~DEVOTIONS MAIL~ by Cathy

singpraiz4hym · 08-31-2005, 10:05 AM


	This new thread is for writings of a friend of mine. She writes weekly for our church email group. She doesn't internet much herself but is pleased to be able to share her stories with all who wish to read. I asked my friend for a bit of personal thoughts so I can share with each of you her wonderful words of inspiration. This is what she sent me. Enjoy! ~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~ Hello new D-mail friends! My name is Cathy and I write the D-mails that you read on your website. I have been a Christian since 1979. I have a husband, Chuck, who is an ER physician and the rock of my life. We have 5 grown children, Michael , 30, married to Kim, also 30, living in Iowa, Andrea, 29, living in Budapest, Hungary, Peter, 27, going to graduate school in Vancouver, B.C., Rachel, 25, living in the Twin Cities, and Laura, 22, graduating from college next week. We have lived in central Wisconsin since 1974 and in the house we built since 1977. In summer, we move to our cottage on a lake near us. We are members of an Assembly of God church near us. I have an R.N. college degree but have not practiced nursing for several years because I have fibromyalgia and Chronic Immune Deficiency syndrome. I have to limit stressful physical activities and deal with a fair amount of pain, but God grants me many good days. I am a professional free lance writer and poet and have published many articles and a book of poetry. I am currently working on a full length play and a collection of childhood memoirs. My other passion is needlework, quilting, knitting, sewing, etc. I love to read and sing in choirs as well. We travel quite often (I can travel as long as I pace myself and rest along the way) to visit our children. This past month I was able to take my mother on a trip to Germany, Austria, Slovakia, and Hungary (where daughter Andrea lives and works). My brother and sister and spouses live near my Mom and Dad in a suburb of Pittsburgh. I travel several times a year to see them. Last fall I was asked by the women's ministry at church to write a weekly devotion online and the first D-mail was born January 1. I love to write them and I have been blessed. God gives me lots of ideas and I try to get them out there for people like you to read. God bless you and keep you, Cathy

singpraiz4hym · 08-31-2005, 10:07 AM


	THE RAGGEDY MAN - main author unknown SCRIPTURES: Matthew 5:1,5-7 Matthew 22:11-12 Matthew 7:1,2 A certain pastor told this story: There was a man named Bill who lived in the same neighborhood as a well-dressed, conservative church. It was a common urban situation. The church had been built when the neighborhood was prosperous, but now the area was run down, its fine homes fallen into disrepair, its inhabitants poor. Bill walked past this church every day on his way to the soup kitchen at noon and on his way back to the homeless shelter at night. Bill could usually be seen wearing the same T-shirt with holes in it, jeans, and sometimes no shoes. Now the pastor of the conservative, well-dressed church was contemplating how his congregation could reach out to people in the neighborhood like Bill, but he wasn’t sure how to go about it. On Sunday next, he was planning to preach a message about outreach. He announced it on the marquee that stood in the small churchyard. The sign said, "BE CAREFUL HOW YOU LIVE. YOU MAY BE THE ONLY BIBLE SOME PEOPLE READ." On Sunday morning, as Bill was passing by the church, the doors were open and he heard singing. He heard a big pipe organ playing music that seemed to lift him right off the ground. He stopped to listen for a while. Then he noticed the sign. He had read some of the Bible- years ago when his mother used to take him to Sunday school. And once he read some from a Gideon Bible at the homeless shelter. " How could a person be a Bible?" he wondered. He decided to go inside to find out. Maybe there would be more organ music. Maybe they would let him sing with them. Bill climbed the steps to the massive wooden church doors and cautiously walked in. His hair was wild, like hair that hasn’t been cut or combed for quite a while. He was wearing his usual wardrobe, the jeans, T-shirt, no shoes. The service was still going on so Bill started down the aisle looking for a seat. The church was completely packed. He continued down the aisle turning his head to the right and to the left, in search of a seat. By now the people were looking a bit uncomfortable, but nobody said anything. It was hard not to stare at the bare-foot man in the aisle. What was this wild-haired man doing in their church anyway? Bill couldn’t find a seat. He got closer and closer and closer to the pulpit. When he reached the front, he realized there were no seats, so he just squatted down right on the marble floor. Now the people were really uptight and the tension in the air was thick. As he tried to continue his message, the pastor had one eye on Bill and one on the deacon at the back, who was slowly making his way toward Bill. Now the deacon was in his eighties. He had silver hair and wore a three- piece suit and perfectly polished shoes. A godly man, very elegant, very dignified, he had served on the board of deacons for sixty two years. He made his way slowly down the center aisle to the raggedy man sitting cross-legged on the floor. He walked with a cane, eyes focused on the wild-haired man up front. Everyone held their collected breath, saying to themselves, "Why was Deacon Brown sent to escort the strange man out of the church? What if the man gets upset? What if he puts up a struggle? Why he may even become violent. Deacon Brown is the oldest man in the congregation. He could get hurt." The church is utterly silent except for the clicking of Deacon Brown's cane. The pastor couldn’t even preach until Deacon Brown did what he had to do. Everyone sat in silence waiting. Even the pastor stopped speaking and watched. The elderly deacon at last reached the front and stood beside the raggedy man, who sat cross-legged on the marble floor. Then he dropped his cane and with great difficulty, lowered himself to the floor and settled in, cross-legged beside Bill. Everyone was choked up with emotion as the pastor tried to regain his composure. Smiling down at Bill and Deacon Brown, the pastor spoke. "I’m not going to preach the sermon I had planned for today. What I was going to say, you will never remember anyway. What you have just seen, you will never forget. Let us all rise and lift our voices in song to the Lord! Hymn #187. We will sing all five verses!" Jesus said, "If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?" (Matthew 5:46,47) "Judge not, lest you too be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged; and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." (Matthew 7:1) People come in all sorts of packages, from silver paper with red bows to brown paper and string. The gift inside could be a rare treasure, but how will you know if you don’t open the package? Loving the unlovely isn’t easy. Keep your eyes open for brown paper packages and pray for "Jesus glasses" through which to see them. PRAYER: Lord, I pass by many people who for some reason or another appear unlovely to me. I give money to help the poor. I bring my canned goods to the food pantry. If there were a soup kitchen in my town, I would probably volunteer there once in awhile. But I don’t seek out the Bills in my town. I need to be reminded that they are souls in brown paper who just might have a treasure to contribute if only someone would take the time to see. Forgive me for staying comfortably in my own little world. Give me "Jesus glasses" to see. Amen

