tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61904893553730369832024-03-04T23:32:31.867-07:00The Wayfarer's RodA Candid View from the Narrow RoadThe Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.comBlogger94125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-72094269696750943152023-05-27T11:40:00.000-07:002023-05-27T11:40:45.783-07:00Road Rash<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlC4fNh4RBsyG_Qzt-AM8YLsO5NXPu_eJIAgT0heLy8leMxxS5apN9TS7uzLV5TGDl9OQ_C3iMrRSiCcbNFvjGNFVAT8CQxgF7hJHSVF6qJrbVe25MImpcRpdjZkePByGZ8DJ4ZRBMt4w-tpkaFQGp2eqhYSw5-klqRmsGHbu03xV3YPURzPuaf1uz/s4000/IMG20230527112430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlC4fNh4RBsyG_Qzt-AM8YLsO5NXPu_eJIAgT0heLy8leMxxS5apN9TS7uzLV5TGDl9OQ_C3iMrRSiCcbNFvjGNFVAT8CQxgF7hJHSVF6qJrbVe25MImpcRpdjZkePByGZ8DJ4ZRBMt4w-tpkaFQGp2eqhYSw5-klqRmsGHbu03xV3YPURzPuaf1uz/s320/IMG20230527112430.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p> Thursday, May 25th, I left my house shortly after 2:00PM, road my bicycle partway to work and woke up at 3:45PM in the bed of an ambulance at the bottom of Windy Point, a long, steep hill two miles from my house. My last memory is that it was a beautiful day to take the climb easy and enjoy the scenery before the decent. The ambulance arrived due to the call of a motorist who kindly stopped instead of running me over when they found me laying unresponsive in the road in front of them. Some of my burns are simply from laying on the hot pavement while I dreamed about more pleasant things. The rest of my burns are plain old road rash to supplement my broken clavicle, bruised ribs and a concussion. The rest of the event details are as unsearchable as God's ways.</p><p>I've often said that you can't study the laws of nature and miss the supernatural. So, naturally, that's where my mind is while I'm recovering from violating some of nature's laws and my wife is graciously helping me change bandages and clothes that I don't quite have the ability to do on my own yet. Thank God that full and timely recovery is expected but we still have to go through the healing process. That is to say, I'm having a hard time reaching the keyboard with my left hand, my mind is getting tired fast and auto correct is working hard to make this a sensible post.</p><p>With no further ado, here's the spiritual bit you've all learned to expect from me. When it's obvious that God has spared your life, that's the right time to reevaluate your priorities and make sure they are well aligned with his. Of course, those with higher spiritual IQ's can do that <i>before</i> such an event but here I am wearing the shoe that still fits, even with some fresh scrapes on it. Listen to God's laws and don't make him raise his voice. It will knock you off whatever you're riding same as it knocked Saul (a.k.a. the apostle Pual) off his Donkey. And the lesson isn't quit riding donkeys. It's more like why are you riding one. Motives matter. Time for a nap.</p>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-30243989735980115182023-02-03T11:25:00.000-07:002023-02-03T11:25:19.181-07:00I'll Miss Out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/109001253465889323/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="362" data-original-width="460" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfSqsfyECV3kRG4WEkHsEBRTIVsYJmhE4bspneMlYtqvYrnGLmrIaFP_AaySKe6fvmvzwSuMvi1aDWVCgBgeE2alewn--7ApvYnIPKJyYz4rwucucMYPkdNgPr4v0qyUa672BT6GJ_ZO5Cw_KsnN0osaCtU2jUpgqt1I4763dPEIScsBdMueikomD/s320/loyalty.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>To close the pop-up window soliciting me for the hundredth time to subscribe or face the unmitigated perils of the internet, I had to click the button labeled, "No thanks. I'll miss out". Apparently I need to acknowledge my devotion to simpleton living.</p><p>Since I was already humbled and ready to acknowledge my flaws, I had no trouble later when the gas station pump required me to push the "No Loyalty" button to proceed without a points card. Besides, I had already opted to miss out and I didn't want to add being inconsistent to my growing list of character flaws.</p><p>I still feel like there's hope, though. Christ's disciples all pushed the "no loyalty" button when it was time to associate with their disgraced and condemned rabbi. And the mobsters of Israel at the time smashed the "I'll miss out" button for lack of conviction that there was any hazard Christ could save them from. In spite of those famous mistakes, the instant any one of them showed enough humility to repent, they were restored to being able to surf the internet and buy gas without doing penance every time. Stick that in your gas tank the next time life demands that you push the "I suck" button. It's a points card you can't lose and you'll get the "<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=john+10%3A10&version=NIV" target="_blank">life to the full</a>" discount every time. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-41849499506606509862021-12-18T21:20:00.000-07:002021-12-18T21:20:18.985-07:00One Man's Trash<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.greenwaydumpsters.com/best-dumpster-photos-of-2014/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="600" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjchUoR2v7-7xz7yBPxsA5jv5D9xGNYU7YhEoZb4PqUwMpRpatQ5HT9WbM7qtJNaLbqjt4Dx4yX_CaYO6UETo_mlfRhCkCnF1TuEUQe68R2PQqATeBdXv6FrpD_f6XrzmflUeUUIrTVuJwm0fP62NQ1vAOm8i2NDPXjyhikYd16EVuAKS2bPrf1XAZZ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>In the start-up days of my shop in Camp Verde, the trash truck driver would go out of his way to scold me weekly for an empty dumpster. Every Wednesday morning, I would hear him pull up at the side of the building, rev the hydraulics to hoist the dumpster over the truck and then bang it against the top of the cylinder stroke a couple times to make sure it's contents were not merely stuck. Next, I would hear the dumpster land with an angry thud, the truck engine drop to an idle and the driver door open and slam shut. "You should have a flag that you put out when it needs emptied and if I don't see it I won't stop," he would say with strained professionalism. "Traffic is really a pain in the butt. These Main Street idiots don't care what's backing out in front of them. They won't give it any room" I would sympathize a little and he would go on his way marginally satisfied.</p><p>These days, my business is well established and my dumpster is satisfactorily full when he comes... all be it every <i>other</i> Wednesday. I can sense his happiness to hear all my scrap bicycle parts clanging through the transition into his truck and my dumpster lands with careful precision in front of the designated parking block. Even the occasional overflow item at the side of the dumpster gets taken without complaint. The traffic is as bad as ever and my parking lot is still a tight maneuver for his truck but, with a legitimate purpose for his stop, he leaves with a smile and a wave if I happen to be out front at the time, as I often am.</p><p>We all hate busy work (and it's counterpart, rework), paid or not. And God himself knows having something real to accomplish even in a mundane task is a big deal! Likewise, our lives are not a mere going through the prescribed motions. The Gospel presents us with lives of great consequence, especially in how we choose to handle the mundane things. There really is stuff in the dumpster and it's meaningful to the shop owner and neighbors who use it illegally that it gets emptied. There really is an excited kid on the other side of that trashy bike their grandma just brought in for me to fix. There really is a trash truck driver who's whole morning was better than usual because a polite driver gave him plenty of room to back out this time. So, "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving."