When I was young my world was small. An adventure was going all the way around the block. My faith was Jesus loves me this I know, and why shouldn’t he, after all what else did he have to do?
As I got older I realized the world was bigger than I had thought before. It was 5,000 years old, and God had created it, for the Bible tells me so. The sun came up, and the seasons passed, and my faith was Jesus loves me for the people I k now and love have told me so. I trusted Jesus loved me as long as I did as I was told.
Then as I got even older I realized creation was more complicated than I had imagined. The earth was part of a larger solar system than I could comprehend. My faith was still Jesus loves me, even though everything that had been explained and laid out did not always fit into my comprehension. Somehow the heart of my faith was becoming more and more a Presence, and an assurance that even when I do not know where I am in time and space God knows, and furthermore, he cares.
I don’t know, cannot imagine how big this universe may be. Nor how small, infinitely small this planet on which we live. But the message of Christmas is that God is not impressed by size or numbers, and he inhabits Reality which includes but is not necessarily limited to what we see extending into seeming infinity. Jesus loves me, this I know- for the Bible tells me so. The Bible tells me about Jesus. The Bible is opened by that Presence. I know a lot less than what was explained to me as a reasonable smart youngster, but Oh, I know a whole lot more! And the essence is still the same: Jesus loves me! Jesus loves YOU!
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
My Happy Birthday yesterday . .
Yesterday marked the 77th anniversary of my birth in Nyack, New York. Actually I never lived in Nyack, and claim to be a native Michigander, but it was necessary for me to be near my mother at the time; my father was attending Nyack Missionary Training Institute.
We spent a good share of the day yesterday in choir practice, getting ready to worship in Christmas song today- only to have the weather force the cancellation of all our church services today. I suppose we'll sing the "Cantata" next week, who knows??
When we got home from choir practice yesterday Ruth Shifflett, a dear lady in the John Wesley congregation, called and told Helen that if I would stop by she had baked a black walnut cake for us. I called her back and asked if she knew it was my birthday. She asked me if I was putting her on-- I told her when I went by to collect the cake that it was just one of those Surprises that the heavenly Father helps us do for each other from time to time. Black walnut cake is not a gift to be taken lightly! Exquisite!
Four (or five) grandkids called to wish Poppie Happy Birthday, as well as Cousin Dick Bos, and all four Sons. Also this week I talked with Reuben Welch- that is always Serendipity, and always a major blessing to me. And I heard from another Dear Friend about a grandson of his that is making a fine preacher of the Gospel, and remember a few years back when I had a small part in that young man’s choices.
Helen and I dined out at the Country Buffet in Hyannis and got back well before the storm started. Now you know more than you wanted to know about my latest Happy Birthday. They seem to be coming closer together lately . . .
We spent a good share of the day yesterday in choir practice, getting ready to worship in Christmas song today- only to have the weather force the cancellation of all our church services today. I suppose we'll sing the "Cantata" next week, who knows??
When we got home from choir practice yesterday Ruth Shifflett, a dear lady in the John Wesley congregation, called and told Helen that if I would stop by she had baked a black walnut cake for us. I called her back and asked if she knew it was my birthday. She asked me if I was putting her on-- I told her when I went by to collect the cake that it was just one of those Surprises that the heavenly Father helps us do for each other from time to time. Black walnut cake is not a gift to be taken lightly! Exquisite!
Four (or five) grandkids called to wish Poppie Happy Birthday, as well as Cousin Dick Bos, and all four Sons. Also this week I talked with Reuben Welch- that is always Serendipity, and always a major blessing to me. And I heard from another Dear Friend about a grandson of his that is making a fine preacher of the Gospel, and remember a few years back when I had a small part in that young man’s choices.
Helen and I dined out at the Country Buffet in Hyannis and got back well before the storm started. Now you know more than you wanted to know about my latest Happy Birthday. They seem to be coming closer together lately . . .
Monday, December 10, 2007
Fragment from the Past (1949)
In 1949 at Christmas break from college- Eastern Nazarene College- I hitch hiked from Boston to my home in Akron, Ohio. The trip took 24 hours. I started the trip with a college room mate who lived near Buffalo, New York. His name was Jesse Kenjockity; he was a Seneca Indian from the Red House Reservation; a combat veteran of WW II attending E.N.C. on the GI bill. Jesse was a pretty fierce looking guy- tall, dark, lean and mean.