singpraiz4hym · 08-31-2005, 10:08 AM


	HOME SCRIPTURES Numbers 15:2 Deuteronomy 11:19 Ruth 1:8-17 II Samuel 7:10 I Chronicles 17:9 Proverbs 27:8 Proverbs 30:27 Luke 10:25-38 John 14:23 II Peter 3:13 I’m leaving home this week to go to Austria and Hungary. My home will be on a river boat floating down the Danube river. I will be amongst strangers who are at home in their culture, speaking their language, going about their regular customs. As I have been making preparation to go, I found myself pondering this place we call "home". To the businessman on the road, it is sleeping in his own bed, reading the paper in his favorite chair. To the student abroad, it is the place where she can talk to her friends without scrounging her brain for every word. To a soldier in Iraq, home is a safe place where no one shoots at him. To any American abroad, it is the ballgame and a fat, juicy hamburger with the works. To the career missionary, home is among the people they have ministered to for decades. I’ve traveled abroad quite a few times. While seeing new places , experiencing new cultures, tasting new foods, and making new friends is exciting, I am always somewhat insecure until I am back in the good old USA. What is it about home that comforts us? Home has been defined by many expressions. "Home is where the heart is."... "Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home."... "I can’t wait to get some of that good home-cooking."... "Ah. At last- home sweet home." I think my favorite definition came from a fifth grade boy who wrote, "Home is the place where, if you go there, they have to take you in." No matter where it is, no matter if the dwelling is a hut or a palace, home means safety, comfort, and familiarity. Home is where your favorite food is cooked. Home is where the neighbors know your name. Home is all the memories of time spent there. Home is where the Dairy Queen still sits on the same corner and at midday, the carillon at the Congregational Church still sends hymns floating over town. The newspaper still publishes the police calls and your high school band director still knows you by name. Have you ever gone back to your home town and been disappointed that the big tree on the square was cut down, the businesses all moved out to the freeway, or Buskey’s Motel has become a nursing home? Have you ever visited your high school and been surprised that it doesn’t look like you remember? My husband and I were high school sweethearts at a school in the suburbs of Milwaukee. Recently we were in Milwaukee for a conference. Before we drove home we decided to cruise past our homes. I didn’t even recognize mine. The trees and shrubbery my dad planted had grown so tall since we lived there. My husband’s house sprouted a whole new addition, right where his bedroom used to be. I think it bothered him to see his home of over 45 years changed. He felt a sort of invasion of his childhood memories. "At least the tree swing is still there," he said. "Probably because the tree limb has grown around the rope," I said. " It won’t come down until that granddaddy tree falls." We drove around town to see what businesses were still there. We drove past Marty’s Pizza, the first pizza place in town and still there. We passed by the football field where we had our first kiss under the bleachers. Was the high school always this small? Both of our parents had moved away long ago so what made this town "home" for us? Home is where your memories are. Lots of our friends have been selling their homes lately to down-size or move into a condo. We asked our five children, who all have houses/ apartments of their own, how they felt about us selling the house. Unanimously, they all protested, "No way! You can’t sell the house. It’s our home! We were born here. Jingles is buried in the back yard. Thanksgiving and Christmas - for that matter any visit - won’t be the same in another house." Why were they so upset? Probably because a house becomes a home when there is laughter in the walls and memories in the halls - late night cocoa in the kitchen, sleepovers in the treehouse, Christmas stockings on the mantel. We all need the security that "home" provides. We want to know that somewhere in this harried world is a place that doesn’t change. We want a place where we will always "belong", a refuge from the cold, cruel world. But home is more than that. It is a culture we are part of, a homeland that is ours because we helped shape it. When we were in Russia a few years ago, we were impressed by how sacred the "motherland", Mother Russia, was to the Russian people. Czar Peter the Great, wishing to open up Russia to the outside world, traveled to the Netherlands in the early 1600s. It was the first time any Russian had crossed the border. The people were gripped with fear that Russia was doomed and chaos reigned until Peter returned. When Napoleon dared to cross into their motherland two hundred years later, the people were sure his army would be cursed for it. Sure enough, the French army got to Moscow and froze to death, trapped in a barren, Russian winter. Though they paid an awful price, the Russian people were determined that Hitler’s troops would never prevail on their soil either. The story of how St. Petersburg withstood a three year blockade, existing on shoe leather, sawdust and passion for the Motherland, is a phenomenal tale, as is the battle of Stalingrad. Hitler would not and did not make it to Moscow. Millions died to defend Mother Russia. In the US, we don’t have this tremendous passion for the homeland. We commonly pull up stakes and move. The Russians can’t understand that. We sell our land. They and their ancestors have stayed on the same land for hundreds of years. We love our nation and what it stands for, but we came here from all over the world and blended, blurring the sense of being tied to the land. We do not understand that bond. But the Jews do. Thousands of years ago, God’s chosen people left a foreign land where they were slaves and wandered in the desert for 40 years, still without a home. At last they found a homeland in Israel, the Promised Land. They had been carried off into captivity, their homeland occupied by strangers, over and over. The Jews were dispersed all over the world for hundreds of years, yet they dreamed of going back to Israel, their home. In I Samuel chapter seven, God makes King David a wonderful promise. God said, "I will provide a place for my people Israel and will plant them so that they can have a home of their own and not be disturbed... I (God) will be your father and you (Israel) will be my son... The Lord declares that He himself will establish a house for you...Your house and your kingdom will endure forever before me." Is it any wonder that the Jewish people are willing to fight to the death for their homeland? The book of Ruth tells the story of a young woman, widowed in her homeland and living with her mother-in-law who was a foreigner. Naomi, the mother-in-law, decides to return to Israel and encourages Ruth to return to her original home, where she will be cared for by family. But Ruth has become very close to Naomi and does something very unusual in that society. She vows to go anywhere that Naomi goes. She will try to build a life in a new homeland with Naomi. She says, "I will go wherever you go, I will lodge wherever you lodge. Your people will become my people and your God, my God." Home is living with the ones you love. Jesus told a parable about a restless young son who asks for his inheritance before he is of age. The father knows that his son is determined to leave home and seek his fortune no matter what, so he gives the boy the money. Of course, the naive son goes on a party binge, making lots of friends who like him for the money he spends on them. But when the money is spent, they walk away. The disillusioned son thought this place and these people were his "home". Instead, herding pigs, he realized it had become a lonely, hostile and foreign land. Ashamed and starving, he returned home, relieved to be there despite the impending punishment. His father is so grateful to have him back that he forgives all the foolhardiness and heartbreak that his son had caused and throws a party for all the neighbors and relation to celebrate the happy "homecoming". Home is being accepted and forgiven after all by the ones who know your weaknesses the best. Jesus told this parable to illustrate God’s steadfast love and mercy in the face of our rebellion and sin. He has prepared a heavenly home for us where the celebration will go on forever. If we, in faith, accept Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross, his blood redeems us and cancels our debt to a God who cannot let sin enter his home. Then we can look forward to an eternal home with God. Jesus told his disciples, "If anyone loves me and obeys my teaching, My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him." What great news! We can join the family of God by putting our faith in Jesus. The Bible says that we are but sojourners, passing through this life. We are intended to move on to our real home in heaven. The apostle, Peter, says "But in keeping with his promise, we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness." (II Peter3:13) I’m going to Austria as a sojourner in a foreign land, but I will come home soon (in a few weeks) PRAYER: Father God, we pray for those who have been denied a homeland. We pray for the homeless and for those whose homes have been broken. Help them to find the promised land in their particular desert. Thank you for building us a heavenly home where there will be no brokeness, where everyone will belong to the family. Amen

