Joe Garagiola, baseball's finest, was once the co­-host of NBC's morning show the Today Show. He told of an experience he had at a local drugstore. He said he had filled his little shopping basket with a bottle of extra­-strength Tylenol, 12 ounces of Kaopectate, an elastic knee support, a supply of corn plasters, Dristan, a vaporizer, a remedy for sore gums and various "over-­the­-counter" medications. He said that after the clerk checked him out and took his money, he could not believe his ears when the clerk handed him the sack and said, "Have a nice day." If the clerk had been paying attention, it was obvious that Joe was not preparing for a nice day.

The Lord Jesus Christ whom we exalt at Christmas is not just a baby in a manger. He is not a character in a children’s story. He is far more.

• The first time he came, he came veiled in the form of a child. The next time he comes, and we believe it will be soon, he will come unveiled, and it will be abundantly and immediately clear to all the world just who he really is.
• The first time he came, a star marked his arrival. The next time he comes, the whole heavens will roll up like a scroll, and all the stars will fall out of the sky, and he himself will light it.
• The first time he came, wise men and shepherds brought him gifts. The next time he comes, he will bring gifts, rewards for his own.
• The first time he came, there was no room for him. The next time he comes, the whole world will not be able to contain His glory.
• The first time he came, only a few attended his arrival—some shepherds and some wise men. The next time he comes, every eye shall see him.
• The first time he came as a baby. Soon he will come as Sovereign King and Lord.

Years ago a young black child was growing up in Cleveland, in a home which he later described as "materially poor but spiritually rich."

One day a famous athlete, Charlie Paddock, came to his school to speak to the students. At the time Paddock was considered "the fastest human being alive." He told the children, "Listen! What do you want to be? You name it and then believe that God will help you be it." That little boy decided that he too wanted to be the fastest human being on earth.

The boy went to his track coach and told him of his new dream. His coach told him, "It's great to have a dream, but to attain your dream you must build a ladder to it. Here is the ladder to your dreams. The first rung is determination! And the second rung is dedication! The third rung is discipline! And the fourth rung is attitude!"

The result of all that motivation is that he went on to win four gold medals in the 1936 Berlin Olympics. He won the 100 meter dash and broke the Olympic and world records for the 200 meter. His broad jump record lasted for twenty-four years. His name? Jesse Owens.

In his book, The Search for Power, Harvard Professor David C. McClelland contends that there are four stages in the development of the individual to maturity:

Stage 1: Power is perceived as coming from others, but is directed toward oneself.

Stage 2: Power is perceived as residing within oneself, and is used for the needs of the self.

Stage 3: Power is perceived as residing within oneself, but is used for the sake of others.

Stage 4: Power is perceived as residing outside, coming through the self, but used for the sake of others.

This stage is what religion is all about. And faith. And theology. And Jesus.

It is the task of career development to help remove the last vestiges of Stage 1 (where we feel like "victims") from our lives, by teaching that even in the world of work, power resides within us, and can be used for the sake of others. So as long as men and women do not know or believe this, theology may well beckon them in vain, to Stage 4. We must first learn that we are not victims, before we learn that we are stewards.

When I was a boy, I felt it was both a duty and a privilege to help my widowed mother make ends meet by finding employment in vacation time, on Saturdays and other times when I did not have to be in school. For quite a while I worked for a Scottish shoemaker, or "cobbler," as he preferred to be called, an Orkney man, named Dan Mackay. He was a forthright Christian and his little shop was a real testimony for Christ in the neighborhood. The walls were literally covered with Bible texts and pictures, generally taken from old-fashioned Scripture Sheet Almanacs, so that look where one would, he found the Word of God staring him in the face. There were John 3:16 and John 5:24, Romans 10:9, and many more.

On the little counter in front of the bench on which the owner of the shop sat, was a Bible, generally open, and a pile of gospel tracts. No package went out of that shop without a printed message wrapped inside. And whenever opportunity offered, the customers were spoken to kindly and tactfully about the importance of being born again and the blessedness of knowing that the soul is saved through faith in Christ. Many came back to ask for more literature or to inquire more particularly as to how they might find peace with God, with the blessed results that men and women were saved, frequently right in the shoe shop.

It was my chief responsibility to pound leather for shoe soles. A piece of cowhide would be cut to suite, then soaked in water. I had a flat piece of iron over my knees and, with a flat-headed hammer, I pounded these soles until they were hard and dry. It seemed an endless operation to me, and I wearied of it many times.

What made my task worse was the fact that, a block away, there was another shop that I passed going and coming to or from my home, and in it sat a jolly, godless cobbler who gathered the boys of the neighborhood about him and regaled them with lewd tales that made him dreaded by respectable parents as a menace to the community. Yet, somehow, he seemed to thrive and that perhaps to a greater extent than my employer, Mackay. As I looked in his window, I often noticed that he never pounded the soles at all, but took them from the water, nailed them on, damp as they were, and with the water splashing from them as he drove each nail in.

One day I ventured inside, something I had been warned never to do. Timidly, I said, "I notice you put the soles on while still wet. Are they just as good as if they were pounded?" He gave me a wicked leer as he answered, "They come back all the quicker this way, my boy!"

"Feeling I had learned something, I related the instance to my boss and suggested that I was perhaps wasting time in drying out the leather so carefully. Mr. Mackay stopped his work and opened his Bible to the passage that reads, "Whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of god."

"Harry," he said, "I do not cobble shoes just for the four bits and six bits (50c or 75c) that I get from my customers. I am doing this for the glory of God. I expect to see every shoe I have ever repaired in a big pile at the judgment seat of Christ, and I do not want the Lord to say to me in that day, 'Dan, this was a poor job. You did not do your best here.' I want Him to be able to say, 'Well done, good and faithful servant.'"

Then he went on to explain that just as some men are called to preach, so he was called to fix shoes, and that only as he did this well would his testimony count for God. It was a lesson I have never been able to forget. Often when I have been tempted to carelessness, and to slipshod effort, I have thought of dear, devoted Dan Mackay, and it has stirred me up to seek to do all as for Him who died to redeem me.

Have you ever had a time when you were faced with an incredible obstacle or a heart wrenching burden and thought, "If only I had more faith!"

There was a young couple who went to a new church shortly after burying their eight year old son. The boy had suffered from a degenerative neurological disease for which there was no treatment. Parents and physicians alike could only watch as the disease slowly stole the boy's life. The heartbroken couple had been committed members of a church where people were taught that God would heal any illness if only those who prayed for healing had enough faith. During the wake one of the members of that church approached the mother, took her hand and said with what can only be called chastisement thinly disguised as sympathy, "If only you had been able to pray with enough faith, your son wouldn't have died."

As you might well imagine ex-members of this destructive fringe live with a horrendous sense of guilt. Can you imagine what it would be like to believe that your child died because you didn't have enough faith to save her or him? It took months for the father of that little boy to begin to hope that his son didn't die because of his lack of faith. The mother never did get free from her guilt. Their former church was "based on the bible" and how the pastor quoted over and over again:

"If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, 'be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you." [Lk 17:6]

There are times when we do face mountains -- or deeply rooted issues in our lives we would dearly love to see removed.

