Foundations

 January 31, 2024

Linda and I are doing what we can to help our granddaughter and her husband remodel the building they bought for their new business venture, Three Lakes Cafe, a coffee shop in Cassadaga, NY. Remodeling is always an interesting business, requiring demolition and renewal. The demolition part isn’t hard; figure out what needs to be taken down, and do it. Building the new is a different story.

The upstairs apartment where they will be living had a leak in the roof over the kitchen counter. The roof had already been fixed when they bought the place, but the damage to the kitchen ceiling was quite evident—part of it was literally falling down. Last week, I screwed a piece of 2 X 4 to an existing ceiling joist to give me something to fasten the drywall patch I had prepared for the fix. Monday, Jake and I screwed the patch to the joists with deck screws, the only screws I had long enough to reach through the drywall, lathe, and into the joists. The lathe itself was too compromised to hold the patch securely.

Today I taped and applied the first coat of “mud” to the seams. When the drywall compound is dry tomorrow, I’ll go back, sand it down, and apply the second coat. Hopefully, all it will then need is a second sanding before painting.

I say all this to note that there is a necessary sequence to the project. Get one segment out of order, and the whole job stops until we backtrack and get it right. There are no shortcuts. 

Life itself is like that. Too often, we cut corners, compromise our integrity, fudge a little here and a little there, hoping we can cover it all up with another coat of whatever compound we can lay over the top. But if the foundational work isn’t done, and done correctly, it just won’t last. The lathe needed to be secured; the joists located and marked, the patch cut to size, the tape and mud applied, sanded, and applied again. You can’t sand wet mud, and you can’t tape over dry compound. If the lathe isn’t secured, things will be uneven. Each step is important, each one in the right order, so the end product is acceptable. 

I’m not a professional, so it’s probably not going to look as finished as it could be, but it’s not going to have noticeable seams or falling pieces of plaster. The foundational work is first, and it’s unseen, but absolutely necessary. If the unseen work is done well, the finished product will stand the test of time.

“No other foundation can anyone lay than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ.” —I Corinthians 3:11 

Rest

January 30, 2024

At this stage in my life, I am so grateful for Sunday School teachers who urged us to memorize Scripture when I was young. Our discipleship group begins each session reciting Psalm 103:1-8, but even though I’ve been working on it for over six months, I still can’t get it right. This old brain has more than a few synapses that don’t fire.

But the verses I learned sixty years ago are as clear to me as my own name, and are a deep well of wisdom and comfort in times of trial. This morning, these words of Jesus were like early morning dew on the parched meadow of my soul:  

”Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.“ —Matthew 11:28-30 

I won’t even apologize for the venerable King James Version; it’s how I learned it. Actually, I sing it to a tune written in the 60’s by John W. Peterson. When my heart is heavy and my spirit burdened, these words take me to the Fountain of Life, the never-ending springs of Living Water, Jesus himself. I don’t need advice; I don’t even need to know the next step; I need Jesus, for when I have him, there settles upon me a deep, soothing rest that I cannot explain, except to say, it’s here. 

Thank you, Lord, for the paradoxical truth that when I take your yoke, my burden gets lighter. Maybe it’s because you heft the greater part of the load. All I know is, when I pick up your yoke, I’m connected to you, and the way gets better. 

Out of Sight

 January 29, 2024

There are two ways to keep something out of sight; you can hide it, or cover it. “What’s the difference?” you ask. The Bible has the answer.

When Adam and Eve sinned, they hid themselves in the garden. They were ashamed; they were afraid. Sin does that. We are ashamed of our weakness, afraid of the consequences, so we hide, try to act as if nothing has happened. It may work for awhile; we can hide from others, but never from God. The old saying is true: “Be sure your sin will find you out.” 

I can’t remember any sin I’ve committed that I didn’t try to hide. It never worked for long.

The other way something is kept out of sight is to cover it. In the Bible, we are told that God “covered” Israel’s sins with the mercy seat of the ark of the covenant. The sacrificial blood was applied and the sin was covered, but not hidden. It had previously been exposed and the sacrificial lamb offered. There was no hiding, no pretense; the sin was there, but God himself covered it. 