singpraiz4hym · 08-31-2005, 10:10 AM


	Reflection, Renewal, Recreation: the Trinity of Balance SCRIPTURES Matthew 14:23 Mark 6: 37-43 Psalm 46:10 For most women in our society, doing too much feels normal. In any twenty-four hour period, we’re constantly pulled in at least a dozen directions. It feels like that circus act where they set 10 plates spinning on poles and then run from plate to plate to keep them all spinning. Work, children, personal relationships, chores, errands, friends, family, finances, promises made to others (often in a weak moment), health, deadlines, and our own unfulfilled dreams and desires. Whew! Hold it right there. It sounds like we need to practice the trinity of balance: reflection, renewal, and recreation in our busy lives. Reflection: Jesus practiced balance and he experienced stress. He had problems similar to ours. He was responsible for leading twelve men who were not always easy to get along with, everywhere he went there were lines of people wanting him to heal them, he was hassled by the Pharisees, and one time he had to fix dinner for 5,000 on a very slim grocery budget. He was only one man and he got tired. He was, however, discerning enough to know he needed balance in his daily life to keep from burning out. He scheduled rest time and time to get away alone for reflection, renewal and recreation. And he didn’t heal everyone who needed healing. There simply wasn’t time to do everything, even for the Son of God. He expressed no guilt about that because he knew what God’s plan was for him each day and he didn't try to do more or less than that. How did he know? He prayed a lot, staying in constant communication with the Father. Too often we elevate the inconsequential into the influential - changing the quality of our day - by reacting without reflecting. Has the pace of life become so fast that we can’t ride a few bumps of inconvenience? Why shouldn’t we grownups go to our rooms for a "time out" to deal with the stress of impositions privately? How hard would it be to dispatch irritations on their way with a self-preserving shrug? Not as difficult as you might think- even in cabin fever season. All God asks is that we tell him our needs and frustrations daily in prayer and in prayer, reflect on what we’re called to do or not do. Sometimes winter doldrums make it difficult to distinguish between an unlucky circumstance and a new beginning sent by God but keep listening. Renewal: Heed the siren call to solitary sojourns; celebrate secret anniversaries of the heart by healing yourself with God’s tender mercies - cozy naps, scented baths, beautiful music, picture books of blooming gardens, new lingerie, lemon meringue pie. Your only sin may be living today without passion and tonight without thanks. And yet, how often do you approach each day as if it were an exhilarating adventure instead of another day in a life sentence without parole? If you’ve ever wondered why life is doled out to us in twenty-hour segments, perhaps it’s because we can barely handle that! All women lead lives of intrigue, mystery and wonderment, even you. You just have to slow down to realize it. My daughter’s e-mails all conclude with this quote, "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away." (Author unknown) Wow. Recreation: Recreation comes from the same root word as "re-create." Think about it. I guess I’d prefer to re-create my surroundings to look like a Caribbean resort, but that is not possible- not this winter anyway. Instead let’s get lost. Go somewhere unfamiliar without taking a watch or a map. The secret is to relax and enjoy the moments. Fun hides where you’d never thought to look. Abandon your "to-do" list for a weekend and go visit an old friend. Take a class where you create something- cooking, knitting, pottery-making, etc.- It’s not just "school"; it’s recreation. Take up ballroom dancing. Host a costume party not on Halloween. Bake a fabulous dessert and eat it on the good china- better yet, take it to a friend’s house and eat it together. Have a women’s pajama party for your birthday. Recreation is not just golf, boating, or playing team sports, although that’s an excellent idea. Any repetitive activity that gets us breathing regularly can have a soothing effect. People have been known to experience life-changing epiphanies while taking a simple walk. A change of scenery can produce a powerful new idea, a new friendship, or the solution to a thorny problem. To be born a woman is to be chosen to nurture, but who nurtures us? After 33 years of "making Christmas happen" in my home ,so to speak, I mentioned to a friend that I wished that someone would "make Christmas" for me once. My friend wisely observed that I really didn’t want that. What I wanted was to make all the preparations simpler and to delegate some of them to my family so that my fatigue wouldn’t take all the fun out of Christmas for me. She was right, ladies. We have to seek out for ourselves what nurtures us best. We need to seek God’s wisdom to find that trinity of balance in life- reflection/renewal/recreation- and then practice it. Some would say that is selfish, that Christian women should seek to serve whenever or wherever there is need. It is not selfish to care for your car so that it runs as long and as efficiently as possible. It is not selfish to care for our own needs either. God does not ask us to sacrifice ourselves on somebody else’s altar. He will give you the time to do what He has called you to do. Care for yourself , because I tell you from experience, even if you’re young and at the top of your game, you can’t do it all. You’ll burn out and cause others the "inconvenience" of having to take care of you as well as do the work you used to do. Singer/songwriter Warren Zevon was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. Interviewed on the Dave Letterman show, he was asked if his fatal illness brought him any wisdom to share. Zevon replied, "Enjoy every sandwich." Before psychologist Dr. Charles Zanor was diagnosed with lymphoma, he was the kind of guy who was always trying to" put 14 eggs in a 12 egg carton," he said in a Readers Digest interview. But now he no longer tries to "cheat time"; he is enjoying it as it unfolds, for as long as it does. Don’t wait until you get cancer or depression to enjoy every sandwich. Jesus said, " The thief comes not but to steal, kill, and destroy; I came that you may have life and may have it abundantly." PRAYER: Gracious Father and Lord, thank you for life. Thank you especially for abundant life. Help us to listen to your voice and to discern what your calling for us is. Remind us that we are dust and that time slips by whether we are frazzled and scurrying or relaxed and reflective so help us slow down and live in the present tense. Help me to find the trinity of balance that works uniquely for me. I want to do your will and while in your will, please Lord, give me the time to enjoy every sandwich. Amen

