Wednesday, April 30, 2014

If you have been trying to track my posts, I must admit that I am having problems and my "editor" is doing her best to keep up with me.  Maybe - just maybe, it would help you to look at the column in the right side of the blog where the titles are posted.  And if you are still confused, you can always send me an e-mail to - sherwood8028@hotmail.com

Now to my thoughts regarding the church.  I have attempted to give you some background on my experiences, so let's get you up-to-date.

I am currently attending two churches; I 'belong" to one as a member.  The other is in my neighborhood and since my regular church does not have Wednesday night services, I enjoy being with other friends and close neighbors.  I'll get to doctrine in a minute.

As you have heard I was raised in the Methodist faith and after reading a history of its founding in England and its role in establishing Christianity on our own shore,s I was convinced that I wanted to join them in their efforts to perpetuate the faith.  Alas, in my opinion, they have strayed far away from the vigor and foresight of the Wesley's and the others.  Looking back on my own journey, I suppose I was content with the various churches we visited and attended as my work efforts moved us from place to place.  When I moved to Tulsa and was so warmly embraced by the congregation, I was in for a shock when I realized they were serious about their efforts to teach members to "speak in tongues".   I would soon realize the influence of the Roberts family.  Of course, they were Pentecostals and I had no problem with that except that I could not find anything in my Bible that taught that we must all speak in an unknown language.  I resisted their efforts.

My problem was that many of my good church friends suggested that I was not serious about following Christ if I continued to resist.  Then, one evening as two friends and I gathered to talk about a forthcoming Bible lesson, a dispute arose and to my surprise, my friends were adamant in their opposition to my thoughts.  I suggested that we pray about the issue and as I was listening to theirs, I was shocked to realize I was hearing strange sounds attempting to come out of me.  I let them go and then I was amazed to see the others beginning to weep.  It remains to this day as one of my most inspired moments.

Did it prove anything?  Not anything that I can or have recalled.  Did I question the motives of my two friends?  I did not, nor would I as I believe we all have spiritual eyes and ears, but there is nothing to say that we must employ them.  It is not a physical matter, it is spiritual.

Most of us have eyes to see needs that we could address, but then we have feet to move us in that direction. Perhaps there is no coordination between them.  It might be the fear of doing something we do not fully understand, but again it might be that we have tried - and failed, to act in similar situations.  We are not robots although I often get the impression that there are leaders who treat their congregations as though they were.

Far away from the church to which we belonged at the time, my grand father taught me that -"God moves in my mysterious ways, His wonders to perform..." and I have held that close to my heart over the years, while observing that typically, God moves to inspire others to do what needs to be done. 

That is where I tend to leave the church.  The Bible teaches that "...all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God."  So, the church is the place for sinners as it is the place where most of us seek to find redemption.  But the tendency I have known since childhood is that we - who attend church, are good - the redeemed, whereas the rest of the world is made up of sinners.  That is wrong.  The Bible teaches that we are all - sinners.

The problem arises when we have so many branches of Christianity.  We begin to perfect the childhood game, "My dad is bigger than your Dad."  We want to say, "My church is better than your church."  As I write, here in our community, we have representatives of various churches writing articles suggesting that one church is better than the other churches.  Or they suggest "My interpretation of the scriptures is better that yours."

I was intrigued to read a recent book entitled "Zealot: The Life and Times of Jesus of Nazareth." written by Reza Aslan, internationly acclaimed as a writer and scholar of religion who was born in Iran.   It is a fascinating read by a writer to traces the footsteps of Jesus from His birth to His resurrection. I was intrigued by his revelation of the numbers of itinerant preachers in those days.  We know about Jesus from a variety of sources, but He is only one regarded as actually knowing the Father, the One we call our God.

Over Easter weekend I was reminded that fifty years ago, Cookeville had twenty churches and now we have a hundred.  Would someone care to guess how many there will be, fifty years from today?   Better yet, how many will dare to declare the truth?

Many years ago, I was in Charleston, SC, helping a Mission and when the manager  left for a vacation, I took over the operation and the preaching.  There was an increase in attendance at our Wednesday evening services and when the manager returned, one of the regulars suggested I take up "street" preaching and so I did.  I started on Saturday nights and when some in my "congregation" suggested other nights, so they could bring friends, I responded and was holding "services" on Monday, Wednesday and Saturday evenings until the Police asked me to either stop or I would be going to jail for creating a public nuisance. I had to make a court appearance.  The Judge asked me a few questions and then offered his opinion that the church he attended was the only "authorized" church and the rest of us were little more than vagrants.  I was pleased that he dismissed me.

But then, I attended his church and I could see why the Judge believed as he did.  That was my first ever experience and was saddened by the tone of the sermon.  I noticed that no one greeted me as I entered and they stepped out of my way as I left,.  The experience reminded me of the TV station in Atlanta - WSB, "Welcome South Brother".

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Watching the heavens....

One the eve of what many among us refer to as Good Friday, I am prompted to write about the response to an event that has happened in the heavens earlier in the week.  Perhaps, you have already heard of the Blood Moon and been made aware of its significance to some.

On Monday evenings, I have been attending a GriefShare meeting at a local church and as I had parked my car and headed for the door, I noticed the couple who monitor the class, parked near the entrance and they let me know the doors were locked.  We would have to wait for someone to open them.  As the man and I were standing outside, he asked me if I had heard of the Blood Moon and I said I had - many times over the years.  He was really excited as he and his wife had been watching a well known TV pastor talking of the significance of this phenomenon.  Well, I had heard that particular Pastor many times over the years and no longer watch him as most of the predictions he had made in that time had turned out to be figments of his imagination.

Fortunately, they came to open the door so I was not able to continue with my opinion as the two were very serious Christians I had come to love for the experiences they shared with our class.  And since I loved them, I was not about to comment on the voice they had been listening to.

I only wished they could have been in church on Wednesday evening as the Pastor assigned to that service went to great lengths to detail the history of "blood" moons over the years.  He detailed the history of the Jewish people with reference to this phenomenon, but also pointed out, the rich history of the Jewish religion that focused on signs and moons that govern their rituals.  He did a very good job and I pray that those who were listening took that information seriously.  After all, the nation of Israel and our own nation are allied together.  We are brothers and sisters in our faith in God.

Last evening, I came upon an article in the New York Times on this subject, noting that, in certain circles, this rare appearance was seen as the "Start of Something Big".  And that was certainly the impression of the friends I referred to earlier.  The article refers to the impression that religious TV is repeating the stories that seem to be rampant in many churches.  Stories of "killer" viruses, planetary power failures, nuclear wars and of course, the Rapture.

Shades of the recently departed, Harold Camping. and of Robert Fitzpatrick, the man who wasted away his life's savings on signs posted in the New York City's subway systems, warning of the "greatest ever earthquake" scheduled for a day certain in May.

Why do we seem to delight in repeating these stories?  I have an answer and you may not want to hear it, but my trust is not in stories, even those that might make me think twice about the welfare of my family and my children, in particular.  The Bible I read states specifically that "This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it."  (Psalm 118:24)

To me the whole thing is intriguing, not by the claims, but by our response to them.  I am not one of those who goes about quoting scripture - I had to look up the source of the earlier Bible verse, but my life is not based on the teachings, even the warnings of others.  Putting your trust in the words of men and women who seem to delight in the warnings they have discovered in the Bible or elsewhere, is very much like the fears that come about when one first hears the roar of an ocean or cowers whenever a bad storm hits the area where they live.  Of course, people drown in the ocean and some are blown away in violent storms, but we need to examine the latent power of our belief systems.

It has been centuries since Jesus the man walked on this earth, but He left behind words of comfort in the storms of life and joy in the face of adversity.  It took me almost forty-five years to learn that basic truth, but He created in me a faith that endures, regardless of what I might hear from others, even when such words might come from a pulpit.  Now as I am approaching my fortieth anniversary of embracing that faith, I rejoice at what I have learned to believe and better yet, the courage to walk in it.

Baptists and "frank" talk about sex

How's that for a title?  Yes, I know, I was going to talk more about poverty and in a sense I am, only now I will attempt to address, poverty of the soul.

This started when I read in The Tennessean newspaper this morning that a select group of Baptist members, the leaders of their Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission were meeting in Nashville and they were bringing in leaders from the Association of Certified Biblical Counselors and a Sociologist from the University of Texas.  A Senior Pastor from a Baptist church in Austin, TX, would also speak.