Have you ever been in such a place in your life? The life issues are different for all of us, but the result is similar. When our prayers seem to be of no avail, it makes us feel as though we fall into the category Jesus aimed at when he said, "O ye of little faith!" At times like this, I join the disciples in today's scripture pleading with Jesus, "Increase my faith!"

A junior high girl, practicing high jumping in her back yard, did not know that her admiring father was watching. When he asked her, “How high can you jump?” she gave a shrug. “Well, how come you don’t know how high you can jump?” he asked again.

She replied, “Because I haven’t missed yet.”

“Oh,” he said.  “When you finally miss you will know how high you can go?”

“No,” she commented.  “When I do miss, then I’ll know it’s going to be harder from there on up.”

To live in faith is to believe that the future is open, that meaning is possible, and that life is fit for living and for dying and for a destiny beyond both.  To face forward is to trust that in everything God is at work for good for those who love Him.

The coming of the Pilgrims from England to America is a story well known by almost everyone. Not so well known, however, is the fact that before they sailed for this continent these people had spent about ten years as refugees in Holland. From Leiden, in that country, they crossed the Channel to England where they boarded the Mayflower for their voyage to the new world. Their pastor was John Robinson, and the last Sunday prior to their leaving Leiden was an historic experience of worship for this pastor and these people. John Robinson recognized the occasion as such a time, but he also reminded the people that every time of worship is of paramount importance.

Standing in their pulpit that day, this is what he said: "Every assembly is a time big with destiny. Every Sunday men and women go forth from their tryst with God to face nameless responsibilities. Before the week is out, some may have launched their Mayflower and embraced a God-given adventure."

In our assembly here today, neither you nor I can know what Mayflowers may be launched before another week goes by. In this hour, we are here together before God to prepare ourselves for whatever launchings there may be, for whatever new seas we may be called to sail, for whatever new shores we may touch before the voyage is done. May God give us grace for the living of this week, for new ventures of faith, courage for the hard places, and joy for all the journey.

As to how I take sorrow, the answer is "In nearly all the possible ways." Because, as you probably know, it isn’t a state but a process. It keeps on changing - like a winding road with quite a new landscape at each bend. Two curious discoveries I have made. The moments at which you can call most desperately and clamorously to God for help are precisely those when you seem to get none. And the moments at which I feel nearest to Joy are precisely those when I mourn her least. Very queer. In both cases a clamorous need seems to shut one off from the thing needed. No one ever told me this. It is almost like "Don’t knock and it shall be opened to you." I must think it over.

One day late in the afternoon a missionary in Africa had a surprise visit. When he entered his small hut he discovered a very large python on the floor. He left the hut and went to his truck and retrieved his .45-caliber pistol. Even though he had his gun, he still had one important problem. He only had one bullet left in the gun. He could not afford to miss. All of his skill would be required in order to rid his hut of this deadly creature. If he missed, there was no telling what would happen next.

He took careful aim and pulled the trigger. He shot the python in the head. The python, which would soon die, was at this point only wounded in the head. It still had some life and some fight within itself. The python began to throw itself violently about. The missionary left the room and listened for some time as the python broke furniture and destroyed lamps and other personal items as it unleashed one last burst of energy. After some time things got quiet and the missionary assumed that the snake was dead. When he went back into his hut he found the snake dead and his home in shambles.

This is often the case with the enemies of God. The victory has been won in Jesus Christ and until his return the battle continues. Let us rejoice in the knowledge that Christ has won the battle.

Adapted by Dr. James Dobson, When God Doesn't Make Sense (Wheaton, Illinois: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.), p. 194.

Bishop Bob Morgan in his book Who's Coming To Dinner? tells a powerful story about a Dutch pastor and his family who during the second World War got into big trouble with the Nazis. The Dutch pastor and his family had been hiding Jewish people in their home to keep them safe from Hitler's forces. They were eventually found out. And one night in the darkness, they heard the sound of heavy boots and the loud impatient knocking on the door. They were arrested and loaded into a cattle car to be taken to one of the notorious death camps. All night long the Dutch pastor and his family rode along in heart-breaking anguish, jostling against one another and against the other prisoners who were jammed into the train cattle car. They were stripped of any form of dignity and absolutely terrified.  They knew they were being taken to one of Hitler's extermination centers. But which one? Would it be Auschwitz, Buchenwald, or Dachau?

Finally, the long night ended and the train stopped. The doors of the cattle car were opened and light streamed into that tragic scene.  They were marched out and were lined up beside the railroad tracks, resigned to unspeakable pain, as they knew they would be separated from each other and ultimately killed.  But in the midst of their gloom, they discovered some amazing good news… good news beyond belief.  They discovered in the bright morning sunlight that they were not in a death camp at all, not in Germany at all.  Rather, they were in Switzerland!

During the night, someone through personal courage and daring had tripped a switch… and sent the train to Switzerland… and to freedom.  And those now who came to them were not their captors at all, but rather their liberators.  Instead of being marched to death, they were welcomed to new life.  In the midst of his joy and relief, the Dutch pastor said, "What do you do with such a gift?"

Something like that happened to the disciples at Pentecost.  They were afraid, confused, unsure, overwhelmed… and then came this incredible gift… the gift of the Holy Spirit!  It turned their lives around… and empowered by this amazing gift, they went out and turned the world upside down.

In Alex Haley's book, ROOTS, there is that memorable scene of the night the slave, Kunta Kinte, drove his master to a ball at a big plantation house. Kunta Kinte heard the music from inside the house, music from the white folk's dance. He parked the buggy and settled down to wait out the long night of his master's revelry. While he sat in the buggy, he heard other music coming from the slaves' quarters...the little cabins behind the big house. It was different music, music with a different rhythm. He felt his legs carrying him down the path toward those cabins. There he found a man playing African music, his music, which he remembered hearing in Africa as a child - the music he had almost forgotten. Kunta Kinte found that the man was from his section of Africa. They talked excitedly, in his native language, of home and the things of home. That night, after returning from the dance, Kunta Kinte went home a changed man. He lay upon the dirt floor of his little cabin and wept, weeping in sadness that he had almost forgotten, weeping in joy that he had at last remembered. The terrifying, degrading experience of slavery had almost obliterated his memory of who he really was. But the music helped him to remember.

There is a story many years ago of an elementary teacher. Her name was Mrs. Thompson. And as she stood in front of her fifth grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. But that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise. Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around." His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle." His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken." Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing and a bottle that was one quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed, how pretty the bracelet was. She put it on and dabbed some of the perfume on her wrist.

Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my mom used to." After the children left she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing, and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children.

Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her pets. A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life. Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had in his whole life. Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer. The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he'd met a girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the place at the wedding that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom.

Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together. They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you, Mrs. Thompson, for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference." Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

Seven things to be grateful for:

For automatic dishwashers. They make it possible to get out of the kitchen before the family come in for their after-dinner snacks.

For husbands who attack small repair jobs around the house. They usually make them big enough to call in professionals.