singpraiz4hym · 08-31-2005, 10:35 AM


	The Lord Your God is With You Wherever You Go SCRIPTURE Psalm 121:3-8 Isaiah 54:10 Joshua 1:9 Psalm 139:7-10 God has not called me to be a skier. My daughter, the dancer, says I am balance challenged. When my husband took up skiing, I wanted to be there with him. After a few outings, he was ready to advance to the intermediate slopes, while I was still wrestling with all those tangled up skis and poles on the bunny hill. He was off on the chairlift to the world of blue and black diamond runs, while I continued slugging it out on the rope tow. Before he left me though, he taught me the "graceful" skiers’ position known as snowplowing. With ski tips together forming a V, the skis literally plow through the snow, slowing the skier on the descent and keeping from sliding backwards on the ascent. I was good at snowplowing, so good that I skied in that position the whole time I was on skis. It’s a lot of work, it is hard on the knees, and you look ridiculous hunched over, but it does prevent you from careening out of control down the hill screaming, "Look out!" at all the people in your path. When my children were old enough to ski (our youngest started at age 3!), I took pride in the fact that I could ski better than somebody - even if they were only 3 feet tall. That did not last long. By their second season, the kids were up with their father on the chair lift, off to the land of real skiers. My pride would not allow me to give up, though. I took a lesson from a ski instructor. After several hours he said I was ready for "chair lift world". If you ski, then you know how tricky it is getting on and off a moving chairlift. It requires timing, balance and no fear of heights. You see, there is a chairlift operator at top and bottom just for people like me. As soon as someone falls down attempting to get on or get off the chair, they shut down the tow until that person gets back on their skis and slinks out of the way, painfully aware of the impatient complaining of the crowds of skiers backed up in the lift line and those skiers, skis dangling from their chairs, mid-air while they are freezing to death. I hate the chairlift! I improved. I did! I was determined to ski with my family so I kept trying. After my chairlift fiasco, my instructor and I shuffled over to the green diamond sign (green indicates an easy hill). Let me tell you, the white slopes that look so serene and beautiful from the lodge. As soon as I would pick up any speed, my instructor would holler, "Slow down! Snowplow! Snowplow!" My balance would fail me and I would fall, flailing in the snow. My lesson lasted 2 long hours. I had never felt so inept, trying to get untangled from my equipment and back on my feet. When you fall, the safety bindings release your skis so that you don’t break your ankles or knees. Your skis are attached to your boots with safety straps so that your released skis don’t go on down the hill without you (usually). After gathering your skis and snapping them back on, it’s time to get up. Using your ski poles as a lever, you get your "center of gravity" underneath you, rise to your feet,and make sure your skis are NOT facing downhill or off you will go, straight down the fall line until, out of control, you fall again and have to go through the whole process again! That routine pretty much took up my whole day on the slopes; that and breaks for discussions with my heavenly Father. Meanwhile, all these kids are whizzing past on their short, little skis as if they’d been born on skis. "Look at that little kid!" I remarked to my instructor, "What a show-off! He’s gone past me at least 5 times now. It’s humiliating. And why does he keep yelling `Hi, Mom`?" "Because that’s your son." he said, trying to keep a straight face. "He’s pretty good. How long has he been skiing?" "About 4 hours," I groaned. Eventually, a skier is bound to get hurt. But when I got hurt, I wasn’t even skiing! I was standing there midway down the mountain, waiting for my husband to join me once he’d skied down "The Wall". It was the last run of the day. One minute I was enjoying the purple sunset and the next minute, BLAM! Some kid had skied into me full tilt and knocking me out. The next thing I knew, I was strapped to a backboard being pulled behind the ski patrol’s snowmobile. I had X-rays at the hospital and was sent home with pain pills for bruises. To be honest, I dreaded every ski trip I went on after that. I never got over my fear and eventually gave up skiing. Downhill that is. I continued cross country skiing with my family until another fateful day. We were skiing with another family along a wooded trail when we came to a steep hill with a scary turn halfway down. One by one each person, negotiated the turn, and soon we could hear their call, "OK. Clear!" I let everyone else go ahead until I was the only one left. I crouched into my snowplow position. When I got to the turn, my body made the turn, but my right ski got caught in a tree root. I could hear the ligament tearing in my knee. In tears I slid on down the hill on my fanny. My friend, was waiting for me at the bottom. She helped me take off my skis and supported me as I hobbled back to the house. After knee surgery, I decided the prudent thing to do was to give up skiing altogether. I am not athletically gifted. I have poor coordination and balance, and I’m not too keen on breaking bones. Actually, swimming is my sport, not skiing. You can’t fall down swimming. I still go along on ski outings but I stay inside stoking the fire and making the hot chocolate. It is so much more peaceful. My anxiety level is down because I am not tormented by my own inadequacy (or mortality). I was just not meant to be a skier. Being convinced that we are safe in God’s hands is what the apostle Paul called "the peace of Christ." I never had that peace on skis and that should have told me something! Fear and worry robbed me of joy and probably the skills needed to improve as well. I am so grateful to God for watching over me anyway, during all those times I risked my neck just because my pride wouldn’t allow me to be sensible. I suspect that skiing was probably not what the Bible was referring to in Isaiah 54 when it says, "For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but My steadfast love shall not depart from you, and My covenant of peace shall not be removed, says the Lord, who has compassion on you. Or in Joshua 1 when it says, Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." Nevertheless, skiing was probably the most terrifying, most stressful activity in my life - and I welcomed the promises of Psalm 121:3-8. "The Lord will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade at your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forward and forevermore." Your going out and coming in might be something very different from mine, like speaking to large groups, standing on tall ladders, sending a loved one off to war, or being diagnosed with cancer. The apostle Paul was convinced God was at work in his trials and therefore, wherever God put him, was a perfectly safe place to be. Because of God’s character and competence, be assured that you too, are safe in God’s hands. Knowing this will bring you the peace of Christ. PRAYER: Dear Heavenly Father, We are all afraid of one thing or another in life. Sometimes we cannot find peace because we are afraid that You aren’t there, that You aren’t listening. But you are always nearby. Sometimes you calm the storm and sometimes You calm Your child. Thank you, Father. Help us to rest in Your love and wisdom and strength. When we are anxious, remind us to reach out, Jesus, so that we can hold Your hand. Amen p.s. Now "the rest of the story". On a trip after my skiing days were over, our 14 year old daughter, was out skiing with her brothers and sisters. I was back at our rented condo. Her dad and grandpa were out skiing on the back hills. At one drop off point on the lift, you can get off to ski the front hills. The chairlift then crosses a deep, rocky gorge before letting people off to ski the back hills. Rachel was riding on the chairlift as she was used to doing. She had scooted to the edge of her chair in preparation for getting off at the first drop off. She placed her skis against the snow to get off, but her jacket caught on the chair and she couldn’t get off! However, she was no longer on the chair either. By the time the operator could stop the lift, she was dangling from the chair 35 feet over the approaching gorge, held up only by her jacket. Several ski patrol were right there and one man crawled out along the cables to help her to safety. But just as he got to her, her jacket tore and she slid out of it. Dozens of people watched in horror as she fell 35 feet. What they did not see was her guardian angel lifting her. Rachel landed in a deep snowdrift and, believe it or not, on her skis! She lay down there, looking up at the people on the lift. The ski patrol had rescued her and put her onto a backboard. I rode with her in the ambulance to the hospital while the rest of the family followed in our car. She was chatting and laughing the whole way there. In the ER they thought she had been drinking because she was so giddy. After a thorough examination, she walked out of the hospital with only a bruised chest wall. No fractures or head injuries, not even a scratch. She should have landed in the rocks and been killed, but she was fine. Now I pray for whoever is out there and might need an angel.