Now, I appreciate these gentlemen for their knowledge and established expertise, but whenever I have talked about sex, I made sure there were women present as my thoughts on sex start with the traditional process, one man, one woman, no others and certainly not in public.  It troubles me that gathering such as this appear to ignore the fact that our problems with sex typically start with the youngsters.

In fact, I wrote a letter to the editors of The Tennessean commenting on this gathering and wondering why they had called in so-called experts on the subject.  My take on the matter is that the proper teaching on sex should start in the home where attentive parents, realizing their children were of age would make it a point to have a very specific discussion with them on the subject.  Why this seems to be difficult apparently comes down through the ages starting when sex was supposed to be - dirty.

How sad, how very sad.  Sex is a beautiful expression of love between two partners who have announced their intention to live the rest of their lives together and it should be assumed that they will have sex - hopefully regularly, and it is quite possible that children will be the result of the intercourse.
Eventually, the day will come when it is the parents responsibility to jointly take their children into their confidence to explain how they were conceived.  The parents might be surprised to learn that their children are already informed concerning the process, but that should not relieve them of their joint responsibility to answer all of the a child's questions.  And then, encourage them to share this knowledge with their closest friends and have the doors of the home open for further discussions with family, friends and neighbors.

Believe me, none of this happened in my family as I was coming of age, but I did grow up on a farm and learned the basic "mechanics" of sex by merely observing the farm animals.  I was fortunate to have a "good" girlfriend and while we talked about sex on occasion, we were not enticed to do it.

It was while I while I was in the Air Force that the government agreed to marriage with Japanese nationals and as a Personnel supervisor, I was assigned the task of counselling the guys who wanted to get involved.  I was amazed to learn the real reason for the marriage had to do with the easy sex that brought the two together.  In fact, over half of those I talked with already had a child on the way.  With that knowledge, the "script" I had been provided with was useless.

I have four children but unfortunately, their Mother and I had separated long before such discussions were appropriate and they seem to have survived without me.

But as an employment counselor, I have seen more lives wasted because of what basic ignorance of sex provides than any other basic reason.  One or the other drops out of school so they have enough income on which to live and then the second child comes along and they both have to have a job.  Then, they get tired trying to maintain that pace and one or the other meets someone else who will help to ease the pain.  All the while, since their educational efforts were terminated, they begin to notice that the newer employees are better prepared and the era of "dead end" jobs sets in.

There are variations to that scenario of course, but what no one seem to realize, as these youngsters are having fun in bed, potential employers are constantly upgrading their labor force so that there is little interest in hiring the middle aged job applicant with children that can only add to the potential costs of hiring such people.

I have to believe there are other scenarios I could point to, but my basic premise remains.  Parents have a responsibility for training the children they bring into this world and through their children, advising others of the high costs of sex without commitment.  It ought not to be a religious institution laying down the law in opposing irresponsible sex.  From my viewpoint, they only get in the way of helping people do what needs to be done if we are to actually, love one another.

The Church triumphant - I pray....

I started attending church when I was little more than three years old.  It was the "Great Depression" years and my sister had just been born.  My grandmother had traveled to Ohio to great her brand new grand daughter and - apparently, recognizing the financial struggles her oldest daughter's family might be enduring, she suggested that she take her first grandson home with her to the farm where there would be plenty to eat and lots of new adventures for a growing boy to enjoy.

They were church folks, the only ones on the two mile stretch of gravel road leading to the Cole A.M.E. church and I would be attending there for the next twelve years.  On Sunday mornings and Wednesday evening prayer meetings, religiously.  We were there.  It was good for me.  Many of my friends from the school that was just across the road, were there.  The Sunday school teachers were there along with the freshly baked cookies, fresh out of the teacher's oven.  They were not as good as my grandmother's, but I was not about to complain.  The stories we heard were - at first, interesting, but after you had heard them for several weeks, you sort of lost track of what they were saying.  Looking back, over several decades, it has always intrigued me as to why the same teachers were, there, year after year, decade after decade.

Then I would discover as I was recruited to recruit new Sunday School teachers, years later on, most of the ones with the greatest potential to actually teach our youngsters had no interest whatsoever in "baby sitting" as one lady informed me, the little "brats".  But there were some who were more than just interested and I have to believe their names are eternally inscribed on a plague hanging in the corridors of heaven.

Unfortunately for me, the Jesus I learned about in those earlier boring sessions is the Jesus I would know for far too many years.

Such were my thoughts as I watched a "religious" discussion on a TV program yesterday involving a well known and highly regarded evangelist by the name of James Robinson and Mark Driscoll, also a highly regarded (in many circles) Pastor from Seattle, WA.  The subject of the discussion centered on Driscoll's book, A call for Resurgence.  Both were making a case for the fact that church attendance was declining in many areas and both seemed to agree that they had answers to this problem.

I waited - in vain, to hear my answer.  I am not a preacher, nor a Pastor, not even close to being a theologian; just what some might call a parishioner who has been attending churches every since my days in Michigan.  Of course, for the first almost forty-five years, I was more of a pew sitter.  I was there because I thought I was among "good" people and therefore I actually believed, I was a good man. In my heart of hearts, however, I had begun to realize I was not only not a good man, I was in fact, a bad man, a seriously flawed bad man.  My life had fallen apart and I was beginning to realize, I was the cause.

The truly good news is the fact that on my way to find answers to my dilemma, I found an answer.  I was a bad man.  Now I would learn that the very same Jesus I had ignored for decades had that answer and all I had to do was - repent, take responsibility for my errors and vow to change my ways.  At first that sounded easy - I had heard the expression, you must be "born again" and I would learn that I had the same response as Nicodemus, how can I - a grown man, be born again?   After all, we were both flesh and bone, we had a history, it seemed impossible.

I began to realize it was possible as one Friday afternoon after working a full work week in less that the typical 5, 8 hour work days, I was passing by a bar and convinced myself that not only was a workman worthy of his hire, he ought to be entitled to a drink.  I pulled on the door handle and nothing happened.  I pulled again.  No response.  Strange, I thought.  I could hear voices inside.  So I started to walk away when two couples approached, laughing and giggling and turned to walk into the bar.  They
pulled on the door and it opened and they disappeared within.  That was stranger than strange and a thought came to me, "Maybe the door was just shut to you.  Remember your vow to repent?"  And I did, I had, I ought to remind myself.  So, I walked on and to my amazement, that experience was merely the first of the many similar ones I would experience in the next several weeks.  To my further amazement, things began to go my way.  For example, I found a job as a janitor for an engineering firm and actually enjoyed what I was doing.  Then one day, one of the principals of the firm told me about the move they were planning in the future ad I shared my experiences working with a moving company to supply help. Before I knew what was going on, I was put in charge of the move and my wages were doubled.

I could spend hours talking about similar experiences that have occurred over the years, but I want to offer my counsel on what has happened to the church.  Remember those Sunday School teachers from those early years?  Bless their hearts, they were only doing what they had been asked to do and there was no one to remind them of their enormous responsibilities to reflect the amazing grace of their Lord
The church needs more than just teachers, they need people who had become witnesses of the power of God to actually respond to our staged invitations.  I had only met one of them in the first forty five years of my life.  It was on the streets of Fukuoka, Japan, when being lost, I asked a man who appeared to be a Catholic priest for directions.  Actually, he was such a priest, but the clothes that he wore looked as though they might have been salvaged from a yard sale.  We began to talk and when he appeared to be hungry, I invited him to lunch.

I cannot tell you of our conversation as it would not speak well for his church, except for the fact that this man introduced me to the living Christ, the One who sustained him when no one else seemed to care.  He needed to get back to Tokyo where his elders were located and I took him back to our base when he could take a shower - his first in months, while I begged and  borrowed among my buddies to get him train fare.  I came upon an air crew man while telling my sad story and he had a much better idea.  To make a much longer story shorter, we dressed the priest as an airman and smuggled him onto a flight going into Tokyo.  There he got back into his priestly clothes and was given a ride to the place he needed to go.  Two years later, I received a letter from my new friend, Mike - the ex-priest, who was then a civilian and headed for college.  No mention of God.  Just a word of thanks for doing what good men do when the need is obvious.