For the bathtub the one place the family allows Mom some time to herself.

For children who put away their things and clean up after themselves. They're such a joy you hate to see them go home to their own parents.

For gardening. It's a relief to deal with dirt outside the house for a change.

For teenagers. They give parents an opportunity to learn a second language.

For smoke alarms. They let you know when the turkey's done.

Some years ago in a midwestern town a little boy was born blind.  His mother and father were heartsick, but they struggled with his blindness the best they could.  Like all such parents, they prayed and hoped for some miracle.  They wanted so much for their son to be able to see.  Then one day when the little boy was 5 years old, the community doctor told them that he had heard about a surgeon at Massachusetts General Hospital who was specializing in a new surgical procedure that might just work for their son… that might just give their little boy his eyesight.

The parents became excited at the prospect, but when they investigated further and discovered the cost of the surgery and the travel and the hospital expense involved, they became deflated because they were not people of means at all.  In fact, some would call them poor.  But word got out in the community and their church rallied to help them.  In a short period of time, the money was raised to send them to Boston for the surgery.

On the morning they were to leave for Boston, the little boy gathered his things together including his tattered little teddy bear.  It had an ear chewed off, was missing an eye, and was bursting at the seams.  His mother said, "Son, why don't you leave that old teddy bear at home?  He's about worn out.  Maybe we can buy you a new one in Boston or when we get back."  But he said, "No, I need it."

So off to Boston they went.  He held tightly to that teddy bear all the way.  The surgeon sensed how important the teddy bear was to the little boy, so he allowed the boy to keep the bear with him throughout all the many examinations prior to surgery.  On the morning of the surgery, the hospital staff brought in two surgical gowns – one for the little boy and a smaller version for the teddy bear – and off to the operating room they went… a little blind boy on a stretcher holding on dearly to his beloved teddy bear.

The surgery went well.  The doctor felt good about what they were able to accomplish.  "I think he will be able to see," said the surgeon, "but we won't know for sure until we remove the bandages in a few days."

Finally the day came for the doctor to remove the bandages.  The nurses and interns stood with the parents as the surgeon slowly unwound the gauze from the boy's eyes.  Miracle of miracles!  The little boy could see!  For the first time in his life… he saw his mother's face, he saw his dad and his doctor, he saw flowers and candy and balloons and the people who had cared for him.  For the first time in his life, he saw his teddy bear.  It was a joyous celebration!

When it came time for the boy to leave the hospital, his surgeon came into the room.  The doctor had grown so attached to the little boy that he had to busy himself with those insignificant gestures that we… when we are trying to surmount a great wall of emotion.  They said their good-byes with tears of joy all around… and then the doctor turned to leave.  The little boy called him back.

"Doctor," the little boy said.  "I want you to have this."  He was holding out the teddy bear!  The doctor tried to refuse, but the little boy insisted.  "Doctor, I don't have any money.  So I want to give you my teddy bear to pay you for helping me so see.  I want you to have it.  It's my way of saying, ‘Thanks.'"  The doctor took the teddy bear and shook the little boy's hand and wished him well.

For a long time after that… on the 10th floor of the White Building of Massachusetts General Hospital, there was on display… a teddy bear, bursting at the seams with a chewed-off ear and one eye.  And there was a sign under it written in the hand of that surgeon.  It read: "This is the highest fee I have ever received for professional services rendered."

That little boy was so thrilled that he now could see.  So, in response, he gave away his most prized possession.  There's a name for that… it's called thanks-giving.  Now of course, that kind of appreciation has to be learned, but when our children learn it and express it so beautifully, it touches us and teaches us… the beauty, the power, the importance, and the necessity of gratitude.

A minister on vacation went to visit a boyhood friend who operated a candy and novelty store. While they were reminiscing, a little boy about six years old came in and asked if the man sold marbles. The owner showed him where the marbles were. The boy asked, "How much, mister?" "Ten cents a dozen," answered the owner. The boy stood there scratching his head for awhile. Finally the owner asked, "What's the matter, son, don't you have ten cents?" "Yes," replied the boy, "but that is all I got." Then the pastor stepped over to the boy and said: "I just happen to have a special marble fund. Here is a dime. Take it and buy the marbles." The boy stood puzzled for a moment, not knowing what he should do. Finally he reached for the dime and said with a burst of joy as he handed it to the clerk, "Gee whiz." Taking the marbles and looking the pastor in the face, he repeated: "Gee whiz," and then ran out the door.

The men laughed about the incident. Soon they saw the boy returning, leading another little boy by the hand. One of the men said, "It looks like he has found a pal and is bringing him in to get another donation from the marble fund." "You can't blame him for that if his friend wants marbles, too!" replied the other man. But both men were mistaken. The two boys stopped at the open store door. The first boy, holding his bag of marbles in one hand, looking up with loving eyes to the giver of the dime, raised his other hand and pointed to the man and turned to his little pal and said: "That's him." And then the boys ran as fast as their little legs would carry them.

Where do we find peace, genuine peace, inner peace, in the midst of life's battles? Look at Jesus Christ. "That's him, folks, that's him." He gives us peace.

There was a king who held court every day. He would sit on his throne wearing his robe and crown as the people of his country would come to him stating their needs and requests. Each day, in addition to all the people who would come to the throne, there was also a holy man dressed in a beggar's robe who would come to the king. The holy man would hand the king a piece of fruit which the king would receive and then hand over to one of his assistants. Then the holy man would leave without ever saying a word to the king. This went on for many months and even years. Then one day something happened that no one expected. No one knew that a monkey had gotten loose in the palace. When the holy man presented his gift of fruit to the king, the monkey jumped up on the stage and grabbed the fruit out of the hand of the king. Then the monkey took a bite out of the fruit and all were amazed at what they saw, because precious jewels fell out of the fruit. The king quickly turned and asked his assistant what he had been doing with the fruit. The assistant said that they had been throwing the fruit through the window of a locked room. When they opened the door of that room they found among the rotten and decaying fruit a fortune in jewels.

We fail to take the grace of God seriously. Perhaps because it is a free gift that comes to us in the form of a cross. It does not seem very valuable. Let us pray that God will give us a new understanding of his grace and mercy in Jesus Christ.

Adapted from William A. Miller, Make Friends with Your Shadow (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House), p. 128. Used by permission. 

In Christ We Have:

• A love that can never be fathomed
• A life that can never die
• A righteousness that can never be tarnished
• A peace that can never be understood
• A rest that can never be disturbed
• A joy that can never be diminished
• A hope that can never be disappointed
• A glory that can never be clouded
• A light that can never be darkened
• A purity that can never be defiled
• A beauty that can never be marred
• A wisdom that can never be baffled
• Resources that can never be exhausted.

The first scripture selection relates the healing of a man "who was deaf and had an impediment in his speech." Although nothing is mentioned regarding the faith of the man who was healed, faith was yet an active ingredient in the healing as exhibited by those who resolutely brought the man to Jesus. In verse 34, the phrase "looking up to heaven," underscores the intimate relationship with God that Jesus brought to that moment. Similarly, I have read that when Francis of Assisi preached, he never looked at his hearers, but instead fixed his eyes upon the sky as if expecting Christ to appear before he had completed the next sentence. Jesus, "looking up to heaven," apparently sought to acknowledge and intensify the power of God in his life for this moment of healing.