</p>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-75823591247495571222021-12-14T18:24:00.001-07:002021-12-15T08:44:26.621-07:00Hazards of the Soul<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/680536193667376535/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="844" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwjUhCDJLp6aZDR4vnoL0EzAaO6hTyQe7mzqRN2x5usKL-MJUN2zYUOnJ2OBukhGPMThH8dwSVzH8UJqQ7a5rHpVcTlG7d1iMD7HF6pAKCMI1W7_HSVXRPHdjawMod0LOto53MKjZYlJihvX2k_LOIFVW5a_LEvqcpxPj5MvoIqqIV1lLeV0pAB9ua=s320" width="273" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">To those pacified by pleasure as it dulls the mind,</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-03a00a69-7fff-a5b2-2a5c-b9399dfd0c03"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To the sleeping soul ambition has left far behind.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Whom comfort ushers quietly into the night,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">May pain restore your sight.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To those motivated ones who have attained,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To the racing heart that leaves the spirit sore and strained,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Whom thrills consume but leave the crushing debts to pay,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">May sorrow change your way.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To those lofty ones with throngs at their command</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To the power drunken fool who overplays his hand,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Whom privilege robs the taste of life and makes it bland</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">May weakness help you stand.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To those trained by hardship and refined by pain</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To the stricken one whom sorrow calls upon by name.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Whom pride has overlooked and privilege never came.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Most High knows the same.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-8498284354914397802021-12-10T19:46:00.004-07:002021-12-12T09:51:24.492-07:00Trouble from God<p> "You are talking like a foolish woman. <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job+2&version=NIV" target="_blank">Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble</a>?" Job asked his wife after her advice to, "curse God and die." No doubt, she was speaking from her own extreme grief and distress after her and Job had suffered the sudden, catastrophic loss of all their livestock, servants and children. Her words came during the second wave of God-sanctioned testing that covered her husband's entire body in painful sores after he had already fallen to the ground in worship with his robe torn and head shaved in response to the <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job+1%3A12-22&version=NIV" target="_blank">first wave of trouble</a>. And all this began not with Satan pursuing Job but rather with God directing Satan's attention to "the most blameless and upright" man on earth.</p><p>Trouble from God? It's a provocative question. We tend to read the book of Job as an account of great faith when our own lives are troubled. We also tend to land back in the mentality that trouble does not come from God. "I am angry with you and your two friends because you have not spoken the truth about me, as <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2042%3A6%2D8&version=NIV" target="_blank">my servant Job has</a>", God reprimanded those who had defended his character in much the same way some do today - unless you've offended him, God is the source of good, not trouble. We may feel the need to point out that it was Satan who actually administered the trouble. Job had no such need as he spoke the truth, "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised."</p><p>When Satan later set his eyes on the apostles and requested to <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke+22%3A31-34&version=NIV" target="_blank">sift them as wheat</a>, Christ again allowed the test to happen but, knowing they would fall away, he made Peter the point man for restoring them. Shortly after his restoration by the risen Christ, what Peter had learned was shown through a prayer in response to persecution. His <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts+4%3A23-30&version=NIV" target="_blank">request</a> was to be enabled to speak the word of God with great boldness, not to be spared the trouble of persecution. Later he <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Peter+1%3A3-7&version=NIV" target="_blank">spelled out</a> that <i>all</i> the trials of life "have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith - of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire - may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed." Likewise, Paul recognized his "<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2+Corinthians+12%3A6-10&version=NIV" target="_blank">messenger of Satan</a>, to torment me" as a gift from God to perfect God's power in his life.</p><p>If we can stand to be honest about it, we base our faith on a book full of temporary trouble and evil spirits perfectly metered from God to make the most of our eternal life with him. Does your life include hardship you would rather not endure? Your high priest can <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Hebrews+4%3A14-16&version=NIV" target="_blank">sympathize</a>. And even when his request was for the cup to be <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+26%3A36-42&version=NIV" target="_blank">taken from him</a>, he also acknowledged it as the Father's will, not a mere allowance to the will of the enemy. So even while we follow Christ's example to plead with the Father in our suffering, may we also follow his example to embrace our trials as useful tools in the Father's hands, not merely defects of a sinful world or even passively allowed troubles. They are his gift to perfect our faith and pave the way for our share in his perfect and eternal glory that he acquired through the same means. "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world", Christ encouraged us. So let us answer hardship as Job answered his wife. We are not those who curse God and die. Let us rather be those who praise God and live.</p>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-36336757739287591982021-10-26T21:32:00.000-07:002021-10-26T21:32:34.477-07:00Enough<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.christianity.com/wiki/bible/how-has-the-freedom-in-christ-set-us-free.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="418" data-original-width="800" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcA4uEgiy6_SsdihHfYKFBki4DtcJbup0deIhtBrkFc41mAggzvcVRCzUhWbq_vArw3aJIgdfKhc5Mbelfpjc1zVFqRCIYCNhKfMuN6Sa6oFi4rrVIdYXMMth7qELTbecQkxZ_5HKta3Y/s320/freely+live.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Through every toil every day,</p><p>Through every flaw do not dismay.</p><p>How short you fall can never stain</p><p>Your righteousness in Him.</p><p><br /></p><p>The only debt that still remains</p><p>Is love and freedom in His name.</p><p>Our weakened flesh is not our claim</p><p>To what He freely gives</p><p><br /></p><p>So at the end of every day,</p><p>"It is enough", each one should say.</p><p>In Christ, no debt remains to pay</p><p>Except to freely live.</p>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-28989420064757940722021-10-10T14:28:00.002-07:002021-10-10T14:30:23.608-07:00"I won't do what you tell me"<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://roberts-lieb.com/faithbites/2019/03/09/march-9-just-do-what-you-are-told-its-easier/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="260" data-original-width="300" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiet2i6HVq1yIbdPbhqhSBdsha3aJymvq2r8slAQdjS61OPL_Q6Uupj2wTOl54L75osui3JbxyZMXudQvd8jTns_roAmS__8MgeQ5UbKNz7_6ZoFK6th8P9L3ABaE1l_9PZNEBi-R1d7Fc/s0/if-you-just-do-what-youre-told-that-would-be-great-e1552186504340.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>As a few friends and I hustled to get an exposed roof covered before the encroaching monsoon clouds dumped their torrent on us, the radio in the back of the pick-up chose to encourage our efforts with the song, "Killing in the Name of" from Rage Against the Machine. As we listened to Zack de la Rocha repetitiously scream, "F#%k you! I won't do what you tell me!" with the synchronized pounding of the band behind him, something unexpectedly struck me funny enough that my friend asked what I was quietly laughing about.