In the world in which we live today, similar stories go on all the time.  But we seem to want to dress them up the occasion in religious clothes and chant, "..all glory to God."  There is nothing wrong with that except for the fact that the "Saints" who perform the "miracles" are often ignored and those who need to know that the God they are prone to praise, more often uses people to perform His works.  We like to say, we are going to church, whereas the fact is we are going to be with the presence of God as He moves among His people.  That is the church and it is triumphant in spite of its critics.
Yesterday, I tried to create a new page to talk about the church and what it means to me. 

Unfortunately, it did not work for reasons unknown to me, so rather than continuing to frustrate myself - and my editor, I plan to write as if it might print and when it doesn't, at least I'll have a copy to share with others.  So, here goes...

I grew up in the church.  I was a little over three years old when my sister was born, in the outskirts of Cleveland, OH.  We have moved there from Toledo because of a job change for my father and it was the onset of the what we know today as the "Great Depression".  To help my mother, her mother came down from her home in Yale, MI, to help and later, it was decided that she could take me home with her to the farm where there would be plenty to eat and I would have acres on which to play.  They even bought me a dog ("Tippy") to be my companion in case I got lonely for my own family.

My grand parents were church folk.  They lived on a two mile stretch of gravel road, at the end of which was Cole A.M.E. church and that is where you would find us on Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings for prayer services.  Sunday School for the kids was held in the basement and as best that I can remember, we had the same teacher until we went to high school.  Then, we had our own class in the sanctuary - as long a we were not too loud.  My favorite memory of church was my grandfather snoring in the middle of the Pastor's sermons.  I hardly recall the Wednesday evening services.
  
The Sunday morning habit lasted for years, through seven years in the USAF, my college years, and would continue through two marriages.  I liked being in the church, it gave me a sense of being good, because I assumed that all of the others were good.  I was married twice in church and my four children were all baptized in the church.  I was almost 45 years of age when I realized, all of those years - in church, were not helping as I came to the conclusion that since the mother of our children had committed two Federal crimes of stealing from neighbor's mail boxes, there must be something wrong with me as well.  She was in prison for an evaluation when I decided it was time for me to get help for myself.

The church had not helped.  Perhaps, it was me because before my second marriage, I would learn that some in the church we attended had failed to tell me all that they knew about my bride.  However, by that time she was pregnant and I was not going to leave her. Later on, I sought counselling after the first incident and I would discover, the counselor had no experience in dealing with marital problems.

So, I asked a reputable Christian I had known of for years and his office scheduled a date. It meant travelling out of State and I became uncomfortable with the fact I had so very little knowledge of the Bible, so I decided to take a "cram" course as I was travelling on a bus to my appointment.  About the only thing I knew for sure was that Jesus could be found in the "red" letters and I decided to start where He started, at Matthew 4:17 where He says, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."  Repent!  Repent?  I had no idea as to what meant - even after attending church for so many years.

I started mulling that word over in my mind as we raced along and then I realized, I was no longer thinking about that word and I began thinking about my mother and my grandfather and the arguments they used to have about the cost of my care.  I had to have been very young as I could vividly recall crying and heading for my favorite rock that was hidden away from the house so that nobody could see me.  The arguments continued over the years and I also became angry because my extremely beautiful mother would bring her "suiters" up to the farm and spend time with them and not me.  Little did I realize that those tiny seeds of resentment would later become "mighty oaks" of unrighteousness.  It was true.  I would join the Air Force, be sent to Japan and my tour eventually extended to include involvement in the Korean war and I never heard of any concern for my life and well-being. 

I began to realize that I had reasons to repent and with tears streaming down my face, I begged to be forgiven.  And then they stopped.  I became fixed on the side window.  It was raining and as the bus roared on through the night, it seemed as though the wind was "rolling up" the road dirt and cleaning the window.  All of a sudden, I recalled something I had in church - about Jesus saying our sins had been rolled away.  I have yet to find a verse that proclaims that but I didn't need a verse.  I began to believe, really believe.

The Church Triumphant - I pray (Part 1)

Yesterday, I tried to create a new page to talk about the church and what it means to me. 
Unfortunately, it did not work for reasons unknown to me, so rather than continuing to frustrate myself - and my editor, I plan to write as if it might print and when it doesn't, at least I'll have a copy to share with others.  So, here goes...
I grew up in the church.  I was a little over three years old when my sister was born, in the outskirts of Cleveland, OH.  We have moved there from Toledo because of a job change for my father and it was the onset of the what we know today as the "Great Depression".  To help my mother, her mother came down from her home in Yale, MI, to help and later, it was decided that she could take me home with her to the farm where there would be plenty to eat and I would have acres on which to play.  They even bought me a dog ("Tippy") to be my companion in case I got lonely for my own family.
My grand parents were church folk.  They lived on a two mile stretch of gravel road, at the end of which was Cole A.M.E. church and that is where you would find us on Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings for prayer services.  Sunday School for the kids was held in the basement and as best that I can remember, we had the same teacher until we went to high school.  Then, we had our own class in the sanctuary - as long a we were not too loud.  My favorite memory of church was my grandfather snoring in the middle of the Pastor's sermons.  I hardly recall the Wednesday evening services.
  The Sunday morning habit lasted for years, through seven years in the USAF, my college years, and would continue through two marriages.  I liked being in the church, it gave me a sense of being good, because I assumed that all of the others were good.  I was married twice in church and my four children were all baptized in the church.  I was almost 45 years of age when I realized, all of those years - in church, were not helping as I came to the conclusion that since the mother of our children had committed two Federal crimes of stealing from neighbor's mail boxes, there must be something wrong with me as well.  She was in prison for an evaluation when I decided it was time for me to get help for myself.
The church had not helped.  Perhaps, it was me because before my second marriage, I would learn that some in the church we attended had failed to tell me all that they knew about my bride.  However, by that time she was pregnant and I was not going to leave her. Later on, I sought counselling after the first incident and I would discover, the counselor had no experience in dealing with marital problems.
So, I asked a reputable Christian I had known of for years and his office scheduled a date. It meant travelling out of State and I became uncomfortable with the fact I had so very little knowledge of the Bible, so I decided to take a "cram" course as I was travelling on a bus to my appointment.  About the only thing I knew for sure was that Jesus could be found in the "red" letters and I decided to start where He started, at Matthew 4:17 where He says, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."  Repent!  Repent?  I had no idea as to what meant - even after attending church for so many years.
I started mulling that word over in my mind as we raced along and then I realized, I was no longer thinking about that word and I began thinking about my mother and my grandfather and the arguments they used to have about the cost of my care.  I had to have been very young as I could vividly recall crying and heading for my favorite rock that was hidden away from the house so that nobody could see me.  The arguments continued over the years and I also became angry because my extremely beautiful mother would bring her "suiters" up to the farm and spend time with them and not me.  Little did I realize that those tiny seeds of resentment would later become "mighty oaks" of unrighteousness.  It was true.  I would join the Air Force, be sent to Japan and my tour eventually extended to include involvement in the Korean war and I never heard of any concern for my life and well-being. 
I began to realize that I had reasons to repent and with tears streaming down my face, I begged to be forgiven.  And then they stopped.  I became fixed on the side window.  It was raining and as the bus roared on through the night, it seemed as though the wind was "rolling up" the road dirt and cleaning the window.  All of a sudden, I recalled something I had in church - about Jesus saying our sins had been rolled away.  I have yet to find a verse that proclaims that but I didn't need a verse.  I began to believe, really believe.
The bus ride was over, I was in Tulsa, OK.  I hurried off the bus, heading for a pay phone and called my "counselor's" office.  It was a Monday morning - one I will never forget - May 13, 1975.  The secretary answered and when I told her that I had an appointment with the President, she had to tell me, "There has been some mistake.  This is commencement day and the President is scheduled to speak and afterwards, he and his wife will be leaving on a three week vacation."  Ooops!  There had been some kind of "mistake" and I was left with the facts.  What was I going to do?  The first thing I did was realize I only had $10 in my pocket and I knew no one there.

But I recalled seeing a "Labor" office just before we pulled up to the bus station, so I headed in that direction, hoping to get a job.  On the way I noticed an old hotel offering rooms for $10 a night.  At least I would have some place to sleep - for a night.  Registering in the Labor office, I took a seat and waited.  It was 10AM and there were only three others in the waiting room so I figured my chances were good.  Noon came and went, 1 o'clock and then, 2.  The other guys were still there, but then the phone rang,  "Any of you guys good at counting?" "Yes, sir," I replied as I headed for the door.  The employer was just down the street and so I was there within 10 minutes of the call.  "My name's Steve," the man said as he greeted me, "We have an emergency and need to have an inventory taken by Friday.  I trust you are good at this and - accurate."  "Yes, sir, call me 'Mac" and let's get started."  We worked until 9PM and Steve had bought me some sandwiches from a Deli.  Knowing that I could not get back to the Labor office to get paid, Steve asked, "Can you come back tomorrow, for the rest of the week?"  "Yes, sir" and then Steve took a $20 bill from his pocket and told me I could repay him later.