In our second passage, faith again is important to the healing, but this time it is the faith of the person to be healed, Bartimaeus. By faith, Bartimaeus cried out to Jesus even after being rebuked by those around him: "but he cried out all the more, Son of David, have mercy on me" (v. 48). Although blind, he threw off his cloak and ran to where Jesus was standing. Jesus said, "What do you want me to do for you?" and by faith Bartimaeus replied, "Master, let me receive my sight" (v. 51). Jesus’ reply underscores the point; "Go your way; your FAITH has made you well" (v. 52).

A congregation I once served included a young man who had been deaf from birth. He was a big, robust, handsome fellow whose sweet spirit enabled him to smile easily. During worship, he stood for the hymns and responsive readings, and participated as best he could in the entire service. During the sermon, his eyes were steadily fixed upon my lips, and in those few times when he was unable to lip-read what I was saying, he would turn to the young lady beside him and "sign" for clarification. I remember the day that he and the young lady came to my study to make plans for their wedding. She asked such questions as necessary and signed to him at intervals. As I spoke, she continued to interpret, even though he seemed already to understand. During the wedding ceremony, they held written copies of the vows and signed their pledges to each other. Before I left that congregation to acccept another appointment, the young man underwent an operation which enabled him to hear his first sounds. That was the first step. By God’s grace, one day, perhaps even now, he will be able to listen to all those things which you and I have grown accustomed to. Although different than the deaf man who was brought to Jesus, it will be a genuine miracle of healing, and it will have been done for one who has cried out from the silence in faith.

We are far removed in time and space from ancient Jericho where our Scriptures relate two of our Lord’s healings. However, as a society and as individuals, we yet stand in need of the healing touch.

Charles H. Scott’s familiar hymn says it well; "Open my eyes that I may see, glimpses of truth Thou hast for me ... Open my ears that I may hear voices of truth Thou sendest clear." And then the all-important third verse concludes, "Open my mouth and let me bear gladly the warm truth everywhere."

John Wesley was about 21 years of age when he went to Oxford University. He came from a Christian home, and he was gifted with a keen mind and good looks. Yet in those days he was a bit snobbish and sarcastic. One night, however, something happened that set in motion a change in Wesley's heart. While speaking with a porter, he discovered that the poor fellow had only one coat and lived in such impoverished conditions that he didn't even have a bed. Yet he was an unusually happy person, filled with gratitude to God. Wesley, being immature, thoughtlessly joked about the man's misfortunes. "And what else do you thank God for?" he said with a touch of sarcasm.

The porter smiled, and in the spirit of meekness replied with joy, "I thank Him that He has given me my life and being, a heart to love Him, and above all a constant desire to serve Him!" Deeply moved, Wesley recognized that this man knew the meaning of true thankfulness.

Many years later, in 1791, John Wesley lay on his deathbed at the age of 88. Those who gathered around him realized how well he had learned the lesson of praising God in every circumstance. Despite Wesley's extreme weakness, he began singing the hymn, "I'll Praise My Maker While I've Breath."

Isaiah, the poet-prophet paints a vivid picture of a depraved society that has turned away from God, a whole community that is contaminated by sin and injustice. There is nothing in the words of the prophets that would not apply to our times and our society also. And it brings chills down the spine. Listen to the words:

"We wait for light, and lo! there is darkness; and for brightness, but we walk in gloom. We grope like the blind along a wall, groping like those who have no eyes; we stumble at noon as in the twilight, among the vigorous as though we are dead."

Unlike the spiritually blind society described by Isaiah, this one physically blind man named Bartimaeus reacts as though he has been waiting for the coming Jesus. He can't run because he cannot see. He cannot even walk, because the crowd is so thick; he might get trampled over.

But he knows it is now or never. From where he is sitting he raises his strong voice and shouts words that can get him in trouble. But he doesn't care. Listen to the words: "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me." He knows the name of the Nazarene, because his fame has reached in all towns and villages. But when he says, "Son of David," that immediately puts Jesus in the royal succession and identifies him as the Messiah. Now, the acceptance of that title on the part of Jesus is what the enemies of Jesus were waiting for in order to arrest him. To claim the title Son of David would be to lay claim to royal kinship and to the role of the awaited Messiah.

How important is faithfulness in prayer? Dr. Wilbur Chapman often told of his experience when, as a young man, he went to become pastor of a church in Philadelphia. After his first sermon, an old gentleman said to him, "You're pretty young to be pastor of this church. But you preach the Gospel, and I'm going to help you all I can."

Dr. Chapman thought, "Here's a crank."  But the man continued: "I'm going to pray for you that you may have the Holy Spirit's power upon you. Two others have covenanted to join with me in prayer for you."

Dr. Chapman said, "I didn't feel so bad when I learned he was going to pray for me. The 3 became 10, the 10 became 20, and 20 became 50, the 50 became 200 who met before every service to pray that the Holy Spirit might come upon me. I always went into my pulpit feeling that I would have the anointing in answer to the prayers of those who had faithfully prayed for me. It was a joy to preach! The result was that we received 1,100 into our church by conversion in three years, 600 of whom were men. It was the fruit of the Holy spirit in answer to prayer!"

Faith is the rare courage to act on that which you cannot yet prove to be true.
Faith is leaving a fresh grave with enough hope to carry on.
Faith is writing a song of thanksgiving when the rent is due.
Faith is accepting forgiveness when it seems nothing more than a distant dream.
Faith is proclaiming peace while you still feel the turmoil inside.
Faith is letting your hair down enough to receive the mercy of God.

Victor Hugo begins Les Miserables with the story of Jean Valjean. He is an ex-convict who has just been released from nineteen years in prison for stealing bread to feed his sister's children. As he reenters society, no one will house him or give him work because of his criminal record – that is until he stumbles into the bishop's house. Much to Valjean's bewilderment, the bishop treats him with kindness and hospitality. Seizing the moment, Valjean steals the bishop's silver plates and, then, flees into the night.

The bishop's reaction to Valjean's treachery is not what we might expect. Instead of being angry and offering condemnation, the bishop examines his own behavior and finds himself lacking in charity. "I have for a long time wrongfully withheld this silver; it belonged to the poor. Who was this man? A poor man evidently," he reasons to himself. So when the police arrive with the captured Valjean, the bishop's silver in his possession, the bishop calmly greets the thief and says, "But I gave you the candlesticks also ... why did you not take them along with the plates?" The police, surprised and confused, reluctantly let the thief go.

Like Joseph's brothers cowering in fear before the one they have wronged, Jean Valjean expects blame and condemnation for his actions. Instead, he receives forgiveness and mercy. He expects hatred, and, instead, he receives love, and at that moment evil is transformed into good.