</p><p>"They did what they were told," I answered in relationship to Rage's COVID canceled tour. And if you want to attend their next show, you'll have to do what you're told as well. I know that's out of context for the song's genuinely noble intent but that's where humor lives sometimes. Rage's rage is radio only for now.</p><p>The radio is a powerful communication tool but it doesn't provide the same sense of being part of something big as when a booming concert moves us in shoulder-to-shoulder unison by the thousands. My wife and kids had never been to a big name concert before we attended a Newsboys show a few weeks ago and it was a blast to see them get carried along with the pulsing excitement of the crowd. It's a version of why many of us enjoy singing with the crowd in a church service more than by ourselves at home. We all love a manifest measure of unity with like-minded others. Without that, not even a ground shaking amount of rage makes the stage worth it.</p>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-67294072553779542492021-10-03T19:33:00.001-07:002021-10-10T07:04:52.152-07:00Variant<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.everydayhealth.com/coronavirus/new-coronavirus-variant-could-be-more-infectious-and-evade-vaccines/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1440" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8lApwx_lBO7hN79TLdz_R77-fO-5zvIkWw5LJ_xDM93jGh884RoI3q1G7zxJFuG48VkydDMYXaT77_nYqeS29yhESLFZ-lkTIzQXBGLeBTbf1rXBsUT4USlv1Cevxwx81beq3R6ywLY/s320/variant.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Each week on my drive to Flagstaff, the giant marquee sign over I-17 North tells me to "Join X million Arizonan's. Get vaccinated." My news feed regularly ques up articles for how to win over the "vaccine hesitant". A steadily increasing stream of alarms about new variants and restrictions to manage them strives to leverage the tide of society ahead of the curve. It all had a familiar ring to it as I contemplated the history of evangelism in my time. I remember being a Pentecostal teenager and being taught how absurd the reasoning of the heathen world was (we'll call them "Gospel hesitant") and what the best strategies where for winning them over. The emphasis was on converts, for their own good of course, but the important thing was they came around to our way of thinking. Every success at legislating our faith into laws that restricted the Gospel hesitant from acting too far out of line with our worldview was loudly praised.</p><p>Evangelists for every movement and cause through all of history follow the same pattern. Whether they're trying to save the world from people or save people from themselves, they're always plagued by the hesitant who just don't see things the "right" way. And then, just when you think you've got the offender boxed in, some minor change let's a nearly identical version of it loose on the world again. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.</p><p>As far as examples to follow, you generally have two choices. Either strive for power and influence in favor of your cause until the next variant gives you something new to squash or live out your own convictions and let the world run it's course. There is obviously some balance between the two but if Christ is your example, it's obvious that the wisest and most powerful leader did the good he was here for and let the world run it's course. And he aimed evangelism specifically at following his example, not squashing every variant in the world. You can insert Gandhi or Buddha or whoever you like and largely get the same result to differing degrees. Or you can insert the average, echo-chamber politician and perpetuate the strife.</p><p>The world may indeed hang in the balance of humanity's collective behavior but we don't own the scale. We don't set its weights and measures or the times that it's reconciled. Authority over those things belongs only to the One who created them and none of us can summon him through science or faith to validate our cause. Even as we may rightly work to win the fight, long live the variants, those evasive and everchanging things that flaunt our limitations and refine our focus. Even as we try to convert each other in a world that inevitably returns us all to dust, may you have all the success of any humble virus at adapting to the world you're in. And even as it's dawning on us that life may be different than we imagined, let humility temper the shock that what we have strongly regarded as self evident no longer appears to be so.</p>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-38279914217236568232021-07-10T22:12:00.005-07:002021-07-11T07:03:56.982-07:00Rednecks in Heat Waves<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/545287467353184084/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9XpYphd_uqJ49-aaN_8i7T_JdeetFE9AoVdFftVXt19K6pqpSLmh0wjCYRBgLqf_Y-Bk878FFFfAkqn0QBPcWaFgXJTIFPifzmSdEHfrvhDlNBtU3BDSbFXIiTMIuaGldGe9xkkif8mo/s320/redneck+heat+wave.jpg" /></a></div><p>God loves rednecks and I can prove it. Our central AC breathed it's last early in this most recent and newsworthy heatwave. We're cheap and at the moment broke, but mostly cheap so some of our fellow rednecks gave us a couple beat up window units they had lying around like ordinary rednecks do. They were literally stacked between the broken down car and the chicken coop. We were thrilled! The first unit was installed right away and, to fill the gap left from it being the wrong unit for the window, I cut a proper size piece of dirty, weathered plywood from the nearest scrap pile (I have several right now just to make sure we're not mistaken for HOA types). My fortune was so good that a single cut yielded the perfect board and our new-to-us AC is now securely roaring the last hours of it's marginally efficient life away cooling our living room to a chilly eighty five degrees or so. </p><p>"But what of the second unit," you ask? Why, I installed it improperly in a window on the opposite side of our house this very day! And when I went looking for the correct size board to make up the difference, I stumbled across the trashy plywood scrap I had saved from installing the other unit and, guess what?! Perfect fit with no cuts! Now we're enjoying the cool breeze and death rattle of cheap AC units in stereo! Life is good! The last part of this story is that I realized I could remove a panel from the ugly, crooked, broken, central AC on our roof and make it suck huge volumes of fresh night air into the house when it's cooler outside than our window units can accomplish inside.</p><p>I feel like we just won a championship game against the heat and I should thank some people while the cameras are on me. Thank you to my redneck friends who kept trash knowing someone like me would be stoked to call it my own one day. Thank you to my redneck wife who shamelessly cheered me on every time I solved a problem related to doing things wrong in the first place and who couldn't be happier to use someone else's trash to death with me for the thrill of a barely adequate, cool breeze. She even contributed the solution of stuffing the small whole in the board with cotton swabs so it no longer serves as a mosquito portal. And, of course, thanks to the God who has the foresight to arrange who I marry, who my friends are, what trashy board I grab at random and how I cut it to get an accidently perfect two-fer on the installation. Take that, you oppressive heat wave!</p>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-69669029552045700692021-07-07T20:26:00.001-07:002021-07-08T06:33:37.774-07:00Hello Stranger<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://elephant.art/jonathan-baldock-investigates-emotional-impact-human-face/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1696" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ6yQ_9V_h98kpkgqoX9Ic8kgBoTsb2rxwmqPkW2oF1MKqhYYDDYmLeH5nPDqXOnyE_oN2Qf7Ml5lTzJcNdAH8q8kL62BWiSYiWQaaLo6DAa2_D7JuDwp5aBu6KVvYkPsMLgeos5-F9VI/s320/hello+stranger.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Hello stranger. Please hear me true.