singpraiz4hym · 08-31-2005, 10:36 AM


	It Is Never Too Late to Set an Example SCRIPTURES I Corinthians 10: 6-13 Titus 2:7 I John 3: 16,18 Psalm 14: 9,12,14,19,32 "Real joy comes not from ease or riches or from the praise of men, but from doing something worthwhile." Sir Wilfred Grenfell Back in the 1920s and 30s gangsters ruled the city of Chicago. Probably the most notorious gangster was Al Capone. His crime syndicate controlled everything from bootlegging to prostitution to murder. It was common for him to "put out a contract" on an enemy’s life and it didn’t take much to become his enemy. Capone had a lawyer nicknamed "Easy Eddie". Though corrupt, Eddie was good at what he did, his legal maneuvering keeping Al Capone out of jail for a long time. To show his appreciation, Capone paid Eddie very well, including special dividends. Easy Eddy lived with his family in a fenced in mansion estate with live-in help. The estate took up a whole city block. There Eddie lived the high life of the Chicago Mob, giving little thought to the atrocities going on around him. Eddy did have one soft spot in life. He had a son that he loved dearly. Eddy saw to it that the boy had the best of everything: clothes, cars, and a top notch education. Nothing was withheld, price was no object. Despite the fact that this lifestyle came from Capone’s underworld , Eddy managed to keep his son innocent and was adamant that his son learn right from wrong. Eddy wanted his son to be a better man than he was, yet there were two things he couldn’t give his son. He couldn’t pass on a good name or a good example of integrity. One day, Easy Eddy could no longer ignore his conscience. He reached a difficult, costly decision. He wanted to rectify all of the wrongs he had done. He would go to the FBI and spill all the information he had about Al "Scarface Capone", hoping to clean up his own tarnished reputation and offer his son some semblance of integrity. He testified against Capone in court. Within the year, Easy Eddy’s life ended in a blaze of gunfire on a lonely Chicago street, but he had given his son the best gift he had to offer at the highest price he would ever pay. Upon his death, police removed a rosary, a crucifix and this poem from his pocket: The clock of life is wound but once and no man has the power to tell just when the hands will stop at late or early hour. Now is the only time you own. Live, love, toil with a will. Place no faith in time for the clock may soon be still. A decade later the country was enmeshed in a larger conflict, World War II. Lieutenant Commander Butch O’Hare was a fighter pilot assigned to the carrier Lexington in the south Pacific. On February 20, 1942 his entire squadron was sent on a mission. After the squadron was airborne, Butch looked at his fuel gauge and discovered that someone had forgotten to top off his fuel tank. He would not have enough fuel to complete the mission and make it back to the Lexington, so he was ordered to return to the carrier. Reluctantly, he dropped out of formation and headed back to the fleet. As he was returning, he saw something that turned his blood cold; a squadron of Japanese aircraft were speeding towards the American fleet! With all the US fighter planes out on sorties, he knew the fleet was all but defenseless. He could not raise his fellows on the mission and call them back in time to save the fleet nor could he reach the fleet in time to warn them of the approaching danger. There was only one thing to do. He would have to somehow divert the Japanese away from the US fleet. Without thought of personal safety, he dove into the Japanese formation, his 50 caliber, wing-mounted guns blazing. He wove in and out of the surprised enemy’s broken formation, firing at as many planes as possible. Some went down, others were too damaged to do battle. Finally the crippled enemy flew off in another direction. Deeply relieved , Butch O’Hare and his tattered fighter limped back to the carrier. Upon arrival, he reported in and related his experience. A gun-camera mounted on his plane told the tale. It showed the extent of his attempt to protect his fleet. He had in fact shot down 5 enemy aircraft. Butch became the first "Ace" of World War II and the first naval aviator to win the Congressional Medal of Honor. President Roosevelt called the mission that saved the Lexington, " one of the most daring single actions in the history of combat aviation." Just over a year later, in 1943, Butch O’Hare was killed in aerial combat at the age of 29. His home town would not allow the memory of their hero to fade. Today, Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport , named in tribute to this war hero, is the busiest airport in the country. Next time you are going through O’Hare, visit Butch’s memorial. A statue and display of his Medal of Honor is located between Terminals 1 and 2. You might ask what these two stories have to do with each other. Butch O’Hare was Easy Eddy’s son. In reference to the quarrelsome Israelites wandering in the desert, Paul tells us that God was not pleased with their deeds and so their bodies were scattered across the desert as examples to keep us from setting our hearts on evil things as they did. Writing to Titus, Paul admonishes Titus to set the example for his people by doing good things. Easy Eddy wanted to set an example for his son. The only thing he had was the ability to right some terrible wrongs. He was willing to lay down his life hoping that his son would get the message. Proverbs 14:9 says, " Fools mock at making amends for sin, but goodwill is found among the upright." In verse 14 it goes on to say, "The faithless will be fully repaid for their ways, and the good man rewarded for his." Verse 32 also says," When calamity comes, the wicked are brought down, but even in death the righteous have a refuge." Al Capone and others were put away because of Eddy’s testimony. Perhaps Eddy read these verses. Perhaps he came to believe that the sins of the father do not have to be visited on the next generation. Those sins can be forgiven and amends made, the pattern of wickedness brought to an end with Eddy’s death. John says in his first epistle, "This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down His life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth." As Eddy laid down his life for Butch, so Butch laid down his life for his friends and countrymen. Eddy would have been proud. History doesn’t tell us if either man was a believer in Christ when he died, but I would like to think so. PRAYER - Dear merciful God, We pray that the wicked in our world will be brought down. Strengthen the souls who desire to repent and expose wickedness at high cost to themselves. Thank you for those who have laid down their lives for righteousness. May we set a good example for others in doing good and refraining from wickedness. Amen