A nine-year-old who had leukemia was given six months to live. When the doctor broke the news to her parents outside her hospital room, the youngster overheard the doctor's words. But it did not become obvious until later that she knew about her condition. To everyone's surprise, her faith in Christ gave her an attitude of victory. She talked freely about her death with anticipation in her voice. As she grew weaker, it seemed that her joy became more radiant. One day before she sank into a final coma, she said to her family, "I am going to be the first to see Jesus! What would you like me to tell Him for you?"

Wes Seeliger has given us a fresh definition of hell.

“Most people picture hell as a lake of fire, with the souls of the damned floating around, screaming in agony.  But here is another picture...close your eyes.  Visualize in your mind a large bowl of oatmeal.  Cold oatmeal.  With lots of lumps.  Now picture the atlantic as an ocean of oatmeal.  Put yourself in the middle of the oatmeal ocean a mile below the surface. Get the picture?  That's hell.

"Hell is cold oatmeal. It is life without passion or desire. Hell is numbness, not pain.  Hell is believing there is nothing worth getting excited about.  Hell is a swamp of blandness."

Does that speak to you? It does to me.  Hell:  the deadness of a huge ocean of oatmeal in which we are caught.  It may look like this: sad...wanting joy; despairing...looking for hope; anxious...needing courage; bereaved...hoping for sympathy; lonely...longing for friendship; bored...searching for meaning; hostile...needing love; guilty...desperate for forgiveness; dead...grasping for life.

Is there hope to escape such hells?  Take courage -- there is!

Jesus provided the good news -- "I am come that you may have life and have it abundantly." 

Unfortunately, in some churches the professionals in ministry like to keep their people in the role of spectators. These church pros like to appear all-wise, all-skilled, and all-trained while subjugating the laity to subservient and menial roles in the life of the church. I have often wondered why bankers, engineers, and other professionals are given no more responsibility in some churches than ushering. I wonder why educators in daily life become spectators of religious education in church life where their expertise is seldom requested or appreciated.

I also wonder why many church leaders do not encourage their people to read, study, think, and grow. Perhaps it is because they do not want their own position challenged by the supposed casual observers of the faith. I believe that pastors should insist that their people read and study what they are reading and studying. I seldom see a pastor holding a book up on a Sunday morning and saying, "I want all of you to purchase this book today at our book table in the lobby and begin reading it this week. Talk about it to one another. It is exciting and challenging, and it will help you to grow." Is there a fear among professionals that parishioners will be as well-informed about matters of the faith as they are? Some blame for lethargy among the players could be due to lack of challenge from the coaches.

It is very hard these days to know who to believe. Everyone is trying to lead us to their version of truth. In 1997, Nathan Zohner, a 14-year-old student at Eagle Rock Junior High School in Idaho Falls won first prize at the Greater Idaho Falls Science Fair by showing how conditioned we have become to alarmists spreading fear of everything in our environment through junk science. In his project he urged people to sign a petition demanding strict control or total elimination of the chemical "Dihydrogen monoxide" because:

Dihydrogen monoxide is colorless, odorless, tasteless, and kills uncounted thousands of people every year. Most of these deaths are caused by accidental inhalation of DHMO, but the dangers of dihydrogen monoxide do not end there. Prolonged exposure to its solid form causes severe tissue damage. Symptoms of DHMO ingestion can include excessive sweating and urination, and possibly a bloated feeling, nausea, vomiting and body electrolyte imbalance. For those who have become dependent, DHMO withdrawal means certain death.

Dihydrogen monoxide:

• is also known as hydroxl acid, and is the major component of acid rain.
• contributes to the "greenhouse effect" may cause severe burns.
• contributes to the erosion of our natural landscape.
• accelerates corrosion and rusting of many metals.
• may cause electrical failures and decreased effectiveness of automobile brakes.
• has been found in excised tumors of terminal cancer patients.
• Contamination is reaching epidemic proportions!

Quantities of dihydrogen monoxide have been found in almost every stream, lake, and reservoir in America today. But the pollution is global, and the contaminant has even been found in Antarctic ice. DHMO has caused millions of dollars of property damage in the midwest, and recently California.

Despite the danger, dihydrogen monoxide is often used:

• as an industrial solvent and coolant.
• in nuclear power plants.
• in the production of styrofoam.
• as a fire retardant.
• in many forms of cruel animal research.
• in the distribution of pesticides. Even after washing, produce remains contaminated by this chemical.
• as an additive in certain "junk-foods" and other food products.

Companies dump waste DHMO into rivers and the ocean, and nothing can be done to stop them because this practice is still legal. The impact on wildlife is extreme, and we cannot afford to ignore it any longer!

The American government has refused to ban the production, distribution, or use of this damaging chemical due to its "importance to the economic health of this nation." In fact, the navy and other military organizations are conducting experiments with DHMO, and designing multi-billion dollar devices to control and utilize it during warfare situations. Hundreds of military research facilities receive tons of it through a highly sophisticated underground distribution network. Many store large quantities for later use.

Nathan Zohner, the 14-year-old student at Eagle Rock Junior High School asked 50 people to help him get this dangerous substance banned.

43 signed his petition

Six were undecided

And only one knew that the chemical was ... water.

Carl Jung, the great psychoanalyst, tried to explain why so many people were fascinated by UFO phenomena. He wrote: "We are all born to believe. The eyes may be wrong, but the psyche is right. We are all looking for a perfect model of ourselves."

C. S. Lewis made the same point when he observed: "Most people, if they had really learned to look into their own hearts, would know that they do want, and want acutely, something that cannot be had in this world. There are all sorts of things in this world that offer to give it to you, but they never quite keep their promise. The longings which arise in us when we first fall in love, or first think of some foreign country, or first take up some subject that excites us, are longings which no marriage, no travel, no learning can really satisfy. I am not now speaking of what would ordinarily be called unsuccessful marriages, or holidays, or learned careers. I am speaking of the best possible ones. There was something we grasped at, in that first moment of longing, which just fades away in reality. I think everyone knows what I mean. The wife may be a good wife, and the hotels and scenery may have been excellent, and chemistry may be a very interesting job, but something has evaded us." (quoted in The Joyful Christian)

An old illustration about Russia with an update. You'll see in the update that Yancey picked up on a movement that seems to have held:

Columnist Philip Yancey, in an article titled "A Russian Resurrection," writes of his visit in October 1991 to the former Soviet Union. He says that it "would be hard to overstate the chaos that he found when he arrived in the Soviet Union, a nation that was about to shed its historical identity as well as its name." Yancey reports that one day the central bank ran out of money. Several days later the second largest republic withdrew from the union. There was a sense of crisis everywhere.

Doctors announced that the best hospital in Moscow might close its doors for lack of money. Crime was increasing nearly 50 percent a year. No one knew what the country would be like in a year or even six months. Who would be responsible for controlling the nuclear weapons? Who would print the money?

Certainly this once great empire was in confusion and turmoil. And yet Yancey found something else in his visit to Russia in the midst of chaos and financial hardship. An attractive young woman who was in charge of cultural affairs summed up the new attitude in Russia toward Christianity.

This Russian woman said softly but with great emotion: "We have all been raised on one religion: atheism. We were trained to believe in the material world, and not in God. In fact, those who believed in God were frightened. A stone wall separated these people from the rest."