I came back at 7AM the next day and wound up working 10 hours a day for the rest of the week.  When Steve signed my ticket on Friday afternoon, he handed me an envelope and told me to forget the $20 he had advanced me on Monday.  "If you need a reference, don't hesitate using my name" and handed me his business card.  On my way back to the Labor office I opened the envelope and there was a check for $100.  Oh my...

That enabled me to move out of the "flop house" styled hotel and move into the YMCA, so I was set for another week at least.  Sunday, I discovered the First Methodist Church nearby and it was better that I might have imagined.  That evening, they introduced a choir of older citizens and one of their songs was a familiar one.  "It gets sweeter and sweeter as the days go by, Oh what a love between my Lord and I."  I walked up to one of the fellows and asked, "Do you you really believe what you were singing?" and he grinned and replied, "Yes sir, it's even better than that."  I was about to learn how true that would be for me as well.

The following Sunday I attended the Senior's Sunday School class and was surprised to find the wife of the man I came to see and asked her for a few moments to discuss my situation. She was not pleased to hear that someone had set up an appointment without discussing it with her husband.  She would check it out and let me know.  When I came in from working there was a note asking me to call a private number at my earliest convenience.  I talked with the man I had come to see a couple of days later and explained my situation, including my encounter on the bus.  I also mentioned that in visiting the campus I discovered a pin I wanted to wear and it came with a card reading, "You shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you and you will be my witness..." (Acts 1:8) and I asked him if he did not think that meant I was to be His witness wherever it was that I found myself?  "Son, you said you came here to see me, but it is apparent you have already met the real person you came to see."  Before we hung up, he offered to meet with me any time I thought I needed his counsel.  We would meet a number of times before I left Tulsa, but it was always to greet one another as brothers in the faith.

Life was changing for me and it was hard to grasp all that was happening.  I joined the church, met with the Pastor a few times as he and I had had similar experiences.  He was about my age when - as an established lawyer, he felt called by God to leave that profession and enter the ministry.  One day, I asked him if he thought the same might be happening to me and he replied by providing me with the names of ten other Pastors, to question them if they thought there was a "calling" on my life.  After talking with six, I knew that I knew, the ministry of becoming a Pastor was not for me.

One day, I had a strange phone call from California from a lady who identified herself as "Mrs. Mac" and told me that was not her real name.  She wanted to tell me about the life my wife was living and it didn't sound good.  As a matter of fact, long before I had to think of returning to California - within the 90 days I was told my wife would be incarcerated waiting for the Judge to determine her sentence, I learned that she was out of prison and had taken the children from the homes where I left them.  This was - in fact, a violation of the agreements I had established with the State regarding their care, but now there was nothing I could do.  She demanded child support and I made arrangements  to pay the amount stipulated by the courts.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Letters to the Editors

As most of you know, I love to write letters to the editors of the newspapers, occasionally magazines, on subjects that I believe need clarification.  Over the years I have learned that the people who read my letters are truly, concerned citizens, and I try to make my comments increase their efforts.  I still recall the early days of our nation when there were newspapers in the major cities, but the people living in the outskirts or the country had to rely on the pamphlets that were being prepared by people with a primary interest and that was to inform the populace.

Nowadays, we have the printed media everywhere.  The other day I noticed that a "grocery" flyer in our community had space for opinions on the service they had been receiving in one of the stores.  That is a great idea because it is not the lack of opinions, but the fact that far too many of the opinions are being expressed by people who are merely relating the opinions of others.

I was thinking about this last night when I tuned into Andy Stanley's video in NBC, following Saturday Night Live.  That means it has to be a re-run as the program is definitely directed to youngsters.  I have to doubt that there are many in that age waiting up until past midnight to hear a Pastor talk.

And you might note that Andy is the son of a rather well known Pastor in the Atlanta area.

Both talk fast and I often have a difficult time keeping up with Andy's pace.  But he is always "right on the money" in my opinion in dealing with the youth in his audience.  Last night, he seemed to be dealing with pre-teens, but as I listened, I realized that the lesson was applicable to all ages.

I don't know if you have noticed but we are all walking around with labels.  I am, for example, a senior citizen, a veteran, a college graduate, a Democrat, supposedly a Southern as that is where I live, and a PinTA to some of the people who disagree with my opinions.  (PinTA in case you hadn't heard, is a pain in the - you know where!)  And Google, FaceBook, Twitter and others in the "social soup" that I have yet to hear of, are earning billions in earned revenue by sharing what they know about you, and me, and yes, you - the others who tend to deny this.  I am not really opposed to this as their earnings are what we like to call the "economy" and as the economy goes, so goes our prosperity.

Back to the younger, Pastor Stanley.  In my opinion, he is creating a real service for the "body of Christ" in general by dealing with thoughts that escaped me in my tender years.  For example, last night he asked the question, "Who has the right to label?"   His answer: manufacturers of product and services, owners and purchasers.  Think about it.  If you can add to the list, let me know.

Once he had discussed that information fully, he turned to this question:   "Who has the right to label you?"  His answer: ..."only you and God".  "Just beware", he cautioned his audience, "of the labels you put on yourself,"  For example, 'hot', 'popular', 'attractive', and others that merely are tentative opinions.

I could think of others I had heard my teen aged friends use, but I did not want them to think that I was only expressing the views of an "old timer".

The foundation of his talk came from Romans 12:1-2   "I urge you - all of you, therefore, by the mercies of God, to present yourselves as a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship,  And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect."

We seem to live in a world where there are Christians everywhere, but then, so often, there are those labels that are applicable to many among us.  We really do need to take advantage of the Bibles that are available everywhere and then, not just listen to others, but take them seriously.  Otherwise, beware of the labels

Friday, April 25, 2014

Let's talk about friends....

I often take time to consider how blessed I am to have friends and it is typically, a good feeling. Over the years, I have learned that to have a friend, you must start by being a friend. But today, I am sad. I have a feeling that I have lost a friend even though I have tried to stay in touch. We moved apart a few years ago after working together in a situation where I wasn't sure of my skills, but she was there, helping all of us. Then the doctors discovered that she had cancer and had to leave us for awhile. I will never forget the day she stopped by to pick up some of our work that she could finish at home. This beautiful young woman I had known for months had been transformed into a very tired looking, "older" woman who had aged. It broke my heart as I thought I might never see her again. But then, she was back among us and she had almost fully recovered. I will never forget the day she heard from the doctors that the cancer was gone into remission. Oh happy day. Now, it was my turn. I had discovered the love of my life living in another city and I would have to leave that job and worse, I would miss her. I did not realize that then, but as time passed we stayed in touch and she was the one who encouraged it. I could not help but think of returning to the area where we had worked together and the possibility of seeing her again. My wife began to tease me about that "other" girl friend. Time moved on and recently my wife passed away. Reality came to bear and I discovered I needed to find another job and that required, references. The company we had worked for had changed their name and I could not locate them. No problem, my friend still worked there, so I sent an e-mail to her at the address we had used for years. There was no response. Come to think about it, she had not "picked up" the Easter card I recently sent to her via the Internet. With that I intensified my search for the company address and finally located it. I also discovered that my friend still worked there and I asked the Personnel Manager to have her call me. It has been two days and there has been no response. What has happened? There is no way I can force my way on the company, nor my friend if she has chosen to forget me. She has every right to do so. There is, however, a hole growing in my heart. I have lost track of friends over the years as I have moved around, more than most people. Now, at my age, many of the friends from years past have passed away. But there are some who care enough to stay in touch, which pleases me and prompts me to do the same. Nevertheless, there is that hole in my heart. And a valuable lesson being awakened in that vast storehouse I call my brain cells. Friends should be our most treasured assets. I had a good friend when I was a child, but he came from a pitiful home. His father was a drunk and there were two other older brothers. We lived close by, but we were never close I thought. Then, one day as I was watching TV in my home in Florida, I had this call from my old friend, asking me if I had remembered him. Yes, I had, but my memory still saw him as that "poor" boy who lived nearby on the farm. Soon, I would discover, he wound up as an electronics technician working for and had retired from a phone company in Missouri. How he had changed. He went on to share his memories of our childhood and how he had heard about me over the years. He would tell me that I was the only real friend he had experienced for many years. We talked for hours it seemed; several calls later, he would let me know that he had cancer and had come home to die on the "old" place. It was a real awakening for me. Early on, I accepted the old military axiom that "all debts and friendships ceased when you were transferred." That began to change. In the years that have passed I have also learned about "fair weather" friends, those that seem to be your friends when you are together, but they disappear when you are apart. That's OK, I have learned that quite possibly the reason you were together was so that so would have opportunities to pray for them after the relationship had ceased. It's all a part of "loving one another" which - to me, is our only reason for living.

