Ghosts in the Graveyard

August 18, 2023

“Ghosts in the Graveyard.” The only requirement for the game that I can discern is that it can’t begin till full darkness descends. I can’t claim to know all the rules and aren’t sure even the kids know them all, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The laughter and squeals of being surprised when the one hiding jumps out of the dark to grab one of the searchers tells us all we need to know. The grandkids still at home, along with assorted friends, one girlfriend and a boyfriend, ran around our property for nearly an hour, chasing one another and laughing together when between rounds they gathered on the patio.

All this, after a rousing game of whiffle ball and pizza mountain pies, hot dogs, and S’mores around the campfire. 

The psalm says it well: “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!” (Psalm 133:1). I don’t believe God’s blessing of unity is limited to the relationships we have in this world. The conversation, laughter, and genuine care for each other is but a preview of what God has in store for his people in the life to come. Sorrow and sadness will be gone, all tears wiped away when Jesus comes back for his own.

In the meantime, for over twenty-five years, Linda and I have had ringside seats to this preview as we’ve hosted our grandkids two Friday nights each month for gatherings just like this. There used to be nine of them; the number is dwindling as they grow up and strike out on their own, but we’re still at it and enjoying the preview while looking forward to the main feature. There’ll be no ghosts in the graveyard; only saints enjoying salvation. What a glorious day that will be!

Cry Out

 August 17, 2023

““Arise, cry out in the night, 

At the beginning of the watches; 

Pour out your heart like water before the face of the Lord.

 Lift your hands toward Him 

For the life of your young children, 

Who faint from hunger at the head of every street.””

—Lamentations 2:19 

Jerusalem had been sacked by Babylon. The destruction of property was nothing compared to the unimaginable brutality of the conquering army. Wanton rape, murder, and torture were a daily occurrence. Jeremiah saw it all, and composed a lament in response, from which the above words come. We are not seeing the destruction of cities or an unchecked military rampaging through the streets, but we are seeing the destruction of our children in poverty, drugs, child abuse and trafficking. Jeremiah’s cry should be ours, too.

When was the last time I prayed like Jeremiah taught? When last did I prostrate myself before the Lord on behalf of the children of our land? How much have I busied myself with trivial pursuits when I could have been praying and working for the salvation and deliverance of our children and youth? God has laid the Creek Kids on our hearts. We are praying continually for them, asking our Lord to open their hearts and eyes, and to open our mouths so Jesus can rescue them from the chaos and destruction to which their present path leads? We are praying, but it’s time to up our game and cry out in the night, to pour out our hearts like water before the face of the Lord; to lift our hands toward him for the life of our children.

Don’t Quit

 August 16, 2023

Well, we have another week to pray for our Creek Kids. They called to cancel, but we scheduled again for next Wednesday. We aren’t discouraged; when I was young, my mother instilled into me her mantra: “Stick to your original commitment even if something better comes along.” These kids weren’t raised by my mother. So we continue to pray for our kids, and hope you will, too. God has a plan and a timetable that may be quite different than mine. This I know: It is God’s will that these kids come to repentance and faith in Christ, so we aren’t going to give up on them.

Two Prayers

 August 15, 2023

Tonight’s post will be short and sweet, but also very important. I have two prayer requests:

The first is for our Creek Kids. When Covid shut everything down, the kids who normally hung out in the village park migrated to our property with the creek swimming hole. Linda and I are mission-minded; I’ve traveled to many places over the years in order to spread the Gospel. We figured that instead of God sending us to the mission field, he was bringing the mission field to us, so whenever we saw people walking across or camping out on our lawn, we walked down, introduced ourselves, spelled out the rules, and got to know them. 

Last summer, a tragic incident dispersed the group, but a few weeks ago, some of them were back, and when Linda walked down to see who was there this time, she heard a hearty, “Hello, Mrs. Bailey!” It was Alex. When she asked where his brother was, Alex said, “Down there,” pointing to the creek. 

Just then, Dominic saw her and gave the same greeting, along with a hug. We invited them and Dominic’s girlfriend to dinner. They came, and we were able to talk with them about life, long-term relationships, and Jesus. Tomorrow, they’re coming to dinner again. Please pray that God will give us the wisdom we need, and will open their eyes and hearts to Christ.

The second prayer request is for me. Jesus has been very clear with me that he wants to be my “default,” the place where my thoughts go when I don’t have anything else I need to be focusing on. Not Facebook, not emails, not TV, or the newest shiny object that has captured my attention. He punctuated this conviction when I was in Cuba and lost my phone and iPad. I had no opportunity to whip it out and look at it in down times. I have a replacement phone and iPad, so now I have to work at making Jesus my default. It’s not as easy as you might think. I’m determined that this be my life reality, but old habits don’t die easily. Please pray for me. When Jesus commanded us: “Abide in me,” he was saying. “I want to be your home, where you come to rest and renew.” It is absolutely crucial that Jesus Christ be this to me. Apart from this, I have no message that’s worth hearing, so please pray.

Squarehead

 August 14, 2023

“I’m just an old German Square Head,” he said. I can’t remember what we were talking about, but his self-description amused me even as I knew it fit. He was bald, with a high, square forehead perched atop a stocky, rectangular face and jaw, all of which sat upon a short, stocky frame. I think he also used that moniker to describe his personality. He had come from tough stock; German anabaptist roots that brooked little nonsense in matters of faith and practice. 