Then she said, "Suddenly we have realized that something was missing. Now religion is open to us, and we see the great eagerness of young people. We must explore religion, which can give us a new life, and a new understanding about life."

There are now Russian language Bibles on display in the Kremlin government building. The church bells are sounding again, and the churches are full of worshipers. Women in babushkas are publicly kneeling in prayer outside the great cathedrals, an act that just a few short years ago would have required great courage.

So it is. Here is a genuine miracle of God in our time. As Philip Yancey concludes, here, in the former Soviet Union, which was officially atheistic until 1990, here in perhaps the least likely of all places, here were the unmistakable signs of an authentic spiritual awakening. Here were the signs of spiritual resurrection.

LATE 2018 UPDATE

In Russia, there is a religious revival happening. Orthodox Christianity is thriving after enduring a 70-year period of atheistic Soviet rule. In 1991, just after the collapse of the USSR, about two-thirds of Russians claimed no religious affiliation. Today, 71 percent of Russians identify as Orthodox. One can now see priests giving sermons on television, encounter religious processions in St. Petersburg, and watch citizens lining up for holy water in Moscow. Even Moscow’s Darwin museum features a Christmas tree during the holidays. President Vladimir Putin has encouraged this revival and he has also benefited from it, both at home and abroad. Last year, he explained that Russia’s intervention in the Syrian civil war was designed to protect Christians from the Islamic State. Not only has the Orthodox Church supported this “holy war” but so have some American evangelicals, who are likewise concerned about Christians in the Middle East and praise Putin’s socially conservative policies.

See: https://religionandpolitics.org/2018/10/16/russias-journey-from-orthodoxy-to-atheism-and-back-again/

There is a true story related about a church in the Pacific Northwest, who much like us, has a time during the service for passing the peace of Christ. This is a time when they greet one another, and their guests, with handshakes and hugs, and kind words of welcome. Nobody thought much about the weekly ritual until the pastor received a letter from a man who had recently joined the congregation. The new member was a promising young lawyer from a prestigious downtown law firm. He drafted a brief but pointed letter on his firm's letterhead. "I am writing to complain about the congregational ritual known as 'passing the peace,' " he wrote. "I disagree with it, both personally and professionally, and I am prepared to take legal action to cause this practice to cease." When the pastor phoned to talk with the lawyer about the letter, he asked why he was so disturbed about sharing the peace of Christ. The lawyer said, "The passing of the peace is an invasion of my privacy."

And, in the Pastor's response to this man, we find the truth of the Christian life. He said, "Like it or not, when you joined the church you gave up some of your privacy, for we believe in a risen Lord who will never leave us alone." And, he said, "You never know when Jesus Christ will intrude on us with a word of peace."

The devout of this world perform their rituals without guarantee that anything good will ever come of it. Of course there are plenty of scriptures and plenty of priests who make plenty of promises as to what your good works will yield (or threats as to the punishments awaiting you if you lapse), but to even believe all this is an act of faith, because nobody amongst us is shown the endgame. Devotion is diligence without assurance. Faith is a way of saying, 'Yes, I pre-accept the terms of the universe and I embrace in advance what I am presently incapable of understanding.' There's a reason we refer to 'leaps of faith' because the decision to consent to any notion of divinity is a mighty jump from the rational over to the unknowable, and I don't care how diligently scholars of every religion will try to sit you down with their stacks of books and prove to you through scripture that their faith is indeed rational; it isn't. If faith were rational, it wouldn't be by definition faith. Faith is belief in what you cannot see or prove or touch. Faith is walking face-first and full-speed into the dark. If we truly know all the answers in advance to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, our belief would not be a leap of faith and it would not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be . . . a prudent insurance policy.

Jesus and the disciples had been in Capernaum on the north side of of Sea of Galillee and now headed for Bethsaida (on the NE side of the Sea of Galilee) when the evening's storm blew them to Gennesaret instead (the NW side of the Sea of Galilee), essentially blowing them backwards -- in the opposite direction that they wanted to go. Notice our Lord's response. He does not tell the Apostles to set out to sea and try again.  Instead, he disembarks and begins to minister to the people around him. Christ's response is to see the storm as God's will and to minister appropriately wherever he lands.

How do I respond when my day is blown off course?  Do I respond to daily (or even major life-changing) "inconveniences" by looking for God's purposes or do I become angry and frustrated at the "interruption" of my plans and purposes?

I have found that the higher my personal agenda; the less I am able to see God's purpose in my daily "interruptions."  Yet, I have also found that when make myself available to "Deus Interruptus," incredible and miraculous things frequently happen.  Have you ever considered beginning your day by "giving God permission to alter your agenda at any moment and any time?

"Dearest God, feel free to interrupt my agenda today with yours at anytime or in any place."

Note: Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead. It's possible that for Jesus this is not an unanticipated diversion in travel plans. Jesus had just taught his disciples that God would provide and involved them more deeply in this miracle than at any other time. Now he forces (Gk. anankaz?, an unusually strong verb, “to compel, force”) them to take a boat to the other side. I believe that he knows what is to happen, and that he functions like the Spirit, who “drove” Jesus out to be tested in the wilderness (1:12; note the amount of wilderness imagery in 6:31–44). This is to be the disciples’ test. It is also possible that there are unruly elements in the crowd, and Jesus does not want his disciples caught up in any messianic fervor (in John 6:14–15 we are told the crowd tried to make Jesus “king by force”), but there is no hint of that in Mark (Baker Publishing Group, Teaching the Text, by Grant R. Osborne).

"Don't panic!" Those are the words I frequently say when someone has come to see me and they are in the midst of a crisis. They may have lost their job, had a marital crisis, a problem with a child, or found themselves in serious financial trouble. They are anxious. It seems like the world is caving in on them. They feel lonely and afraid. They can't see anyway out of their predicament.

It has been my experience over the years as a pastor that when folks are desperate they tend to run, quit or act in haste. I am not discounting their pain or minimizing the crisis, rather I am merely helping them to see that their perceptions have exaggerated the crisis. Or, they have a distorted perception of reality.

This was the case with the disciples. They were being persecuted by an oppressive government. They were powerless and under immense pressure. All seemed dark and hopeless, so much so that they wondered if the "end" was near. They were desperate, blinded by their anxiety and totally unable to see into the future.

They are no different than us. Whenever things are happening in the world of epic proportions, like hurricanes, wars, catastrophes or plagues there are those who believe that the world is coming to an end.

Is there a better picture of forgiveness in the whole Bible? It reminds me of a story about a woman who had upset her pastor because she claimed that she had conversations with God. She had attracted quite a following in the church and every day people gathered at her house, got on their knees, prayed, sang hymns and listened to her describe what God was saying to her.

The pastor thought all this was getting out of hand, so he went to visit her. "I know you say you are talking with God," he said, "but what you hear talking back at you is just your imagination. Just to prove it, I want you to ask God to name three of the sins that I confessed this morning. Then tell me what God said. If you can name those sins, I'll believe that you really are talking with God." The woman sat there for a long while, praying. Then she looked up and said, "I asked God to name your three sins, but God said, 'I forgot.'"