We two took the Green Line from downtown Boston as far west as it went and then got out on Route 9think it was) and began hitch-hiking. After half and hour not one car had stopped. We decided to split up. Jesse said he didn’t have any money at all. I had a ten, three ones and some change. I gave Jesse the three dollars and we parted. I watched from half a block away as a car stopped, Jesse got in, and I was alone, still 800 miles from Ohio. It was, I think, about 1 p.m.
Soon a car stopped and a man asked where I was going.
“Akron, Ohio.”
The man said he was headed for N.Y.C. and that that was “on the way to Ohio.”
I had planned to go the northern route, Route 20, all the way because that was the way we had come in September with Mr. Durkee from our home church. I had never seen N.Y.C. But it was a long ride, and if it was “on the way” it seemed all right to go a different way.
So I got in the car.
The driver told me his name. I’ve forgotten it. He was a lawyer- nice car. Somewhere in Connecticut he stopped at a Howard Johnson’s restaurant and we at supper. He paid for my supper- the $10 bill remained unbroken.
It was already getting quite dark as we came into Manhattan- down the West Side Highway under the George Washington Bridge. The driver stopped under the bridge.
“That is New Jersey over there,” he said, pointing over the wide Hudson Rover. “Ohio is that way.” He drove off.
I climbed, walked, up the steep bank higher and higher until I reached the level of the roadway approaching the great bridge. I stood at a bus stop, and took the first bus that came along. It was obviously going to New Jersey because that was the only way it could go. I think the fare was ten cents and I had change. I asked the passenger standing next to me in the aisle where this bus was headed. He rattled off names of streets or towns that did not make any sense at all to me. So I simply got off the first possible stop on the New Jersey side and stuck out my thumb and began hitch-hiking again.
Looking back, after living in New Jersey in later years, it is frightening, even chilling, to think how naïve and ignorant I was. No map- absolutely no concept of the complexity of the dense metropolitan area in northern New Jersey. And yet the Lord Himself watched over me. After two or three short rides I found myself standing on an “on ramp” to the Pulaski Skyway- about as hopeless a place to expect anyone to stop for any reason- and then a miracle- a car did stop- and was headed “west.”
After five different rides from the GW bridge I found myself just west of the metropolitan area on Route 22, a divided highway. It must have been about 10 p.m. The last New Jersey ride had left me off under a lone street light out in “no where.” I remember it was cold and still and I could see my breath.
After a what seemed a long time a semi truck stopped and the driver asked where I was going. “Akron, Ohio”
“I can take you half way across the Pennsylvania Turnpike” he said, “That is on your way.”
So I got in. It was warm, and I was tired but I stayed awake as best I could.
It must have been about 2 a.m. he said, “Wake up. This is Somerset. I am going a little farther but this is a truck stop, and you will have a better chance of getting a ride here. Go in there and tell them where you are going.”
I went into the diner and ordered a cup of coffee. The man next to me at the counter was friendly, and asked where I was headed. It must have been obvious I was hitch hiking since I was carrying a small suitcase.
“Akron, Ohio.”
“Hurry up and finish your coffee,” the man said, “and I’ll take you there.”
So I got up in the cab of another big semi; this one with 18 tons of sugar, and between ‘dozes’ watched the dawn break as we came into Pittsburgh. The turnpike ended east of Pittsburgh in those days
Somewhere in or near Beaver Falls the trucker stopped at a truck stop diner for breakfast. I was so thankful to have that long ride to Akron that I asked if I could buy his breakfast an he agreed. So I broke my $10 bill for the first time almost at the Ohio State line.
By noon or so the big rig pulled into Barberton, a suburb of Akron. It was headed on west, so I climbed down and caught a trolly bus to downtown Akron, and a North Hill bus to Howard Street and a stop two short blocks from home at 954 Aberdeen Street. I walked into the house just about 24 hours after that first car stopped out on Commonwealth Ave (Rt 9) in Boston.
I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me!
I cannot imagine what dangers and perils God kept me from that December day 58 years ago. I’m sure there have been many other times just as dangerous, but this is one that looking back I can see God has been with me.
It is comforting to know that He is still with us . . .
We two took the Green Line from downtown Boston as far west as it went and then got out on Route 9think it was) and began hitch-hiking. After half and hour not one car had stopped. We decided to split up. Jesse said he didn’t have any money at all. I had a ten, three ones and some change. I gave Jesse the three dollars and we parted. I watched from half a block away as a car stopped, Jesse got in, and I was alone, still 800 miles from Ohio. It was, I think, about 1 p.m.
Soon a car stopped and a man asked where I was going.
“Akron, Ohio.”
The man said he was headed for N.Y.C. and that that was “on the way to Ohio.”