Monday, April 21, 2014

A modern day Robin Hood, or?

I hope you are as addicted to the CBS Sunday Night program - 60 Minutes, as I am, have been for more years that I can remember.  Early on, it was rather exciting, catching "bad" guys doing "bad" things and making all of us think they were really very powerful.  Actually there were not, but by the time that people like me realized it, we were hooked on the idea, "It's Sunday evening, time for 60 Minutes".

Last night's program was one of my favorites, a repeat of an earlier broadcast - or should that be telecast?   Either way, last night or months ago, this was a gripping tale of a billionaire using his money and a lot of his friend's money, to do what was - and is, right to do.

His name is Paul Tudor Jones and ask those who know about such things, his net worth hovers around  $4.3 billion dollars.  He earns his living and provides for his employees and the shareholders, as one of those "hedge fund" managers that often get a bad name on the financial pages of the media, especially those who speculate on the so-called "news" of the financial markets.

In addition to the fact he has been reported to have given away nearly $1.5 billion dollars in the 25 years he has been in business, he funds charter schools and job training and food programs.  He will be the first to admit, he has also made many mistakes in those areas over the years.

Asked what he sees when he looks around New York and adjoining areas,  Jones replied: "I see people in pain, people in need, people at times without hope, something that will give them reason for hope.  I see too many people in homeless shelters and on food stamps."  They represent problems that need to be discussed.

Watching the program, I could not ignore the problem that has been obvious in several of the cities I passed through a few years ago.  My goal was to locate a Mission that needed my skills in helping the un-employed to find work while reminding them of the God I know who has guided me through many of similar circumstances.  I would eventually locate one such facility only to discover after my two years of residence, their only positive answer for the "lost" was to receive the God on their denomination.

So, it is easy for me to believe that the offers of a Paul Todor Jones are part of the answer, but my own belief is that we are failing to teach the essentials of "life" as it is in a nation that has been as blessed as we have been.  When we see lines leading to a place where the "poor" can eat a meal or a place to sleep, or hear about the plight of the un-employed or the under employed, or worse, realize that people we have come to know as our neighbors are now burdened with family members addicted to foreign substances, we need to realize that they all suffer from a common denominator.  Somewhere along the line, these "victims" have missed out on the essential lesson that the rest of us have learned for no better explanation that we came to adulthood in the midst of the love and the blessings of family, friends and neighbors.

Tudor's monies ought to be welcomed, certainly, but after 24 hours, the day ends, and after 7 days, the week ends, and 4 weeks is all that we have in a month, according to our calendars.  Then, months turn into years and it doesn't take long for the yoke of misunderstanding the individual wears to become permanent.  The Mission mentality lasts for awhile, but sooner or later, it is a "retirement" home that becomes the more appropriate answer.

I remember the days when there were "poor" houses and when the State had asylums, but if we want to get serious about the problems of poverty, the question of resolving them must start at that end of the line for those who struggle with life.

Paul Tudor Jones has access to lots of money, but that is for New York City.  He does not have the money nor the answers applicable to the other cities.  For every homeless person in New York City, there are thousands more like them in every municipality in America.   So what do we do?   I have an answer.  Stay tuned.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Easter Sunday, 2014

What a beautiful day.  Gorgeous, that's the appropriate word.  Open the door and you are in the midst of it.  Much of the thrill comes from the fact we have experienced a rough winter.  Not much snow in these parts, but cold, bitter cold, so often, much too often.  My thoughts often went back to those winder days while I was growing up in Michigan and yes, they were much colder.  I dressed appropriately and maybe that is why this past winter seem to be so cold.  I wasn't dressed properly.

Well today, I was and we had to be in church earlier than normal.  As part of the Council, we were having our monthly meeting.  The beauty of the day had me prepared to the various discussions on topics determining the functions of the church, aside from the ministry.  Or so I had thought, too often.

Today was different.  Every one was in a good mood.  Some were late in arriving, but that seemed to be alright with the rest of us.  As the program went around the room, those having responsibilities in certain areas all seemed to be very well prepared.  Everyone seemed to be attentive.  Usually, we end the session with the Pastor's thoughts and this morning, he had but a few and we all appeared to agree.

I make such comments as in my many years, I have attended lots of these meetings and it always seemed to me that there had to be at least one person, either disagreeing with a particular issue, or just being disagreeable.  That is why when some one would ask me to participate, I would offer an excuse and avoid being troubled by such people.

I must admit, I have often been scolded by my :better half" for having such an attitude that to her, at the time, did not appear to be the disciple I had often boasted as being.  Perhaps, I have changed.

This was an appropriate morning for change.  Easter.  Our celebration of Christ's once again, being alive in the midst of His followers.  It took me many years to be at peace with such thoughts.

I had attended two other churches services last week.  On a Wednesday evening, I met with others at a church close to where I live and heard one of their Pastors discuss the meanings of "blood moons" - a subject that seems to have overtaken the religious airwaves in recent days.  It was interesting as he spoke of the various passages in the Bible that made mention of moons and signs among the Israellites.
Friday, I attended a Good Friday service at a downtown church and I was amazed at the numbers of people who seemed to know me from the letters I write to the local newspaper.  Their introductions led to further discussions on the life of the church in our community and I was impressed by the numbers of people who really seemed to care for others; making reference to their Pastor's comments in his sermon.  I came away from both services, feeling good, as there seemed to be genuine interest in the state of our religious beliefs in this community.

So it was that I was eager to hear our Pastor offer his Easter sermon.  It was based on the gospel of Matthew, chapter 28, describing the response of the disciples upon learning that their Lord, and ours, was alive, in fact, and He would be meeting with Him.   It was here that Matthew ended his thoughts on the life of our Lord with these words:  "Go, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing then in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you, and lo, I am with you, always, even to the end of the age."

Perfect, those words made my day.  As the service was closing, I looked around at the people sitting nearby and realized how much each of them mean to me.  I took time to greet those I really do not know, hoping and praying as we parted, that we will join in the same kinds of friendship I enjoy with the others.  I know it is possible.  And my most earnest prayer as we departed is that throughout our community, our State, and our nation, we will be making disciples, in deed, so that the rancor and the division that appears to be so prevalent, would begin to fade away.

And wouldn't that be the perfect ending of a perfect day!

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Let's talk about Easter....

As a child, I grew up in a family (with my grand parents) where church was an every week occurrence and Wednesday night prayer meetings were not optional.   I didn't learn much about Christianity, but I would became well acquainted with church services, a blind spot I would embrace for many years.

Yesterday, Good Friday on the church calendar.  I was in church again, but this time - while everything else seemed to be common place to me, my heart didn't seem to notice.  Good Friday!

I know the meaning.  That was the day on the calendar of the church when my Lord was crucified, dead and buried and the widows wept, the curtain was divided according to legend and dead men, like me, were set free = the glorious Day of Atonement had arrived.  The "divine wrath" was appeased.

Now, centuries later, I could be seated in that pew, and feel comfortable that my sins had been removed from the sight and memory of the God of creation who had ordained the day of my birth.

But yesterday, as my mind tried to comprehend all of that, the tears began to fall, especially those that come from my right eye.   I don't understand that, but it seems to happen whenever I sense the presence of God in an experience when I have showed mercy for something that had been, disappointing.

My yesterday had been a day filled to the brim with disappointments.  And yet it seemed, I was drawn to attend church on this particular day for no better reason, based on my faith, it  was the place to be.

The choir was singing, "Were you there - when they crucified my Lord"?   And I realized, I was there.

As the service drew to a close, we all rose to sing - along the choir, 'Were You There".  And then there was that last verse, "Were you there - when they laid Him in the grave?"