The invitation to participate in the Lord's Table in the UnitedMethodistChurch is simply this: "Let all who love the Lord come." This is born out of John Wesley's philosophy, "We think and let think." Wesley said:

"I have no more right to object to a man for holding a different opinion from mine than I have to differ with a man because he wears a wig and I wear my own hair; but if he takes his wig off and shakes the powder in my face, I shall consider it my duty to leave him as soon as possible and use every possible method of preventing a narrowness of spirit, a party zeal, a miserable bigotry which makes so many so unready to believe that there is any work of God but among themselves. . . . We think and let think."

When his nephew, Samuel, the son of his brother Charles, entered the Roman Catholic Church, he wrote to him, "Whether in this Church or in that I care not. You may be saved in either and damned in either; but I fear you are not born again."

There is a wonderful story about a young man named Billy who was attending his first day in Junior High school. At an opening assembly there was an introduction of all the homeroom teachers. Miss Smith was introduced first. She was an "easy" teacher, so the kids cheered as she was introduced. Mr. Brown was next and he also met with thundering approval. But Mr. Johnson was known to be a very strict disciplinarian. The kids jeered most unkindly when his name was called. The pain was evident on his face

This scene was devastating to young Billy. He was a sensitive kid and he could not believe how the other students were treating Mr. Johnson. Suddenly he stood up in the middle of the bleachers and shouted: "Shut up! That's my father!" Instantly, the jeering and the booing stopped.

After school, Billy went home. When he saw his real father, he began to cry. "Dad, I told a lie at school today," Billy said. He told his dad about the incident and how he had said that Mr. Johnson was his father and how he had yelled at all the other kids to "shut up" and be nice to the man.

His dad said: "It's all right, son. You just got the family members mixed up. Mr. Johnson's not your father he's your brother."

"Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And he's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any [man]. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord."

Those words, spoken by Martin Luther King, Jr., the night before he was assassinated in Memphis, still haunt us. To this day, they generate speculation and debate. Some are convinced that King knew he would be killed. With the kind of turmoil King was creating and the general upheaval that was being witnessed from courthouse squares to college campuses, it doesn't require much imagination to envision a scenario wherein King would be gunned down. King noted on that very night that the "... nation is sick. Trouble is in the land. Confusion all around."

Others are equally certain that King did not have a premonition about his own death. John Cartwright, who holds the professorship at BostonUniversity which bears King's name, believes that King was not predicting his own death. Rather, according to Cartwright, Dr. King was only aware that the arc of justice is long and that significant changes only happen over an extended period of time. In other words, King knew that his words might articulate the dream, but the reality of the dream might not be experienced until generations later.

We have debated the same issue with Jesus. Did Jesus know he was going to die? Did God send Jesus to earth to die? Or, as events evolved and pressure mounted, did it then become evident to Jesus that his faithfulness to God may bring about his own death? There are those who believe that Bethlehem and Calvary were interwoven into Jesus' life from the beginning. When John the Baptist declared that Jesus was the Lamb of God, it sounded like Jesus' crucifixion was certain from the outset. In a culture that sacrificed lambs twice a day in the temple, those words are a kiss of death. "Here is the Lamb of God" can be loosely understood to mean, "Hey, look here, everyone, here's the one that is going to be sacrificed."

Carl Jung, the great psychoanalyst, tried to explain why so many people were fascinated by UFO phenomena. He wrote: "We are all born to believe. The eyes may be wrong, but the psyche is right. We are all looking for a perfect model of ourselves."

C. S. Lewis made the same point when he observed: “Most people, if they had really learned to look into their own hearts, would know that they do want, and want acutely, something that cannot be had in this world. There are all sorts of things in this world that offer to give it to you, but they never quite keep their promise. The longings which arise in us when we first fall in love, or first think of some foreign country, or first take up some subject that excites us, are longings which no marriage, no travel, no learning can really satisfy. I am not now speaking of what would ordinarily be called unsuccessful marriages, or holidays, or learned careers. I am speaking of the best possible ones. There was something we grasped at, in that first moment of longing, which just fades away in reality. I think everyone knows what I mean. The wife may be a good wife, and the hotels and scenery may have been excellent, and chemistry may be a very interesting job, but something has evaded us." (quoted in The Joyful Christian)

When Christopher Columbus was sailing to the new world his hired sailors were threatening mutiny. The voyage was long and hard and there was no land in sight for weeks. One day Columbus saw an encouraging sign. Floating on the ocean swells was a small tree branch. The branches' leaves were green, indicating that land could not be far away. The green branch gave the sailors enthusiasm and a renewed hope. Soon after its discovery land was sighted from the sailor in the crow's nest.

When all seems hopeless God has a way of surprising us and being present, even in the loneliest places. It is not God who is absent but we who have ceased to believe in a God who loves us more than we love ourselves.

They said that World War II mili­tary hero George Patton couldn't or wouldn't control his temper as a young officer. Patton once ordered a mule shot. Why? It had gotten in the way of his jeep. He forced mem­bers of an anti-aircraft unit to stand at attention for being sloppily dressed, despite the fact that they had just beaten off an attack and some of the men were wounded. In one notorious incident, he slapped a hospitalized, shell-shocked soldier, and denounced the man for being a cow­ard.

Patton's commander, General Dwight D. Eisenhower, did not believe that Patton lacked self-control, only that he was refusing to practice it. He ordered Patton to publicly apologize for slapping the soldier, put Patton on probation, and postponed his promotion to general. Notice this: after this reprimand by Eisenhower, there were no more reports that Patton committed acts of emo­tional or physical abuse during the two remaining years of World War II. In other words, Patton could control himself when motivated to do so.

A poll sheds light on the paradox of increased religiosity and decreased morality. According to sociologist Robert Bellah, 81 percent of the American people also say they agree that "an individual should arrive at his or her own religious belief independent of any church or synagogue." Thus the key to the paradox is the fact that those who claim to be Christians are arriving at faith on their own terms; terms that make no demands on behavior. A woman named Sheila embodies this attitude. "I believe in God," she said. "I can't remember the last time I went to church. But my faith has carried me a long way. It's 'Sheila-ism.' Just my own little voice."

One Newsweek magazine reported on what it called the new wave of mountain men. It's estimated that there are some sixty thousand serious mountain climbers in the U.S. But in the upper echelon of serious climbers is a small elite group known as "hard men." For them climbing mountains and scaling sheer rock faces is a way of life. In many cases, climbing is a part of their whole commitment to life. And their ultimate experience is called free soloing: climbing with no equipment and no safety ropes. John Baker is considered by many to be the best of the hard men. He has free-soloed some of the most difficult rock faces in the U.S. with no safety rope and no climbing equipment of any kind. His skill has not come easily. It has been acquired through commitment, dedication and training. His wife says she can't believe his dedication. When John isn't climbing, he's often to be found in his California home hanging by his fingertips to strengthen his arms and hands.

Newspaper columnist and minister George Crane tells of a wife who came into his office full of hatred toward her husband. "I do not only want to get rid of him, I want to get even. Before I divorce him, I want to hurt him as much as he has me."