singpraiz4hym · 08-31-2005, 10:38 AM


	Take Care How You Pray for the Lord May Say OK SCRIPTURES Psalm 103:13 Psalm 12-15 Proverbs 1:8-9, 25-26 Proverbs 3:11-12 Proverbs 10:8 Proverbs 14:12 Isaiah 48:17 I Samuel 8 (Israel begs God for a king) Luke 15:11-24 (story of the prodigal son) Matthew 7:7 I Thessalonians 2:11 When I was a little girl growing up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, my father got one week of vacation per year. One summer we would spend our vacation at the beach in Ocean City, Maryland. The opposite summer we would make the trip out to southern Iowa to visit both sets of grandparents. The summer I was eight and my sister, Diana, six, was an Iowa year. There were no interstate highways then, but Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana had turnpikes (toll roads) which routed us right into downtown Chicago. There were no freeways through the city either. Inching our way through downtown traffic in 90 degree heat seemed to take forever. West of Chicago, it was nothing but farmland. Hundreds of miles through flat corn country in a non-air-conditioned car was never something we looked forward to either. However, there was one wonderful, special treat that made it all worthwhile. Howard Johnsons! We stopped only for gas and toilet because Dad refused to pay the high prices at the rest plaza restaurants. Mom packed us a picnic lunch. But at sunset, somewhere just before Chicago, we knew that we would stop for the night at a Howard Johnsons motel. All year long we looked forward to staying in a motel. Howard Johnsons had a pool. Howard Johnsons had 20 flavors of ice cream. At Howard Johnsons, we could sleep together in a double bed and they had a machine that made as many ice cubes as you wanted! Nine hours in the back seat of our `57, green Pontiac was bearable only because Howard Johnsons sat waiting for us at sunset. Although we never ate at the rest plazas, we still went inside to use the bathrooms and soak up the air-conditioning. And there was always a gift shop! Souvenirs from whatever state we were in, toys and dolls, and candy of all varieties sat behind the glass. One candy in particular called our names - the giant sucker. The giant sucker was a rainbow- colored lipop twelve inches in diameter! It was the biggest, most colorful, most delicious candy ever invented by man. We were sure of it. Of course we’d never had one, but someday we believed our father might get so lightheaded from the heat or maybe have such a big paycheck that month that he would forget what he always said, "These places are ridiculous. Look at those prices. It’s highway robbery...that’s what it is". Instead, one day, maybe he might say, "Well, girls, I think it’s about time you had one of those giant suckers. After all, we’re on vacation." Our perseverance was impressive, and rightly so, because on that July trip to Iowa, it was about to pay off. Standing with our noses pressed up against the gift shop window, we spotted those giant suckers. "He’ll never say yes," I sighed. "Let’s ask him anyway," my sister said. "He might this time." We crossed our fingers as Dad came out of the restrooms and saw us staring into the gift shop. "Forget it, girls. How many times have I told you? I’m not going to waste good money on souvenirs." "Please, Dad. We just want one of those giant suckers, that’s all," I begged. As I pointed to the big suckers, it happened, the miracle we’d been waiting for. Dad looked at Mom, who shrugged her shoulders and said, "You can’t possibly finish that huge sucker!". "Yes we can. Yes we can. We promise." we chattered. Then Dad said, "OK . Stop the begging. I ‘ve given this some thought. Your mother is right and it’s against my better judgment, but I will buy you each one of those suckers. HOWEVER. Once you’ve opened the wrapper, you have to finish it. I won’t have sticky sugar on the seats of the car." We couldn’t believe our ears! In minutes we were back in the car, our eyes dancing with the colors of the suckers spiraling around - red, blue, yellow, green, orange and purple. Each sucker was the size of a dinner plate and almost as heavy. As we pulled back onto the turnpike, off came the wrappers and we slurped with abandon. Remember now, it was about two o’clock in the afternoon and the temperature was hovering around 95 degrees. To keep it cooler, all four car windows were rolled down as we sped along at 65 mph. The sun beat down. My sucker began to drip. I licked the drip but it dripped faster. I licked as fast as I could, but it dripped faster. Diana was having a worse problem. Her curly hair was not pulled back in braids like mine, so as it whipped around in the wind, it began to stick to her sucker! She tried to loosen her hair from the sucker, but then her hands stuck. There was no place to lay our suckers down. They were getting stickier, heavier