</p><p>I know you not, but need not know you</p><p>To give you passage into my heart</p><p>Of my own nature you are a part.</p><p><br /></p><p>A fellow human and likewise equal</p><p>To call things good or call them evil,</p><p>To call one, "friend" or call one, "foe"</p><p>To lean on more than what we know.</p><p><br /></p><p>I'm confident you can relate</p><p>However different each one's stake.</p><p>May common interest yield truer aim.</p><p>I'll strive to hear you. Please do the same.</p>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-44248752998757388082021-06-16T20:24:00.004-07:002021-10-19T19:02:36.342-07:00Night Run<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://fullmoonrunner.wordpress.com/tag/night-run/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="259" data-original-width="389" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYlZ30L8FqK5Se8IcxH7Ek1t8mO_rlbXdsKGOAebCxZJIjbhAGVpf_W0hYoMI4npth7msZOt74Fg7jNeD_1PqIRntKaIf1M78t_CjkPYjFzzxOvy6anQHSZxDKKtJw4S9RD95HpVUY_0g/s320/night+run.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>In it's essence, a blind person's sense of distance is exclusively connected to the metered effort required to move through it. The bathroom is ten steps from the bedroom. The dinner table is twenty steps from bedroom. Therefore the dinner table is farther than the bathroom. This works until assisted travel is introduced. The next town is reached by walking to the car which is twenty steps away like the table. Therefore the next town is the same distance away as the table. The difference is you can only reach the next town by sitting in the car for a certain time, as if the space around you needs time to change rather you needing time to move through it. In this way, space becomes an increasingly fluid but not irrational concept to the blind person even though the sighted person knows otherwise.</p><p>As I run around my country neighborhood in the pitch black, I feel that sense of warped space. I am the sighted and the blind person at once and my mind is on high alert without the usual indicators of distance. I feel the texture and tilt of the road with each foot strike. When I know it's safe, I close my eyes so that not even the distant porch light or the faint glimmer of the setting, crescent moon aid my sense of progress or direction. The feel of the center ridge of the road beneath my feat says I'm on the right track. The effort of each leg pushing forward and exchanging balance in cadence says I'm moving forward. "Where" is a mystery that my senses are trusting to my memory. It's thrilling... and short lived. A few steps in row unexpectedly miss the feeling of the center ridge and my sense of place on the road is gone. My eyes open and the few porch lights along the way give just enough light to guide me home.</p><p>Much of faith is the same. The Kingdom of Christ is closer than the dinner table. I just cant walk to it. My feet know what to feel for but they don't always knot how to find the trail when they lose it, and it can happen so quickly. Sometimes, even with my eyes open, it's dark enough that only my memory of seeing makes me able to recognize a trustworthy path by its shadowy fragments. The rhythmic shift of my balance confirms progress and direction that natural sight can't reliably indicate. I miss a step and my eyes widen. A porch light leads me home, left on by someone who's already there and waiting for me to arrive - the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.</p>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-12245395746653464452021-03-10T09:44:00.001-07:002021-03-10T09:47:42.122-07:00The Way of All the Earth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter;">We go the way of all the earth.</span></div><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter;">Round and round.<br />Return to ground.<br /><br />We ache for hope and ache with hurt.<br />Why, oh why?<br />Look to the sky.<br /><br />Such wonder rises from the dirt.<br />Alas. Alas.<br />This too shall pass.<br /><br />Yet so eternal is its worth.<br />Amen. Amen.<br />To life again.</span><div><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter;"><a href="https://helenwinnemores.com/products/squidcat-ink-encouragement-card-this-too-shall-pass" style="clear: right; font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1008" data-original-width="1008" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm93RZ-lEZGeWDrpA9rfx7ASyG0av_Mr9iOcwwWiUfttUPKHTTB-W9ZOERMWede3Hm3Sva2ujHFa3PEpY3WVnPUUuycxPtAZc2CkTHez34mEluhrjJlrPhlhMEcxFAe3ziooy9IY_TfPw/w320-h320/this+too+shall+pass.webp" width="320" /></a></span></div></div>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-84590035892374652472021-01-12T21:00:00.002-07:002021-08-20T16:24:32.341-07:00Dear Longest Friend<p><br /></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-a7fed942-7fff-5926-a83d-613ea94fac19"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I remember when I felt I was myself and mine alone.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">It was important.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I imagined the world’s boundaries were mine to overthrow.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I was the constant.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I cherished paradigms and codes so freshly set in stone</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I was ignorant.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">The only thing I really knew was how to never leave you,</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">And even that was marginal.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I was so unaware how the Divine is infinitely shrewd.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Through you, he is so tactical,</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">And patiently he crushed so many of my sacred truths,</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">A cage I thought was practical.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">So often it’s the case that only when enough life lies behind us</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Can we see the path he’s made.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Just now I’ve started seeing how much of me has already turned to dust,</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">How much needed laid to waste.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">To welcome every scrape that comes from you, I’ve learned to trust,</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">What it removes is much more than replaced.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">It could sound like a lament if heard without time’s thankful understanding.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">How much is found when we finally lose ourselves.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">How much of me has come from you, my friend, beyond all quantifying,</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">So much more good than harm to tell.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">There is no line to draw, no place to mark our thorough intertwining,</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">And no wish to find where my defenses fell.</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Caveat, cursive; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 600; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-32565313302920939602020-12-27T11:56:00.001-07:002020-12-29T08:25:53.683-07:00Arizona Alligators<p>The unmistakable image of a large, fast moving alligator surfacing a few feet in front of me bypassed every controlled thought as my whole body tensed in unison and lunged several steps away from the waters edge. Then my rational thoughts made me laugh out loud as instinct yielded and I turned around to watch the mistaken log splash and bob downstream in the flood waters of the Verde River behind my Arizona home. The pounding in my ears quieted. The quivering muscles in my limbs steadied and I marveled at how irrational my reaction was and how little that matters at first to our instinctual mind, or at least to mine. Perhaps yours would do better at distinguishing an inanimate chunk of dead wood from a living, breathing terror of dinosaur proportions.