Stopping to Think

Wind shifts, rain falls Storm comes, night calls Rainbow disappears in grey Daytime slowly drifts away Clouds block starlight Thunder brings fright Lightning brightens up night sky Sticks and branches start to fly Day comes, storm lifts Wind dies, clouds drift Fresh rain smell saturates air Though night was dark, day is fair

Today, roughly 1,980 years ago, Jesus observed the Passover with his disciples for the last time, pointing toward the next day when he would become their Passover lamb. His atoning, sin covering, wrath absorbing blood is applied to all who place their faith and trust in Him; those who would have it placed on the proverbial doorposts of their souls. The first Passover was a shadow, a picture of Christ to come. It pointed year after year to the necessity of blood to cover sin, and the deliverance afforded to those who trusted God. Jesus made the final sacrifice, and covered it once for all.

Preface: I am writing in a state of mind that Martin Luther would call beneficial: seething anger. Seething. By the time you read this, the story of Cliven Bundy’s cattle being released will be old news, but as I type it is hot off the presses (proverbial as those presses are nowadays).  What has me in this state of seething rage is the fact that many militia groups and some on the political right are hailing this as a victory for freedom. It is quite the opposite. To be fair, the entirety of the issue is not one-sided. But this much is clear: Cliven Bundy ceased paying the necessary permit fees to graze his cattle on BLM land over 20 years ago, and he now owes the government (read: taxpayers, i.e., you and me) in excess of 1 million dollars. When he refused to comply with orders to remove his cattle from the land they were illegally grazing on, BLM went to the courts, where Bundy lost (twice). BLM was authorized to remove the cattle, which were illegally on federal property, an...

Oak trees stand naked, stark White snow contrasts against gray bark Squirrels more active in the trees Robin's call cuts through the breeze Snow melt begins, ice as well Spring, or fluke ? Time will tell

"When I was young in the mountains, I never wanted to go to the ocean, and I never wanted to go to the desert. I never wanted to go anywhere else in the world, for I was in the mountains. And that was enough." Cynthia Rylant , When I Was Young in the Mountains

Family devotions. Probably two of the scariest words that the average church-going man with children can hear. First there is the feeling of the Holy Spirit's prodding; the, this is a good thing worth pursuing, thought that you know didn't come from your own mind. Then there is the overwhelming realization that you have no clue where to start, the possibility for it to be terribly awkward, and uncertainty as to how your family will take this new-found initiative. These generally combine with the overall busyness of our lives to produce inaction. Which leads to our final product, guilt. Sound familiar? It does to me. I have no heroic story of overcoming my folly. I simply have a wife who finally asked me when we were going to start doing family devotions, and about a week of doing them under our belts. There have been no deep conversations or children getting saved (my daughter is not yet one!). But I do have a few thoughts as to why this is worth it, and some suggestions that ...

"By tragic historical coincidence a period of abysmal under-educating in literacy has coincided with this unexpected explosion of global self-publishing. Thus people who don't know their apostrophe from their elbow are positively invited to disseminate their writings to anyone on the planet stupid enough to double-click and scroll." Lynne Truss, Eats, Shoots & Leaves pg 182