and drippier by the minute. We dared not get the seats sticky. Suddenly I had a brilliant idea. I held my sucker out the window so it would drip outside instead of on the back seat, but when Diana tried to copy me, she had too much hair stuck to her sucker for her to rip it away. By the time we got to the toll booth at the Indiana state line, we were getting desperate. I pulled my sucker back inside only to discover that most of the bugs in western Ohio were stuck to it. Tears welled up and ran down my sticky cheeks. Diana’s hair was clumped in a gooey mess all over her sucker, the melted syrup running down her arms. She too began to cry. "What’s the matter back there?" Dad asked (as if he didn’t know!). Mom dared not look at us for fear she would burst out laughing. "Daddeeeee! Stop the car. Our suckers are stuck!" "But, I thought you could eat the whole thing. That’s what you said back at the gift shop–you said you could eat the whole thing." "No, Dad. It’s too hot and windy back here. We can’t eat the sucker. Pleasssse stop, Daddeee." "Alright," he said. "We’ll stop at the next rest area." Dad pulled in to the next wayside and stopped the car. He and Mom turned around in their seats and looked at us. We must have looked pretty pathetic, because they didn’t scold or even say "I-told-you-so." I guess Dad’s lesson for the day had run its course. He shook his head as he opened the back door. "Come on. Let’s throw that thing in the trash. Go with your mother and get washed up." It nearly broke my heart to throw that sucker away. Mom said she thought she would have to cut Diana’s hair to detach her from her sucker, but after holding Diana’s head under the ice cold water from the pump, most of the hair let go. Diana sobbed as Mom dropped her giant sucker with its crew cut into the trash. Diana and I were exhausted. We sat still for the next several hours, worried sick that as our punishment, we wouldn’t get to stay at Howard Johnsons. But around about sunset, we pulled into the Howard Johnsons parking lot in Hammond, Indiana after all. Dad went into the office to check us in. He came out chuckling. "What’s so funny, Dad?" "Well, it seems I’m not the only father to teach his children a lesson today. The family just ahead of us didn’t have a reservation so they’ll have to drive on. In the office they have those giant suckers for sale. Can you believe it? The Dad bought his kids some to keep them happy for the remaining drive!" "You didn’t warn him?"Mom asked. Dad shook his head, his body shaking with laughter. Now Mom couldn’t hold it any longer. She laughed and laughed. "You girls looked so funny!" "I will never eat another sucker as long as I live," I said, "but could I have an ice cream cone? They have 20 flavors." "Oh yes, Daddy. Can I have a double scooper?" Diana said. Dad looked at Mom and threw up his hands. "Kids! They never learn." That object lesson my father cooked up occurred over 45 years ago, but I still remember it very clearly. They still sell those giant suckers at the rest plazas on the turnpike too! My earthly father had the wisdom to allow his daughters to learn from their foolishness by giving us what we pestered him for. How many times do we pray to our heavenly father for something that He knows is not in our best interest? He gives us His advice, but we still keep asking. Has God ever let you go ahead and receive the answer to your foolish prayer, knowing that the whole thing would end in nothing but trouble? What does it take for us to learn to accept God’s ways over our own? My parents also had compassion that day. They were prepared to be merciful when we had to humble ourselves and face the mess we’d made. They helped us clean up our "sticky situation" and allowed us to still have the reward of Howard Johnsons despite the trouble we’d caused. Our compassionate heavenly Father is like that only wiser still. If we repent and ask His forgiveness for the mess we have made (messes that are a whole lot stickier than a giant sucker), He too will help us clean up no matter how painful a process that might be. And God continues to bless us, to let us enjoy the Howard Johnsons in our lives - even after we’ve sinned. Hopefully all of us will learn our lesson the first time, but too often we turn right around and ask for double scoopers of the same temptation we just recovered from. God knows we are dust. He is patient and longsuffering and is prepared with as many lessons as we need to learn as we move closer to Christ-likeness. PRAYER - Abba Father, thank you for rescuing us from our own foolish mistakes. Thank you for helping us set things right again and for not giving us what we deserve. Help us to seek your wisdom and accept your advice in our daily decisions. Please give those of us who are parents your wisdom and patience as we guide our children through life. Amen