</p><p>Wild, Arizona alligators are only real when they "escape" from homes that kept them as ill fated pets. That may not change whether they'll tear your limbs off in a bad situation but it does change our comfort level getting into our favorite watering holes. Same as Jaws didn't really keep people out of the ocean, even combined with some real attacks. These represent the successful transition from instinctual to rational.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.wlrn.org/news/2016-01-21/pool-party-crasher-american-crocodile" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH5BkT4YqU4CS0Y876qJK5zzueE8dn8cSjqy4TB7PyWwLpBLNQv_eyEpNSFefzQCZip9rS6FRmH2CzQu7l60DrR-IvgdwNYGU8whLsxztjzgYkrdHGYDEqfrw6BhXIGQLaYdrPMqIbjjo/s320/arizona+alligator.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>But perhaps more often than we realize, we fail to make that transition. Lately, my wife and I have been working through some relational baggage in the family. The people have changed but some of our now instinctual responses to them have not. As a result of some obsolete sense of self preservation, we find ourselves in fight-or-flight every time a relational log floats by. The good news is we know the alligator isn't real and perseverance will retrain our instincts.</p><p>The same is true on the societal level. Perseverance of truthful reasoning is the necessity of being more than merely instinctual creatures chronically fooled by appearances. There's always plenty to keep us irrationally distant from each other, resistant to the unifying truth because of some political or religious 'gator it moves us closer to. Don't fear it. Time always shows those things to be merely ill fated pets you shouldn't keep anymore, and likely shouldn't have had in the first place. They'll end up in the zoo or the Everglades and you can meet at the local watering hole in peace.</p>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-83390850122334821142020-12-05T22:04:00.005-07:002020-12-08T15:22:35.472-07:00Self Talk<p>I blame God that we talk to ourselves. I've avoided blaming him for other things in spite of his all-knowingness and ultimate creatorship, but this one's inescapably on him. For five days, he simply spoke things into existence as he had in mind and by his own account "it was good". Then the later part of day six rolls around and what's he do? Stops to talk to himself about what's next! And that next thing of course was, <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=ephesians+3%3A16-19&version=NIV" target="_blank">"Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness,..."</a>, complete with self talk.</p><p>Lest we wrongly imagine effortless agreement to God's self talk, consider the following. 1) The disparity between Christ's interests and the Father's interests when it came to <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+26%3A39&version=NIV" target="_blank">crucifixion</a>. 2) The internal conflict of Christ represented in statements like, <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+17%3A17&version=NIV" target="_blank">"How long am I going to put up with you?"</a> 3) The many times throughout the Bible a Spirit-led person (a.k.a. God-led person) like <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=genesis+18%3A23-25&version=NIV" target="_blank">Abraham</a> or <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=numbers+14%3A13-20&version=NIV" target="_blank">Moses</a> appealed to God's alternate sensibilities to fend off his destroying some certain people group. Love it or leave it, here lies your assurance that God can relate to the internal conflict of being a parent or long suffering friend.</p><p>Some additional value to that exercise? Ever feel like there's more than one person in your head. Not only can God relate, he's just like you! Or you're just like him. Whichever seems more proper to the majority vote of your personalities. It's good to be able to see his likeness in even the crazy guy ranting to himself as he paces. I know that crossed a line but here's another thing. Scripture teaches us that spiritual nature <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+12%3A43-45&version=NIV" target="_blank">abhors a vacuum</a> just like physical nature. Christ is the eternal <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=collosians+2%3A9-10&version=NIV" target="_blank">vessel</a> for the Father and the Spirit. And you have the choice of being a <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=ephesians+3%3A16-19&version=NIV" target="_blank">vessel</a> for Christ or you have his assurance you'll house things more similar to the crazy guy. Think of it as complicated real life version of those nesting, Russian dolls.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.etsy.com/il-en/listing/651207557/custom-character-nesting-dolls-russian" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="570" data-original-width="570" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUBdlWRKmJgNx7M6gfbWjygDlPQCyukQObBKoTupS_LPTkQtYSRQm-m1tDKnS35uEu_osSVNVUjTJ9JZ_0VYLg7hRTa0m4SbgIQN4iApTO1YYWHhyzqLmXOAE0AzcsTuH_rclB3L5V73k/s320/russian+dolls.jpg" /></a></div><p>So self talk away. And realize that, through his Spirit in us and Christ's <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+8%3A34&version=NIV" target="_blank">intercession</a> for us, God's day six conversation never stopped and never will. Through his own self talk, we benefit from God modeling his own instruction to pray at all times with all kinds of prayer. When our attention is on him, following his example abundantly includes our own internal conflicts and conversations. Now go redeem that self talk. You're not any crazier than the God who made you.</p>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-90411234508824488142020-09-20T18:53:00.001-07:002020-09-20T18:53:19.648-07:00That Stupid Chair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://freaktography.com/product/abandoned-mental-asylum-chairs-print/"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtHvQyIylCxqEt2m2kDY64apgS8jh3NZgzpOPin5KwhvL0F3__BSJAiS3k2gN85J-upsKSw7-bkSmqOejk5oFyteIOi8dW1T_kLFwgrc-Rb8I3F_HclRIPZX2iOLkX8dT9A00DI50gkvE/s320/Abandoned-Mental-Asylum-Lonely-Chairs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>"I still talk to that stupid chair sometimes," says Josie with good humored helplessness. While we're trying to figure out if she's eighty seven or ninety seven, she laughs as she continues, "I'll be reading something and say, 'Oh you've got to read this' as I look up and realize nobody's there. But now I've learned to just go ahead and say it anyway." Her eyes search the face of my son and I through a pause just long enough to be awkward. "That's where he sits now," she laughs again and points to a cheap looking box overlaid with gold foil on a fireplace mantle heavily clad with family pictures, mementos and some odd bits with yet to be explained connections to the pictures. "I don't know what to do with it. I guess I'll just make the grand kids deal with it."</p><p>Josie is one of the regular volunteers at the local food bank. Her job is moral support rendered as a welcoming and eclectic stream of consciousnesses aimed indiscriminately at the crowd of workers swirling around her. If she grabs your arm as you pass, it's expected that you give her one or two minutes of your time before walking away mid sentence, as usually you must. She simply grabs the next arm and continues as if the audience never changed. Grave or encouraging, trivial or newsworthy, her conversation makes you smile. Mission accomplished.</p><p>Today, we ended up at her house on her insistence that that was the best way to get bread. After the morning's work of prepping the food bank for tomorrow's lines, we followed her home, though we drove considerably straighter. She opened the side door of her otherwise empty garage and the hunger inducing aroma of pallets of assorted bread spilled forcefully from it. She grinned as she watched the crazed look come into our faces. It's a point of pride that her garage is the solution to unattended bread being stolen from the food bank. "Take as much as you want," she says guiding us to the most sought after items as she shares a collection of memories as assorted as the bread. We got what we wanted and looked for a break in the conversation. Leaving mid sentence was becoming the only option.