The Bible tells us that “love covers a multitude of sins.” (1 Peter 4:8). How does that happen? James tells us: “He who turns a sinner from the error of his way will save a soul from death and cover a multitude of sins.” (5:20). Love doesn’t wink at sin; doesn’t hide it or pretend it isn’t there. It confronts sin so God in his mercy through the sacrifice of Christ’s blood on the cross can cover it. It’s not only out of sight; it’s out of existence. THAT is grace!

Imitation

 January 28, 2024

In 1 Corinthians 11:1, Paul makes a bold statement when he says, 

Imitate me, just as I also imitate Christ.” I remember reading that and thinking to myself, “I don’t think I could say that.” I am all too aware of my failings and shortcomings to tell people to do what I do. Tonight however, that all changed.

We were gathered in the sanctuary for a time of teaching and prayer. Our son Nathan was leading our time together by telling us of the time a year and a half ago when he had been diagnosed with brain cancer and had to take a lot of time off work. He spent that time resting, but also soaking in God’s Presence. Out of that experience he began to write down the process he used when he would pray and read, and tonight he shared it with us. 

“This is how I meet God. If you have a plan for meeting God, good. If you don’t have a plan, use mine until you develop your own.” It was his next words that really struck me.

“When Paul said, “Follow me as I follow Christ,” he wasn’t saying that he had it all together. Paul still made mistakes. He was simply saying, “I’m on the way; follow the way I follow; it won’t be perfect, but it’s better than not following.” 

In Philippians, Paul said, “I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back.”

—Philippians 3:12-14 MSG

None of us can legitimately say, “Follow the example of my life.” What we can say is, “Follow the example of my following. I’m not there, but I’m headed for the goal.” Nate used a football illustration. When the quarterback throws the ball to the receiver, two things have to be in play: he has to throw the ball, not to where the receiver is, but where the receiver is going to be, and the receiver has to get to that spot. Either part can go astray. But when Jesus is our quarterback, the throw is always perfect; the only question is whether or not we are at the right place to make the catch. 

We are on the field. The ball was snapped, and Jesus has thrown it unerringly. The only question is, am I moving to the place where I need to be to make the catch? I may not get it every time, but I had better be listening to the One making the call, and make every effort to be in the right place at the right time. None of us makes the perfect catch all the time, but if we keep paying attention and reading His calls, we can keep gaining ground, and as a bonus, show others how it’s done. 

“Imitate my imitating Christ.” That’s Paul’s challenge, and our marching orders.

 January 27, 2024

“Have you ever seen the Pink House?” Linda and I drove to Houghton today to visit our granddaughter Mattie. We walked around the campus that has changed so much in the fifty years since we were there. Gone is the old phys ed building with the pool so small we called it “the Bathtub,” and Gayodeo Hall; new dorms, two physical education centers, a campus center, and a fine arts building have brought the campus into the 21st century in style. While talking in the lounge of her dorm, she introduced us to two of her friends, Abby and Gabby (Really!), so we invited them to join us for dinner at a place of their choosing. They opted for the Texas Hot in Wellsville over any of the fancier and more expensive places they could have chosen. They had never been before, and we hadn’t been there for nearly fifty years. It was the same as we remembered. The girls were fascinated by the wall-mounted juke box selector in the booth, while we were delighted with the conversation. Then it was on to the Pink House, an iconic nineteenth-century mansion that captivated their imagination.

We took the back road up out of the village to Alma Hill and down into the little hamlet where Linda and I started our life together fifty-three years ago. Other than the church and the general store/post office/gas station being closed, little had changed. Unfortunately, Linda and I never think about taking photos until after the fact. Only old folks can fully understand what a trip down memory lane means. We were given that gift today, with the added blessing of sharing it with our granddaughter and two of her new friends who in themselves are gifts of grace to her. 

