergs in the path of his planned route and slowed the ship down to a speed that accommodated better maneuverability. The USS Shenandoah may not have fallen to it's demise had military brass heeded weather warnings and temporarily suspended the tour of it's finest air-ship -- effectively avoiding the storms that generated the lightning and turbulence that brought her down. The loss of the space shuttle Challenger might not have occurred had upper management at NASA heeded the warning from Morton-Thiokol that the O-rings used to seal off the right solid rocket booster failed numerous tests in the type of cold temperatures experienced the morning of her fatal launch.  The Deepwater Horizon explosion might have been prevented had the warning about too many safety shortcuts been taken into account - preventing one of the worst and longest oil leaks known in the business not to mention the loss of the eleven men who lived on the rig. One of the worst mining disasters in the last twenty-five years might have been avoided had management paid heed to the methane alarm in the Upper Big Branch Mine - avoiding the explosion that occurred killing 38 coal miners. 

You and I have also been warned. 

In Matthew, Jesus provides the parable of the Ten Virgins - at the end of which Jesus tells us to take heed, no man knows the hour. We don't know what tomorrow holds. We don't know what this afternoon holds for us - we CERTAINLY don't know when our Lord will return. In the excitement and anticipation of being able to finally go home, it might be easy for us to become short sighted. Jesus IS coming back - we SHOULD light our lamps and go greet him. We should also be prepared for a long wait - even though the wait for his arrival may be just around the corner. 

Taking a good, long look at the events that swirl around as the earth turns today, it's easy to hear the clock ticking - time slipping by at a rapid pace - the hour glass winding down to the last grain of sand. But now is not the time to rush out of the house without enough oil to light our lamps for the long haul. Like the foolish virgins in Jesus' parable, we may have to head back and refuel - only to return a closed door and a tragically missed opportunity. 

Uncle Bill Hyde - a fellow missionary, wonderful musician and my history teacher ages ago - once said: "people who do not pay attention to history are doomed to repeat it."  If we pay attention to our history - we can see that NOT paying attention to a strong warning can have devastating consequences. It would be wise if we payed attention to the warning in Matthew. No one knows the hour of our Lord's return. We should live as if it were tomorrow but prepare as if it will not be for a very long time. 

Coco De Mer

Luke 16:10 -- "He who is faithful in a very little thing is faithful also in much; and he who is unrighteous in a very little thing is unrighteous also in much."

Coco De Mer - Palm Seed

The largest seed in the entire world is the Coco De Mer. It can reach to sizes more than a foot in girth - however most are found to be between nine and eleven inches wide. It grows predominately in the Seychelles and is actually a highly prized nut due to their limited existence. In fact, it is SO uncommon that this particular type of palm tree is on the brink of extinction [but that's a whole 'nother blog]. 

If you were to truly study the world's seeds, you would find that most plant life stems from pretty tiny origins. The world's smallest seed comes from the "Little Man Orchid" or Gomesa Crispa, found in South American rain forests. And of course, there is the famous mustard seed - very small, indeed. The fact is, tiny plant seeds outnumber large seeds by a very great amount.

Little Man Orchid or Gomesa Crispa seeds

When flipping through late night television - or what I like to call Insomnia TV - it's kind of interesting to see how many TV Preachers and Bible study leaders there are. I had no idea that there was so much variety in our choices for "Christian" television programming. I have actually watched a few and can honestly say that there are a some truly good ones out there. There are ALSO scads of Christian authors, foreign missionaries, Sunday School teachers and church administrators. It's true, our Nation is ripe with men and women who might be giants in real, heart-felt evangelism. Kind 'a makes me proud. 

Greater, however, is the need for "small" service. Our planet is chock-o-block full of little nooks and crannies within which cracks can be found - cracks through which a large number of people fall and add to the ever-increasing number of forever lost opportunities to do what Jesus asked us to do. SERVE.

Just think for a moment how harsh and barren our lush green planet might look had we only large Coco De Mer seeds. There would be no fields pulsing with waves of amber grain. There would be no rain forests, no prairies, no terraced rice patties, and no cornfields in which to place weird looking scare crows that manage to scare more people than actual crows. Instead of a thanksgiving feast of turkey, mashed potatoes, and freshly harvested vegetables - there would be - coconuts. Actually, I'm not even sure the Coco De Mer is edible, I'll have to look that one up. But the point is, the world would not be what we know it to be today. Vibrant. Green. Bursting with copious amounts of flora and fauna. It just would not be healthy.

If each of us who follow Christ reserve our service to him whilst we await lights, camera, action, fortune and fame or grandiose moments in which to shine brightly - or even just an opportunity that seems large and monumental - there simply would NOT be a whole lot of actual serving. So many people would miss out on experiencing the love of Jesus Christ. 

It isn't a rolling catering company that Jesus used to feed the five thousand. It was a small boy, willing to share his brown-bag lunch.  You don't hear of how masses of wealthy white men started a way to aide suffering slaves in our country. No, it was a brave woman named Harriet, reaching out in small acts of service that eventually developed into a giant, secret network of like-minded people that became known as the underground railroad.  It wasn't a determined league of bus-drivers that finally stood up against the discrimination of a  more colorful group of people that needed the use of our public transpiration system - no - it was one woman named Rosa who refused to give up her seat.

Is it the television preachers of this world that go into our own backyards and bring food to a family whose loved one is in the hospital? Or the big name Christian authors who walk the streets helping a neighbor find his lost cat? Well, not that I know of in my own neighborhood. There IS a need for those people, I'm not saying that there isn't - but there is an even greater need for you and I to be faithful in the little things. It is so  very important that you and I reach out where we are and do the things we CAN in the service of our Savior. Those acts might seem small. How many people for Jesus can I really win by holding the door open for an elderly gentleman having a hard time getting his wheel chair through the automated door at Walmart? I don't know the number - but I bet it would surprise me. I bet the man in the wheelchair is happy that I helped out. 

Little Man Orchid or Gomesa Crispa

If you and I can faithfully serve in the little things - Jesus will see that we are faithful to HIM. To HIS ministry.  If you and I serve in everyday ways, we are being faithful to Christ in a small part of the bigger picture. I adore Billy Graham, Kirk Cameron, and Beth Moore - but they can't be everywhere all the time. 

What would have happened had the little boy on that hot, fateful day - NOT been willing to give his lunch up to Jesus who then fed a mass of people with it's contents? What if that little boy decided he didn't have enough, that serving should have been a job for an adult who had more money or more fish? I KNOW Jesus COULD have and even probably WOULD have still fed all those hungry people. But the situation would not have given us the selfless act and faith from a child - that beautiful inspiration about what we know today.  We can't always let somebody else handle it. We can't always allow the farming to go to a person with a bigger seed. The world needs Little Man Orchids as surly as it needs rare palm trees.