singpraiz4hym · 08-31-2005, 10:39 AM


	WHAT I LEARNED ABOUT GOD ON TV COMMERCIALS A Christian school class of fifth graders was asked to go home and watch TV commercials and write about how God would be advertised on TV. Here are a few that they came up with: God is like... Bayer aspirin. He works miracles. God is like... A Ford. He’s got a better idea God is like ... Coca Cola. He’s the real thing. God is like... Hallmark cards. He cares enough to send His very best. God is like... Tide. He gets the stains out that others leave behind. God is like... General Electric. He brings good things to life. God is like... Sears. He has everything. God is like... Alka selzer. Try Him, you’ll like him. God is like... Scotch tape. You can’t see Him but you know He’s there. God is like ... Delta. He’s ready when we are. God is like... Allstate. You’re in good hands with Him. God is like... VO5 hairspray. He holds through all kinds of weather. God is like... The U.S. Postal Service. Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor ice will keep Him from His appointed destination. God is like... Dial soap. Aren’t you glad you have Him? Don’t you wish everybody did? **************************** Thankfully, we have not reached the point where we need to advertise God on TV, but these fifth graders recognized many of God’s attributes. The Bible tells us all we need to know about God. He is God our healer (Exodus 15:26), God our provider (Genesis 22:13-14), God our peace (Judges 6:24), God our banner (Exodus 17:8-15), God our shepherd (Psalm 23:1), God our righteousness (Jeremiah 23: 6), God with us (Ezekiel 48:35), God our all sufficient One (Genesis 17:1, 35:11) Just for fun, see if you can come up with a "God is like..." . If so, please send it to add it as a "reply" to this thread. PRAYER: Oh God, you are the great "I AM THAT I AM", always in control, always Lord. Thank you for being the all sufficient Lord of our lives. May we rest in your strength and have faith in your promises. Amen