Fifty years ago, we never would have imagined how blessed our lives would be; today we experienced a little bit of heaven with Mattie, Gabby, and Abby, and it was good; very good.

Fair

January 26, 2024

“It’s not fair!” If I had a nickel for every time I heard that plaintiff wail when our kids were growing up, I’d be a wealthy man today. Kids have an innate sense of fairness, especially when it comes to themselves. Not much different than adults, really. 

It’s not fair that the well-connected can grease the wheels of justice. A high-priced lawyer can work wonders, running legal circles around a court-appointed novice just out of law school. The fine for driving fifty miles an hour in a thirty-mile an hour zone is the same for the millionaire as it is for the minimum wage worker. Just today in our local newspaper, our New York catch-and-release bail system, a teenager who has repeatedly vandalized local businesses in Dunkirk is out on the streets again with no consequences for his destructive behavior, while his victims bear the full cost of of his illicit activities. It’s not fair.

We expect life to be fair, but the sad legacy of history is a tale of the rich and powerful lording over, and oppressing the poor and weak. It’s been that way since the beginning of time; “might makes right.”

The book of Job is an epic poem about the basic unfairness, the injustice in this world. “Why do the good suffer while the evil ones go unpunished?” This question is debated from every angle, and the answers are not always welcome. The beginning of the book describes a scene in which we are merely pawns in a divine game of chess, victims of a divine pissing match between God and Satan. That’s one way of looking at our suffering, and although Job finally comes through with flying colors, the God it portrays seems a petty ruler who uses us to prove a point.

The bulk of the poem consists of the various ways we try to understand and cope with the injustices life throws at us. But at the end is a surprise; instead of answering our questions, God questions us. He makes no attempt to defend his actions, but instead thunderously declares our inability to understand things far beyond us. The question of fairness remains unanswered, but God’s revelation of himself renders the question moot. When we come face to face with the majesty of the Living God, the Creator of all that is, the sheer glory of his presence silences our lips. Having spent the entire book proclaiming his innocence and God’s injustice, Job finally declares, 

“I’m speechless, in awe—words fail me. I should never have opened my mouth! I’ve talked too much, way too much. I’m ready to shut up and listen.”

I admit it. I was the one. I babbled on about things far beyond me, made small talk about wonders way over my head. You told me, ‘Listen, and let me do the talking. Let me ask the questions. You give the answers.’ I admit I once lived by rumors of you; now I have it all firsthand—from my own eyes and ears! I’m sorry—forgive me. I’ll never do that again, I promise! I’ll never again live on crusts of hearsay, crumbs of rumor.”“

  —Job 40:3-5, 42:1-6 

I wish I had better answers to this question, but God keeps some things to himself. The good news in all this is simply that when we are in relationship with God (in Christ), his presence, his forgiveness, his love allows us to leave the answers in his hands, even as we are surely in those same hands, the very hands that were nailed to a cross for us. 

Teaching Kidneys

 January 25, 2024

Psalm 16 is filled with interesting tidbits of wisdom and experience, along with a bit of dishonesty. My reflections on David’s words are today focused on the second half of the psalm:

“I bless the Lord who gives me counsel; 

in the night also my heart instructs me. 

I have set the Lord always before me; 

because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken. 

Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices; 

my flesh also dwells secure. 

For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol, 

or let your holy one see corruption. 

You make known to me the path of life; 

in your presence there is fullness of joy; 

at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”

—Psalm 16:7-11 

My first thought is that David must have been an old man when he wrote this. In the second line of the 7th verse, most of our translations read, “In the night also, my heart instructs me,” or words to that effect. But the Hebrew seat of the emotions wasn’t the heart; it was the kidneys. So David was literally saying, “in the night, my kidneys instruct me.” Old men know what that means! I had to chuckle in appreciation when I read that line!

It’s the next verse that bothers me. When David says, “I have set the Lord always before me,” I’m not convinced he is being entirely honest. That incident with Bathsheba and the forbidden census wouldn’t have occurred if he had always set the Lord before him. I don’t fault him for this; who of us wouldn’t have selective memory regarding some of our past behavior?