I had planned to go the northern route, Route 20, all the way because that was the way we had come in September with Mr. Durkee from our home church. I had never seen N.Y.C. But it was a long ride, and if it was “on the way” it seemed all right to go a different way.
So I got in the car.
The driver told me his name. I’ve forgotten it. He was a lawyer- nice car. Somewhere in Connecticut he stopped at a Howard Johnson’s restaurant and we at supper. He paid for my supper- the $10 bill remained unbroken.
It was already getting quite dark as we came into Manhattan- down the West Side Highway under the George Washington Bridge. The driver stopped under the bridge.
“That is New Jersey over there,” he said, pointing over the wide Hudson Rover. “Ohio is that way.” He drove off.
I climbed, walked, up the steep bank higher and higher until I reached the level of the roadway approaching the great bridge. I stood at a bus stop, and took the first bus that came along. It was obviously going to New Jersey because that was the only way it could go. I think the fare was ten cents and I had change. I asked the passenger standing next to me in the aisle where this bus was headed. He rattled off names of streets or towns that did not make any sense at all to me. So I simply got off the first possible stop on the New Jersey side and stuck out my thumb and began hitch-hiking again.
Looking back, after living in New Jersey in later years, it is frightening, even chilling, to think how naïve and ignorant I was. No map- absolutely no concept of the complexity of the dense metropolitan area in northern New Jersey. And yet the Lord Himself watched over me. After two or three short rides I found myself standing on an “on ramp” to the Pulaski Skyway- about as hopeless a place to expect anyone to stop for any reason- and then a miracle- a car did stop- and was headed “west.”
After five different rides from the GW bridge I found myself just west of the metropolitan area on Route 22, a divided highway. It must have been about 10 p.m. The last New Jersey ride had left me off under a lone street light out in “no where.” I remember it was cold and still and I could see my breath.
After a what seemed a long time a semi truck stopped and the driver asked where I was going. “Akron, Ohio”
“I can take you half way across the Pennsylvania Turnpike” he said, “That is on your way.”
So I got in. It was warm, and I was tired but I stayed awake as best I could.
It must have been about 2 a.m. he said, “Wake up. This is Somerset. I am going a little farther but this is a truck stop, and you will have a better chance of getting a ride here. Go in there and tell them where you are going.”
I went into the diner and ordered a cup of coffee. The man next to me at the counter was friendly, and asked where I was headed. It must have been obvious I was hitch hiking since I was carrying a small suitcase.
“Akron, Ohio.”
“Hurry up and finish your coffee,” the man said, “and I’ll take you there.”
So I got up in the cab of another big semi; this one with 18 tons of sugar, and between ‘dozes’ watched the dawn break as we came into Pittsburgh. The turnpike ended east of Pittsburgh in those days
Somewhere in or near Beaver Falls the trucker stopped at a truck stop diner for breakfast. I was so thankful to have that long ride to Akron that I asked if I could buy his breakfast an he agreed. So I broke my $10 bill for the first time almost at the Ohio State line.
By noon or so the big rig pulled into Barberton, a suburb of Akron. It was headed on west, so I climbed down and caught a trolly bus to downtown Akron, and a North Hill bus to Howard Street and a stop two short blocks from home at 954 Aberdeen Street. I walked into the house just about 24 hours after that first car stopped out on Commonwealth Ave (Rt 9) in Boston.
I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me!
I cannot imagine what dangers and perils God kept me from that December day 58 years ago. I’m sure there have been many other times just as dangerous, but this is one that looking back I can see God has been with me.
It is comforting to know that He is still with us . . .
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
The Twin Towers of the Highway of Holiness
The Highway of Holiness leads through the Twin Towers.
Directions to the towers are the coordinates 12:1+ and the code names Romans and Hebrews. The key to understanding how the Highway can be both/and lies in the nature of the Covenant. The Covenant is very much like the ideal human marriage, only even more sacred, and certainly more permanent.
The Tower on the left (Romans 12:1+) says: NOW! Make Covenant!
Say vows! Give yourself to God without reservation! Yield to His great love! By deliberate choice, pass through on the Highway!
Consecration as crisis is sort of like a wedding. It is a beginning of a new adventure with the Loved One. It is an end of flirtation with other suitors, and playing the field. It is a time for dancing. A time for celebration and assurance. Weddings are what anniversaries are about.
The Tower on the right (Hebrews 12:1+) says: NOW! Keep Covenant!
Dare to be intimate with God, and share every facet, every nook and cranny of your life! Laugh with Him. Cry with Him. But above everything else, keep only to Him with every breath. By deliberate choice keep to the Highway!
