Bags

June 16, 2018

Now I know I’m getting old! A couple years ago as I was getting ready to go outside, our grandson who was eight at the time, asked me what was that odd-shaped thing on the windowsill. “A shoehorn,” I replied. “You put it in the heel of your shoe to help you get it on without breaking down the back of the shoe.”

With a straight and serious face, he said, “Is that something they used in olden days?” I had to chase him out of the house. 

Today was the icing on the cake. Or should I say, “another nail in the coffin?” Steven Taylor and pastor Hadley, pastors of the Methodist and Baptist churches in Panama, NY, organized a blessing of the bikes and a ride for this morning. My daughter-in-law’s father rode all the way from Rochester this morning just to participate in the ride. The weather being so nice, I opted for my old half-helmet instead of the full-face I usually wear. We didn’t have much time to spare to get to the starting point on time, so instead of my usual Ural (aka “snail’s”) pace, I cranked it to a steady 55-60 mph. That’s when I noticed it. 

Most people are aware of the old ladies’ jokes about flapping arm skin. I want to confess right now my complicity in a few of them, and offer my sincere apologies to any women who suffer from such cruel twists of fate. I truly and humbly repent. For on the way to Panama in an open-faced helmet and just my regular glasses on, I felt the bags under my eyes flapping in the wind, beating like a drum on my cheeks. I am fully aware of my age. I earned my grey hair honestly. I know the indignity of the hair that was once on my head having migrated to my ears and nose where it does absolutely no good. I can no longer jump up from catcher’s pose with speed and grace. I lumber and stagger my way to my feet. But flapping eye bags? There ought to be a law!

I am grateful however, that I have lived enough years to have them. Over the years, I’ve buried too many people half my age, people who never got to see even their own children grow up, much less their grandchildren. So tomorrow, instead of my full-face helmet, I may don the half shell once more and offer thanks with each rat-a-tat-tat on my cheeks. And when I arrive at my destination, it will be with a smile on my face.

Everything Hurts

June 15, 2018

Everything hurts. My feet, my back, my hip, my shoulder, my left hand. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. When stuff hurts in the morning, it means I’m alive for another day. When it hurts in the evening like it does now, it means I’ve had a productive day. After a morning spent taking a forgotten lunch to a grandson, I had time to read before the day started humming. 

The grape vines got planted, and the bucket mounted on the tractor. The bulk of the day was spent loading the fine gravel the road crew swept from the bridge and piled at the end of our yard. Sunday there will be a baptism in the swimming hole, and I didn’t want people to have to navigate around a pile of gravel. I didn’t count the trips I made to and from the pile, picking it up then dumping and spreading it on the driveway. 

After supper with only three of the grandkids, I got to try out the pole saw I bought last week to take care of some of the dead branches that seem to proliferate on the trees bordering the creek. I was pretty well spent when it was time to build the fire for s’mores. A bit of desk work, and I’m ready to see what the inside of my eyelids look like. But before I do, I give thanks for strength and health enough to tackle jobs that leave me feeling tired and sore. It is a privilege many do not get

Hidden in Christ

June 14, 2018

“You have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:3).

“Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil” (Ephesians 6;11).

“Your adversary the devil walks around like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour” (1 Peter 5:8.

Last night’s evangelist had a knack for tying Scriptures together to bring out truth in such a way that it takes root and grows. He talked about a favorite topic of mine—our identity in Christ. So often, we let other people, our own inaccurate self-perceptions, or the devil himself, tell us who we are. “You are too fat, too skinny, too stupid, too lazy, the wrong race, the wrong sex, too ugly”...the list goes on and on. We are who God says we are, redeemed by the blood of Christ, bought with a price, owned by the One who loves us best. We are forgiven and being made holy in Christ. 

Paul tells us that we are hidden with Christ in God. Hidden. Mark that word. He tells us in Ephesians to put on the armor of God...all of it. And he never tells us to take it off. We hide behind armor. Remember that. Lastly, Peter tells us that the devil is looking for us. Why is he looking? Because we are hidden with Christ in God. As long as we remain in him, hidden behind his armor, the devil cannot find us. He looks and looks, but we are hidden from him. The only way he can find us is if we take off the armor and step out of our hiding place in God.

These Scriptures strung together made a lot of sense to me; I’ve been thanking God all day long because of the truth contained here. The devil can only find me if I choose to put down the armor and step out of my hiding place in Christ. I think I’ll just stay where I am, where he can’t find me.