Dr. Crane suggested an ingenious plan "Go home and act as if you really love your husband. Tell him how much he means to you. Praise him for every decent trait. Go out of your way to be as kind, considerate, and generous as possible. Spare no efforts to please him, to enjoy him. Make him believe you love him. After you've convinced him of your undying love and that you cannot live without him, then drop the bomb. Tell him that you're getting a divorce. That will really hurt him."

With revenge in her eyes, she smiled and exclaimed, "Beautiful, beautiful. Will he ever be surprised!" And she did it with enthusiasm. Acting "as if." For two months she showed love, kindness, listening, giving, reinforcing, sharing. When she didn't return, Crane called. "Are you ready now to go through with the divorce?"

"Divorce?" she exclaimed. "Never! I discovered I really do love him." Her actions had changed her feelings. Motion resulted in emotion. The ability to love is established not so much by fervent promise as often repeated deeds.

I received a letter from a single mother who had raised a son who was about to become a dad. Since he had no recollection of his own father, her question to me was "What do I tell him a father does?"

When my dad died in my ninth year, I, too, was raised by my mother, giving rise to the same question, "What do fathers do?" As far as I could observe, they brought around the car when it rained so everyone else could stay dry.

They always took the family pictures, which is why they were never in them. They carved turkeys on Thanksgiving, kept the car gassed up, weren't afraid to go into the basement, mowed the lawn, and tightened the clothesline to keep it from sagging.

It wasn't until my husband and I had children that I was able to observe firsthand what a father contributed to a child's life. What did he do to deserve his children's respect? He rarely fed them, did anything about their sagging diapers, wiped their noses or fannies, played ball, or bonded with them under the hoods of their cars.

What did he do?

He threw them higher than his head until they were weak from laughter. He cast the deciding vote on the puppy debate. He listened more than he talked. He let them make mistakes. He allowed them to fall from their first two-wheeler without having a heart attack. He read a newspaper while they were trying to parallel park a car for the first time in preparation for their driving test.

If I had to tell someone's son what a father really does that is important, it would be that he shows up for the job in good times and bad times. He's a man who is constantly being observed by his children. They learn from him how to handle adversity, anger, disappointment and success.

He won't laugh at their dreams no matter how impossible they might seem. He will dig out at 1 a.m. when one of his children runs out of gas. He will make unpopular decisions and stand by them. When he is wrong and makes a mistake, he will admit it. He sets the tone for how family members treat one another, members of the opposite sex and people who are different than they are. By example, he can instill a desire to give something back to the community when its needs are greater than theirs.

But mostly, a good father involves himself in his kids' lives. The more responsibility he has for a child, the harder it is to walk out of his life.

A father has the potential to be a powerful force in the life of a child. Grab it! Maybe you'll get a greeting card for your efforts. Maybe not. But it's steady work.

While crossing the Atlantic on an ocean liner, F.B. Meyer was asked to address the first class passengers. At the captain's request, he spoke on "Answered Prayer." An agnostic who was present at the service was asked by his friends, "What did you think of Dr. Meyer's sermon?" He answered, "I didn't believe a word of it." That afternoon Meyer went to speak to the steerage passengers. Many of the listeners at his morning address went along, including the agnostic, who claimed he just wanted to hear "what the babbler had to say."

Before going to the service, the agnostic put two oranges in his pocket. On his way, he passed an elderly woman sitting in her deck chair fast asleep. Her hands were open. In the spirit of fun, the agnostic put the two oranges in her outstretched palms. After the meeting, he saw the old lady happily eating one of the pieces of fruit. "You seem to be enjoying that orange," he remarked with a smile. "Yes, sir," she replied, "My Father is very good to me." "Your father? Surely your father can't be still alive!" "Praise God," she replied, "He is very much alive." "What do you mean?" pressed the agnostic. She explained, "I'll tell you, sir. I have been seasick for days. I was asking God somehow to send me an orange. I suppose I fell asleep while I was praying. When I awoke, I found He had not only sent me one orange but two!" The agnostic was speechless. Later he was converted to Christ. Yes, praying in God's will brings an answer.

Some while back I visited an online greeting card website to send an electronic anniversary card to some friends. As I was glancing through this website's menu of choices, I noticed they had a separate category of cards devoted to "Forgiveness."  Since that is a pretty vital theological category, I naturally was drawn to check out those cards. Mostly they were humorous intended to be used for relatively minor hurts. "Forget about it," "Don't worry about it" were the sentiments of two cards. Another expressed forgiveness by saying, "Everybody is a work in progress."

Strikingly, however, on this website, as probably in most Hallmark stores, forgiveness cards were categorized right along with birthday and get well cards. That is, they were what could be called "Occasional Cards." You don't send a "Get Well" card just any old time, but occasionally you need such a sentiment and that's when you purchase and send just such a card. So also you may not need a forgiveness card very often, but once in a while such a thing may be handy.  Seen this way, forgiveness becomes a "now and then" matter.  No doubt this reflects the way a lot of people think.  But it cuts against the grain of the New Testament and of a passage like Matthew 18 where the assumption of Jesus seems to be that forgiveness is an ongoing, daily reality for each one of us.  Not only are we ourselves forgiven on a regular basis by God and by others, we must then turn around and forgive those who have hurt us.  It's not an occasional reality.  It's every day.

The famous child psychologist Jean Piaget spent his career studying the way children think. He recalls one story from the early days of his career. Piaget asked a child to tell him how a distant mountain range came into being. The child began telling him this wonderfully imaginative story about a giant playing in a sandbox who created the mountains. Then, Piaget attempted to tell the child the real, scientific explanation behind the creation of mountains. The child listened carefully and understood everything he said. A few months later, Piaget asked the child if he remembered how mountains were made. The child again told the fantastical tale of the giants playing in the sandbox. He insisted that this was the story Piaget told him. That was the story that made sense to him; it was the story he wanted to believe, so no amount of new information would change his mind. 

Some stories leave us spellbound. There is something about some stories that no matter how many times we hear them, they manage to catch us up in their wonderful spell. For instance, I'm 40 years old and still get a kick out of that scene in The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy and Toto and the Tin Man and the Scarecrow and the Cowardly Lion emerge from the forest and catch sight of the Emerald City. Then they join arms and begin to skip across the meadow. Or, the beginning of The Sound of Music with Julie Andrews doing a pirouette with her arms outstretched, the mountains in the background, then the music swells and the hills are alive with sound of music… Some scenes make a lasting impression on us.

Palm Sunday has that power. The donkey, the Lord, the crowds waving those palm branches, a sea of thin green flags fluttering in the wind--and then that memorable chorus: "Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!"

God has clearly revealed his existence to men. Suppose a student were to write on a physics exam that he did not believe in atoms because he could not see them. Would not the professor be justified in failing him? The existence of atoms is clearly undeniable on the basis of their recognized effects. Everyone familiar with Hiroshima knows that atoms exist; they are known from their effect. Likewise, men are responsible to acknowledge God and his eternal power by the effects that are clearly revealed in the Creation.