This ‘deeper life’ as process is a lot like the marriage after the wedding is over. Waking up to the reality of life in harness can be bracing, to say the least. There will be times when we don’t ‘feel’ as if we are married. The Covenant is the thing! He is faithful! We belong!
The TIME is always NOW!
You don't have to be super-smart, or super-brave. Isaiah 35 makes it plain we all can walk this Way. Look for the Twin Towers . . . walk through them and stay on the high way!
Directions to the towers are the coordinates 12:1+ and the code names Romans and Hebrews. The key to understanding how the Highway can be both/and lies in the nature of the Covenant. The Covenant is very much like the ideal human marriage, only even more sacred, and certainly more permanent.
The Tower on the left (Romans 12:1+) says: NOW! Make Covenant!
Say vows! Give yourself to God without reservation! Yield to His great love! By deliberate choice, pass through on the Highway!
Consecration as crisis is sort of like a wedding. It is a beginning of a new adventure with the Loved One. It is an end of flirtation with other suitors, and playing the field. It is a time for dancing. A time for celebration and assurance. Weddings are what anniversaries are about.
The Tower on the right (Hebrews 12:1+) says: NOW! Keep Covenant!
Dare to be intimate with God, and share every facet, every nook and cranny of your life! Laugh with Him. Cry with Him. But above everything else, keep only to Him with every breath. By deliberate choice keep to the Highway!
This ‘deeper life’ as process is a lot like the marriage after the wedding is over. Waking up to the reality of life in harness can be bracing, to say the least. There will be times when we don’t ‘feel’ as if we are married. The Covenant is the thing! He is faithful! We belong!
The TIME is always NOW!
You don't have to be super-smart, or super-brave. Isaiah 35 makes it plain we all can walk this Way. Look for the Twin Towers . . . walk through them and stay on the high way!
Monday, December 3, 2007
My Retirement Plan
Did I ever tell you about the time I was praying- and worrying- about when I would be old and retired and wondering if and what--? If I didn’t tell you—
Well, we were in Poughkeepsie, New York, at the time-- it was the late ‘60s-- the IBM factories and offices dominate Poughkeepsie, and a number of our members there were IBM-ers—smart and financially secure.
As I was praying—and worrying— and maybe thinking about the way my members would be ‘set’ for security in their future-- the Lord spoke to me. I’m sure it wasn’t an audible voice, but the words were distinct. He said,
“I AM AT LEAST AS RELIABLE AS I.B.M.!”
And I laughed right out loud. And I never forgot it. Now I am old and retired, and it was forty (40) years or so ago that hat conversation happened. And do you know what?
God has been as good as His word. He has cared for us. Through no great wisdom of our own God has brought us through the mine fields and daisy fields and we have more than enough to eat, and a wonderful roof over our heads, and people that love us in spite of ourselves.
I’m on a great pension plan! And I don’t mean denominational—although they do the best they can. Some of the ‘fine print’ on my retirement plan goes like this:
“Even to your old age, I am He, And even to gray hairs I will carry you! I have made, and I will bear; Even I will carry, and will deliver you.” (Isaiah 46:4)
And actually there is a lot more in the covenant as well. I won't bore you now with details. But did you know that Plan is available to all of us who belong lock, stock and barrel to Our Father in heaven?
Well, we were in Poughkeepsie, New York, at the time-- it was the late ‘60s-- the IBM factories and offices dominate Poughkeepsie, and a number of our members there were IBM-ers—smart and financially secure.
As I was praying—and worrying— and maybe thinking about the way my members would be ‘set’ for security in their future-- the Lord spoke to me. I’m sure it wasn’t an audible voice, but the words were distinct. He said,
“I AM AT LEAST AS RELIABLE AS I.B.M.!”
And I laughed right out loud. And I never forgot it. Now I am old and retired, and it was forty (40) years or so ago that hat conversation happened. And do you know what?
God has been as good as His word. He has cared for us. Through no great wisdom of our own God has brought us through the mine fields and daisy fields and we have more than enough to eat, and a wonderful roof over our heads, and people that love us in spite of ourselves.
I’m on a great pension plan! And I don’t mean denominational—although they do the best they can. Some of the ‘fine print’ on my retirement plan goes like this:
“Even to your old age, I am He, And even to gray hairs I will carry you! I have made, and I will bear; Even I will carry, and will deliver you.” (Isaiah 46:4)
And actually there is a lot more in the covenant as well. I won't bore you now with details. But did you know that Plan is available to all of us who belong lock, stock and barrel to Our Father in heaven?
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