The street outside the church was alive with birds singing, flowers blooming, and people hurrying back to wherever they had come from.  It was much like Sunday church on a Spring day.  People doing what people do best.  Hurrying, some would say, scurrying, to resume the life that is our custom.

My prayer for myself and all others, tomorrow - Sunday, on the calendar, will be a new day.  On that day, we will probably sing,  "He is alive!".  I hope that we will.  Indeed, I pray that we will.

And if it doesn't happen, there is always that chorus I have often sung to myself, "From sinking sands, He lifted me.  With tender hand, He lifted me.  From shades of night to shades of light,  Oh praise His name, He lifted me,"

To me, that is the meaning of Easter to me.   Eighty-four years of living among the 'shades of night' and now to have experienced once again, the memory of what has made my daily walk, a journey embracing the 'shares of light', a reality that is little more than an figment of misunderstanding for far too many.

Easter is a new day a-dawning.  Come, all you who are weary and worn down by the problems that appear to have overshadowed your lives.  Come now, it can be a bright and shiny day.  Let's walk on.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Let's Get Together



We are very fortunate, here in Cookeville, TN, and for those who do not know, we are a rather small community, located on I-40, about half way between Nashville and Knoxville, a good place to stop as there are several excellent restaurants.

I say we are very fortunate as I joined a couple of hundred local citizens in a "get together" for folks to meet and greet, aspiring politicians campaigning for offices starting in 2015.   In spite of the opinions that are fostered by the fact that about the only other time we really  get together is on Sundays, this gathering was actually, quite friendly.

Perhaps it was because the event was sponsored by our local newspaper, the Herald-Citizen, and they did a great job by arranging the room where visitors could easily move about the room and greet and actually speak with the candidates.  My impression was that all were congenial and careful to listen to the voters.

My experience in politics goes back many years while, as a college student in the 50's, I was chosen to work with a Senatorial candidate's attempt to unseat a virtual legend who had been in office for decades.  The campaign took a definite turn when our "elder statesman" dropped out of the race and it became a bitterly fought contest between the two runners up.  The candidate I supported was adamant in his demand that we should not only win, we needed to win in each of the State's 159 counties.  That demand opened the door for me to observe a wide variety of tactics that are used to demean an opponent.  It wasn't pretty but we did win when all of the votes were cast,

Then, I moved to California and was involved in another Senatorial race, but this one was more bitter than I had ever believed could be possible.  Bitter and dirty!  I had enjoyed the earlier race as a lot of the time, we were debating issues with friends - both sides seemed to understand that when the ballot boxes were closed, we could still be friends.  I was shocked to learn of the "dirty" tricks each of the candidates and their associates would play against the other.  It was not my kind of competition.

Imagine my surprise when I received an invitation to the national convention and met some of those who had been our most bitter opponents who embraced me like an old friend.  Fortunately, I was asked by real friends to help in surveying the voting possibilities in the area from which I had moved.  It was through these conversations that I learned how elections are actually, won and lost.

I thought about these experiences last evening as I moved about, greeting candidates that I knew and shaking the hands of those I did not.  All were congenial and you were led to believe they were sincere, a far cry from those old memories.  I have never hid the fact that I have supported one national party over another and as I saw their faces, I realized that I had not always been kind to some of these folks.
So, I purposed to greet each of the ones that I had held grudges against and apologize, only to learn it wasn't necessary.

It made me think more about our political contests in general.  The first national election in which I was entitled to vote was in 1952, a half century ago and I am proud of the fact I have voted in every election since then.  But I am sad to say, there is a great deal of difference in the way our national elections are run, from those early days until now.  Now, elections are bought by the one with the most money to "invest" in campaigning and many times, the money has little to do with the candidate.  It goes to the party in need of support in certain areas.  Rather that elections based on how "We, the people" vote, they are decided by the proverbial "Red vs. Blue" states.

Somehow, we have lost track of our need to vote if we are to continue being the "land of the free and the home of the brave".  I know, I have heard all of the excuses, but they pale in comparison to the fact that we may be abandoning the concept that every vote counts.

We need to wake up.  Yes, I know, there are reasons you may not be able to vote, but that should not stop you from encouraging your children, grand children, nieces and nephews and even your neighbors to do their duty as citizens of our great nation.  Register to vote and then, vote.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Another day, another senseless killing

I have to assume you have heard about it, or read about, or heard a friend, neighbor perhaps, someone you know offering their opinion on the shooting in Kansas City, at a Jewish retreat center.

I watched the news this morning and came away with this thought - as usual, the media has assessed the situation and came up with their own answers to the inevitable question, why?  Why?  Why not?  The shooter has an established record of being what we like to call, a neo-Nazi.  You know - an offspring of those who followed Adolph Hitler into World War II.  Not many of us are alive to remember those days,  I happen to be fortunate enough to have been one of those who remembered and still, tremble.

I was intrigued by the feeling that none of the reporters looked on this guy as a murderer.  After all, he shot his victims down in broad day light, murdered them as they were going about a daily routine.  Now of course, we are going to have an extended period of time while the lawyers and the psychiatrists tell us what they believe we need to know about murdering and, murderers.

I have listened to their thoughts and have evaluated them against the lives of the three murderers I have personally known in my life time.  Actually, there were four, but one was the father of a class mate of mine in grammar school and I really didn't know him as well as I knew his sons.  He killed one of them only because the boy wanted to join the Army and the father apparently feared that he might be sent to Germany and kill their cousins, or others related to the family.  He would eventually die in prison.

The other three, on the other hand, were - at one time, or have become close friends of mine.  The first one I met on a troopship headed for Japan as I occupied the top bunk in an eight tiered arrangement.  He slept below me and the fellow he would eventually kill, slept opposite from us in the adjoining tier. Most of us on that ship were little more than kids, some of whom we got to know better than others on the thirty-one days we spent at sea, from New York harbor, through the Panama Canal and eventually debarking in Yokohama, Japan.  From there, we were "distributed" throughout Japan; the three of us happened to be stationed at the same air base, North of Tokyo.  As raw recruits, we were assigned to our different squadrons depending on our job assignment.  I went one way, they went another. Eventually, I would be transferred to another base on the island of Kyushu.

Then one day, I heard the horrifying news.  The fellow who had slept under me on the transport ship had slit the throat and killed the man who had been his buddy.  It happened as he had broken into the base PX - expecting to steal a camera, and he was met by the other who had been sleeping there to ward off thieves.  He slit his throat and left him to die.  Eventually, he met a courts-marshal and was sentenced to death by hanging.  General MacArthur had mercy on him and changed the sentence to life in prison.  Before he was returned to the States, I had an opportunity to visit with him and really did not recognize him as the bright eyed kid who loved to tease the rest of us and spent his time, telling jokes.

We would eventually meet again, but that is an episode in my life that needs more explanation than is available today.

The next guy I met had just been released from prison after having been convicted for the murder of two women who had been working for him in South Florida.  He was a very intelligent young man and I would learn that he had been earlier convicted of a daring jewel theft when he was little more than a teenager.  I was to be his counselor, but then he was moved out of the place where we were living and I only saw him on occasion.  I was told he was to be considered, privileged.  There were all sorts of rumors about him, but I saw him as a bright young man with great potential.  He demonstrated this by becoming an evangelist with the people who had helped to get him out of prison.

Finally, I was to meet a young black guy on "death row" in Nashville for the murder of a drug dealer in his home town.  I was merely visiting at the request of a fellow member of the church we both attended.
Michael was a fascinating young man, given his background where he was fathered by a "visitor" and left to be raised by his mother who had other children to raise in a neighborhood where "opportunity" was little more than a buzz word for the white folks in that community.  For the most part, Michael was raised on the streets and eventually, there was an offer for drugs, a pistol, and confusion that would lead to the murder of a man suspected to be a drug dealer.  The police had two boys in custody and they offered "life" to the one who "ratted" on the other.  Michael lost and was sentenced to death.

Then, God intervened in the form of a Pastor visiting the prison and shared with Michael, the truly good news of the plan of God for redemption.  Although Michael was poorly schooled, he heard the offer and was determined to be able to read and write, skills that he now possesses that are a tribute to the fact that if you really are motivated to move towards the "good" life, you can.  I happen to be a college graduate and if others might dare to suggest I am a scholar, I like to tell them about Michael.  The good news is that the death sentence has been removed and he is now eligible for parole.