</p><p>Suddenly, as if she sensed our dilemma and cared nothing for it, she took hold of my son's arm and was dragging his towering figure into the house as he looked over his shoulder for a rescuer. I followed. The obligatory couple of minutes lapsed over and over as she tugged us from one point of interest to the next until we ended up back in the driveway talking about the neighbors. Just when we were getting desperate enough to try for another mid sentence escape, the neighbor lady came into sight headed our way along the fence. Suddenly we were irrelevant. Her attention shifted to the approaching lady with the bread crazed look in her eyes and Josie juked us like athletes who had lost track of the game. We got in the van and drove home smiling and laughing. Mission accomplished.</p><p><br /></p>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-9354643307556177032020-08-10T16:54:00.001-07:002021-01-30T21:40:49.955-07:00At Risk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://imgur.com/t/dinosaurs/i6BX260/-YfheSEVsSK8/XzHbQQclGTI/AAAAAAAAKi0/2qZvSBOC3sQVJ4gt_xykaimy24NF9SAaACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/At%2BRisk.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="601" data-original-width="640" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfJjRmbwbCax1P5z2GhrPh3lEiAQpQ2o_GGIHiX_vsD60jC2OW0qJPP6UVaFnD5TdNp0U10VQ2Fu-f88HnVT-xeNbhq9nzqf_wgNuU-7UCsm9d5S8WDWq-L1lMQbrCYytrIM63okki-Zw/w400-h376/At+Risk.webp" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>A friend recently reminded me of an old joke about a man hiking in the dessert and he gets bitten on the butt by a rattlesnake. His hiking partner makes a phone call for emergency help and gets the advice, "make an incision between the fang marks and suck the poison out."</p><p>"What did they say!?" the man asks anxiously as his condition worsens.</p><p>The partner lowers his head solemnly and replies, "They said you're gonna die."</p><p>These days it's easy to see that our value for our fellow man's life is often shallower than we would like to think. Based on our disapproval of someone's response to the latest crisis management protocol, we're quick to blast each other as having no concern for our fellow humans. There's something innate that says that argument should have some leverage. I would argue that we've overestimated ourselves in that regard since Adam.</p><p>This is no political statement about our current situation. It's an appeal to all of us to probe that daunting intersection of practicality and compassion and be honest about what we find in ourselves. Straw men burn easy. Nobody cared about those "at risk" until they believed it was a threat to themselves. Before then we just stuffed them in nursing homes and waited for our inheritance. Clearly I'm overstating the case but I'm sure you get the point. Do you <i>really</i> care? It takes more than a mask to prove it and the opportunity won't disappear when our current crisis ends.</p><p>Roll over, buddy. We're making an incision.</p>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-80924076833852706042020-06-23T20:31:00.002-07:002021-06-15T07:39:02.968-07:00Every Day New<span id="docs-internal-guid-e3d1d5af-7fff-9890-4785-8f88d2995f25"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://bonsaibark.com/2017/07/25/deadwood-flowers/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="814" data-original-width="770" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOFN0wt516I3bWApiVAHu5SPTazf0sucwAwVHPhj5BCKIGCYjrJiK-AsmuKWM_p9a85ZKP2qnN_FIusHQqgG4y4bPzt-6FqXgM6oLj5QtQ3I1ic474ary52xbuexMKlNdMFDJW77nTGMo/s320/flowers+from+deadwood.jpg" /></a></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let every day be new</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Though every day alike</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Will test if faith is true.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s part of the design.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let every day be new</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Though old is there again,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The force we tire against</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That forges greater strength</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let every day be new.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bring only what is good</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">From one day to the next.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let old die as it should.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let every day be new.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let Mercy meet you there.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let Grace forget your flaws,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No guilt remains to snare.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let every day be new.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now give what you’ve received.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Enrich another life</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With mercy, grace and peace.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let every day be new.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Remember just one thing,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That over every day</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Son is still the King.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Droid Serif", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-12779883121313758012020-02-08T21:20:00.000-07:002020-02-08T21:44:46.930-07:00You Versus You<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvg4IE0VyGt7br1eHa4U_uhpFUtLFLrFZ4cqjvkdCey210WVk-YuNt-O82P9FlDjX4v8Ssm-ee77tQfasEjM-539SZAtT45EBgQmARGtgf37sh4W7XIZ12HvLYdVB5X1hST-8-vOrfjY/s1600/internal+conflict.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="460" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvg4IE0VyGt7br1eHa4U_uhpFUtLFLrFZ4cqjvkdCey210WVk-YuNt-O82P9FlDjX4v8Ssm-ee77tQfasEjM-539SZAtT45EBgQmARGtgf37sh4W7XIZ12HvLYdVB5X1hST-8-vOrfjY/s200/internal+conflict.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://jamaica-gleaner.com/article/news/20190714/religion-culture-christianity-vodun-and-identity-conflict">source</a></span><br />
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You verses you.<br />
What it really is.<br />
What we really do.<br />
<br />
Not who we despise<br />
When we roll our eyes.<br />
Just you versus you.<br />
<br />
Not, "They make me say..."<br />
Or, "They make me do..."<br />
Just you versus you.<br />
<br />
"But I'm mad as hell.<br />
They don't treat me well."<br />
Still you versus you.<br />
<br />
"God made me this way.<br />
It's his fault today."<br />
Not really the truth.<br />
<br />
"I'm just throwing stones<br />
They already threw."<br />
Not righteous. Not new.<br />
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There is no excuse.<br />
Just me versus me<br />
And you versus you.</div>
The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-47272305129708482962020-01-17T12:00:00.000-07:002020-03-10T07:45:58.617-07:00The Tenanites<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In biblical history, the Israelites have had to deal with a lot of other <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Exodus+34%3A10-14&version=NIV">"'ites"</a>; Canaanites, Jebusites, Hivites and and a host of other people groups that spell check doesn't recognize. As a family, we've been studying our way through the parables in the book of Matthew. While narrating back what he remembered from the <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+21%3A33-46&version=NIV">parable of the tenants</a>, my nine year old son identified a new group.<br />
"...then the owner of the vineyard turned it over to the Tenanites to produce its fruit."<br />
<br />