What really impresses me about this psalm however, is what David says in the last half of both verses 8 and 11. In 8, he says that because God is at his right hand, he shall not be shaken. It’s a good word picture: David standing before Goliath unafraid because at his right, standing close next to him is the Lord. But the picture gets even better! In v. 11, he says “at your right hand are pleasures forever more.” Put those two together. If God is at David’s right hand, and at God’s right hand are eternal pleasures, the only way that can be put together is if they are standing face to face. If I am at God’s right hand, and he is at mine, the only possible way that can happen is if we are looking at each other face to face.

What a wonderful picture of our relationship with God! With God standing at his right hand there is strength and confidence; with me standing at God’s right hand there is eternal pleasure; joy, if you will. What better life combination could we have than strength and joy? They are bedfellows. I can’t imagine having joy but no strength; what would be the joy in that? And strength alone can be a burden apart from joy. But in Christ we have both.

Did I say “in Christ?” Where does he come in? I didn’t quote v.10.

“For you will not leave my soul in [the grave]; Neither will you allow your Holy One to see corruption.”

Our strength and joy are gifts of grace made possible because Jesus conquered death itself, so there is nothing that can separate us from him and his love. God looks at us face to face in the person of Jesus Christ. How can you beat that? Now if only I can keep my kidneys from teaching me in the night.

Perfect Peace

 January 24, 2024

Last week I decided I needed to do better keeping in touch with my grandchildren, particularly as they are spread all over the place in college, work, and life. So I am choosing a verse that I send to them each morning to hopefully get the day started right for them. The same verse every day for a week I figure will help cement it in their minds, so I began with this, adding a thought or question to help in understanding:

“You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.” —Isaiah 26:3 

There are lots of things that can steal our peace of mind; the only thing that can keep it for us is steadfastly trusting in Christ. Though everything around us is in constant flux, He never changes, so if we want any stability in life, we must keep our minds fixed on him.

What does it mean for you to trust in God today?

What are you facing today? A test? Stress in a relationship? Struggling with sickness? In all of this, you can have peace when you focus on Christ more than on the problem. I am praying for each of you by name today.

Today, that word “steadfast” catches my attention. My mind tends to wander all over the place. I have to work hard to as St. Paul says, “bring every thought captive to Christ.” But the peace that produces is worth the struggle.

Friday I’ll choose a different verse; one more day of this word from Isaiah will wrap up this week.

Zweigle’s

 January 23, 2024

Unless you grew up as I did in Rochester, NY, or its suburbs, you wouldn’t understand when we talk about white hots…specifically, Zweigle’s White Hots. I’ve never seen them anywhere else except locally in Wegmans, which makes sense because Wegmans is a Rochester-based chain of supermarkets. They know their roots and honor them.

A white hot is similar to a regular hot dog in shape and size, but only if the regular hot dog is bigger than the scrawny tube steaks that fill the coolers in most supermarkets. A Zweigle’s has substance; it’s fat and juicy, made of pork and veal, and of course, it’s white, not red. If there’s a Zweigle’s on the grill alongside a regular hot dog, or even most steaks, I’ll grab the Zweigle’s. 

Did I mention that my paternal grandmother was a Zweigle? Unfortunately, she wasn’t from the hot dog branch of the family. Her father was a cheese vendor around the turn of the last century. Even so, a Zweigle’s white hot has always been a family favorite. 

Yesterday morning, I received this email from my brother:

Morning You Two: We are Hot having Fudge Sundaes for breakfast today, in memory of Dad. Later we will have a Zweigle's White Hot. Might even drop it on the ground after it's cooked. (he accused Judy of doing that before she gave it to him. That was dad's last white hot). He would be 103. Sure do miss him!  Love you both.

My brother and father were especially close. When we were growing up, Thursday nights in the summer we would go to be early so we would be ready to hop out of bed and head to the golf course around 1:00 or 2:00 am. The sprinklers would have already done their work and the nightcrawlers would be out in force. Armed with a couple old Chock full O’ Nuts coffee cans, we would fill them in short order, take them home and dump them in the tub of oak leaves in the back yard.