Three men, three very "wise" men have visited me in my life and each has inspired me to greater things in life than to waste it away, talking about my college degree.

What they have inspired me to do is expound on the grace of God that I have witnessed in the lives of these three visitors and others along the way.  I will admit that have I wasted a lot of my life away chasing dreams of one kind or another, none of which have lifted me to the place in life I now enjoy.

When the Bible teaches about the so-called "prodigal" son, it is like His opening my eyes to my own life.

And today, I think about the poor demented soul sitting in a jail in Kansas City.  He is not alone.  There are thousands of jail cells throughout our nation, filled with people who have lost their way in life and their only "product" in life has been the confusion they spread along the way.  And we don't help our own cause as we seem satisfied to affix labels to them and move on - until the next murder.    

Some blame it on the guns.  Others claim it is the lack of an effective education.  And there are those who want us to believe it is because the church has failed in its authentic teaching.

For all of these, I would suggest they look into the mirrors that have framed their lives.  I know because I have had many opportunities to follow my own advice.  Having done so, I share my experiences.

Monday, April 14, 2014

Is It the times in which we live?

Over the weekend, I had an encounter with a fellow - I wished I could say he is a gentleman, but I that is difficult.  He started me to think more seriously about the conversation and for that reason, I really need to thank him.  Unfortunately, he said what he said and hung up and I cannot do that either.

But I have learned to count my blessings on each and every day I am privileged to be here and I had hardly opened my computer today when I discovered these words of wisdom from my dear friend, Terry Hershey.  He had this to say -

"I am invested here.  I don't even know where this will take me.  Regardless, I am invested here." 

I keep such sayings and in this case, it comes close to being my creed - every since May 12, 1975

My real investment in life comes from  the fact that I recognize, I was born with two ears and two eyes, but only one mouth.

In this fellow's case, I used my two ears to hear and was fortunate that I could not use my mouth.

All of this started with an article a friend of mine contributed to our local newspaper.   He has a weekly column on the Religion page of our local newspaper and he dares to say what he sincerely believes.  I know that because he is not only my friend, he is also my Pastor.  I said as much in a letter to the editor explaining why I had been offended by a response to my friend's thoughts and encouraged others to think before they write.

I have learned that in my decades long experiences of writing letters to the editors of newspapers in the areas in which I have lived.  In the beginning, I was very much like the person who now offends me; he was quick to accuse and did not offer a legitimate reason for their opinion.  I learned the hard way when some of my earlier letters were castigated - severely criticized, by people I was forced to recognize, who knew so much more about my subject that I had even considered.  "Live and learn" - words of advice I had heard about in the 6th grade while attending school in a one room building in a farm community, but had failed to grasp their value in teaching me how to live, more effectively.

So over the weekend, my "friend" called with the following verbatim thought.  "I trust you are the guy who writes letters to the editors.  You want to defend your friend's words?  They are bull..."  I expect you understand his thought.  And of course, he hung up.

I didn't have any problem hanging up my receiver, but his thoughts linger on.

There is no need to explain his reasoning.  My friend writes about religious beliefs and for some reason that escapes my understanding of religion, he does not always conform to the teachings of many of the other Pastor/teachers in this area.   Some people want to tell me that these others are clinging to thoughts in the Bible that have become outdated by modern day science.  I don't know about that.

What I do know, however, is that in my travels I have met people of many different religious beliefs and I have one thing in common with every one of them.  We are all called to love or respect one another's religious beliefs.  A wise man once taught me, the Bible was not written for the benefit of others, it was written for my benefit!   It took me some 45 years to understand that and worse, I had no real knowledge of the Bible in spite of the fact I had been a regular church attender for most of those years.   I would learn that the "key" to understanding the Bible centered on my need to repent for the life I had been living and give the teachings I would discover in the Bible, an opportunity to guide my "new" life.  To my amazement, it has been a most amazing discovery.

I do not search the pages of the Bible looking for ways that others can live their lives.  My only call is to love them, just as I have loved others sentenced to death by the State and seen their sentences over turned.  I have loved men who were our enemies on the battlefield  and watched as they became my fellow citizens in this, the greatest nation ever ordained by God.  All because of love.

And that is our call, regardless of the denomination to which we belong.  It matters not how others want to believe.  Our sole responsibility is to love them. each and every one of them.  When we do, we will soon discover, they do listen.

I even love the man who called, "casting stones" at my friend and I pray that I will - somehow, learn his identity so that I might help him to learn that in my experience, the word that he used could be so much better utilized as a fertilizer that brings forth life to products that may even nourish us.

The reason I have used these words to describe this situation is because I know from experience living in this community for most of the past decade, it is because of the fact I do have two eyes and two ears. We seem to have so many living in this area who suffer from what I would prefer to call - r.a.   It took me awhile to understand those initials medically, stand for - rheumatoid arthritis.  That's one way, but it seems to me that there they could as easily stand for - religious antagonism.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

A Window on the World

How about a quick detour?  Really not, as what happened today, is part and parcel of the life I live now that my beloved is no longer present.  I really do miss her, but I am amazed at the way God seems to have re-directed my course in life.  Today was merely more evidence.

I joined a new church a few months ago, a loving congregation that I like to claim has "loved me back to life".  With Derlene gone, I was lost, not just because of her absence, but because there were issues with the others who would have an immediate say in my future.  I listened for awhile and decided that I had a future and chose to walk into that future.

Today was an example of how my life has been blessed and I write because I believe that if you can hear my heart, you will be blessed as well.

Cookeville, Tennessee, is the home to a University that appeared to me along my way, some 65 years ago.   I was home on leave from Japan and my mother decided it would be good if she and I and my grand parents would drive down from Michigan and visit my sister who was attending Baxter Seminary in nearby Baxter, Tennessee.  As we drove into Cookeville, I noticed a football stadium along the way and learned that it belonged to Tennessee Tech and I would learn that they had a game scheduled while we would be in the area.  It would be the first time I had ever witnessed a "big time" football game.

I have no idea as to who won or lost, but the sight of that stadium has remained etched into my mind. And it remained dormant even after I was employed by a company that brought me to this area, three times every week.  Nor did I recognize its significance when I met and married my beloved Derlene who lived nearby.  We spent the seven years of our marriage in the shadow of that stadium.

And today, I drove by it as I headed to Tech's student body center to take part in a gathering known as a Window on the World.  I was about to be amazed.  Walking up from the parking lot, I was met by a gathering of students representing various aspects of life in our world.  There were an abundance of signs, but as I approached each one, I was met by an eager student who was well prepared to advise me on the conditions of our world with regard to how we are experiencing our daily lives.  I was very impressed.  And then, I walked on into the facility where the administration of the University seemed to be housed.  Today however, it was crowded with signs and students and tables on which their "causes" were appropriately displayed.  I had to believe they really were representing the worlds in which we live out our lives.  Listening to them, I was more than convinced they were dedicated. That was just the first floor.  My reason for being there was up on the second floor.

Our church has been representing an organization known as Heifer International for a number of years.
I was interested in helping as I had a personal experience with them, of providing funds for the purchase of farm animals to families and other groups throughout the world and the contributions were used to fund areas where poverty had been and currently is, exacting its toll on the youngsters of such communities.  What is fascinating about the concept is the fact, our children - from the more affluent nations of the world, are encouraged to relate to such gifts.  Its existence dates back the years when such conditions were being made known to nations such as ours.  Today, we were encouraging the children passing by to present their "passports" so that they could be authenticated by a "stamp" that left an impression of many of the animals involved   We then, discussed and distributed literature regarding the purposes and practices of Heifer International.  It was heart warming to hear from many that they were well aware of the program and were or, had been involved in the past.

With my "shift" was over I had the opportunity of further examining the others.  It was difficult to believe there might be other nations the organizers had missed.  I came across a distinctive display from Iran and I stood by listening to the conversation.  Here was a bright young man talking about his home in terms that had nothing to do with the headlines we read in the reports of our media, far too often.  I was moved to take the young man's hand and vowed to him that my prayers were with him and would continue so that there would be peace between our two great nations.  I turned around and there was a display from Japan.  I approached one of those talking about their nation and told him of the four years I had been stationed near Fukuoka and his eyes lit up.  I explained the fact that it was his people who taught me how to love one another and to care for the respect we have held for one another, even though at one time we were the bitterest of enemies.  I walked on, chatting with a few as I passed by and headed for home.