After we all had a little laugh and continued our study, the nature of the slip became somewhat profound. A targeted portion of the audience for Christ's parable was the religious and political authorities whose forefathers played a role in driving out all the different enemy-ites. Now those authorities had become the object of Jesus's metaphor about people who will be driven out. They had become the enemy-ites. It went over about as well as Jesus's teachings about them usually did. They looked for a way to arrest him.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bible_cartoons/32003239218"><img alt="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bible_cartoons/32003239218" border="0" data-original-height="378" data-original-width="525" height="230" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/4884/32003239218_f65554feeb_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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So here we are today with a tendency to feel rather confident about the rights we associate with being Christian. We're well established to say the least. That's partly because of the privilege we've inherited from righteous forefathers. I know our nation wasn't forwardly founded on Christianity but it was close enough that Christians have naturally grown to expect a high level of privilege and influence.<br />
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A prominent point in the parable of the tenants is that God's "vineyard", the resources he has invested for the purpose of getting a return, are only for those who have <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+24%3A45-51&version=NIV">returning it to him in mind</a>. I say all this to pose a question for myself as much as anybody. To any degree and at the risk of fighting God himself, has privilege and influence turned my faith into the means of preserving my privilege and influence? Faith may well result in both but I see the need to keep scrutinizing my own motives to make sure they're focused first on what God expects from his investment in me. It's easy to become a "Tenanite". </div>
The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-784933594972810272020-01-09T09:50:00.000-07:002020-01-09T09:50:21.526-07:00Hot Potato<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm on an Old Testament kick again. It's so interesting to study God through the context of historic examples with a specific nation, Israel, designated as his people. That's something we don't have in quite the same way today. It lets us see God without the modern ambiguity about what he's directly responsible for. It's not all tidy and flattering but it is all a truthful glimpse of who he is.<br />
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My most recent musing comes from the the book of <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Samuel+5&version=NIV">1 Samuel</a> where the Philistines are playing a panicked game of hot potato with the <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=exodus+25%3A10-22&version=NIV">ark</a> they stole from Israel after giving them a sound thumping. It seemed like a great victory to the Philistines until deadly illness almost immediately started inflicting whatever town they tried to keep the ark in. As the pattern became clear and the loss piled up, they returned the ark to Israel and their life presumably returned to normal, worshiping the pagan god Dagon in relative health with no immediate doom at their door.<br />
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Not to be taken as a God who plays favorites, when the Israelite's got the ark back, God also killed seventy of the them who looked into it. Apparently, if God does lead you to put some real semblance of him in a box, you had better not look too closely.<br />
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<a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/653162752178993828/"><img alt="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/653162752178993828/" border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="800" height="215" src="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ca/14/73/ca14730b5cde48ad43e60b3ec1153d25.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Anyway, this account carries a couple interesting points for me. One is that God shows <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+2%3A9-11&version=NIV">favor but not favoritism</a>. Even if you're fortunate enough to be the ones who really do have God in your box, you still have to be careful, perhaps even more so. And that leads to the second point. The Philistines were spared simply because they returned the ark, not because they turned to serving the God of Israel. Sometimes the only thing needed to get out of acute trouble is to stop actively fighting God's people and stealing their stuff. He'll deal with them harshly enough on his own.</div>
The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-65779377076691041842019-10-11T21:22:00.000-07:002020-03-24T07:11:07.299-07:00In the Land of the Blind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king."<br />
In the land of those who have lost their driving privileges (a.k.a. the foundation house next door) the king is the visitor in the black SUV with chipping, purple wheels and a stereo that lets Wiz Khalifa sing "young, wild and free" to the whole zip code. It's a good jam but as they stand on the sidewalk and triumphantly wave their cigarettes up and down to the beat, it's hard not to laugh at the irony of those who thumb their nose at restraint while trying to drink tiny bits of freedom through a legally kinked straw.<br />
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<a href="https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-in-the-land-of-the-blind-the-one-eyed-man-is-king/1114463/4445388/view"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="375" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioEq1zXMWpsAIkbGisIYHd2S9OyxIm_dgVgcCeFNh2Bpp3MaS4kEJdAbS403ciXj7b2ijmwLhqFqrptLQgpgq-8tyQ-HrdIs20l3sJc4YGTdD7p1P6oTStLBZFbJpKhaY9NRBcARDIBF4/s320/one+eyed+king.jpg" width="257" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-in-the-land-of-the-blind-the-one-eyed-man-is-king/1114463/4445388/view">Painting by Piotr Janusz</a></div>
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I imagine there's a case being made that the legalities that kink the straw are the thing to be scrutinized. No comment. It's always been tricky business for societies to establish laws that strike the right balance between giving freedom and protecting others against the misuse of it. It seems apparent we're fighting our own nature. I'm not immune. Young, wild and free sounds good to a middle age guy watching from the second story window of his business as well. It just conflicts with the rewards of being responsible that I've come to value more than unchecked freedom.<br />
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So I guess that's the thing in this bit of musing. If the one eyed man is king in the land of the blind, who's king in the land of the seeing. I'm convinced that truly seeing changes our fundamental nature to be concerned first with the well being of those around us. Perhaps I'm small minded but I can't see that becoming universal in our current reality. So, I dream of it as a component of Christ's kingdom when young is irrelevant, wild is considerate and free is no hazard to our neighbor. I think we'll still dance triumphantly to the best jams ever. We just won't dump our cigarette tray in front of the neighboring business when we're done. </div>
The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-63394372976511748822019-07-15T09:09:00.000-07:002019-07-15T09:09:26.621-07:00High Standards. Low Expectations.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There is an awkward tension in the Bible between facing how short we constantly fall of God's standards and still persevering to be like him. And the more you read, the more is on the line! Hoping to do better each day, we prop up our self esteem and motivation with scriptures about his grace and strength in us before abruptly crashing once more into our old nature like a supervillain with an endless supply of kryptonite. "Consider how far you have <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Revelation+2%3A5&version=NIV" target="_blank">fallen</a>"? No problem!<br />