Saturday mornings were the reward. Both my grandfathers would show up bright and early while we were spreading mayonnaise on our sandwiches preparatory to receiving the baloney (yes, I know it’s supposed to be spelled “bologna,” but it was always baloney to us.) and mustard. Then it was off to the lake to go fishing. We called it that, but if my recollection is correct, what we did would be better desctibed as “drowning worms.”

All that is to say we were avid in our pursuit of piscadoral pleasures. As I grew older, I got away from it, but my brother (and his son and grandson) are still dedicated fishermen. Because of that, and because they lived close by for years, he was closer to dad, had more memories. 

We often have a habit of looking back and wishing we could turn back the clock. That’s not possible, and so I don’t have as many, but the memories I do have are good. The world is filled with men whose memories of their fathers brings a shudder rather than a prayer of thanksgiving. Martin Luther once said that it took him many years before he could pray the Our Father because his own father was such a brutish man. When I look back, I see a man of integrity and faithfulness, and only hope my boys can look back and see in me someone who reflects the character and heart of my Heavenly Father. If so, I will go to my final rest in peace. And maybe my family will grill a Zweigle’s in my memory.

Forever Grateful

January 21, 2024

“Do you like peanut butter on your pancakes?”

I was a guest at a graduation party and had just been introduced by a mutual friend to a man some years my junior. When he heard my name, he eyed me quizzically and asked that question. Then he asked another. “Did some people used to call you Beetle Bailey?” When I answered affirmatively to both questions, he suddenly jumped forward, wrapped his arms around me in a big bear hug and said, “You’re my spiritual father! I’ve been looking for you for thirty years!” I was speechless. 

It was 1968 when Larry Rieck, my college roommate, suggested that I might want to be a counselor at the Christian camp just down the road from his home in Spring Creek, PA, which is why that summer, I found myself driving up the long dirt road to Miracle Mountain Ranch. I was introduced to Dale and Opal Linebaugh, the founders, and to Duffy, the trick rider, Earl, the general handyman and ranch hand, and to various other members of the team. My job was to be counselor to a cabin of 8-12 year old boys.

One of the expectations of the counselors was to go from bunk to bunk in our cabins at lights-out and pray with the boys. I did so, talking about Jesus, what it meant to ask him to be our Savior and Lord before praying with and for each boy. It wasn’t uncommon to have three or four boys each week pray to receive Jesus Christ into their hearts. We would follow up these decisions with notes and cards, but over time, I lost track of them. Until that introduction at a graduation party.

Today I had the privilege of preaching at Bethel Baptist Church in Lakewood, NY. Last week, the secretary sent me the order of service and told me Larry Crook would be introducing me to the congregation. Larry is my spiritual son. He told about me liking peanut butter on my pancakes, and kindly left out the part about Beetle Bailey. He told me of his children walking with God, and that his daughter would be moving back into the area as her husband has accepted the call to pastor Bethel church.

Before I stepped into the pulpit, Larry presented me with a book written by Dale Linebaugh, an autobiography of how God called him to found Miracle Mountain, led him to earn his PhD, become president of Practical Bible Institute, and has been faithful for over fifty years. Dale passed away last year. I only knew Dale for the two years I worked at Miracle Mountain Ranch, but his influence lives on in the lives of those he touched.

But even if the book were filled with blank pages, I would still treasure it for the inscription on the flyleaf:

“To Jim “Beetle” Bailey,

I will literally be FOREVER grateful 

for your service to the Lord!

Thanks you for introducing me to Jesus.

Your spiritual son,

Larry Crook

Sometimes people wonder if working with children makes any difference. After all, they’re only children and can’t make responsible decisions at their age. I know better. Larry did it, and he is forever a changed man. And I am humbled to know God used a teenage counselor those years ago to be a part of a miracle. Larry isn’t the only one forever grateful.