He was my grandfather, John Helwig; actually, my step-grandfather, the man who led me to Christ years before marrying my widowed grandmother. He had brains; he had worked for Kodak in its heyday, but other than his faith in Christ, his real passion was horticulture. He was one of the few laymen who had an open pass to Highland Park in Rochester, where he was allowed to take cuttings from the lilacs there, some worth thousands of dollars. Not many were given this almost sacred privilege. 

His house was the last on a dead-end street, perched at the crest of a low ridge. The gully at the end of his street curled like a giant backwards “C” penetrating his back yard and looking like a miniature amphitheater below his back steps, sidewalk and the garage that sat slightly behind and to the left of his home. There was just enough space to walk beside his garage to his vegetable garden on the far side of the amphitheater.

The soil of his garden was like nothing I’ve ever seen before or since. It was a beautiful sandy loam completely devoid of even the smallest of stones; a gardener’s veritable Eden, and he was Adam, tending it with loving care. The principles by which he lived were gleaned from the soil as much as from the Scriptures, but among the many there was one that is forever etched in my memory. It had to do with weeds:

“Quarter inch, quarter hour.

Half inch, half hour.

One inch, all day.”

Poppa Helwig, as we called him, made sure I knew he wasn’t talking just about weeds, but about life. So often, we ignore small problems, hoping they will somehow go away, but like tiny quarter-inch weeds, they just keep growing till something that could have been handled quickly and discreetly has become a firestorm that takes monumental effort to eradicate. I’ve not always listened to the old Square Head’s wisdom, to my own detriment. But when I’ve taken it to heart, it has saved me a boatload of trouble. It might just do the same for you.

Grandchildren Blessings

 August 13, 2023

Morning worship started the day. Dinner for 16, a normal occurrence for a Sunday afternoon, ended with blessing Izzi’s boyfriend before he heads back to college on Tuesday. That was followed by a baby shower for a couple of our “Creek Kids.” We were all set to relax for the rest of the evening when we got a call from our eldest granddaughter who wanted to stop over before driving back home to Churchville tomorrow. Having serious grown-up conversations with grandchildren is a gift many are denied. Alex blesses us with her maturity, wisdom, and heart for the Lord and for people. While visiting with her, granddaughters Eliza and Madeline popped in for a short visit before heading out to take photos of the sunset from Damon Hill. 

As Alex left, Linda commented to me, “I will never sell this house!” Having family for Sunday dinner and grandkids stopping by just to say hello fills our hearts. At the baby shower today, we talked with a woman whose family circumstances were very different from our own, and are sad that for so many people, family reminiscences bring so little joy. 

We worked hard at parenting, talking about it even before we had children. We asked what kind of adult we wanted to raise, and what would be required to reach that goal. We worked hard, prayed harder, made plenty of mistakes, but God answered those early prayers, and we have reaped blessing upon blessing, and now have the opportunity of passing along whatever wisdom we’ve attained to these kids just starting out. It’s part of God’s plan: “The things that you have heard from me among many witnesses, commit these to faithful men who will be able to teach others also.” —II Timothy 2:2 

Lord wiling, our Creek Kids will join us for dinner again Wednesday evening, and we’ll do our best to welcome them once more into our home. We’ve already welcomed them into our hearts.

Weary

 August 12, 2023

Sometimes the day begins with exhaustion, often with no particular reason. This morning was just such a day for me. I was worn out when I went to bed last night, and when I got up this morning, I was so tired my arms and legs felt as heavy as my eyes. Five of the grandkids showed up for breakfast, so weariness had to be shoved onto the back burner while I made coffee and pancakes and Linda cooked sausages for the crew.

As soon as they left, we got in the car and drove to the Genesee Country Village outside Rochester to watch our nephews and three of their sons play vintage baseball on the village commons. They belong to a club that plays by 1885 rules and is outfitted in period uniforms of the day. A weekend tournament had been scheduled, and having watched them before, had committed to seeing them again.

Of course, that was before we were so tired. If you know Linda, you know her mantra: “Always do the right thing!” No matter how you feel about it, no matter even if others do not reciprocate, always do the right thing, and in this case, the right thing was sticking to our commitment. We did, and had a wonderful time! I got to talk with my brother as we watched his boys and grandsons play, we connected with an old friend of our sons who heads up a mission in Uganda, and had the blessing of seeing our granddaughters, Nate and Deb’s girls, all together with their cousins. 

On the way home, I got to thinking: I wasn’t tired! When we do the right thing even when we don’t initially feel like it, we get the blessing of fellowship, and God’s strength for the day. An old gospel song by Annie Johnson Flint puts it this way:

God hath not promised skies always blue,
Flower-strewn pathways all our lives through;
God hath not promised sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow, peace without pain.

God hath not promised we shall not know
Toil and temptation, trouble and woe;
He hath not told us we shall not bear
Many a burden, many a care.

God hath not promised smooth roads and wide,
Swift, easy travel, needing no guide;
Never a mountain rocky and steep,
Never a river turbid and deep.

But God hath promised strength for the day,
Rest for the labor, light for the way,
Grace for the trials, help from above,
Unfailing sympathy, undying love.

People often say, “God will not give you more than you can bear.” That’s not true. God often gives us more than we can bear, but he never gives us more than he can bear. When we choose Christ and his way, keeping our commitments, pushing through our weariness, fears, or just plain selfishness, we find the strength we need for the day. I found that today, and in addition, the joy of fellowship with my extended family. It’s late now, and I’m again feeling tired, but it’s accompanied by a deep satisfaction that I would have missed had I given in to this morning’s weariness.