TaDah.  The house in Pryor is empty.  Totally.  Five friends came yesterday and helped me load the rest of it all up.  Then Sally vacuumed.  Pat pulled all the nails out of the wall.  I filled the holes with putty and painted.  JoAnn painted the baseboards and hauled off all the plants.  And Coy broke down all the boxes and filled the trash cans.  I emptied the refrigerator--there were strange unidentifiable things in there.  Pat threw most of it out.

I now live in Edmond.  I feel like an albatross has been lifted from my neck--to get everything done.  The garage here is a mess, but every day I open a couple of boxes and put stuff where it goes.  It doesn't feel like home yet.  I have no memories from this house.  I left those behind.

I am reading in the three little letters that John wrote.  The second and third are so short that you can do them in five minutes--which is just about the length of my attention span.

In 1 John 1:1 "What was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we beheld and our hands handled, concerning the Word of Life..."  John starts his letter with an affirmation of what is true.  True beyond any doubt.

He has touched Christ.  Heard him.  Seen him.  John is covering the senses.  He is explaining in this letter in a method that common people can understand.  John is taking the witness stand to testify to the authenticity of a risen Lord.  Jesus.

If I were the judge, I would rule for the resurrection--even if John alone were the only witness.  But there are others.  Dozens and dozens of them.

He is alive.  He is our God