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I'm one who emphasizes the value of works in our faith. I'm also the screw-up. In that light, a principle I've encouraged myself with for a long time is, "High standards. Low expectations." It can sound derogatory but let me spell it out a little. It applies first to God's attitude toward you and me. "High standards" is the perfect (or even marginally better) person we all hope to be when comparing ourselves to our Father. "Low expectations" is our Father's knowledge that this is grade school field day. <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Hebrews+2%3A14-18&version=NIV" target="_blank">From his own humanity</a>, he also knows we're more likely to trip on our shoelaces than win the event. He's the parent cheering for us anyway, even if we finish last. <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Hebrews+12%3A1-3&version=NIV" target="_blank">Just finish</a>! There's enough participation ribbons for everyone. That's why that demeaning parent screaming for nothing short of 1st place is appalling.<br />
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<a href="https://myaddmoment.wordpress.com/tag/clumsy/"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSaRCnwQdmWlK2dwsAl99ySq2K60xOphpED7DNtkGO6OOQpWWabOCeNT_tW4DKmdvVUw-8lk1N16SJ5d2_rJt57DnhW6EptprsULcr_4T8yVCuyq9_RuMZqKQj5Y_66Y641oee06d0zlE/s320/clumsy%252C+low+expectations.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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But after the participation ribbons are given out, the podiums are real. Father's high standards are attached to his interest in passing his kingdom and wealth onto his children, each <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+25%3A14-29&version=NIV" target="_blank">according to their ability</a>. His condemnation is only for those who don't trust his encouragement enough to try. That's why he's keeping track of your success, not your failure. He's looking for things to reward, not punish. And he's not weighing them against each other to see how much good is canceled out by the bad.<br />
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Yes. Sometimes, discipline has to happen <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Hebrews+12%3A4-11&version=NIV" target="_blank">for our own good</a>, to make us children who can handle greater privilege. But <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+corinthians+4%3A2-5&version=NIV" target="_blank">that kind of judgement</a> is for parents, not children. And we're the children! Beyond that, it's not merely an encouragement that there's no condemnation in Christ. <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+7%3A21-8%3A4&version=NIV" target="_blank">It's the law</a>! You don't have to beg. Now, retie your shoe laces and go <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2+peter+3%3A10-18&version=NIV" target="_blank">persevere at that higher standard</a> you're struggling toward. Between the lines of Father's warnings to never forget his patience and grace is the message that it's not hard to make him proud.</div>
The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-31453591448222391512019-07-09T14:31:00.000-07:002019-07-09T14:31:54.922-07:00Alarms<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
With everyone's utterly relaxed demeanor in front of the store, it took a minute to identify the alarm sounding as I approached Home Depot. I entered the unguarded door with no sense of danger along side several other patrons. Inside, the ear piercing beeps and screeches seemed to echo off everything except ear drums as shopping continued unchecked, save one safety conscious fellow who commented that everyone would be dead if the fire were real. A single employee tried to direct a few shoppers who didn't care about his authority any more than the alarm. I obliged him but the alarm stopped after ten paces toward the exit and he ended up apologizing for the misdirection.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuASvpdWNXAv0wDqF3IhW1dUkCfsLPu5qeaFN4RfaSMFAm2ivMIzKreKiJ6NA5fi1SS3E1n3RM-2Ek3OyxuOBrUB2BMg0uslruDqv0C7NdWfdkKm15OExki8l3C217pcrh49q5GUs4m2I/s1600/false+alarm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="272" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuASvpdWNXAv0wDqF3IhW1dUkCfsLPu5qeaFN4RfaSMFAm2ivMIzKreKiJ6NA5fi1SS3E1n3RM-2Ek3OyxuOBrUB2BMg0uslruDqv0C7NdWfdkKm15OExki8l3C217pcrh49q5GUs4m2I/s1600/false+alarm.jpg" /></a></div>
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"Where there's smoke, there's fire." Where there's no smoke, no one's changing course no matter how loud the alarm is. Maybe they would have back when alarms were hard to set off but now they carry an almost hopeful tone that something sensational really is happening, like every headline on my Google News feed. It's in our nature to hope for the sensational, rubberneck past the accident, tell a great story about what almost happened. So much so that a flood of new predictions stream in undaunted by the shortfall of old ones and the persistence of the status quo.<br />
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The end of the world from imminent catastrophe X is always just around the corner. For Christians, that's been true since <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew+24%3A30-44&version=NIV" target="_blank">Christ promised to return</a>. You can hear the <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2+Peter+3%3A3-13&version=NIV" target="_blank">heightened anticipation</a> in most New Testament books. <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=James+5%3A7-9&version=NIV" target="_blank">Still waiting</a>. It's a great paycheck for those who can market it and great entertainment for the rest of us. Truth is the gospel of Jesus Christ shamelessly caters to our natural tendency to hope that something sensational really will happen. The world will end. Lots of smoke and fire. Heavenly trumpets of epic doom and glory followed by actual epic doom and glory. But it also warns of getting desensitized to the point of saying, "things go on as they always have and always will." Sometimes I think the trigger for Christ's return may just be when we're all sufficiently tired of the increasingly frantic blare of hollow sirens. Till then, I need to find the torx bits that the apologetic employee said where in aisle nineteen.</div>
The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190489355373036983.post-13643856659848363512019-02-23T13:00:00.000-07:002020-01-21T20:07:53.251-07:00The Low Man<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://desigg.com/distant-home-by-joaorafael/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9TCUEwnTb5qo6WEoA-A0rlDs2pxKzc6pNL4YUiZ3s_vv0zQp48X8a59A1w3bA07UStVr60XOmYmXp9abaTRe5P86Egjryjj50eePeXX18Xpq-35BCqlqDS9cX772vXLZebw_MSE4xq4A/s320/Distant_Home.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I am the rich man.<br />
I fear it.<br />
I kneel on the warm side of my door.<br />
I am the rich man.<br />
I feel it,<br />
In prostrate comfort on my bedroom floor.<br />
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In affluent dismay,<br />
My prayer begins.<br />
The low man lights the way.<br />
Remember him?<br />
He pleads from phantom cage<br />
To let me in.<br />
A holy light sustained<br />
Yet flickers dim.<br />
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Entrapped in pleasures drowning desperate sounds,<br />
I feel the distance.<br />
Sparse excess I have dared to go without.<br />
A grasp at closeness.<br />
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How large a gift yet sacrifices slight.<br />
A holy ember strains to flicker bright.<br />
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Draw him near or take me far,<br />
From both within me, here we are;<br />
That mindful place, that abstract home,<br />
In low man's space we fear to roam.<br />
<br />
Between prayer and prayer again<br />
I am the rich man, now and then.<br />
I cast a glance. The gold grows thin.<br />
I bid the low man let me in.</div>
The Wayfarer's Rodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16204312118508362405noreply@blogger.com0