Good Preaching

June 13, 2018

Pastors don’t often have the opportunity to themselves hear good preaching, so when it happens, it is a double blessing. Tonight, I heard great preaching at a revival service. The music wasn’t my cup of tea, but I remember when we started contemporary worship in Sinclairville back in ‘93. Howard and Jane Green were old school; they liked the hymns, but they understood that worship wasn’t about them, and that it was important to reach the next generation. They supported something that didn’t speak to them so that others could find their way to Christ. The music tonight didn’t move me like it appeared to move the young people gathered there. 

But the preaching was worth it all. The preacher wove Scriptures together, making connections that hadn’t occurred to me, speaking of living out of our identity in Christ. It is late and I have to be up early tomorrow, so I’m not going to go into detail, but I am grateful that though the music didn’t move me, the preaching did. And I am grateful for a faithful preacher who is almost as old as I am, and is going strong for the Gospel in the power of the Holy Spirit. In addition to his preaching, his enthusiasm is an encouragement to me to stay strong and faithful, active in ministry for as long as I have breath. (I may regret those words some day, but tonight, they are just the right ones).

Hidden in Christ

June 14, 2018

“You have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:3).

“Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil” (Ephesians 6;11).

“Your adversary the devil walks around like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour” (1 Peter 5:8.

Last night’s evangelist had a knack for tying Scriptures together to bring out truth in such a way that it takes root and grows. He talked about a favorite topic of mine—our identity in Christ. So often, we let other people, our own inaccurate self-perceptions, or the devil himself, tell us who we are. “You are too fat, too skinny, too stupid, too lazy, the wrong race, the wrong sex, too ugly”...the list goes on and on. We are who God says we are, redeemed by the blood of Christ, bought with a price, owned by the One who loves us best. We are forgiven and being made holy in Christ. 

Paul tells us that we are hidden with Christ in God. Hidden. Mark that word. He tells us in Ephesians to put on the armor of God...all of it. And he never tells us to take it off. We hide behind armor. Remember that. Lastly, Peter tells us that the devil is looking for us. Why is he looking? Because we are hidden with Christ in God. As long as we remain in him, hidden behind his armor, the devil cannot find us. He looks and looks, but we are hidden from him. The only way he can find us is if we take off the armor and step out of our hiding place in God.

These Scriptures strung together made a lot of sense to me; I’ve been thanking God all day long because of the truth contained here. The devil can only find me if I choose to put down the armor and step out of my hiding place in Christ. I think I’ll just stay where I am, where he can’t find me.

Good Preaching

June 13, 2018

Pastors don’t often have the opportunity to themselves hear good preaching, so when it happens, it is a double blessing. Tonight, I heard great preaching at a revival service. The music wasn’t my cup of tea, but I remember when we started contemporary worship in Sinclairville back in ‘93. Howard and Jane Green were old school; they liked the hymns, but they understood that worship wasn’t about them, and that it was important to reach the next generation. They supported something that didn’t speak to them so that others could find their way to Christ. The music tonight didn’t move me like it appeared to move the young people gathered there. 

But the preaching was worth it all. The preacher wove Scriptures together, making connections that hadn’t occurred to me, speaking of living out of our identity in Christ. It is late and I have to be up early tomorrow, so I’m not going to go into detail, but I am grateful that though the music didn’t move me, the preaching did. And I am grateful for a faithful preacher who is almost as old as I am, and is going strong for the Gospel in the power of the Holy Spirit. In addition to his preaching, his enthusiasm is an encouragement to me to stay strong and faithful, active in ministry for as long as I have breath. (I may regret those words some day, but tonight, they are just the right ones).

Lost and Found

June12, 2018

“Who would want to steal a Ural?” That was my first thought. My second was, “What would they do with it?” Someone steals a Harley, they can parts it out. There are plenty of potential customers who wouldn’t ask questions. But a Ural? I’ve only seen three of them in our area, so anyone who steals one wouldn’t dare be seen riding it, and the market for hot parts is pretty slender. As in nonexistent.

So when I scanned the church parking lot and didn’t see my bike parked there, after an initial panic and just before calling 911 to report it stolen, these thoughts danced through my mind, giving me just enough pause that I didn’t do the stupid thing. 

You might wonder what would be so stupid about calling the police on a stolen motorcycle. I have a good answer: I hadn’t parked it at the church. After the early morning prayer time with some area pastors, I drove it to the Home Depot parking lot where I met Linda before driving to Buffalo for a funeral. My memory doesn’t always rescue me, and many are the times wisdom didn’t arrive till after I had done something dumb. She must have gotten stuck in rush hour traffic. 

Tonight I am thankful that I didn’t call the cops. It would have been a bit embarrassing to be standing in front of Home Depot trying to explain why I wasted their time. It has been said that the Lord watches over children and fools. It’s been a long time since I’ve been a child, but I am today living proof of the truth of that statement.