Not before I re-visited two of the booths I had noticed on the way in.  The first was one devoted to re-cycling our waste products and explained how I had discovered and was using a private company, operated by students on a part-time basis, who took the "work" out of my efforts.  He knew of them and he seemed almost excited to discover and advocate to his cause.  I encouraged him to keep doing what he had been doing and he will be rewarded for his efforts.  The next booth was entitled "Grow Cookeville" and promoted the expansion of "home grown" vegetation in the lands adjacent to our city. What a great idea.  Having been raised on a farm, I am very disappointed at the hundreds of acres of land that lies dormant in what we call the Upper Cumberland area - most of which could be devoted to the growth and distribution of products that would not only serve, but contribute to the well being of our own.

As I headed to my car, I spotted a place to sit down and as I did, the tears came pouring out of my eyes.

I had seen the future as envisioned by our young and obviously endorsed by the University.

Oh, that others could see the possibilities that were every where, people, from everywhere on the globe we call home, visionaries perhaps, but why are do we seem to be reluctant to encourage them on a 24/7 basis rather than just once every so often?

There they were, gathered together, in a place I never thought I would ever see again.

If it is only a dream, please don't waste your time trying to waken me.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

More on the "jobs" predicament, locally

Earlier in the week, I discussed in part the conditions of the job market and pointed out some of the ways our "unemployed" might help themselves under these circumstance.

Well, after posting that, I was devastated by a situation that came much closer to home.  After my wife passed away, I discovered I had been living in "her" home - she owned it, but now that she was gone, the actual "heirs" took over, prompted me to move and assured me a portion of the proceeds of the sale.

I did as I was asked to do - move away, and eagerly awaited the day when I could move on as I knew it would not be easy to rebuild my life, establish a new "home" address, etc. and I was right.  It has been a real struggle and I had hoped my (former) family would be true to their word.

Monday morning's "news" has given me cause to question my trust.  Hopefully and yes, prayerfully, I will await the facts that come out of the closing of the sale tomorrow.  I will let you know.

Meanwhile, back to the jobs situation.  After writing as I did, I was intrigued by an article in my home town newspaper, credited to an AP writer with a headline that read, "Signs the Job Market May Finally be Accelerating."  Nothing to get excited about, we need to realize an editor discovered that those words would create an interest in the readers minds.  Let's examine what was actually said.

The un-employment rate remains at 6.7 percent.  Hardly, good news.   According to the BLS, there were 192,000 new hires.  Who knows what that represents, but we must realize that the numbers had taken a hit by the annual employment lay-offs after the Christmas season.  We must also fact in the weather which has been dreadful in many sections of our nation in January and February.  However, to quote the article, "more workers in the 25 to 54 year age group are finding jobs".  And, as important, lay offs appear to have declined since February.

Good news.  Now for some more realistic news, good or bad depending on how it might affect your family and close friends.  Employers hired 2.4 million people in 2012.   However, the working age population swelled by 3.8 million that year.  A similar gap existed in 2012.

The "so-called employment population ratio" ended in both 2012 and 2013 at 58.6 percent.  That is down from the 63 percent before the "recession" started in late 2007.

And what ought to be good news for job seekers, "considering the fact that the vast "baby boom generation" has begun to retire.

The writer ends his column by reminding that we have "escaped" winter.

I decided to test the local job market for folks where I live, in "central" Tennessee.  There are two factors.  One is our local college, graduating a few thousand every year and asking both the Administration and interviewing a number of graduating Seniors, there is no such thing as a "lull" in hiring.  Opportunities are everywhere, but elsewhere is the more appropriate designation.  That is true for most college communities.  But as you move about the agencies that are designed to serve the un-employment in this area, there is very little reason for hope.   Compared to the major cities in the area, hiring is almost nil.  And if you look closely, you will discover that this predicament has been long standing.  We do a good job, promoting education and are even working to expand on those needs, but there is no well defined employment base.  Watch the people come and go from the eating places in this area - and there are many more here than in the surrounding area, but their patrons look a lot like me - gray haired and not even thinking of looking for a job.  More often they are looking for someone to trim their lawns, the shrubs and remove a tree or two here and there.

We do prosper in one area.  Our jail is normally filled by people who have lost confidence in the job market and make a little here and little more there, too often, re-selling the merchandise they have taken from the local Wal-Mart and adjoining stores.

What troubles me more than anything, if we would only concentrate on actually developing or importing businesses that hire people - as was once our main objective, the constantly increasing costs of maintaining our jails and the State prison system, would begin to cost less and increase our tax base.

A factor that evades most people - especially the politicians, ought to be obvious.

Monday, April 7, 2014

"Where are the jobs?" My thoughts

I remain amazed, we keep getting these articles in our major newspapers as well as our business periodicals - "Where are the jobs?" and "they" keep responding with the same answers, over and over again.  Ever wonder what goes through the minds of those who are actually having problems, finding a job?  Try - desperation!

I thought I was done with such questions.  After all, I started in that "business" in 1947 when a Sergeant in what is now known as the U.S. Air Force asked me if I knew the alphabet.  Seriously!   Seems as if the clerk who preceded me in the office to which I was about to be assigned had no idea.  "W"s could be found where the "A"s were supposed to be and on and on it went, all of which would establish my credentials for the job.  I will never forget his response, "Keep doing what you are doing and when I leave, you will have my job and some of these", pointing to the six stripes on his sleeve.  I heard what he was saying, loud and clear, and sure, enough his job became my own.

LESSON #1 - about finding a job, you have to "show up".

I served in the Air Force for almost seven years, graduated from college (now, Georgia State University) with a BBA degree in Personnel Management and wound up working for an employment agency, in fact, a few of them before I turned to recruiting, civilians, for existing jobs.  Along the way I became intimately acquainted with the problems involved on both sides of the desk

To me, it all began with the problem, of corporations assigning people to the task of employment "management" who really had very few personal skills.  They might know about the requirements of the available jobs; they knew far too little about the skills in matching the applicant to the available tasks.
Those days are long gone.  Today's professionals in this area are often far more qualified at their jobs than the top executives.  The most important task of the applicant is to "read" the skills of those who are doing the initial interviews.

LESSON #2 - now becomes, "show up - understanding all that you know about the skills required and making certain, your first interview is not your last.."

Therein is the greater problem.  A lack of job opportunities may be the condition that appears in your community, but be careful not to fall under the delusions suggested in a recent (April 6) article in the USA Today newspaper - "Where are the jobs?"

It all depends on a person's age and job kills.  There are hundreds of available jobs in almost every city and town across our land.  They are almost everywhere - McDonalds, Wal-Mart, etc., etc., and the "curse" seems to be, they are "only" part time jobs.  So?   Basic reasoning ought to be applied to this condition. There are after all, 168 hours in every week, time enough to hold almost three other 40 hour jobs - and many do!.  Working part-time for just two of them will mark a person as dependable, eager to learn and more often than not, promotable.

I understand that there are personal problems with such an approach, but the fact is, we do not live in an age where there are constant demands for employees; the demands in the age into which we are rapidly advancing are for people who will recognize such demands and qualify themselves.  And there are thousands of such jobs and they are increasing every month.

Another example, there are "knowledge" jobs everywhere - advisers, aides, clerks counselors, drivers, farmers, instructors, janitors, mechanics, outdoors men (and women), religion, sports related, tailors, warehouse personnel, writers, etc., etc., ad infinitum,  and they do not always require advanced education.  The main qualification is the willingness to "show up" regularly and be attentive to instructions.

One of the most interesting entries to such jobs can be found in the magazine counters of the local grocery stores by looking in the last pages where you see ads for franchises, most of which tell the prospective franchisee what is involved.  Now, look in the telephone book and see if such companies are located in your community and stop by, asking if they could use help.

Many years ago, when I first was hired by an employment agency, I was handed a local telephone book and starting on the first pages, I was to call each listing and merely ask, "Are you hiring anyone?"  If I was desperately seeking a job today, I would start all over again.  And when they said, No!" I would do as I used to do, ask: "Do you know anyone who might be hiring?"

The real  problem with regard to jobs is the fact that those in government - on BOTH sides of the political aisle, are too involved in their hopes and plans for their version of a better America seem to forget to recall that our beloved Constitution was written to provide for "We, the people".

If you cannot understand that, go to your local government sanctioned employment office and ask for help in guiding your employment search.  I did that recently and their advice was simple, "Move".